Pixilated by Jane Atchley Read Free Book Online Page B

stableman with a glance toward the conifer-covered
mountains looming to the north. "Did the warrior want elves? Best
he keep riding."
    What in the blue-eyed world did the man
mean? There were no elves to the north, no elves anywhere except in
Thallasi down near Elhar. But that wasn't true was it? There were
these new, or rather old elves these Nhurstari.
    "Ain’t seen no pretty woman either. Did the
warrior want a woman? There was a house above the tavern. O' course
there's farmsteads. Did the warrior want directions? He ought a say
so. No, them horses ain’t for sale. They belong to the squire. Did
the warrior want the squire? He could find him in the tavern."
    Kree paid the stableman a gold lady for his
dubious information and assured the man he did not want the squire.
It was a generous bribe. One he thought might inspire the fellow to
wait at least an hour before running down to the tavern carrying
tales of warriors and elves. Chana disagreed chiding him for
wasting gold. A quarter hour after riding into friendly little
Tarburg, Kree rode out thinking about all the interesting things a
Knight-Protector might learn if he rode his protectorate without
banner, escort or uniform.
    At Chana's suggestion, they check the
surrounding farms. The same sullen hostility met them everywhere
they stopped. The farmers looked poor although their land looked
rich enough to grow gold ingots. They all said the same thing; they
hadn’t seen no elf. None o' their horses were missing'. Confident
he was scarier than Eldren, Kree believed them. Something had
happened to Kayseri and the elf. All he had to do with the daylight
left to him was find out what.
    The trail Chana picked up led into a box
canyon. Crouched low over Sirocco’s neck, Kree let his prized
stallion fly down the rock-strewn gully and hoped like the very
hells that the horse did not catch a hoof. Chana followed behind at
a more careful pace. He saw what looked like a lightening flash
ahead, then another flash and another. Sirocco balked, reared.
    The captain steadied his skittish
thoroughbred with a firm hand and kneed Sirocco forward a few more
steps before another burst of light caused the horse to refuse
again. Kree put his spurs to its flanks. Logic told him where the
mage-fire was, the elf was, and where the elf was, Kayseri was.
Outraged by this abuse, Sirocco shot forward, and suddenly Kree was
riding a thunderbolt.
    Three men had Kayseri and the elf pinned
against the rocky canyon wall. Kree wrapped the reins tightly
around his left hand. Sirocco was not combat trained. If he met
resistance, the stallion was going to be hell’s own to control. He
drew his saber and gave himself up to fate. Everyone excels at
something. Fighting was Kree's something. Everything about it
appealed to him. Battle was his birthright. The garrison’s battle
cry echoed off the canyon walls. His damaged larynx made the sound
all the more eerie. Startled men turned to meet him, and he sliced
through their feeble lines of defense before they quite figured out
what had come howling out of the gully.
    Kree slid off his horse and stalked toward
the elf with his saber clutched in a bloodied fist. Bloodlust
burned in his eyes. He stopped about a foot away from the prince
and pointed to the fallen men with his saber. "These are awfully
persistent highwaymen, elf. Do you suppose they're looking for
this?" He tossed the porcelain doll at the elf’s feet.
    Eldren scrambled for the doll, but Kree
grabbed him one handed and slammed him up against the rocks.
    "I hate killing men when I don’t know why
I'm killing them or even if I should." Kree’s forever-soft voice
became a menacing whisper. He brought his saber up under the elf’s
chin. "But once I get started, it's damned difficult to stop."
    "My Captain!" Kayseri shrilled.
    "Shut up, Katie."
    A slight movement of Kree’s wrist produced a
bright spot of blood under the elf lord’s chin. "Listen up, elf,
you’re going to tell me what’s really