The Cyber Chronicles - Book I: Queen of Arlin (11 page)

The fact that
Prince Victor had not offered suit and Xavier had not come to her
aid did bother her, but the three more powerful kings had probably
intimidated them. When she arrived at the palace in Olgara and
offered Xavier an alliance, he could hardly refuse, since all trade
with Olgara had to pass through Arlin. She would be in a powerful
bargaining position, and, once she had found a suitable husband,
all hostilities would cease. There was no other way out of this
situation; Xavier was her only hope.

Just before
midday, the trail veered away from the mountains and Tassin turned
into a wide gully that sliced through a low rock ridge. Once a
river must have run through it, but now only a stream meandered
over the boulders of its bed. The horses were forced to pick their
way through the rocky terrain, at times entering the stream. Tassin
led the way over the treacherous ground, allowing her mare to lower
her head and choose her path amid the stones.

The distinctive
hiss of arrows and several meaty thuds made her whip around in
alarm. Sabre sagged forward, five shafts protruding from his back.
As she opened her mouth to shout in surprise and horror, dozens of
soldiers erupted from the rocks. Many hands grabbed her mare's
reins, and Tassin screamed the order to fight. The warhorse reared
and chopped out at her attackers with iron-shod hooves, the
slippery rocks hampering her. Swords flashed, and the mare gave a
roar of agony, lashing out with hooves and teeth.

Many men fell
with smashed bones, but the rest plunged their swords into the
warhorse's flanks. The doomed mare sank to her knees, blood pumping
from the wounds in her belly, and the soldiers dragged Tassin from
the dying horse. She fought like a briar-cat, shouting for Sabre,
but when she glanced around, a mob of struggling men surrounded
him. Screams followed a bright flash, and blue smoke carried the
sickening stench of burnt flesh to her, making her gag. Her captors
hauled her away from the melee, ignoring her struggles and screams
of rage, then picked her up and carried her.

Once they were
out of sight around a bend in the gorge, the men placed her on the
ground and bound her wrists and ankles with soft rope. The five
soldiers were solicitous and polite, used her title and enquired
about the bindings’ comfort. They ignored her shouted insults and
threats as if they heard nothing, certainly not gutter talk from a
queen. Tassin had picked up quite a few choice insults from spying
on the soldiers of her father's garrison as a child, and she aired
all of them, interspersed with shouting for Sabre and cursing him,
too.

Torrian's
soldiers glanced back up the gorge often, where the metallic
clangs, crackling bangs and shouts of heated battle continued,
clearly amazed that it still raged. As soon as Tassin was trussed
to their satisfaction, they picked her up again, apologising for
placing their hands upon her person, and bore her away. Tassin
screamed for Sabre, threatening to have him hung, drawn and
quartered, flayed and torn apart by wild horses if he failed to
come to her aid. She also enumerated the many forms of torture the
soldiers who had captured her would suffer if she became their
queen.

The men looked
pale and sick, their eyes taking on a hunted look that she knew
meant Torrian had made the same threats if they failed. Evidently
Torrian's threats had more effect, for they carried her out of the
far end of the gully to a stand of scantily foliaged drifter trees,
where their horses were picketed. Just beyond the trees, the land
fell away in a sweeping valley, and the stream plummeted into a
rocky pool from which it did not re-emerge. The soldiers placed her
on a blanket that was spread on the shelving rock and debated
whether they should wait for their comrades or take her to Torrian
right away. They seemed confident that the soldiers who had
attacked the cyber could deal with him, and opted to wait for them.
Tassin wondered if they were right, for although she had been
unable to count the number of men who had attacked Sabre, it had
seemed like a lot, perhaps as many as two dozen.

Tense minutes
passed, and the soldiers offered Tassin wine, water, sweetmeats,
confections and pastries, all of which she declined ungraciously.
Their uniforms told her that they were Torrian's best, part of a
squadron of crack troops that served as his personal guard. It
seemed that after all her efforts to escape, she was to wed Torrian
after all. The thought brought a bitter taste to her mouth. The
soldiers gave up trying to please her and gathered to mutter
amongst themselves. Tassin concentrated on trying to work her hands
free, tugging and twisting her wrists.

A bolt of light
lanced past her and sliced into the soldiers' midst, cutting down
three where they stood. The last two fled, only to be burnt down
before they reached the shelter of the rocks. Tassin flinched at
the brutal slaughter so close at hand and averted her eyes from the
gruesome sight. Soft footsteps made her look up. Sabre limped
towards her, his brow band blazing red. Blood poured down one thigh
from a deep sword cut, and a gash crossed his forearm. Numerous
cuts covered his chest and arms, and a stab wound oozed blood down
his flank. He staggered, dragging his wounded leg.

Reaching her
side, he fell to his knees, then sank back on his haunches. His
breath came in rasping gasps, and his deathly pallor indicated
massive blood loss. Moving slowly, he opened the pouch on his
harness and extracted one of the strange ampoules. He pulled off
the end, revealing a needle, which he pushed into his thigh above
the sword cut. Extracting another ampoule, he repeated the process
above the stab wound in his side. Tassin stared at him in awestruck
horror. An ordinary man would be unconscious, bleeding to death,
and Sabre appeared to be living on willpower alone. She wriggled
closer to him and held out her bound hands.

"Untie me,
Sabre."

The cyber's
touch was cool and impersonal as he tugged at the knot. Broken
arrow shafts protruded from his back, and red marks covered his
chest, mingling with the older blue bruises in a horrible medley.
As soon as her hands were free, she untied her ankles and knelt
beside him. His head drooped, his eyes half shut, as if he was
falling asleep. Tassin grasped his arm and shook him.

"Sabre, you
must get on a horse. You have to get to a doctor!"

"This unit is
no longer functional," he stated. "Accrued damage exceeds
operational parameters."

Tassin cursed.
It sounded bad, even if it did not make much sense. "You must! I
cannot get you onto a horse. Just mount, and I will take you to a
doctor."

Sabre's head
bowed further. "This unit is no longer operational. Bio-status is
at thirty-five per cent; unit shutdown is imminent."

Tassin noticed
that his wounds had stopped bleeding. Surely if he lost no more
blood he would get no worse? Jumping up, she ran over to the
picketed horses, selected two and led them back to him.

"Sabre, get on
the horse! I order you!"

The cyber's
head lifted, and he gazed through her, the brow band ablaze with
red lights. "Blood loss incurred to the host will result in the
shutdown of this unit for a period of seven days required for
recovery. Shutdown will take place within the next four hours.
Damage sustained is too great for further operation of this cyber
unit -"

"Damn it,
Sabre! Get on the bloody horse!" Tassin grabbed his arm and tried
to haul him to his feet. Tears stung her eyes, and she wondered
why.

The lights on
his brow band flickered erratically, and three of the seven
diagonal lights flashed red. Sabre rose to his knees, trembling.
Tassin released him and pushed the horse closer so he could grasp a
stirrup. Using this, he pulled himself upright, clinging to the
animal. She gripped his arm, noting that his skin was cool and
clammy, and helped him to put his foot into the stirrup. With her
help, he climbed into the saddle, holding onto the pommel.

Tassin placed
his other foot in the stirrup and mounted the second horse, taking
his steed's reins. She rode back into the gully, aware that if
Sabre failed to stay conscious and on the horse, she would not be
able to get him back into the saddle. Her eyes grew moist as she
passed the body of Tyron's warhorse, but she had no remorse for the
soldiers sprawled beside the stream, some horribly burnt, others
with their heads at strange angles. In those few minutes, she
marvelled, Sabre had killed twenty-two men and walked away. Had he
been healthy at the outset, it would still have been an incredible
feat, but he had already been injured.

Tassin glanced
back at his bowed head. He must not die; he was more useful than a
troop of soldiers. Leaving the gully, she angled away from their
previous path. More soldiers would be hunting them, and she needed
a safe place to hide while Sabre recovered. The men who had
ambushed them must have ridden all night to get ahead of them, then
lain in wait in the most likely place that they would pass through.
Torrian's officers had clearly divined her intention of travelling
to Olgara and planned the ambush accordingly.

The sun sank
behind a bank of golden cloud by the time she spied a hamlet ahead.
Sabre slumped over the pommel, and at times swayed dangerously, so
she dared go no faster than a walk. His blood stained his mount's
grey flanks, and it rolled its eyes at the scent. On the hamlet's
outskirts, she encountered a labourer on his way home from the
fields, and the man eyed her, scowling at the sagging cyber. He was
not at all amused when she rode into his path, blocking it.

Tassin forced a
friendly smile. "Excuse me. I need to find a doctor; my friend is
injured."

The peasant
spat on the side of the road, shifting his cud. "Nearest thing
ye'll find 'round 'ere be Mother Amy. Go on past the village, up
the path to the right, an' you'll find 'er 'ut."

Tassin dug in
her pocket and drew out a silver coin. "If soldiers come looking
for us, we went on to the mountains, right?"

The man grinned
as he took the coin, revealing teeth stained brown from chewing
moltin, a mild herbal drug. "Sure thing, missy."

Following the
man's directions, she found a meandering trail leading up into a
thickly wooded area overgrown with brambles and weeds. The
coniferous trees presented a solid wall of dark verdure on either
side of the path, and the thick bush between them prevented anyone
from leaving it. The steep, rocky trail wound torturously, and
Tassin glanced back often to make sure Sabre had not slipped from
his saddle on the rough parts. His pallor had increased, and he
appeared to be asleep, the brow band sparkling red. She shivered as
a cool wind blew a dank, musty smell from the dense forest,
wondering why anyone would want to live in such an uninviting
place. The hairs on the back of her neck rose with every rustle in
the darkness beside the trail, and Sabre's presence, even though he
was so badly wounded, was a great comfort.

At the end of
the narrow track, a wooden hut stood in a clearing, smoke curling
from the chimney. A woodpile was stacked against one wall, and the
faint clucking of chickens came from behind it. Tassin dismounted
and banged on the door, waiting impatiently for an answer. She had
raised her fist to bang again when the door was yanked open and a
wizened, toothless crone peered out, looking cross. A coarse
homespun black dress hung from her bony shoulders, and she leant on
a gnarled walking stick, her lank white hair straggling around a
weather-beaten face. Quick black eyes flicked over Tassin and
lingered on the cyber.

"Wounded, is
he?" She wasted no time on niceties.

"Yes, could you
-"

"Bring 'im in
'ere."

Tassin gaped at
the crone as she turned away and shuffled back into the hut's
gloom. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. Swallowing
her anger, she ordered Sabre to dismount. His knees buckled as his
feet hit the ground, and he sat back on his haunches, his eyes
closed. The old crone reappeared in the doorway, clicked her
tongue, and shouted over her shoulder.

"Bern!"

A huge,
baby-faced man eased his bulk around the tiny woman, an idiot grin
on his placid countenance. He shuffled over to Tassin and picked up
the wounded cyber as if he weighed nothing at all. Tassin followed
him into the hut, where he placed Sabre on a bed at the back of the
hovel, near the fireplace where a warm blaze licked at the logs. He
was careful to place Sabre on his side, so the arrow shafts
protruding from his back were not driven further in, then retreated
to sit in the corner and stare into the fire.

The wizened
little crone faced Tassin, arms akimbo. "You got coin?"

Tassin took a
gold coin from the pouch and held it up. Mother Amy nodded and went
over to examine Sabre. Tassin, peering over her shoulder, gave a
stifled cry of dismay. Sabre's brow band was completely black.

"Is - is he
alive?"

The crone gave
her a toothless smile. "Aye, he's alive, just barely. Go tend to
yer horses and leave me to do my job. There's a paddock around the
back where you can put 'em."

Tassin opened
her mouth to tell the old woman that she did not tend horses, then
shut it again. Shooting a glare at Bern, who did not notice, she
stomped out.

When she
returned, Mother Amy had stripped Sabre of his harness, wristband,
trousers and boots, and he was clad only in his silken shorts. The
old woman examined the brow band with keen interest, and looked up
at Tassin's entry.

"Know you what
be this?" She touched the brow band.

Tassin shook
her head. "No, I have no idea."

"Tis magic. Bad
magic," Mother Amy muttered, fingering it. "There's as little in
'is head as there be in Bern's."