The Cyber Chronicles VII - Sabre (20 page)

"One sound,
and I cut off your air," he said.

Dellon gulped
and nodded, his brown eyes riveted to the brow band. His thin face
bore the pockmarks of a bad case of acne, and his frightened gasps
through his open mouth, with its full, slack lips, stank of
halitosis. He also honked of body odour, and the combined stenches
offended the cyber’s keen olfactory senses. He found it hard to
believe that this ill-washed youth was related to Tassin at all.
Sabre dragged him off the bed, discovering that he was naked with a
grunt of disgust. Drawing a laser, he held it up.

"Do you know
what this is?"

The youth
nodded.

"Good. Get
dressed."

Sabre released
him, and he grabbed a pair of royal blue velvet trousers off the
floor and pulled them on. When he had also donned a rather wrinkled
and smelly off-white shirt and royal blue jacket, the cyber stepped
closer and jabbed him in the chest with the laser.

"Let's go. You
tell the guards to stand down, and do exactly what I say, or you
die, got it?"

Dellon nodded,
and Sabre wondered why he was being so co-operative. It might be
cowardice, but it seemed too easy. Gripping the back of Dellon's
collar, he frog-marched him through the lounge and made him push
open the brass-hinged oak doors. They emerged into a narrow
corridor with bare grey stone walls, where the sleepy guards
snapped to attention, trying to salute and hang onto their spears
at the same time. The pair, clad in faded green and gold livery
under chain mail, their helmets bearing tufts of yellow feathers,
gaped at Sabre when he followed the King, reaching for their
swords.

"Hold!" Dellon
yelled, too loudly for Sabre's liking.

The guards
froze, and Sabre wondered if they were Tassin's men, or Dellon's.
"Queen Tassin has returned,” he informed them. “Spread the word,
and tell your comrades that if anyone tries to attack me, I'll kill
the King. All those who wish to keep their heads should reclaim
their loyalty to the Queen and help me take the castle. They'll be
rewarded. Go."

The soldiers
backed away, then loped off, their mail jingling. Sabre headed for
the broad staircase that ran down the wall on his right, trundling
Dellon along by his scruff, the laser pressed to the back of his
head. They encountered another two sentries at the bottom of the
staircase, whom he advised of the Queen's return and sent trotting
off to spread the news. Making his way through the grand,
banner-hung entrance hall, he headed for the tall doors that led
into the courtyard. The pair of sentries that guarded them pushed
open the portal at his command, retreating.

Emerging into
the cobbled courtyard, he glanced at the scanners. Fifteen men
patrolled the ten-metre tall battlements that enclosed the yard,
and a quartet guarded the main gates. A few spluttering torches
still burnt in wall sconces, but the sky had brightened to pale
pink. He could just make out the forms of the soldiers on the
battlements, and the cloth-draped laser cannons he had installed
four years ago. Dellon’s colours, a rampant yellow panther on a
green field, flew above the gatehouse, steps leading up to it.

Marching
Dellon to the middle of the courtyard, he stopped and shouted,
"Queen Tassin has returned! Make one hostile move, and Dellon dies.
Take down that flag and run up the Queen's colours, now!"

A full minute
of stunned silence fell before a man on the battlements went to the
main flagpole to take down Dellon's banner. Sentries emerged from
the gatehouse to gape at Sabre, and he pointed the laser at
them.

"Go and stand
over there by the wall. You men on the walls, come down and join
them."

They descended
the steps, one soldier trotting ahead towards a door on one side of
the courtyard.

"Stop!" Sabre
bellowed, and the man froze. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To fetch the
Queen's colours."

"Right. Make
it quick."

"Yes,
sir."

The man
vanished through the door, and the rest of the soldiers joined the
sentries, muttering. The man on the battlements struck Dellon's
colours and joined the group, and Sabre glanced around at the door
through which the other soldier had left, wishing he would hurry
up. The lack of resistance made him uneasy, and he wondered at
Dellon's continued silence. Was it possible that the skinny boy was
too cowardly to even protest, or was something else afoot?

Sabre waved
the laser at the soldiers. "One of you, open the gates."

A grizzled
veteran headed for gates, and Sabre jammed the laser's muzzle into
the side of Dellon's head, making him wince.

"The rest of
you, remove your swords and armour."

A sergeant
stepped forward. "Sir, we're the Queen's men. We'll help you."

The red light
that flashed in Sabre’s mind told him the man lied. He did not want
to reveal his ability to sense lies just yet, however. "Right, and
I should just take your word for it. Throw your weapons over there
by the wall, and be quick."

As the men
threw their weapons down with a clatter, the soldier returned with
a piece of cloth and trotted up to the battlements. The portcullis
rattled up, and Sabre glanced at the open gates, his brows drawing
together. Everything was going too smoothly, and his suspicion grew
more acute. No inkling of rebellion showed on the soldiers' faces;
not even a hint of resentment or anger, and the King was far too
compliant. Something was not right. If this was a trap, it was
quite an obvious one, but it could only be one if his hostage was
not Dellon. He shook the King and pressed the laser harder against
his head.

"You are
Dellon, aren't you?"

"Y-yes."

Sabre raised
his voice to address the soldiers. "Is this your King?"

They nodded,
and one replied, "Yes, sir."

The warning
light flashed in Sabre's mind again, and he swung towards the man
who stood by the flagpole, preparing to run up the Queen’s colours.
"Stop!"

The man
lowered the flag he held and stepped back, and Sabre cursed,
wondering what he was going to do now. They were all lying,
including the pimply youth he held hostage, who was probably the
cook's cousin. He had double checked by asking the men because the
youth's agitation was such that the cyber was unable to be certain
he was lying. Now he was sure. He was in a trap, but it was not
intended for him and would not spring until Tassin came, which she
would only do when her banner was raised. He shoved the scrawny
young man away and drew his other laser, wagging it at the
wide-eyed youth.

"You can go
and join them. I know you're all lying."

Sabre glanced
up at the battlements again, where the soldier was attaching
Tassin's flag to the lanyard. "Hey! You! Drop that and get down
here, now!"

The man
continued to tie the knot, fumbling in his haste. Sabre shot him,
and he collapsed with a grunt. Now Sabre would have to take the
castle on his own, or escape. He wondered how many men were hidden
in the fortress, cursing Dellon's duplicity. A great many men would
have to die, and he did not relish the prospect of killing them. If
he made his escape, however, Tassin would be in grave danger, for
Dellon would send troops to hunt her down and kill her. They would
be on the run again, back to the almost identical predicament they
had been in when they had fled from Torrian four years ago, only
now Sharmian would be doomed, too.

The plan to
take the King hostage had seemed like a good one, even though he
did not know what Dellon looked like. Tassin's description had been
detailed, and he had thought it would be enough. The youth he had
found in the King's bedchamber bore a close enough resemblance to
fool him, however. He should have asked him if he was the King,
then the cyber would have picked up on his lie, but he had gone on
the assumption that the youth in the King’s bed who matched his
description was the monarch. The cyber would have checked. Once
again, he had failed where the cyber would have succeeded, through
his human ability to make mistakes. He signalled to the soldier by
the gate, indicating that he should rejoin his fellows. Sabre kept
his weapons trained on the men, and waved them towards one of the
doorways that led off the courtyard.

"Get going,
inside."

Sabre needed
cover; he was too exposed in the open without a human shield.
Realising that someone else could run up the Queen's colours after
he had quit the courtyard, he wagged a laser at a man at the back
of the group.

"You! Go and
fetch that flag. Try to raise it, and you'll die like your friend.
Run!"

The soldier
raced up to the battlements, and Sabre watched him while the
scanners tracked the men who headed for the door. His heart rate
and breathing quickened, and a rush of adrenalin heated his muscles
and made his hands shake. The cyber’s battle schematics appeared in
his mind, mapping the courtyard and all the potential foes in it,
their weapons and the potential trajectories of missiles they might
fire. Twelve more life signs appeared, some on the battlements, who
must have emerged from the keep where the wall joined it. Others
appeared at windows and doors that faced the courtyard, and blue
lines on the cyber’s blueprint indicated their lines of fire. Sabre
shot the soldier who was heading for the flagpole, then dropped and
spun to strafe the new life signs as vicious hisses filled the air.
Arrows buzzed over his head, several hitting the soldiers behind
him, who scattered, racing for their weapons. Three of his shots
hit their targets, and two archers slumped in windows and one on
the battlements. Another volley hissed from the remaining men, and
Sabre dived aside.

Arrows
ricocheted off the cobbles beside him with tinny clinks as he hit
the ground and rolled, shooting five more men. Two bolts hit the
walls with crackling pops. Nine soldiers reclaimed their weapons
and charged him from behind. He spun, cutting them down with a
sweeping lash of blue light. Rolling to the wall, he jumped up and
ran towards a door, eager to quit the rain of arrows. A tug on his
arm told him that he had been hit, and he glanced down at the black
crossbow bolt that protruded from it. Ducking into the doorway, he
turned and fired at the flagpole, shearing it off with a sizzling
crack.

Pressing his
back to the wall just inside the door, he glanced up and down the
empty corridor. If none of the men in the courtyard were Tassin's,
it could only mean that Dellon had already incarcerated them. He
sprinted down the passage, heading for the dungeons. Any form of
reinforcement would do, even unarmed men. A man stepped out of a
doorway ahead and tried to ram a spear through his gut. Sabre leapt
over it, kicked downwards as he did so and snapped the shaft. He
fired point-blank at the soldier, blowing away his face an instant
before he hit him. The corpse sprawled, and Sabre sailed over it as
arrows hissed after him.

Three thudded
into his armoured back and one glanced off his scalp, ripping a
gash. Four men leapt out from behind a corner, swords raised. Sabre
jumped aside, aimed and snapped off four shots without thinking
about it. The cyber had started to override him, speeding up his
reactions to milliseconds as it spotted enemies and predicted their
movements. He let it guide him, shooting men who tried to charge
him from the side or leapt at him from doorways and corners. Arrows
whizzed past, and more thudded into his armour, one slicing through
the skin of his biceps.

Sabre leapt
down the dungeon stairs three at a time, the hail of arrows
momentarily cut off. A soldier thrust a sword at him from a
doorway, and the blade skittered off his abdominal armour. His
right hand snapped around and fired in the instant he passed the
door, felling the man. Two sentries waited at the bottom of the
steps, crossbows aimed. The bolts thudded into his chest armour,
and they fell as he fired. He reloaded and loped down the passage
to the cells.

Pausing
outside the first, he peered in through the barred window at the
top of the sturdy oak door. The shadowy forms of men moved about
inside, assuring him that it was occupied. The old-style lock
required a large key to draw back the thick bolt that fastened it,
and he had neither a key nor the time to find one or burn through
the door. The corridor was narrow, but he moved to the opposite
side of it and pushed off the wall. Reaching the door in a bound,
he leapt at it, channelling all his power and momentum into his
right leg. His foot hit the door square in the centre, smashing it
inwards with a terrific bang and clatter of splintered wood. A
dozen men gaped at him in the guttering light of a smutty torch,
several rubbing bruises where bits of the door had bounced off
them.

Sabre pointed
a laser at them. "Are you Queen Tassin's men?"

Most of them
nodded, and an officer, judging by his commanding demeanour and the
silver braid on his sleeves, stepped forward. "Has the Queen
returned?"

"Yes. Arm
yourselves and free the rest."

"She's truly
alive?"

"Yes, now
hurry up!"

The officer
glanced back. "The Queen!"

The men boiled
out and charged down the corridor to take the dead sentries’
weapons, and one dashed back with a bunch of keys to open the other
cells. Sabre leant against the wall to snap off the arrows that
protruded from his back. Blood ran down the side of his head and
dripped from his elbow, but neither wound was serious. His
bio-status was eighty-four per cent, still good. He cursed the
habit he had picked up from Tarl and pushed himself away from the
wall, heading for the stairs as more men emerged from the cells to
join him. He had to find Dellon.

Chapter Fifteen