The Cyber Chronicles - Book I: Queen of Arlin (17 page)

Sabre's head
turned as he scanned the cliff, the lights on the brow band
flashing. "There is a trail over there." He pointed to one side,
where a narrow shelf started just below the summit and meandered
down in a jagged, dizzying path. In some places, the shelf almost
disappeared, in others sheer drops had to be negotiated. Her heart
quailed at the prospect of climbing down it.

"Is that the
only way?"

He scanned the
cliff for a few more moments. "Yes." Turning away, he walked over
to the path, which a tall ridge overhung on one side. "Follow
closely, hold on, and do not look down."

Tassin
approached the edge and peered over it. The world spun and her bile
rose. She stumbled back, sickened and afraid. "I cannot climb down
that. I will fall."

Sabre turned.
"Do not look down, you will get dizzy."

"I know, but I
-"

Sabre whipped
around as a grey shape launched itself from a crag above him. His
arm snapped up, but the wolf struck him in the chest, its forepaws
outstretched, its jaws reaching for his throat. Sabre stepped back
to absorb the shock of the impact. For a second he teetered on the
edge, then, as if in slow motion, he fell.

"Sabre!"

Tassin's scream
echoed around the mountains like the shriek of a hunting eagle.
Running to the edge, she dropped to her knees and clung to the
rocks as she peered down. Far below, two still forms lay in the
snow. She screamed his name again as loudly as she could, hoping
for a movement, some sign that he was alive. The icy wind tugged at
her tangled hair, sweeping her cry away to echo and re-echo around
the mountains. The two forms below remained unmoving and oddly
twisted, stark against the virgin snow.

Tassin thought
there was a bright splash of blood, but she was not sure. She was
intensely alone all of a sudden. Only icy wastes and the soft
moaning of the wind in the crevasses surrounded her. Sabre was
gone. Her only companion, her fellow warrior and provider; her
friend. Hot tears flooded her eyes, blurring the sight of his
twisted body. She had never had a friend before. The daughters of
nobles had either been in awe or envious of her, and those who had
offered friendship had inevitably turned out to be trying to curry
favour for their own ends while whispering nastiness behind her
back.

Tassin gripped
the icy rock and wept bitter tears. How could she carry on without
Sabre? She needed him! Worst of all, his death was her fault. The
wolves had been sent to kill him because of her. He had turned back
from the edge because of her. Had she been close to him, the wolf
would not have dared to attack for fear of killing her too. It had
been a suicide leap; the beast had deliberately sent them
plummeting to their deaths. They had come so far! Once on the other
side of the pass, they would have been safe from Torrian, she was
sure.

Tassin banged
her fists on the rock and cursed him. He had ruined her life, and
now he had killed Sabre. Tears trickled down her cheeks like
threads of ice as she recalled Sabre's devotion to her well-being,
keeping her warm and fed, protecting her from her enemies. Once her
fury at his unwelcome rescue had abated, she had grown to depend
upon him, and was now glad he had saved her. Her last shred of hope
dwindled to nothing as Sabre's distant shape remained still.

A low growl
made her sit up, the hair on her nape rising. She turned to face
the last wolf, which stood not four metres away, its yellow eyes
fixed on her. Cold tendrils of fear coiled in her gut as it pulled
back ice-rimed lips, baring long fangs. Tassin's eyes locked with
the beast's, and the wind whipped away her steaming breath as she
waited for it to leap. When it remained where it was, her fear
receded, and she realised that it would not harm her. It was a
warrior turned into a wolf and sent to bring her back. Her fear
turned to rage, and she scowled at it.

"Murderer!" she
shouted. "Murdering scum! What dirty slime are you? A coward's way,
to sneak up on your enemy and push him over the edge. You are
supposed to be a warrior! Hah!"

The wolf
snarled and stepped forward, its eyes alight. She quailed, but
common sense told her that it was bluffing, and she groped for a
loose rock. Finding a fist-sized stone, she hurled it at the wolf
with all her might, forcing the animal to dodge. It snapped at her,
its teeth bared as it advanced again, and Tassin glared at it.

"You will not
harm me. I know it was magic that turned you into a wolf, and that
Torrian sent you. My magic warrior told me what you are, so do not
expect me to fear you. If I had a sword, you would be dead
already!" She reached for another rock.

The wolf
pricked its ears, and Tassin hurled the rock, hitting it on the
paw. It yelped and retreated a few steps, whining. She groped for
another rock, but the wolf moved out of range, lifted its muzzle
and howled, the mournful sound echoing through the mountains. It
called the men to come and get her now that she was
unprotected.

"Damn you!" she
yelled. "I hope you get rabies! I hope a plague of fleas descends
on you and drives you mad! As a wedding gift, I will demand your
pelt to wipe my feet on!"

The wolf
whined, its ears laid back and its eyes cowed. Tassin glanced
around. "If you think I am going to sit here and wait for your
friends to come and get me, you can think again, you flea-bitten
bastard!"

Tassin edged
towards the rocky path, filled with reckless courage, her heart
pounding and her mind cold with determination. The wolf gave a yelp
and bounded towards her. She threw another rock, but it dodged and
darted close to grip her coat in its jaws, trying to drag her away
from the edge. She punched it, but it closed its eyes and hung on,
tugging and pulling. Grabbing a rock, she smashed it against the
wolf's head. It released her and staggered away, stunned.

Tassin eased
herself down onto the shelf, clinging to the rock with icy fingers.
She would escape Torrian, even without Sabre. The wolf reappeared
and gazed down at her as she crept along the narrow ledge. It
whined, but she was out of reach. It vanished, and its howl rang
out again, more urgently. She tried to speed up her descent,
keeping her eyes on the stone in front of her while she slid her
feet along the shelf, testing each foothold before putting her
weight on it. Remembering Sabre's warning, she fought the urge to
look down. The wolf reappeared again, whined and tried to step down
onto the path, but retreated. With no hands to cling with, it could
not follow her.

Tassin
bellowed, "Tough luck, bilge breath! You are a wolf now, not a man!
It has other disadvantages, besides not being able to talk."

The wolf
growled and retreated. She concentrated on climbing down the steep,
narrow path, longing for Sabre's reassuring presence. Without him,
her terror made her mouth dry and her heart pound. Unable to look
down, she did not know how far it was to the first ledge, where
Sabre's body lay. The wolf reappeared and stood silhouetted against
the sky, staring down. She had descended several metres already,
but at any moment she expected the men to arrive, which would
really complicate matters.

Time seemed to
slow as she concentrated on moving her feet carefully, testing each
step and groping for handholds. Sweat dewed her brow, and several
times she stopped to rest, clinging to the icy rock. When she
reached one of the sheer drops, she crawled down it with her heart
in her throat, her stomach a painful knot. Once, a piece of rock
broke off in her hand, causing a moment of gut-wrenching panic
followed by a freezing tide of terror. Tassin wanted to stop and
scream until someone came to rescue her. Her fingers bled, her back
ached terribly and her neck was stiff with tension.

Shouts drew her
attention upwards. Two men climbed down after her, and she cursed.
She had not gone through all this just to be dragged back now. From
the distance to the top, she calculated that she must be more than
halfway down. The sun had moved closer to the horizon, so several
hours had passed. Her foot found another gap, and she eased herself
down until she found rock under her foot again. As she put her
weight on it, it crumbled away and her fingers slipped, making her
yelp with terror, pressing herself to the rock. One foot now bore
almost all of her weight, her knee bent at an awkward angle. She
clawed for fresh handholds, a scream clogging her throat.

Shouts came
from the men above her. "Hold on, Majesty! We'll save you! Don't
move!"

This spurred
Tassin on, and her aching fingers found cracks and crawled in,
securing her. She lowered herself more, hanging by her hands as her
foothold passed the point of no return. Her other foot found the
path, and she eased her weight onto it. It held, and she breathed a
sigh of relief as the ledge widened. Aware of the men above her,
she moved faster.

At last she
dared to look down, and found that she was only a few metres above
the snow-covered ledge. Throwing caution to the winds, she
scrambled onto it. She stood gasping and shaking with relief, then
looked up. Torrian's men were halfway down. Turning away, she
crunched through the snow to the edge of the ledge and looked down.
Another dizzying drop greeted her, and she recoiled in horror. She
was not ready to face another terrifying descent.

Tassin looked
at Sabre's sprawled form, wondering if she could use his magic. She
shuddered at the thought of touching his corpse, but desperation
made her walk over to it. He lay face down, his head twisted to the
side, and he was half buried in the snow, sunken from the impact.
She knelt beside him, fresh tears burning her eyes. One leg was
bent awkwardly under the other, and his arms were outstretched as
if to embrace the snow.

"I am so sorry,
Sabre," she whispered, her throat raw and dry.

Blinking away
her tears, she reached out to stroke his cheek in a gesture of
affection and farewell. She jerked her hand away in surprise when
her fingers encountered warm skin. Hope flared in her, but she
squashed it. His body had not cooled yet, that was all; no one
could survive that fall. Still, she could not stop her hand from
creeping to his throat. After a brief search she found a pulse, and
her heart leapt. Gladness rushed through her, bringing with it
warmth and hope. He was alive. She had not lost him after all.
Glancing up, she found that Torrian's men were on the last steep
stretch.

Digging Sabre's
right arm out of the snow, she examined the wrist laser and
launcher. She had seen him use it many times, and when he did he
curled his hand down. Her groping fingers found two raised buttons
on a curved pad under the band. Lifting his arm, she pointing it at
the men and pressed one of the buttons. There was a soft whirring
noise as the two tubes spun around the band, the larger one moving
to the top, then a sharp pop. Sabre's arm jerked, and an explosion
tore into the cliff face above the men. They stopped and shouted,
then scrambled down faster.

Aiming Sabre's
arm more carefully, she pressed the other button. The tubes spun
again with a whir, and blue fire cracked into the cliff to the
right of the men. Elated, Tassin moved Sabre's arm to the left and
fired again. The laser beam hit the upper man in the back, and he
toppled away from the cliff, dead before he let go. The other man
shouted for mercy, but Tassin was not in a merciful mood. It took
three shots before she hit him, and he died as silently as the
first. High above, the wolf stood silhouetted. Raising Sabre's arm,
she fired at it. The shot missed, but the wolf vanished.

Tassin turned
her attention to Sabre. He breathed in shallow, laboured gasps, his
lips tinged with blue. Tassin struggled to roll him onto his back,
for he was surprisingly heavy. He flopped limply, his legs twisted
and his mouth slightly open. The brow band was black and dead. She
unhooked the bags from his harness and dug out a blanket, spreading
it over him. His hands were ice cold, and the front of his clothes
was soaked. A splash of red in the snow caught her attention, and
she peered at it.

There was a
rock just beneath the surface, covered with frozen blood. Alarmed,
Tassin examined Sabre's head more closely, and, after some frantic
scrutiny, noticed that a vertical crack ran through the brow band's
crystals, and two struts were bent. Evidently it had taken the
brunt of the impact. Blood had seeped from around the struts and
run down them to freeze on the brow band. The band had saved his
skull from fracture, but at what cost? If the brow band was broken,
did that mean he would wake up an idiot? Maybe he would not wake up
at all.

Tassin rocked
miserably on her haunches, caught between grief and pure terror.
What should she do? She wiped the melting snow from his face with
trembling hands. Grimacing, she tried to straighten the band, but
the metal was far too strong. Her efforts caused fresh blood to
ooze out and drip onto the snow. Tassin wiped it away, glad when it
stopped. She glanced around for some sort of shelter. The sun sank
towards the desert horizon in a glory of red and gold, and she knew
she must get him out of the snow.

Rising, she
stumbled towards the cliff. Snow formed banks along its base, and,
without really knowing why, she traversed its perimeter.
Floundering through the deep drifts, she found the bodies of
Torrian's men, twisted like broken dolls. She stripped them of
their supplies and blankets, averting her eyes from their frozen
expressions of horror. Burdened with their packs, she continued to
search the base of the cliff for some sort of shelter, a spur of
rock or an overhanging shelf.

The snow caved
in under her, and she tumbled into a cave with a yell of surprise.
Delighted, Tassin stood and brushed snow from her clothes. The cave
was little more than a crack, but snug and dry. It narrowed
rapidly, only about two metres deep and one-and-a-half metres wide
at its entrance. Dry twigs and animal fur covered the floor,
indicating that once it had been a den. Bones testified to the
predatory nature of the beast, but she did not pause to ponder the
prospect that it might return.