The Cyber Chronicles - Book I: Queen of Arlin (9 page)

Sabre rose and
picked up the blanket she had slept in. She followed him to the
horses and watched him saddle them. Falcon grazed nearby, raising
his head to whinny a greeting. Purple bruises mottled Sabre's ribs
and the side of his head, yet his injuries did not appear to hinder
him.

Tassin led the
way upstream, keeping the pace to trot through the trees. Sabre
followed, his head turning occasionally to the side. The forest
consisted of gnarled, twisted trees with many low branches that
impeded their progress, and briar patches often blocked their way,
since they followed no path. In places, fallen trees formed
barriers of dead wood and sharp branches, and, in others, clumps of
young trees hid the rotting remains of the fallen elder that had
given them life.

Tassin cursed
her thin, impractical dress. The skirts exposed her lower legs to
thorns and twigs while the low-cut bodice allowed an icy draught to
invade her bosom. She needed to find a village soon and buy a more
practical outfit, as well as a sword. She had no money, however,
and she could not claim to be the Queen of Arlin; no one would
believe her. Sabre's husky voice startled her from her
contemplation.

"Enemy is
drawing close."

Tassin looked
back at him, wondering how he could know such things when there was
nothing to see or hear. His head was turned to the side again, as
if he harkened to some inner music. She urged her horse into a
canter and concentrated on avoiding low branches and obstacles.
After only a few minutes, hoof beats came from behind, gaining
rapidly. The soldiers rode faster horses, and came on at a gallop,
whooping in triumph when they caught sight of their prey.

Tassin kicked
the mare into a gallop, ducking and weaving to avoid lashing
branches and tree trunks that skimmed her bare legs as the skirts
of her court dress billowed behind her. Branches yanked her hair,
making her gasp and whimper. Tears stung her eyes as she strived to
duck the clawing boughs that seemed to reach for her with fiendish
glee. Sabre raised his arm and pointed at the soldiers. The
launcher's soft cough heralded the roar of the explosion that
ripped through trees and men alike, and, although a score fell
screaming, the rest came on undeterred.

Three
cavalrymen drew alongside Tassin, crowding their horses close to
try to grab her. Sabre fired the laser into their midst, slicing
through the riders and causing the horses to shy away from the
searing beam. Tassin's mount leapt sideways in fright, scraping her
leg against a tree. The overgrown forest gave way to open woodland
dotted with tall slender coalwood trees whose smooth grey bark was
furred with the orange symbiotic fungus that protected them from
wood-eating vermin.

Tassin glanced
back at Falcon, who still followed despite his lameness. Beyond
him, riders flitted, wraith-like, through the trees, the thick
carpet of soft, newly fallen autumn leaves muffling their horses'
hoof beats. They had spread out to avoid the devastation of Sabre's
magic, and he had lowered his arm. Tassin gave a cry as an arrow
buzzed past her head, ducking lower over her pommel. A cavalryman
charged towards her from the side, angling his smaller steed to ram
her warhorse in the shoulder.

"Attack!" she
shouted at the mare, and the big bay flattened her ears and lunged
at the soldier's mount, biting its neck. The cavalry horse veered
away, and the soldier's grasping hand missed her arm as he was
carried off. Riders converged from all sides, and crossbow bolts
hissed past, aimed at Sabre, but coming perilously close to the
Queen. The soldiers closed in on Sabre, their swords raised to hack
him down, but the cyber's fire struck again and again, sending them
screaming to their deaths.

Others, too
intent on capturing the Queen, were scraped from their saddles by
branches or rubbed off against tree trunks. Tassin's mare made good
use of her teeth and hooves, fending off any horses that ventured
too close. Those that came within striking distance were burnt down
from behind by flashes of light so brilliant that dancing spots
filled Tassin's eyes after each flare.

Without
warning, the remaining riders vanished back into the woods, leaving
them to gallop unmolested until Tassin slowed her mount to a walk.
The horses panted, steam rolling up their heaving flanks.

She turned to
Sabre. "Where did they go?"

"They have
turned back, probably to return to the main force."

"A pox on
Torrian! He will not give up!"

Sabre ejected a
spent power pack from his wrist laser and inserted a fresh one.
Tassin snorted in disgust at his arrogant unconcern. Her bruised
leg throbbed and her scalp burnt where branches had scraped it and
yanked her hair. Scratches oozed blood down Sabre's arms and chest,
adding to his battered appearance. Tassin kept the pace to a walk
to allow the horses to rest. She glanced back often, each time
irritated by the warrior's blank, impassive expression.

In the
afternoon, they crossed the stream and came upon a road, which they
followed into a village nestled in the bosom of forested hills.
Fields of stubble surrounded it, golden and dry. As they drew
nearer, the sounds of revelry and music reached them, and Tassin
realised that it was a harvest festival, when people celebrated the
end of the reaping. She guided her weary horse into the clutch of
thatched stone houses and shops that faced dusty roads around a
central green, where tents had been pitched and a fair was in full
swing.

Brightly
painted gypsy caravans mingled with drab traders' drays, and
impromptu stalls sold all manner of wares, from cheap trinkets to
hot food. Tassin inhaled the savoury odours, wishing she had some
money. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled as she stopped to
gaze at the food on offer. In the village there would be an inn
with soft beds, a bath and stables for the horses. Now she wished
she wore some jewellery that she could sell. If Falcon had not been
lame she would have sold one of the mares, but she needed them.

Tassin
considered the possible sources of income available to her, and her
gaze fell upon Sabre. Urging her mare forward, she entered the
green, wending her way through the crowded paths between stalls and
wagons. Beggars accosted them, hands outstretched, and whores eyed
Sabre with interest, pouting at his lack of it. Traders bawled
their wares and urchins ran squealing through the throng,
purloining goods wherever they could. Almost at the centre of the
green, she found what she sought. A clamouring crowd surrounded two
grunting, heaving men locked in a lethargic wrestling match.

Tassin
dismounted and hitched her horse to a wagon wheel, wrinkling her
nose as the stench of unwashed bodies, cheap perfume and dung
assailed it. Sabre tethered his horse beside hers before following
her to the throng around the combatants. The crowd presented a
solid wall of backs, barring her way. Usually people made way for
her, but now that she was anonymous she received no such
privileges. She tapped the nearest man on the shoulder, and he
stepped aside, doffing his cap with surprising gallantry.

Smiling, she
tried the next one, with the same result. By the time she had
worked her way to the front of the crowd, she was delighted with
the people's politeness. It seemed that they knew a lady, if not a
queen, when they saw one. Only then did she turn to find Sabre
behind her, his eyes fixed on nothing. At once she realised that
each man had glanced behind her before stepping aside, and Sabre
was the real reason, not her ladylike, if somewhat bedraggled
appearance. Chagrined, she glared at him and turned back to watch
the fighters.

Wrestling was
not something that she would normally have found entertaining,
although she had often watched her father's soldiers train and had
found that interesting enough. Her training, undertaken with a
great deal of diplomacy by her father's master-at-arms, had always
ended as soon as she grew fatigued, and she had rarely broken a
sweat. She had learnt the niceties of swordplay, its techniques and
finer points, but even the lightweight sword that had been made for
her soon made her wrist ache.

Mostly, she had
to admit to herself, though certainly to no one else, she had
watched the soldiers to admire their well-defined physiques, for
they often stripped to the waist on hot days. Sabre, however, far
outranked the best she had ever seen. The sight of the two brutish,
hirsute men, splattered with mud and dripping pungent perspiration,
turned her stomach. She pulled a face, wishing they would hurry up
and finish the bout so she could put her plan into action. One
slipped, spraying mud on her skirt, and she stepped back with a cry
of disgust, bumping into something exceedingly solid. She turned to
find herself nose to chin with Sabre and stepped away, her cheeks
warming despite his lack of reaction.

Tassin waited
for the match to end, scowling at several men who leered at her.
Finally, one man half-drowned his opponent in the mud and dung,
emerging triumphant. The defeated man was dragged away, and the
hairy giant who had won grinned toothlessly at the cheering crowd.
A runty man stepped into the centre of the circle and waved a
jingling bag.

"Who'll
challenge the mighty victor? Err... What's yer name?" The giant
rumbled something, and the rat-faced man yelled, "Gorm! Our
champion! A bag of gold to anyone who can defeat the mighty
Gorm!"

Tassin stepped
forward. "I challenge!"

The ratty man
turned to her, his thin lips stretching in a snaggle-toothed grin
as his bold eyes raked her. "You?"

She snorted.
"Not me, you moron." She stepped aside and pointed at Sabre.
"Him."

The man's eyes
narrowed as he studied the cyber. "No weapons!"

Tassin turned
to Sabre. "Remove the harness."

The cyber
unclipped it and handed it to her when she held out her hand. She
was wary of his reaction, since the harness contained all his
weapons, but he only turned his head to gaze through her in his
annoying fashion. The runty man came over and inspected Sabre, his
eyes lingering on the brow band and the bruises on Sabre's ribs and
head. He seemed unimpressed, his lip curling in a sneer at Sabre's
lack of stature. Finding no other weapons about the cyber's person,
he returned to the centre of the muddy arena and addressed the
crowd in a grandiose manner.

"We have a
challenger! A new fight! Place your bets! I'll give two to one on
Gorm, our champion!"

Tassin wished
she had some gold to wager on Sabre. Money changed hands, most
people betting on Gorm, for, although Sabre looked dangerous, he
was far smaller than the hairy giant. Gorm strutted about, making
the most of his hard-won glory. He was grossly overweight, his
belly sagging over his belt, but his sheer size was daunting, and
Tassin hoped that Sabre would not be injured further. When all the
bets were laid, Tassin turned to Sabre and pointed at Gorm.

"Sabre, defeat
that man."

The cyber
turned his head towards her and closed his eyes in a slow blink,
the brow band flashing. Tassin thought he would refuse, then he
faced Gorm. The hirsute man grinned and beckoned. Sabre walked
around him, looking relaxed. Tassin held her breath as Gorm's grin
faded and a black, Neanderthal scowl replaced it. Sabre's head was
turned towards him, but his eyes looked disconcertingly through the
giant, making him appear blind. Tassin found that she was gripping
Sabre's harness so hard that it dug into her palms and forced
herself to relax. The tension within the ring mounted as Gorm
shuffled to face the circling cyber.

Sabre spun in a
blur and leapt; his foot hit the side of Gorm’s head and sent him
reeling into the crowd. The men thrust Gorm back into the ring,
where he shook his head like a bee-stung bear, growling. Sabre
stepped closer and buried his fists in Gorm's stomach, staggering
him. With a roar, the muddy giant charged Sabre, who sidestepped,
turning to smash an elbow into Gorm's kidneys as he galloped past
and ploughed into the crowd. Cries of outrage erupted, and Tassin
realised how vulnerable she was, standing in the front row.

Gorm extricated
himself from the spectators and rushed at Sabre again, arms
swinging. Sabre ducked under the meaty fists and landed a full-leg
kick in Gorm's enormous gut. The hairy man staggered back, heading
straight for Tassin, who gave a cry of horror and tried to burrow
into the crowd. Sabre leapt forward, caught the reversing giant's
wrist and yanked with all his might. He slipped in the mud and went
over backwards, released Gorm and threw out his arms to catch
himself. Gorm teetered, then flung himself at Sabre, clearly hoping
to pin the smaller man. Sabre leapt aside with amazing agility, and
Gorm crashed face-first into the mud. Swivelling, Sabre landed the
final blow to the back of Gorm's head, stunning him. The giant
quivered and went limp, and men came forward to drag him away.

Tassin breathed
a sigh of relief, glad that it was over and she had escaped being
flattened by the muddy behemoth. She glanced around for the ratty
man, who reappeared in the ring. He eyed her askance when she faced
him, her hand out for the bag of gold.

"My
winnings?"

The ratty man
grinned. "The overall winner gets the gold, missy, only when there
are no more challengers."

Tassin groaned,
shooting a guilty glance at Sabre, who stood indifferently in the
ring. The bald man stepped around her and waved the bag once
more.

"Who challenges
our new champion? The mighty... what's yer name?" Sabre ignored
him, and Tassin supplied his name.

"Sabre!" the
man bellowed. "Who'll challenge Sabre, our new champion?"

Tassin watched
miserably as Sabre dispatched the two beefy farm hands who
challenged. Each time a man stepped forward, she had to point him
out and order Sabre to fight him. Each time, she was awarded his
slow blink. The muddy footing hampered the cyber, whose swift
manoeuvres often caused him to slip in the mire, forcing him to
resort to further acrobatics in order to recover and avoid his
opponent at the same time. The third challenger, a huge, muscular
drover, landed a couple of telling blows on Sabre's head when he
lost his footing. By the time he defeated the drover, Tassin was
worried about him. Sweat ran down him, mixing with the mud and the
blood that oozed from his nose and the old cuts on his torso. He
had not yet recovered from his fight with Torrian and his men, and
his injuries clearly sapped his strength and slowed him.