The Cyber Chronicles - Book I: Queen of Arlin (27 page)

"I need one of
those, set across two supports."

The prince
issued the orders, and men scurried to obey. Those who were
training halted and gathered to watch. The stocky man swaggered
over and bowed to Victor.

"My prince. May
I ask what's going on?"

Victor smirked
at his master-at-arms. "Certainly, Garvon. This man is about to
demonstrate an extraordinary prowess he possesses."

Garvon measured
Sabre with hard, expressionless black eyes. His face was that of a
man who had been in numerous fights, not all of which had left him
unscathed. His flattened nose, scar-padded brows, broken knuckles
and banana-like fingers told the tale of his conflicts. Almost
every visible part of him bore scars, and part of one ear was
missing, as well as several teeth. His remaining ear was
grotesquely enlarged, and he walked with a limp. If men measured
their skill in scars here, Garvon was a veteran of renown. Sabre
gauged a man's abilities by his lack of them, however, and Garvon
did not rate high by that measure.

Sabre knew that
in Garvon's eyes he was a fresh-faced youth, for Garvon looked to
be in his fifties. The master-at-arms turned away to watch the
preparations. The seasoned plank the men had laid across two short
logs was easily four centimetres thick and thirty centimetres wide.
It looked like it had come from a wagon bed, grey and scarred from
years of use. Garvon smiled crookedly, shaking his head. No doubt
he expected the young upstart to come to grief, and Sabre quelled a
smile.

Sabre sauntered
over to the plank as the men gathered around it. He calculated that
it was too thick for a normal man to tackle without doing himself
serious injury, and enough to impress the prince. The watching men
muttered, eyeing him and the plank as he positioned himself,
rubbing his right arm in anticipation. This exercise would bruise
him somewhat, despite the thickened skin along his arm earned from
such practices in the past. He took a moment to prepare himself,
focussing on the plank as he recalled the years of involuntary
training he had been forced to endure.

Swinging his
arm high, he brought it down as he dropped to one knee, using his
weight to add to the force of the blow. His arm hit the plank
squarely, and it broke with a report like a rifle shot, the two
halves bouncing and clattering to the ground. Sabre stood, rubbing
his tingling arm. Dead silence reigned for several seconds, then
Garvon's exclamation broke it.

"That's
impossible!" He swung to glare at Sabre. "He is using magic!"

Victor tore his
eyes from the broken plank to stare at the cyber. "Are you using
magic?"

Sabre shrugged,
ignoring Garvon's pugnacious scowl. "Of a sort, but not the kind
Garvon thinks. I told you I can't teach you to do what I do, but I
can help you to achieve something like it."

Garvon
spluttered, "Your Highness, this man is a wizard, not a warrior. He
is tricking you!"

Victor waved
him away, his attention riveted on Sabre. "What can I achieve
without magic?"

"You could
break a plank half as thick as that, using the technique I just
did."

The prince
looked excited, nodding. "That would be good enough."

Garvon thrust
his battered face into their conversation. "Your Highness, I
challenge this man to fight my best warrior, without his magic.
Until I see that he can really fight, I submit he only uses magic
to achieve his miracles."

Sabre grimaced.
The arms master's suggestion was unwelcome. Sabre had used the
demonstration in the hope of avoiding a fight with anyone. He
glanced at the sinking sun, wishing it would hurry up.

Victor's eyes
glittered. "Bring forth your best man."

Garvon snapped
a name at a nearby warrior, who ran off.

Sabre turned to
the prince. "I would rather not fight."

"So Queen
Tassin said," Victor drawled. "You have avoided the axe man, but I
have other means of persuasion. You will fight this man. I want to
see you beat him, then I will be truly convinced."

"You weren't
convinced last night?" Sabre looked at the cast on the prince's
arm.

Victor scowled,
glancing at Garvon. "You used magic. I want to see you defeat this
man with skill alone."

"The light's
fading."

"It is still
enough. I will have torches brought if it grows too dark."

Sabre sighed,
turning away. This was the last thing he needed now. Everywhere he
went on this primitive planet, it seemed that some idiot tried to
pick a fight with him, and this time there was no way of avoiding
it. All he wanted was to go back to his cell and wait for darkness,
then he could find Tassin. He looked up as a tall, well-built man
appeared from the billets and strode towards them, his countenance
fierce. Sabre kicked at the pieces of plank in frustration. He
could have saved himself the effort, it seemed.

Chapter Fifteen

Tassin soon
grew bored with Queen Mirrial's company. She was a pleasant woman,
but rather empty headed, her conversation limited to clothes, food,
babies and her husband. Tassin allowed her mind to wander while
Mirrial rhapsodised about the contents of her wardrobe. She had
been with Mirrial for two hours now, and her patience was wearing
thin. It was almost dark, so where was Victor? For that matter,
where was Sabre? Annoyance swept through her. Had he been so angry
that he had abandoned her? Of course, she did not need him now she
was safe amongst royalty again, but it irritated her that he would
leave without her permission.

She interrupted
the Queen's detailed description of the velvet gown she had
received for her last birthday. "Mirrial, I am expecting my
man-at-arms to join me. Do you know if he has arrived at the palace
yet?"

The Olgaran
Queen looked confused by the sudden change of topic, her account of
her peacock-plumed dress stumbling to a halt. "I have no idea. I
would have to ask the guard sergeant."

"Would you be
so kind?"

Mirrial smiled
and reached over to pat Tassin's hand. "You have no need of a
man-at-arms here. Do not look so worried."

Tassin schooled
her features into a placid smile. "Of course, but would you
ask?"

Mirrial
signalled to a hovering servant, and the man scurried over. Tassin
looked around while Mirrial was conversing with him, spotting two
soldiers loitering in the shadows. When the servant had left, she
enquired, "Do you usually have soldiers so near your private
quarters?"

Tassin sat with
the Queen in her morning room, a place where soldiers were not
normally found, and Tassin thought it suspicious. Mirrial gazed at
the men. "No, but perhaps Xavier is concerned for your safety."

Tassin frowned.
"Why would I be in danger? Especially within the palace walls."

"Well naturally
you may not be, but he is a cautious man."

Tassin's
hackles rose. No would-be kidnapper could possibly get into the
palace, never mind into the morning room. Besides, why would she be
in any danger at all? Xavier did not know about Torrian. Or did he?
No one else had any reason to harm the Queen of Arlin. If Xavier
knew about Torrian, were the guards there to keep him out, or her
in? She looked up as the servant returned and bent to talk to
Mirrial.

"Queen Tassin's
man-at-arms did arrive, Your Majesty. He is in the billets," he
said.

Mirrial beamed
at Tassin. "There, you see? All is well."

"I want to see
him."

The Olgaran
Queen recoiled in unfeigned shock. "Whatever for? He is a common
man. He belongs in the billets."

Tassin
indicated the lurking soldiers. "So do they. If I am in danger, I
would prefer to have my own man guarding me. He is very good."

"Out of the
question." Mirrial frowned. "Foreign soldiers are not allowed to
bear arms in the palace."

"You can take
away his weapons."

Mirrial looked
flummoxed. "Then what good would he be? You are in no danger, I
assure you."

"Then get rid
of those men."

Mirrial sniffed
in patent disapproval of Tassin's peevishness. "That is up to
Xavier."

Tassin gritted
her teeth at this flagrant evasion. Naturally, Xavier would be
unavailable and the soldiers would have to stay. Mirrial had the
power to dismiss them, but chose not to, which roused Tassin's
suspicions.

Rising to her
feet, she stated, "In that case, I will return to my lodgings in
the city. I object to these hovering soldiers. I will feel safer
with my own man."

Mirrial rose
too, clearly flustered. "That is not necessary. You will be far
more comfortable here. An inn is no place for a queen, really!"

Tassin raised
her chin. "I may do as I wish, and I wish to leave."

Spinning on her
heel, she swept out, brushing past the astounded servant. The
soldiers clumped after her, doubtless on Mirrial's order. She got
as far as the main hall, where Xavier stepped out in front of her.
He looked unhappy and tugged his beard, his eyes avoiding hers.

"I understand
that you wish to leave us."

She inclined
her head. "Good news travels fast."

Xavier clasped
his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. "I am afraid I
must insist that you stay."

"Insist?"
Tassin's brows shot up. "What sort of hospitality is this, that a
guest may not leave when they wish? Or am I no longer a guest?
Perhaps prisoner would be a more accurate description?"

"There is no
need to get upset." He made a soothing gesture. "Your betrothed,
King Torrian, is on his way to collect you. You have been through
enough foolish hardships, now it is time to return to the life to
which you were born."

"And how much
has he promised to pay you, to hand me over?"

"He merely
expressed his concern at your strange behaviour, and asked that I
inform him should you arrive here."

"Well, you have
informed him," she retorted. "So now I shall leave."

"I also
promised to detain you."

"I see. Did it
ever strike you that Torrian is not my betrothed, and I am being
forced into a marriage to which I object?"

"That is not my
business. You will remain in your suite until he arrives."

Tassin drew
herself up. "So if I choose to walk through that door, you will
order your men to lay their hands on me?"

"Unfortunately,
yes. I hope it will not come to that, for it would pain me to treat
a queen so. I urge you to remain in the palace, and spare us both a
great deal of embarrassment."

She glared at
him in helpless rage. To try to escape would avail her nothing,
save the indignity of being manhandled. "Is my man-at-arms also a
prisoner?"

"He is being
detained, certainly. You must not think of yourself as a prisoner,
merely an honoured guest."

"An honoured
guest who is not allowed to leave is a prisoner. Obviously you do
not wish to continue your alliance with Arlin."

"Most certainly
I do," Xavier protested. "You misunderstand. I am trying to help
you."

"You are
helping my enemy. I declare our alliance at an end."

Xavier eyed
her, and she revised her opinion of him, deciding that he looked
rather cunning. "Once you are wed to Torrian, it will be for him to
decide with whom he wishes to be allied."

"I will die
before I wed Torrian, and if not, he will die shortly thereafter.
When you throw a snake and a mongoose into the same pit, one will
always die, usually the snake."

Tassin turned
and followed the servant, who trotted ahead to show her to her
suite, her mind in a turmoil as she cursed Torrian with renewed
venom. Only he would sink to bribing the king of a poor country to
ensnare her. Her only hope now was to offer marriage to Victor, but
where was he?

Sabre frowned
at the man who lay at his feet, his ribs aching from several blows
he had allowed the warrior to land. Garvon's man was well trained
and quick, but nowhere near as fast as a cyber, who could, with the
benefit of predictive target programming, dodge laser beams. He
had, in his estimation, done a fair impression of a normal, but
skilled fighter, and defeated his opponent without seriously
injuring him. The intensive training Sabre had undergone made his
defensive reactions instinctive, and suppressing them had taken a
great deal of concentration.

Victor studied
him with a calculating expression. "Very good. I don't believe you
used magic. Do you, Garvon?"

The
master-at-arms shook his head. "No, Majesty, he is a skilled
fighter, better than Trin."

The prince
beamed at Sabre. "Tomorrow you will start showing me what else you
can do. I want to learn all your skills, especially those kicks and
jumps. Unfortunately, I cannot participate until my arm has healed,
but in the meantime I can watch, and you can explain the theory to
me."

Sabre shrugged,
thoroughly fed up with the whole business. Hopefully tomorrow he
would not be here, if Tassin knew of another country or city they
could flee to now. He looked up as Victor signalled to a hovering
soldier to replace the cuffs, resorting to politeness.

"May I ask a
favour, Highness?"

"Certainly."

"I'd like to
see Queen Tassin, to assure myself that she's well and to reassure
her that I'm also well."

Victor's smile
vanished as he appeared to consider this. "I suppose that would be
all right, so long as you say nothing to alarm her."

"I won't.
She'll be comforted to know I'm here, and well."

The prince
nodded, and Sabre followed him into the palace, two soldiers
walking behind him with studied alertness. Their boots tapped on
the polished floors of several deserted corridors, whose splendour
was becoming tarnished by the first signs of neglect and decay.
Whatever wealth had founded this city had long since vanished,
leaving behind the remnants of a more prosperous era sinking into
ruin. At the end of a short corridor that led off one of the
echoing halls, Victor stopped at a carved door and knocked. A maid
opened it, and answered his muttered query in a hushed voice, her
expression sombre.