The Cyber Chronicles - Book I: Queen of Arlin (3 page)

Gathering up
her reins, she urged Falcon forward, overriding the command to
fight. The stallion plunged ahead, thrust men aside with his chest
and squealed with pain as a soldier's sword opened a gash in his
flank. He lashed out with his hind feet in retaliation, then they
were beyond the soldiers, flying through the moon-silvered wood.
Tassin crouched low over his neck as the trees whipped past.
Branches lashed her, scratched her skin and ripped her clothes.
Hoof beats thundered behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder
at the party of horsemen that pursued her. Their drawn swords
glinted, and Torrian's roars of rage goaded them after her. She
clung to Falcon's mane, praying that a branch would not scrape her
from his back.

Falcon crashed
through the forest, his hooves sliding on the treacherous leaves,
almost sending him skidding into a tree. They burst into the open
with Torrian's men close behind, their faster horses gaining on the
warhorse. As they drew alongside, one reached for her reins. Falcon
lunged at him, knocking his horse down. Man and beast rolled in a
tangled heap, and Falcon turned his head to snap at the horse on
the other side, making it shy away.

Tassin struck
at the rider who drew alongside to replace the one who had fallen,
her sword bouncing off his armour in a shower of sparks. The man
slashed at Falcon's neck, cutting a gash in the thick muscle. The
stallion squealed, lashing out sideways with his hind feet. The
blow snapped the other horse's leg with a crack, and it ploughed
head-first into the ground. The warhorse was tiring fast, his
wounds sapped his strength and his blood splattered her face.
Ahead, men ran from the castle, alerted by the lookouts to the
Queen's peril. Two of her knights thundered across the drawbridge,
their armour flashing in the moonlight.

One of her
enemies darted closer and raked Falcon's flank with his sword,
seeking to cut her girth. The weapon narrowly missed her leg,
slipping under it. The stallion lashed out, sending the cavalry
horse staggering away, but Tassin's saddle slid back. Grasping
handfuls of Falcon's mane, she kicked free of the stirrups and let
the saddle fall. Another rider closed, his sword aimed at Falcon's
hamstrings.

"Kick!" Tassin
bellowed, and the warhorse lashed out, smashing the sword from the
soldier's hand. Tassin urged him on as her knights reached her,
engaging Torrian's soldiers in a clash of steel and roars of rage
from their warhorses. She thundered over the drawbridge, glancing
back at her enemies, who fled from her knights, their prey out of
reach.

Falcon's hooves
skidded on the courtyard's stones as he propped to a standstill,
steam rolling up from his heaving flanks. Tassin slid off, her legs
trembling with shock as she clung to his sweaty, blood-streaked
neck. She leant against him, patted him and murmured soft words of
gratitude into his twitching ears. The clatter of hooves and boots
echoed around the yard as her knights and warriors returned, the
portcullis rumbling down behind them. A groom led Falcon away, and
she noted that the stallion was lame, casting a worried look at her
head groom.

"Tend to his
wounds at once."

The groom
bowed. "Of course, Majesty."

Tassin marched
into the castle and headed for the dungeons, but one of her knights
confronted her before she reached the stairway.

"Majesty, we
have driven them off for now, but a large force is camped beyond
the wood, and I fear that tomorrow they will lay siege."

Tassin eyed Sir
Duxon, whose beard was streaked with grey and waist thickening with
age. He had been a good knight once, but now he was one of the few
survivors only because he was over cautious, and would probably be
useless when it came to the final battle. He had been sent back
from the front two weeks ago with the message that her army was
losing, and had arrived without a scratch on him.

Duxon valued
his life too much to be a good knight. Perhaps it was because of
the brood of ten children his plump wife raised on his modest
estate, but Tassin did not want him beside her at the last. He was
more likely to hand her over to Torrian to save his skin than he
was to die fighting to protect her. In his opinion, a woman's
purpose was to serve a man and bear his children, and, although he
had served her father faithfully, she did not trust him.

She made no
attempt to hide her contempt. "Fear not, Duxon, I have a new
weapon. We will win this war."

The old knight
looked startled. "A new weapon, My Queen? Of what nature?"

"You will see."
She swept past him before he could delay her further, glancing down
at herself with a grimace. Blood splattered her clothes and her
hair flew about her shoulders in a tangled mane, but she decided to
investigate her new weapon at once. In the corridor, two
ladies-in-waiting rushed out from that shadowy, mysterious place
where servants waited to spring upon their masters and mistresses,
begging her to bathe and change her soiled garb. Tassin waved them
away, grabbing a handkerchief that one fluttered to mop the blood
from her face. A few strides further on, a tall, grey-robed figure
stepped out of the shadows and into her path. She stopped and
studied Pervor's gaunt features.

"Yes,
Pervor?"

Her father's
chief advisor bowed. "You met the wizard, My Queen?"

"I did."

"What of the
weapon he promised?"

"He told me
that it now resides in the dungeon."

"Ah. Allow me
to accompany you."

"If you must."
She scowled up at him, resenting the way he always intimidated her.
Maybe it was his air of aged wisdom, or his gaunt, cadaverous face,
but most likely it was his great height, towering over her at two
metres tall. All men were taller than her, but Pervor somehow
managed to loom more than others.

Turning into
the doorway that led to the dungeons, she surprised a sleepy guard,
who snapped awake, belatedly trying to salute as he grabbed a
lantern and hurried after her. She descended the worn steps, Pervor
close behind her, the guard trying to keep up, his lantern swinging
wildly. The old advisor opened the first cell door for her, and she
peered inside, finding it empty. They continued along the line of
cells in this fashion, and at the fifth, the lantern's light fell
on a smooth grey casket. The guard exclaimed in surprise and tried
to move past her, but she stopped him with a raised hand and took
the lantern from him.

"Wait
outside."

"Majesty, that
thing could be dangerous!"

Tassin glared
at him. "Wait in the corridor."

The guard
obeyed with a worried glance at the casket, and she entered the
cell, closing the door. Pervor lighted the torches on the walls
from the lantern, illuminating the room. A thin layer of straw
covered the floor, and the walls bore the hopeless scratches of
doomed men striving to leave their mark. Tassin studied the
gleaming casket, which appeared to be made from moulded glass. It
was at least two metres long and half a metre wide, shaped like a
coffin. A square button marred its flawless surface halfway along
its length, next to which were three dark crystals, one red, one
yellow, and one green.

"Push the
button," she muttered, remembering Manutim's instructions. She did
so, then stepped back when the red crystal lighted. It stayed on
for perhaps ten minutes, during which time she glanced at Manutim,
who watched the casket, clearly fascinated. Just as she was growing
impatient, the red light went off, and the yellow one replaced it.
This crystal stayed on for only about five minutes, then the green
one lighted. With a faint whir and click, the lid rose slightly, a
black line appearing around the edge of the casket. Tassin stepped
back as mist flowed from the crack, cascading onto the floor. She
took a deep breath, mastering her fear. Manutim would not betray
her.

Fitting her
fingers into the crack, she raised the lid. Mist billowed up, and
she waited for it to settle. Inside, on a bed of white satin, lay a
near-naked man. Tassin scowled, wondering if this was Manutim's
idea of a joke. She looked at Pervor, who stared at the strange
man, his eyes intent.

"This is a not
a weapon, it is just a man," she said.

The advisor
glanced at her. "He must be a mighty warrior, My Queen. A magical
one, perhaps?"

Tassin turned
to the man in the casket again. A narrow strip of golden metal,
embedded with black crystals, ran across his forehead. It curved
around his brow, no more than three centimetres wide and fifteen
centimetres long, its rounded ends not quite reaching his hairline.
Something emerged from the side of the casket and stabbed him in
the arm. Tiny points of light appeared in the brow band’s crystals,
flashing red, then green, some continuing to flash while others
maintained a steady glow. Within seconds, the man opened pale grey
eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. Tassin frowned. He had a
sculpted, hawk-like face with a narrow, high-bridged nose and level
dark brows above thickly lashed eyes. His well-shaped mouth was set
in a firm, almost grim line, and his ears lay against his skull,
from which most of the hair had been shorn. His golden skin gleamed
like the satin in which he lay, smooth and hairless.

Tassin leant
over him. "Do you hear me?"

The man's lips
parted, and he spoke in a husky voice. "Yes."

"Who are
you?"

"A cyber."

"A sabre?"
Tassin quelled a bitter laugh. "Stand up."

The man moved
slowly at first, sitting up, then rose to his feet a little stiffly
and stepped from the casket. Tassin eyed him, blood warming her
cheeks at his lack of clothing. All he wore was a pair of
skin-tight silken shorts that reached to mid-thigh, but despite her
embarrassment her eyes roamed over him. He possessed a lean,
whipcord build with broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips above
powerful thighs, every muscle prominent under a thin layer of skin.
Even relaxed, lean muscle ridged his belly and padded his shoulders
and arms. Although he topped her by at least fifteen centimetres,
Tassin was a diminutive one and a half metres, so the stranger was
only about one point eight metres tall, a short man. Even the aged
and bent Duxon would top him by several centimetres, and Pervor
towered over him.

"Dress
yourself," she ordered, annoyed at his lack of initiative and
passive stance. He bent and stripped away the satin within the
casket's lid, revealing a plethora of paraphernalia. Tassin leant
closer to study the strange equipment, which the man proceeded to
strap on, his face blank. He ignored her scrutiny as blithely as he
did her presence, taking no notice of her unless she addressed him,
which she found almost as irksome as his expressionlessness.

When he was
dressed in a pair of snug fitting dark grey trousers and sturdy
boots, he donned a sort of harness that held many strange items,
mostly metallic. As soon as he finished, he stood immobile, staring
into space. She moved closer to study his face, intrigued by the
metal contrivance on his brow. The strange brow band appeared to be
affixed to his head by three prongs that entered his skin. Tassin
shuddered. Facing him, she gazed into his pale eyes, trying to
fathom what sort of man he was. He stared over her head.

"Why did
Manutim give you to me?" she asked.

"This is a
cyber-bio combat unit, grade A, serial number XCA-6352-JY9019,
trained in armed and unarmed combat, tactical warfare -"

"Stop! I
understand none of this gibberish. Does Manutim think one warrior
can win the war? This is a joke!"

Pervor coughed,
reminding her of his presence. "The mage sent him to deal with the
Death Zone, Majesty, he only -"

Tassin snorted
in a most unladylike fashion. "I'm not worried about the Death Zone
now. I have a more pressing problem outside the castle walls.
Manutim said that this man would be able aid with that also."

"Then I am sure
he shall, Majesty."

"How? What
difference can one man make?"

"He must have
magic."

"Magic!" She
threw up her hands in disgust. "I need a weapon, not magic!
Illusions and flashes of light will not frighten Torrian!" Tassin
glared at the stranger. "Do you have magic, warrior?"

"Term unknown.
Clarify."

"You see,
Pervor? He has never even heard of magic! What am I to do now?"

The old advisor
shook his head. "Trust in the mage, My Queen."

"Ha! What of
you?" She turned to the stranger again. "Have you nothing to say?
Tomorrow Torrian's army will attack this castle. What will you
do?"

"If ordered,
fight," he stated tonelessly.

Tassin swung
away to pace the cell. "One more to die in the mud! Manutim has
failed me. Tomorrow I will surely die."

The stranger's
silence annoyed Tassin, who stopped before him and prodded him in
the chest. "Sabre, you lack manners. When you address me, it is as
'Majesty', or 'My Queen', do you understand?"

"Understood."

"Now tell me
who and what you are."

"This is a
cyber-bio combat unit, grade A, -"

"Enough! Do not
spout that drivel to me. I do not know what a - a sabre-bio unit
is. I have a war to be won, and Manutim assured me that you could
win it, but I fail to see how!" She glared at him. "What good is
one more warrior?"

"This unit will
fight as ordered."

Tassin snorted
again. "So will all my soldiers! What is so special about you?"

"This is a
cyber-bio combat -"

The Queen cut
him off with a curt gesture. "Are you an idiot? Have I not just
told you not to spout that rubbish to me? Manutim must have rocks
in his head." She turned away, thinking of the army camped around
her castle, just waiting for dawn to attack. "You will stay here,
food and water will be provided, understand?"