The Cyber Chronicles - Book I: Queen of Arlin (6 page)

Tassin stomped
away through the trees, anger lending her strength. Sabre watched
the soldiers out on the field for a few moments, then caught up
with her, his gliding stride deceptive. Tassin eyed him. An
ordinary man would have been tired after carrying her for that
distance at that speed, yet Sabre breathed normally. Only a slight
film of sweat on his brow showed that he had exerted himself at
all. He ignored her scrutiny, his eyes fixed unblinkingly ahead of
him.

Soldiers
crashed through the woods behind them, following their tracks.
Glancing over her shoulder, she increased her pace, gasping. As the
soldiers drew nearer, she shot an angry glance at Sabre.

"Destroy the
soldiers behind us."

The cyber loped
back the way they had come, vanishing amongst the trees almost at
once. Tassin gave a cry of anger and fear, unexpectedly left alone.
Glaring after him, she stamped her foot in fury. How dare he run
off and leave her alone and unarmed? She had wanted him to simply
blow them up, not run back to them first. Glancing around, she
wondered if she should go after him, but he had moved swiftly. An
eruption of screams made her jump and gasp, shivering in her wet
clothes. Within a few moments Sabre materialised from the trees,
startling her again.

She glared at
him. "How dare you leave me unattended?"

"Orders were to
destroy the enemy." His grey eyes stared over her shoulder.

"I did not tell
you to leave me!"

"Enemy was out
of range."

Gritting her
teeth, Tassin trudged through the trees once more, Sabre at her
side. Her wet riding boots pinched, and soon she could bear it no
longer. She sat down on a rock and pulled off the offending
footwear. Sabre stood beside her while she inspected the blisters
on her feet.

She looked up
at him. "My feet hurt."

"You require
medical attention?"

"Yes." Tassin
frowned at his strange words. Sabre knelt beside her, angling his
head towards her feet. She got the impression that he was blind,
for his eyes stared through her as if she did not exist. Yet how
could he manage if he could not see? The crystals in his brow band
flashed, and he straightened.

"The injury is
minor."

Tassin hissed.
The man had absolutely no manners! She was a queen! "It hurts! I
cannot walk like this."

The cyber drew
a long knife, and his hands flashed towards Tassin, who shrank away
in sudden fear. He grasped the damp material of her pantaloons and
cut a long strip out of it. His high-handedness rendered her
speechless, and she gaped as he tore the cloth again, then grasped
her foot and wrapped the material around it. In moments, her feet
were wrapped, and her trouser leg had a gaping tear in it. The
cyber sheathed the knife and stood up.

With an effort,
Tassin stifled her anger and pulled her boots on again, finding
that her feet no longer hurt. She rose and continued through the
wood, glowered at Sabre and held together the rent in her
pantaloons through which an icy draught now blew. The wild woodland
made the going hard for Tassin. Roots tripped her, briars snagged
her clothes and scratched her skin. Unladylike grunts and
exclamations of pain marked her progress as she stumbled into trees
or banged her head on low branches. Sabre, by contrast, moved
through the undergrowth with silent skill, avoiding obstacles with
uncanny ease.

Tassin hated
him more and more. Not only was he rude, but unchivalrous too,
making no effort to help her. Sir Tyron would have been at her side
to hold aside branches and help her over obstacles, but not this
dolt. She resolved to have him imprisoned when she reached her
uncle's estate. He would not interfere with the next battle.

Uncle Niam was
a good man, she reflected, much like her father in looks and
manner. He was only a duke, of course, with a small estate, but he
had an army and she was sure he would help her to fight the vile
kings. She tripped over a root and sprawled, grazing her hands.
Sabre waited while Tassin scrambled to her feet, her muscles
protesting this unheard-of abuse. Brushing leaves from her knees,
she glanced around. They had reached the edge of a clearing, and
she gave a cry of delight. Three warhorses grazed in the lush grass
with eager jerks of their heads, oblivious to anything other than
the delicious herbage.

"Falcon!"

The stallion
raised his head and whinnied a greeting, limping towards her.
Tassin ran to him and stroked his muzzle. The two bays were
saddled, and trailed broken reins. They had belonged to the Sir
Duxon and Sir Tyron. The head groom must have thought that they
would be needed, and had had them ready when the invaders had
stormed the castle. She patted Falcon, then caught the mares and
turned to Sabre, flushed with triumph.

"I found them.
They waited for me."

Sabre stared
across the clearing, and Tassin pushed her tangled hair out of her
face and scowled at him. Now that she thought about it, she had
been following him. Had he known that the horses were here? She
dismissed the thought as silly; how could he possibly have
known?

"Can you
ride?"

"Yes."

Tassin passed
him one of the mares’ reins and looked around for a tree stump or
rock from which to mount. Finding none, she turned to Sabre.

"Help me
mount."

The cyber
helped her into the saddle with casual disregard for the niceties
of handling a queen's anatomy. Her yelp of indignation went
unnoticed, as did her killing glare. Tassin urged her horse from
the clearing, the thought of him hurrying after her a salve to her
wounded pride. Moments later, he was at her side, riding with
consummate skill. She shot him a venomous glance, promising herself
a sweeter revenge soon. Falcon followed, his head bobbing as he
favoured his injured hind leg. Tassin set a fast pace along a
well-worn path through the forest, eager to outstrip the distant
pursuit.

They reached
her uncle's estate at dusk, by which time Tassin was stiff, cold
and miserable in the extreme, a frown wrinkling her brow. Her hair
hung in damp rat's tails, her skin itched from the drying moat
water and her damp clothes chafed her tender parts. The stench of
the moat's slime clung to her nostrils and fouled her mouth, making
her stomach churn. The castle gates stood open, but a guard stepped
out and blocked the way, crying a challenge.

Tassin gestured
imperiously at him. "Stand aside for Queen Tassin!"

The man obeyed
just in time to avoid being thrust aside by her warhorse, and they
clattered into the courtyard. Tassin slid from her horse, bruised
and weary. Grooms rushed out to take the animals, and she turned as
her uncle approached, looking concerned. Niam swept her into a
bear-like embrace, then held her at arm's length and inspected
her.

"Tassin!" He
gaped at her bedraggled appearance. "You're filthy, and cold! The
ladies will run you a warm bath." He swung away and bellowed,
"Bethan!"

A short, mousy
woman prodded him in the ribs. She had arrived at his side moments
before, unnoticed by his lofty glance. Casting a withering look up
at her huge husband, she said, "No need to deafen the whole castle,
Niam." She shook her head in sympathy as she took in Tassin's
dishevelment. "You poor thing! A hot bath, right away, clean
clothes and broth. Who is this?"

Tassin found
Sabre at her side, and her uncle scowled at him.

"Oh, him." She
sighed. "He is a... soldier, he helped me to escape."

"Ah!" Niam's
black brows rose. "Good man, go find a meal in the barracks."

Sabre ignored
him, and Niam eyed his niece. "Is he deaf?"

Tassin frowned
at Sabre. "Go to the billets, they will feed you there."

The cyber
turned and headed across the courtyard towards the barracks. Tassin
watched him go, puzzled.

Niam also gazed
after him. "There is something odd about that fellow. Did you say
he helped you escape?"

Tassin nodded,
opening her mouth to explain, then thought better of it. "Yes."

Before Niam
could object to her brevity, Bethan took her arm and tugged her
across the courtyard, clucking about the cold wind. The Duchess
guided her through the castle to a bedroom where a warm fire roared
in the grate, serving maids hard at work filling a tub with
steaming water.

By the time she
emerged, warm and clean, a bowl of hot broth awaited her beside the
bed, and she ate it with keen appetite before sliding between the
soft sheets and thick blankets, surrendering to the seduction of
sleep.

The cyber
entered the barracks, where a huge pot of meaty stew and a stack of
plates were set out on a table. Off duty men lounged in the long
room, most clustered around the fireplace at one end. Some ate at
rough-hewn tables, and hard cots filled the rest of the room. The
cyber fed the host body, then went in search of water, aware that
the host was thirsty. Locating a horse trough in the yard, the
cyber pumped clean water to drink, then proceeded to strip off the
clothes and equipment, hanging them on a nearby wall. It washed the
host body and clothes in the icy water, unconcerned by the amused
grins of the soldiers who gathered to watch this amazing spectacle.
Judging by their smell, the soldiers never washed. Serving maids
giggled and blushed, hurrying past, bolder ones stopped to
stare.

Dressed once
more, the cyber re-entered the billet and assumed a resting stance
beside the fire, back to the wall. There it relaxed the host body,
allowing the eyes to close. The tiny supercomputer imbedded in the
black crystals never rested, however, tracking the movements of the
off duty soldiers as they ate and drank. The soldiers eyed him,
whispered and pointed at his armour.

When the lights
were doused and the soldiers ready to bunk down for the night, the
cyber had been resting, immobile, for four hours. An old soldier
approached him, looking concerned. When he came within a metre,
Sabre's eyes opened. The old man stopped and gestured with a
scrawny hand.

"There's an
empty bed there, Son, feel free to use it."

The cyber
turned his head to face the indicated bed, and the old soldier
retreated. After a few minutes, the cyber went over to the empty
bed and lay down, arranging the host body comfortably before
allowing it to rest again.

Chapter Three

Tassin woke in
a bed so familiar that for a minute she remembered nothing of the
previous day. Opening her eyes, she gazed at her strange
surroundings in puzzlement. When she sat up, however, her bruises
and scratches reminded her of her ordeal, and she winced. Sunlight
flooded in through tall windows that brocaded curtains framed on
one side of the room, and a freshly lighted fire crackled in the
grate. Gilt-framed portraits of long forgotten ancestors, prized
horses and beloved hounds gazed down from the walls, and a suit of
armour stood in the corner like a vacant sentinel. Niam's keep had
an air of aged opulence, its battle-scarred walls dating back to
the war that had divided the land. The Duke spent the bulk of his
time entertaining local nobles, hunting and chronicling Arlin's
history in the dusty tomes that filled his library.

A least she was
safe with her uncle now, who would help her to fight the monstrous
kings and perhaps defeat them yet. Buoyed by this thought, she rose
and dressed, also relieved that she would be rid of the hateful
Sabre, who, for all his magic, was insufferable.

The dress that
had been laid out for her, scented with honeysuckle and warmed by
the fire, was a lacy creation of yellow taffeta and white ribbons.
She would have preferred her more practical riding clothes and
battle jacket, but her pantaloons were ruined, so the dress would
have to do until she could find something better. A knock at the
door heralded a serving girl, whose eyes widened when she found the
Queen already up and dressed. The maid brushed the tangles from
Tassin's tresses and arranged them in a plaited coil with ringlets
to frame her face, while the Queen fidgeted.

Tassin skipped
down the sweeping staircase to the bright morning room where her
uncle and aunt waited at breakfast. The family sat around one end
of a polished redwood table, liveried servants standing behind them
armed with pots of tea and jugs of cream. The Duke rose and bowed,
as did her aunt and her cousin Prince Dellon. Tassin fell upon the
hearty meal of crisp bacon, poached eggs, smoked fish and grilled
mushrooms in a tangy sauce with good appetite, washing it down with
aromatic, honey-sweetened tea. Becoming aware of the strained
atmosphere when her hunger was assuaged, she glanced from her uncle
to her aunt, raising a brow.

Niam cleared
his throat. "What happened yesterday that you came here in such a
state?"

Tassin related
the tale, but claimed that her escape had been her plan and not
Pervor's, and omitted the indignities to which Sabre had subjected
her. At the end of it, Niam leant forward.

"You must marry
one of the three, I beg you to reconsider. Your army is defeated,
your castle fallen. I cannot help you, my army barely numbers three
hundred men."

She shook her
head. "Never, Uncle. I have eluded the kings for now. All I require
from you is shelter while I demand aid from King Xavier, who will
undoubtedly supply it, and -"

"Tassin. We had
another visitor during the night. We did not want to disturb you,
and he graciously consented to wait until morning."

"Torrian!"
Tassin paled, rising to her feet. "How could you, uncle? I came to
you for help and you betray me?"

"No, my
pretty," a deep, familiar voice drawled behind her. Tassin spun to
face Torrian, whose green eyes were alight with triumph as he
continued, "He is helping you, and his advice is sound."