The Cyber Chronicles VII - Sabre (27 page)

"Yes. With
Tassin’s seasoned troops on my side, we will crush him and take him
to her in chains."

"I think
she'll like that. And so will I."

Sharmian
arrived at the castle two weeks later, with a battered Torrian in
chains. He confided to Sabre that Dena had taken her revenge in
many little ways, chuckling at the variety of ideas she had come up
with to make Torrian's life a misery. Sharmian had contented
himself with a good punch that had blackened Torrian's eye. Dellon
had been convicted of treason and sent to the dungeons a few days
after his defeat.

The day after
Sharmian’s arrival, Tassin convened her court for Torrian’s
audience, and settled upon her throne, surrounded by her court and
adorned with the trappings of her rank. She had to put on a show of
censure for the benefit of her court, to ensure suspicion did not
fall on her or Sabre when Torrian met his end. The King was brought
before her in chains, smeared with mud and blood, his rich clothes
in rags. She had asked Sabre to attend, and he stood on her right,
clad in a simple grey suit. He clasped his hands behind his back in
a cyber's resting stance, which he adopted without thought.

Dena stood on
the Queen’s left, with Sharmian beside her. Torrian glared at them
all with equal venom when the soldiers stopped him in front of the
dais, forcing him to look up at Tassin. She scowled at him, her
dark eyes filled with hate.

"King Torrian.
You colluded with my cousin to usurp my appointed regent, then
sought to stop me from reclaiming my throne. In addition, you
imprisoned Princess Dena, and treated her brutally. What have you
to say?"

His lips
curled in a sneer. "I do not answer to you. Or to anyone! You can
do nothing to me."

"This is true,
unfortunately. However, I have signed alliances with Mandor and
Olgara, and any future attempts by you to interfere with the
Kingdom of Arlin will be met with deadly force. You are banished
from all three kingdoms. I also hereby claim recompense for the
suffering of my people due to your plotting, and lay a tithe on
Pradish. For the next fifty years, you will pay it or the three
kingdoms of this alliance will invade and take it by force. The
tithe will be paid annually, in gold."

"I will pay
you nothing!"

Tassin's
knuckles whitened as she gripped the scarred arms of her throne.
"Then it will be taken from you."

"You will pay
in blood if you try, and you will not succeed. I have the weapons
that spit light that you used against me, so you will not
prevail."

"Then you will
start a war that will doom all of us and destroy this world, just
as the ancients almost did."

"I will crush
you!"

Tassin lifted
her head in regal disdain. "He is mad. Take him away."

The guards
marched the King out, and Tassin shot Sabre a quick glance before
she rose and left the throne room through the door at the back. A
hubbub started as her nobles conferred. Sabre hesitated, glancing
at Dena, who chewed her lip, then followed the Queen to her
chambers. She stood before the big glass-paned doors that opened
into the gardens. The soft cream curtains billowed in the breeze,
and a faint frown furrowed her brow as she glanced around at his
entry.

Tassin walked
into the garden, and Sabre caught up and fell into step beside her.
After a few paces she stopped and turned to him. "You know what
will make me really happy, don’t you?"

"Yeah." He
sighed and sat on a bench. "But I still have to sort out all the
shit in my head. Most of it was force-fed to me, some is the result
of the trauma I experienced, and the stuff that should be there,
isn't. That's what Tarl says, and I think he's right. I have to try
to adjust to being a human being. Can you understand that?"

She sank down
beside him. "Yes, I think so, but we must be betrothed. Otherwise
there will be suitors vying for my hand and that will be
tiresome."

"Okay." He
smiled, and Tassin slipped her hand into his.

"Next week, at
the celebration of my return and Dena's marriage, I'll make you a
lord, then all that will remain will be for you to propose. Once
we're married, you'll be the Prince Consort." She hesitated. "For a
while, at least. I have thought about your suggestion, and it
appeals to me. I shall start the process for democratisation, but
I’ll have to rule until a president is elected, then I’ll step
down. We will have that little cottage in the woods, where we can
live and raise our children in peace."

He glanced at
her, raising his brows. "I can't have children. I explained that to
you."

"I know, but I
want them. Will you ask Tarl if what was done to you can be
reversed?"

"What if it
can’t?" He gazed across the garden. "I don't know if that's such a
good idea, anyway. I have alien DNA, remember?"

"Yes, but I
don't see what harm that can do. You have... a heritage from a
higher being. How can that be a bad thing?"

Sabre shook
his head. "This isn't something we have to deal with now."

"No. For now,
I'm just happy we can live peacefully, and you won't ever have to
fight again."

Sabre turned
to face her, and she met his gaze as he raised a hand to stroke her
hair where it curled around her ear, marvelling at how soft her
skin was. His fingers traced the curve of her cheek and came to
rest beneath her jaw. His heart ached with the strange, sometimes
painful emotion she evoked in him, which he had come to treasure.
It made him feel alive, and human, and the look in her eyes made
him feel important. To her, he knew he was, just as she was to him.
To her, he was human. He leant forward and kissed her, and her
hands crept around his neck and pulled him closer. When he drew
back, her azure eyes sparkled. She smiled and hugged him, and he
held her close.

Sabre gazed across the garden, where birds carolled in the
trees and insects buzzed about their business. A breeze stirred the
yellowing autumnal leaves, sending some fluttering to the grass,
where stoic gardeners raked them up. The prospect of a peaceful
life appealed to him on many levels, but the bitter voice that
shouted its vitriol from the dark recess of his mind still mocked
him whenever he thought about how much he wanted to be human, and
he could not silence it, no matter how hard he tried.
Cyborg
!

****

Sabre crouched
atop a shallow knoll and studied the fortress on the far side of
the valley, using the tiny camera in the brow band, which gave him
a magnified view of Torrian’s stronghold. A village surrounded the
collection of tall, brown stone buildings, poorly defended, in his
opinion, by a rather low crenulated rampart. A river had been
diverted to pass around the castle in walled canals, forming a
moat. Sabre had left Tassin’s castle the day after Torrian had
departed, guarded by a battalion of her men, to be escorted to the
border and released. The worry in her eyes had warmed his heart
when she had said goodbye, and he wished there was some way to
convince her that the only person who had cause for concern was
Torrian.

Sabre had
opted to disable the laser cannons first, and the easiest way to do
that was to destroy the power crystals. Once Torrian was dead,
whoever took over, whether it was one of his cousins or a
democratic government, was unlikely to attack Arlin. Still, he
wanted to make sure Pradish could never threaten Arlin again.

Sabre watched
the castle until after midnight, then mounted his horse and set off
across the valley. A steady trot brought him to the village within
half an hour, and he tethered his mount to a tree on the outskirts
and loped through the deserted streets. A couple of dogs barked as
he ghosted past, and once he had to avoid a couple of wandering
soldiers, most likely members of the Watch, but, for the most part,
even they were asleep at this time of night. When he arrived at the
castle, the drawbridge was lowered and the portcullis raised.
Evidently Torrian did not think he was at risk, which was mighty
foolish of him, in Sabre’s opinion.

Two guards
marched up and down just inside the portcullis, and Sabre loped
over the drawbridge when they turned away and took cover in the
darkness of the arched, two-metre deep gateway. The men passed each
other in the middle of the road on their patrol, and he waited in
the shadows until they were together, then strode towards them.
They stopped and gaped at him in surprise, the usual reaction of a
normal man to an unexpected event, and he used the second of shock
recovery time to reach them. He punched them in unison, one with
each fist, using just enough strength to knock them unconscious,
and they collapsed with a rattle of armour and clatter of spears.
Sabre dragged them into the guardhouse and dumped them on the
floor, closed the door and headed for the closest stairs that led
to the battlements.

The scanners
detected four more sentries patrolling the ramparts, and he
ascended the steps and paused at the top. He tracked the men until
they moved away from him, and then trotted to the closest laser
cannon. He used the cyber’s night vision, and there was no moon, so
the guards would be almost blind in the gloom. The few guttering
torches on the walls only made it worse for them, too. Pausing
beside the weapon, he crouched and groped under the tarpaulin for
the power pack eject button, popped the crystal out and tucked it
into the pouch he had brought to carry them in.

The sentries
still wandered away, and he trotted to the next weapon and repeated
the procedure. He waited for a pair of guards to pass beyond a wall
before going to the next laser cannon. It was really unfair, he
mused, to use all his hi-tech capabilities against a bunch of
primitives. Not a challenge at all. His only impairment was the
presence of so much stone, something not found in a modern
environment. Half an hour of power pack collection disarmed all the
weapons on the battlements without raising the alarm. Torrian had
mounted all but one, which, Sabre guessed, was probably in the
armoury with the ammo. Finding the arsenal presented a little more
of a challenge, due to the stone walls, and the longer it took, the
more chance there was of the gatehouse sentries being discovered,
or waking up. He needed a guide.

The guards
patrolled in pairs, so he would have to knock one man out and take
the other hostage. The battlements were too exposed for that, with
nowhere to hide the unconscious man, so he descended to the cobbled
courtyard and checked the scanners for the closest pair of
sentries. Not finding any, he cursed, then remembered the already
unconscious gate guards. They were still out cold, and he used one
man’s belt to tie him up, then slapped the other one until he came
around with a gasp, opening his mouth to bellow in alarm. Sabre
clamped a hand over the sentry’s mouth and raised a finger to his
lips.

“
Make a sound, and you die.” He drew a laser and held it up.
“Do you know what this is?”

The man, a
scruffy individual with red hair and a pockmarked face, nodded.

Sabre removed
his hand. “Good. Now, you’re going to tell me where the laser
cannons’ ammunition is stored, got it?”

The sentry
looked confused, shaking his head.

“
The magical weapons,” Sabre explained. “Tell me to where the
crystals that power them are stored, and don’t lie, because I’ll
know.”

The guard
nodded, and Sabre gripped his arm and hauled him to his feet,
shoving him against the wall. “Talk.”

The redhead
gulped. “Go across the courtyard, around the side of the main
building, and all the way to the back of the alley. On the left is
the stable yard, and on the right are storerooms. The third door
along is the armoury.”

The cyber
informed Sabre that the man told the truth, and he nodded, then
slammed the guard’s head against the wall, knocking him out again.
The poor sod would have one hell of a headache when he woke up, he
reflected. As a precaution, he tore up one of the men’s cloaks and
bound the second man too, gagging both of them. It did not hurt to
be cautious. Closing the door behind him, he left the guardhouse
and followed the sentry’s directions. It was now almost two in the
morning, and the fortress was deserted except for sleepy guards,
most of whom had found somewhere to sit and doze. His night vision
made the courtyard and alley almost as bright as day, but a glance
with normal vision assured him that it was, in fact, pitch
dark.

The armoury
had a stout oak door bound with iron, and the lock was primitive.
That posed more of a problem than a modern access panel, which the
cyber could have hacked in a few seconds. Kicking the door in would
make too much noise, and he did not have a lock pick. The
structural scanners revealed a sturdy bolt, too strong to easily
break with pressure, and he cursed, glancing around. He probably
should have asked the gate guard where the keys were. For a moment
he was flummoxed, then he drew a laser and considered it. The laser
cannon power crystals would not fit his pistols, but he had brought
a good supply of extra crystals with him. Burning through wood with
a laser was not ideal, especially with the risk of fire it posed,
but it seemed to be the only option.

Setting the
beam to fine, he aimed it at the door just above the lock, switched
to normal vision and pressed the trigger. The brilliant blue light
seared his eyes even so, but it would have blinded him had he been
using night vision. The laser made a soft hum as it crisped through
the wood, yellow flames sprouting from the edges of the incision.
The seasoned oak did not catch fire easily, but he had to pause
twice to snuff out flames before they took hold. When the laser had
burnt all the way around the lock, Sabre holstered the hot weapon
and gave the door a shove that broke it free of the lock and made
it swing inwards. Switching back to night vision, he entered a room
stacked with swords, spears, shields, lances, bows and bushels of
arrows. The box of power packs was at the back, and it looked like
it contained most of the spares he had brought across the desert.
The missing cannon, however, was not there.