The Cyber Chronicles Book II: Death Zone

by T C Southwell

  A slender girl stood over him, her brows knotted in a thunderous scowl, the spear gripped in white-knuckled hands. Her expression was half resolved, half scared, but her weapon did not waver from his eye. A spear through the eye was as fatal to a cyber as anyone else, and Sabre tensed, ready to defend himself. The girl was about Tassin's age, her face innocent of paint, and Sabre hoped he would not have to hurt her. He turned his head slowly, forcing the girl to shift her target to his ear.

  "Tassin," he called.

  The young Andaron tensed further. Her nostrils flared and her eyes glittered. Sabre was surprised she had not tried to kill him in his sleep, only inexperience kept her from it now, he surmised. There was no reaction from within the hut, and Sabre cursed Tassin's heavy sleep.

  "Tassin!"

  The girl's face twisted as if his shout had pushed her over the edge, and she drew back the spear, preparing to ram it into his ear. Sabre's hand flashed up to grip it as it stabbed at him, stopping her thrust with an iron hold. She pushed against him with all her might, determined to kill him now, it seemed. Sabre held the point away and bellowed, "Tassin!"

  The girl screamed in a strangled, agonised howl, either with rage or frustration. A thud and a muttered curse from within the hut told him Tassin was awake, and moments later she appeared, her hair tousled, clutching a blanket around her. Her eyes widened at the sight of the wild-eyed girl trying to shove a spear into Sabre's head.

  She flapped her hands. "Stop it! Leave him alone!"

  Sabre shot her a scathing look, unimpressed by her tactics. Tassin grabbed the girl's arm and tried to pull her away. The girl lashed out with her elbow, knocking the Queen aside with a grunt.

  By this time the ruckus had woken other Andarons, and bleary-eyed warrior women rushed over, clutching spears. Sabre was glad he still lay in his bedding, so there was no way they could accuse him of any wrong doing. The girl continued to scream and lean on the spear.

  Shizana was amongst the first to arrive, her blonde tresses in disarray. To his surprise, she did not grab the maddened female and drag her away, but laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. Tassin rose to her feet, clutching her stomach, and the girl stopped screaming.

  "Mishra," Shizana murmured in a soothing tone. "Mishra, it's all right, he's not going to hurt anyone. Leave him, my dear, he won't hurt you."

  Mishra rolled her eyes at Shizana. "I'll kill him!"

  "Yes," Shizana agreed. "If he comes near you, kill him. Leave him now."

  The girl eased up on the spear, then yanked it away. Sabre sat up, watching her warily, in case she misinterpreted his action for an attack. Shizana stroked the girl's hair, but Mishra still breathed hard, her face twisted with loathing. She glared at Sabre as if he was a poisonous toad that had just crawled into her breechclout.

  Tassin pointed at the girl. "She hit me!"

  To Sabre it sounded petty, but Shizana's brow furrowed. She gripped the girl's shoulders and turned her, breaking her eye contact with Sabre. "Mishra, did you strike Queen Tassin?"

  "Queen?" Mishra shot Tassin an incredulous glance. "I didn't know she was a queen. She tried to stop me!"

  "He belongs to her. She's a queen from across the desert."

  Mishra looked stricken, and Sabre watched the unfolding drama with interest as the girl turned to Tassin. "I didn't mean to, Queen Tassin." She bowed low and laid her spear at the Queen's feet. "Break my spear, for my offence. I'm sorry."

  This was obviously some form of ritual performed as an apology. The skilfully made spear must be the girl's most prized possession. Tassin looked amazed and confused, but soon collected her wits.

  "I will not break your spear if you tell me why."

  Mishra's face twisted as if Tassin had just condemned her to death. Shizana stepped forward to stand beside the girl. "Please don't ask that, Queen Tassin."

  Tassin rolled her eyes. "Then you tell me."

  Shizana glanced at the girl, her expression full of sorrow and pity. "Mishra and her friend Nyatt were captured by men and tortured for three weeks. She escaped, but Nyatt did not. Mishra was on patrol when you arrived. She didn't know about you and your man."

  "Oh. I see."

  "Tassin."

  The women stiffened at the sound of Sabre's voice, and Tassin turned in surprise. "Yes?"

  "Tell her I'll rescue her friend if she tells me where she's being held."

  Tassin nodded, turning back to relay the message, but got no further than opening her mouth.

  Mishra snarled, "Does he think we didn't go back for her? He would abandon his friend because he's a man, but I would not!"

  He addressed the Queen. "So she's been rescued?"

  Tassin opened her mouth again, but Mishra shouted, "She's dead! They killed her! Tell him that!"

  Sabre bowed his head, and a tense silence fell. "In that case, tell her that if she can describe these men, and give me their names, I'll bring her their heads to hang on her wall if she wants."

  Mishra's eyes widened in patent disbelief. "He lies! Why would he kill one of his own? Ask him!"

  The Queen swung back to Sabre, who replied, "Because they committed a heinous crime, and should be punished."

  Tassin turned to Mishra, who said, "All men do this! How can he think it a crime?"

  Tassin looked at Sabre, who answered, "Not all men do, only bad ones."

  Mishra shouted, "You would do it!"

  Tassin seemed to have been left out of the discussion, and Sabre shook his head. "Never."

  Mishra looked around for support, and Shizana explained, "That's because Queen Tassin controls him."

  "No." Tassin finally got in on the action. "He's a good man."

  "He's your puppet," Shizana said.

  Tassin shook her head. "He helps me because he wants to."

  Shizana looked outraged. "You lied!"

  "Because I didn't want you to try to hurt him."

  Shizana glanced around, and Sabre spotted the Andaron Queen plodding towards the commotion, her bevy of advisors surrounding her.

  "Queen Molla will decide what to do."

  When Molla arrived, puffing, the women clamoured for her attention, making the old woman wince. Tassin did not join in, Sabre was pleased to note. After a good deal of arm-waving, Molla got them to be quiet and looked at Tassin.

  "Is this true? You don't really control him?"

  Tassin shrugged. "I do, because he does what I say, but he isn't compelled."

  "So the story about the thing on his head is false?"

  "No. It used to control him, but he got free of it. Now he obeys because he wants to."

  Molla looked thoughtful. "You did lie, but not completely. You did this because you feared for his life?"

  Tassin opened her mouth as if to agree, then shut it, glancing at Sabre. "No. I did it because if your warriors had attacked him he would have defended himself, and he might have hurt them. Sabre doesn't like hurting people."

  Sabre nodded in appreciation, and Molla sank her chin into the rolls of fat around her neck. "You think he could have defeated seven warrior women?"

  "I've seen him kill twenty-two men."

  The women muttered, and Sabre shook his head. That had been the cyber, not him. He would not kill anyone unless he had to, although in that situation, he would have been forced to do the same. It had been self-defence, and his offer to Mishra was born from a deep anger at the men who had abused her and killed her friend. It seemed that these women had an excellent reason for disliking men, and his resentment of their treatment abated somewhat.

  Molla poked one of her advisors, who whispered in her ear, and the Andoran Queen nodded. "This offer he made to Mishra, it's genuine?"

  "Yes."

  "And you guarantee his behaviour?"

  "Yes." Tassin raised her chin. "He'll live in the forest, where he'll be no trouble to you."

  The women muttered again, and one of the advisors whispered in Molla's ear. The old Queen shook her head. "No. He'll stay in the village."
>
  "The women spit at him."

  Molla grunted, glaring around as if to spot the guilty parties. "They will stop. He'll be tolerated if he does this deed for my daughter."

  Tassin glanced at Mishra. "I see." She inclined her head in a regal nod. "Princess Mishra."

  Sabre stood up and stretched, indulging his urge to yawn now that the women had relaxed.

  Mishra eyed him. "He's small."

  Tassin giggled. Sabre, who leant against the wall, shrugged and raised his brows. Mishra was about the same height as him, a willowy girl who showed the promise of becoming a strapping woman. A fitting queen for an Andaron tribe. She stepped closer to him, gripping her spear in a white-knuckled fist, and he tensed, unsure of her intentions. Her eyes blazed with hate.

  "There were five of them. All much bigger than him, two with hairy faces, one with a hairy lip. One had a scar on his cheek."

  Sabre glanced at Tassin. "I need more than that."

  The Queen shifted her gaze to Mishra and opened her mouth to repeat what he had said, just in case she thought he was speaking to her.

  Mishra did not give her time. "I have their names." She spat in the dirt and rattled off five names.

  He nodded. "Does she want their heads?"

  "Yes!" Mishra snarled.

  Sabre grimaced, regretting his offer to bring her the dead men's heads, which made it rather macabre. He reminded himself of what they had done, and would undoubtedly do again if not stopped. There was no gratitude in Mishra's eyes, however, and he got the impression that she would dearly like to add his head to the collection, as well as every other man on the planet.

  Sabre addressed Tassin. "I need to know where to find them."

  The Queen once again opened her mouth to act as a go between, but Mishra thumped her spear butt on the ground. "With the other filth, of course, in the tribe of men. Two days walk east of here."

  Sabre gathered up his bedding, rolling it into a bundle.

  Mishra's eyes narrowed. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

  He straightened, surprised at being directly addressed, but then, he was forbidden to speak to them, not they to him. He gave his answer to Tassin. "What?"

  "A weapon," Mishra said.

  "It's not necessary."

  "You go to kill five men, all bigger than you, with no weapon? You're a fool!"

  Shrugging, he picked up the roll of bedding. "Call me that if I don't return with their heads. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go and catch or find my breakfast in the forest, then I'll leave."

  Molla turned to Shizana. "Feed him."

  The women dispersed, but Mishra remained, staring at Sabre as if she was trying to drill holes in him with her eyes. Tassin went into her hut to wash and dress, leaving Sabre alone with Mishra, an unwelcome situation. He placed his bedding on the ground and sat on it, trying to ignore her. She did not wish to be ignored, however.

  "Stand up."

  Remembering that one of the rules was that he had to obey these women, Sabre rose to his feet and leant against the wall. Mishra looked him up and down at her leisure.

  "Why did you say you would kill those men?"

  He turned his head and called, "Tassin, can you come out?"

  She emerged, looking annoyed. "What now?"

  He nodded at the Andaron girl. "Mishra asked a question. Tell her I think those men did a terrible thing, and they'll do it again to other women. They must be stopped."

  The Queen snorted and turned to Mishra. "I'm not acting as a so-called go between, just to stand here and look from one to the other. If you want to ask Sabre questions, you must tell him to speak to you or leave him alone, Princess."

  Mishra stepped back from the Queen's ire. "I'm sorry, Queen Tassin."

  Tassin tossed her head and vanished back into the hut, and Mishra licked her lips. "How will you kill them?" Sabre ignored her, and she snarled, "Speak to me!"

  "I'll probably break their necks."

  "I want them to suffer!"

  He met her baleful eyes. "Perhaps you'd like me to bring them back alive, so you can torture them?"

  "No. Just make them suffer!" Spinning on her heel, the princess stormed away.

  Sabre sat on his bedroll and waited for Shizana to bring his food. The warrior woman returned with a steaming pot, which she handed to Tassin with a toss of her head and a brief glare in his direction, to remind him of her dislike for the chore. When Tassin passed it on to him, he found that it was a creamy porridge, which he consumed with relish, his palate tired of roast buck and raw vegetables. Tassin sat nearby while he ate, fidgeted and looked worried.

  "I don't know why you offered to do this. What if something happens to you?"

  Sabre raised a brow. "Nothing will happen to me. I think I explained that once, in a fit of anger. This time you definitely aren't coming with me, either. It'll get me out of the way for a few days while you have your rest here with your new friends. I offered to do it because men who do things like that should be punished, and the only way to ensure they don't do it again is to kill them."

  "I thought you didn't like killing?"

  "I don't. I'm not doing this for the fun of it, but in the interest of justice. There's no law around here, that's why these men can rape and kill. Death is a common punishment for murderers on many civilised worlds. It might also teach these women that all men aren't bad, and perhaps in time they'll change their ways. They'd be better off if they had men to protect them. Right now they're easy prey, and it's created a cycle of victimisation and hatred."

  Her eyes met his before she looked away. "But what if something does happen to you? What about me?"

  Sabre smiled. "I'm touched by your concern. Stop being so pessimistic. You're safe here; the Andarons will take care of you."

  "I can take care of myself!"

  "Sure you can, and so can I."

  Tassin snorted and re-entered the hut, slamming the door. When he was ready to leave, Sabre knocked and informed her of his departure, but only received a hostile grunt in reply. Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he set off through the village in an easterly direction, which took him across most of it. The women paused in their work to watch him pass with unfriendly eyes. He thought he glimpsed Mishra watching from a doorway, but did not turn his head to look.

  Beyond the village, he increased his pace to a jog trot, which ate up the miles without tiring him. The men's tribe might be two days walk away, but he intended to cover the distance a lot quicker. The cyber flashed a warning light in his brain, indicating its dislike for him leaving Tassin, but, since she was in no immediate danger, it seemed to accept his decision.

  At midday on the second day, the cyber's scanners picked up a profusion of human life signs ahead, indicating that he had found the men's village. It proved to be a larger version of the Andarons', but more disorganised and dirty; a sprawling collection of huts, shacks and skin tents bordering muddy roads. Five giant trees had been felled to create a grazing area for cattle and horses.

  Many of the buildings were clustered around the bases of trees, using the massive trunks as walls. Ladders hung from the branches, and shacks were built on platforms spanning the huge limbs. People thronged the streets and scrawny dogs ran amongst them, yapping. Hammering issued from a blacksmith's, and he glanced in at a muscular man beating out a sword blade.

  Weapons were his main product, judging by the number in the racks around the walls. A few women hurried by, laden with water or wood, and slatterns lounged in doorways calling raucous invitations to passers-by, eliciting equally coarse replies. Not many children were in evidence, and men outnumbered the women two or three to one. Quite a number of thin, dark-haired teenage boys hung around in frowning gangs, swaggering and sniggering, which solved the mystery of the fate of the Andarons' sons.

  Sabre selected one of the five names at random and approached a whore, deciding that they would know most of the men in town. The thin, brown-haired girl, garbed in a tattered wool dress, smiled gap-toothed
at him, offering her wares. Sabre glimpsed bruises on her pale flesh before he looked away.

  "I'm looking for a man named Belom. Do you know him?"

  "Sure do, honey, but it'll cost you."

  He shook his head. "I have no money."

  "What do you want with him?"

  Sabre hesitated, gauging her loyalty to the village men, which, judging by her battered appearance, would not be an issue. "I'm going to kill him."

  The harlot smiled again. "Are you now? In that case, you'll find him at the wood mill, that's where he works."

  "Thank you."

  Evidently Belom was not popular with the ladies, which spoke volumes about his treatment of them. Sabre followed the sounds of chopping, sawing and hammering that came from the edge of the village, and wandered into the hive of activity that was clearly the village's main source of income. The men dismembered one of the huge trees that had been felled to make the grazing land, the seasoned wood as black and shiny as polished ebony. They sawed the iron-hard wood into planks, which were piled into stacks awaiting transport. He collared a passing woodcutter.

  "I'm looking for Belom."

  The woodcutter pointed at two men sawing a plank, and Sabre strolled over to them. From the amount of progress they were making, it would take days to cut one plank, but they showed no sign of impatience. Their log spanned a high scaffold, and one man stood atop it, the other beneath. Between them stretched a shiny, well-oiled saw, which the man on top pulled up and the other pulled down, locked into a perfect rhythm, which, if disturbed, could snap the blade. They stopped and looked around at his arrival.

  "No work here, buddy," the one on top said.

  "I'm looking for Belom."

  The second man, a brawny fellow with a thatch of black hair and a flattened nose, released the saw handle. "Who're you, and what do you want with me?"

  Sabre glanced at his companion. "Can we speak in private?"

  Belom nodded and walked away, leaving his partner to mop his brow and sip water from a pottery jug. As soon as they were out of earshot, Belom turned, but Sabre shook his head.

  "Let's walk in the forest a bit."

  Belom followed him into the trees, and when they were out of sight of the wood mill, Sabre stopped.