The Cyber Chronicles - Book I: Queen of Arlin

by T C Southwell

Chapter Seventeen

  For four nights, Sabre led the Queen across the desert, skirting glassy areas and pockets of wind-borne radiation. Tassin whined about the water rationing, complained about the discomfort of sleeping on the hard sand and grumbled about riding in the cold wind. After a while, he tuned out her constant carping, even though there was little else to occupy his attention.

  On the fifth night, the cyber’s scanners detected underground water at the limit of their range, and he headed towards it. A concrete slab was half buried in the sand, and he dismounted to study it, ignoring the Queen’s plaintive questions about why they had stopped. Sand had drifted over the slab, partially hiding what could only be a pre-war reservoir. The cyber informed him that the seeping water it had detected was uncontaminated, but the slab was too heavy for a normal man to shift. Sabre crouched and brushed the sand away from the edges.

  Tassin came to stand beside him. “What is it?”

  “There’s water under here. I just have to move this.”

  “Water! I can have a drink. We will be able to refill the skins!”

  “Yes, but not too much, or it’ll make you sick,” Sabre warned as she trotted to the nearest horse and grabbed a flaccid skin. While she gulped from it, he exposed the entire slab, wondering if he would be able to lift it. He had little choice, especially now that she had consumed half the remaining water. The slab offered no handholds or protuberances to which he could attach a rope, even if he had one, so he could not use the horses to pull it aside. He joined Tassin and drank some water while he pondered the problem.

  The slab was a good twelve centimetres thick, and he estimated its weight at around nine hundred kilos. He prompted the cyber to raise his metabolism to provide the necessary energy, and a warm flush of vitality washed through him. He handed the skin back to Tassin and returned to his task. Digging the sand from under one side, he made enough room to insinuate his fingers. It would be an awkward lift, placing a lot of strain on his back, which was reinforced only with a telescopic strand of barrinium to prevent disks slipping. The springy metal did not interfere with his spine’s suppleness, but only added a little strength to it. Crouching, he slipped his hands under the slab and prepared to lift it.

  Tassin stared at him, and he almost smiled. The slab looked far too heavy for anyone to move, never mind lift, he supposed, but then, she had no idea of a cyber’s capabilities. He took a few deep breaths, then went rigid as he took up the strain. His thigh muscles burnt, and cords strained at the skin of his neck. His heart rate quadrupled and his face grew hot as his blood pressure shot up, causing vessels to throb on his forehead and bulge on his arms. Pain lanced from his shoulder, elbow and wrist joints, and he grimaced. Tassin’s eyes widened as the slab rose with a dull grating as he straightened. He leant against it, and it slid back, exposing a round hole. Unable to push it further without falling down the well, he dropped the slab with a gritty boom.

  The smell of water excited the thirsty horses, which tried to reach it. He caught them and turned them away before they kicked sand into the well, removed a pack and tethered them to it. Returning to the half open well, he peered in. The scanners indicated that the water was a good ten metres down, and he cursed, wishing he had some rope. His gaze flicked to the ribbons and ruffles of Tassin’s pink court dress, and he stepped closer to finger the material. She stared at him with wide, horrified eyes.

  He said, “I need something to make into a rope. This will do.” He ripped off the long strips of material that formed the bows and flowers. Yards of tough silk came away in his hands, and he remarked, “I’m glad Mirrial made you wear this. It’s proving mighty handy.”

  “I am so happy I have something to contribute,” she sniped.

  “Me too.”

  After a great deal of ripping, Sabre held four long pieces of superfluous cloth, which he tied together. The dress yielded around seven metres of silk, and he made up the difference with his weapons’ harness. Using an empty saddle bag as a bucket, he hauled up enough water to fill another for the horses. When their thirst was slaked, he flopped down to rest while the animals dug in the sand, hoping to uncover grass. Their instincts did not help them, for there was no grass to find here, as there was under the snow in winter. Nothing had grown in this desert for decades.

  Sabre considered the beasts sadly. They had not eaten for five days, and the flesh had melted from them to reveal ribs and gaunt muscle. The water would help, but he calculated that soon they would be too weak to ride. He tossed Tassin some dried meat and tore at a piece while he considered her. Because of her dark colouring, she had tanned to a deep gold, which suited her. His skin had also darkened, making his scars more noticeable.

  They spent two days at the well, where the plenitude of water allowed them to bathe to stave off the heat during the day. Sabre knew they could not linger there for long, however, without food for the horses. Soon, they would have to press on across the burning wasteland.