The Cyber Chronicles VII - Sabre

by T C Southwell

  "Sir," the sergeant who led them said. "What do you want us to do?"

  "Kill as many of Dellon's men as you can, or imprison them. Do you know where the King is?"

  The officer shook his head. "Where's the Queen?"

  "Waiting in the forest until it's safe. Is Dellon in the castle?"

  "Yes sir, as far as I know, but we've been locked up since Torrian left."

  "If you find him, bring him to me."

  "Yes, sir."

  The sergeant ordered his men to follow him, and most of them ran off with him, leaving four, who eyed Sabre. The cyber turned and continued down the corridor, the soldiers following. He glimpsed a battle raging in the courtyard through the windows, the air abuzz with arrows. A surprising number of Tassin's men had been in the dungeons, and, now armed, put up a good fight. Sabre headed for the throne room, where he hoped to find Dellon hiding.

  The structural scanners mapped the new corridors as he passed along them, adding them to the map the cyber had from the last time he had been here. This appeared to be a little-used part of the castle, the rooms filled with dusty furnishings, ornaments and long forgotten coats of arms. According to the cyber's old map, the throne room was beyond the wall ahead, but when he reached it there was no door. He cursed, glancing around.

  "You have to go around, sir," one of soldiers who followed him said, nodding to his right.

  Sabre headed in that direction, brushing aside a curtain to enter yet another dusty room. This one had many tarnished shields on the walls, and a door on his left. He strode over to it, then paused. Beyond was the throne room, and a trap if Dellon was in there. He checked his lasers, ejected the half-charged crystals and reloaded. According to the scanners, five men stood on the other side of the door, but the stone walls hid the rest of the room. He glanced at the four soldiers, wishing he had more men with him, then scanned the door, which was unlocked. Doubtless the armed men within were waiting for him to walk into their trap.

  Retreating a few paces, he considered the solid, brass bound door. If he opened it and walked in, the men inside would certainly ambush him. He needed the element of surprise, and for that, he had to make a sudden entrance. Tassin’s soldiers looked puzzled by his antics, swapping bemused glances. Sabre charged the door and leapt. His boots hit it with a tremendous bang and smashed it down with a screech of tearing wood. It bounced as it hit the floor, disintegrating into thick planks that bounced away. Sabre landed running, then dropped and rolled as swords swished over his head and crossbow bolts buzzed past. He leapt up, spinning to scan the room. Dozens of armoured knights closed in on him with naked swords. He dropped and rolled again, raised his lasers and snapped off a series of rapid shots. The knights' armour absorbed the bolts, glowing spots appearing on it, and he switched his targets from chests to heads, since the helmets' metal was thinner. Two knights collapsed, tugging off their helms, the rest came on undeterred.

  The four soldiers who had followed him in went down under the scything blades within minutes, making him wish he had sent them for reinforcements instead. Sabre rolled and ducked to avoid the slashing weapons and snapped off shots that brought grunts of pain. He jumped up as several swords whistled towards him. One bounced off his thigh armour, making him stagger. Spotting the throne nearby, he shot the two knights who blocked his path and sprang onto the back of it, firing into the crowd. One laser died, and he tossed it aside, then the other went dead two shots later. He flung it in a knight’s face and dived at him, bearing him to the ground with a metallic crash.

  Sabre smashed his fist into the knight's visor, dented it and knocked the man unconscious. Twisting as swords stabbed down at him, he wrenched the weapon from the knight's lax fingers and raised it to parry a blow aimed at his neck. A ring of steel-clad brawn closed in, and he turned to deflect blades with showers of sparks.

  A sword hacked into the armour on his back, almost thrusting him onto a blade. He smashed the weapon aside, swung and charged the men beside him. Leaping high, he plunged his sword into a knight's throat, and he went down with a great clatter. Sabre jumped over the body and onto the throne again, gaining a height advantage. Weapons slashed at his legs, forcing him to jump over them, balanced on the throne's arm.

  According to the scanners, twenty-seven knights surrounded him, and he had only killed five so far. With a cyber's prodigious, spring-loaded grace, he leapt over the warriors and backed away as they came after him, thrusting his sword into any weakness. Some tried to circle behind him, but he speeded up his retreat towards the far wall, foiling them. They broke into a rattling run, and Sabre turned and sprinted for the wall. Running up it, he pushed himself off and performed a graceful somersault, landing behind his foes. He cut two down before the rest swung and charged him again. Sabre turned and ran.

  ****

  Tarl gazed down at the troops who milled below, his hand clamped over the furious Queen's mouth. The men had returned a few minutes earlier, and searched the ground for tracks. Soon they would realise he was up the tree, and then there would be trouble. Tassin squirmed, forcing him to tighten his grip.

  He bent to whisper in her ear, "They're going to find us. When they do, I'm going to let you go and use my laser. You climb higher up the tree. They probably have crossbows. I'll give you your laser then, okay?"

  Tassin nodded, mumbling, but he kept his hand over her mouth. There was still a slight chance that the soldiers would not spot them, and he did not want to make their discovery a certainly by letting Tassin give them away. Some of the men dismounted to examine the ground, approaching the tree, then looked up, peering through the leaves. He froze, not daring to breathe, his grip on the Queen tightening again.

  One of the knights pointed and yelled, and Tarl cursed. Releasing Tassin, he boosted her up the tree, freeing his hands to reach for the lasers in his belt. He thrust one at her, then turned to fire at the men below. Two fell with choked grunts, and a couple of crossbow bolts hissed past. Blue fire strafed the soldiers from above as Tassin fired, and three more men fell. Tarl scrambled further up the tree, seeking shelter amongst its branches. A tug on his leg made him sag and grip the branch. He shoved Tassin higher, climbing after her.

  Settling into another fork, he fired again, the laser bolts searing through the leaves. More blue fire hissed from above, and yells of pain came from below. Tarl fingered the back of his leg. A quarrel protruded from it, and his hand came away bloody. Hoping that he was not going to bleed to death, he fired at the men again as one tried to climb up after them. The soldier fell with a cry when a laser bolt hit him in the chest, and another collapsed in a heap as his head exploded in a red mist.

  Sabre sprang onto the throne again, swinging his sword in a flashing arc that hit a knight on the helm with a clang, sending him staggering. Cuts oozed on his arms and thighs where blades had caught him while he moved amongst them with a cyber's peerless speed. The cyber guided him, projecting potential sword strokes and warning of danger behind him. The number of knights had dwindled to twenty-two, and some were injured. Their armour made them cumbersome, but also hard to hurt. Two had the imprint of his boot indented in their chest armour where he had kicked them, lifting them off their feet with the force of his blow. Whereas an unarmoured man would have died, however, they had recovered and rejoined the fight.

  A glance inward at his bio-status found that it had dropped to seventy-five per cent. He was still convinced one of the knights was Dellon, but there was no way to tell which. Sweat ran down him inside his armour, mingling with blood from the cuts on his neck and arms to drip from his elbows and wrists. Steam rose from him in the chill air. His core temperature was a hundred and four degrees. He spun as a sword slashed at his legs, jumped over it and rammed his blade into the chest of a knight beside him, shearing through the man's armour with a metallic shriek.

  The knight collapsed, pulling Sabre off the throne. He yanked the sword free with another screech of tortured steel, dropped and rolled to his feet beside a knight, punc
hing him in the face. The helm's visor bent, and the man stumbled back with a grunt. Concern for Tassin gnawed at Sabre. He longed to quit the battle to search for her, but that meant abandoning the castle to Dellon. The usurper king’s soldiers were undoubtedly aware of her presence in the forest outside by now, and probably searched for her. If they captured her, the conflict would be lost. A sword clanged against the side of his head, making stars burst in his eyes. He sidestepped a blade that skimmed past his ribs, his armour now tattered and dented.

  Battle sounds still came from the courtyard, and he wondered who was winning. He parried a blade aimed at his neck and ducked under another. Jumping sideways, he drove his sword into the armpit of a knight who made the mistake of exposing his flank. The man went down, and Sabre yanked the bloody weapon out to slash at a knight behind him and parry a stab at his back. He kicked a man in front of him in the crotch. The metal codpiece dented with a bong, and the man reeled away, roaring with pain. Sabre hoped it was Dellon.

  Spinning, he chopped at a man's neck, shearing through the chain mail to slice open his jugular in a spray of blood. Realising that his sword had become blunt, he bent to wrench a fresh one from a dead fist, dropping the battered weapon. The cyber flashed a warning, and he sprang aside as two armoured giants charged him, trying to crush him between them. Another sword bounced off his neck. He ducked and spun, but space to manoeuvre was becoming scarce as the knot of knights dwindled, tightening the ring around him. He punched a knight in the crotch, and the man stumbled back with a strangled howl. The problem with a suit of armour was that it did not allow a man to protect that vital area, and armour was not much good against a cyber.

  Sabre charged into the gap, performed a handspring and landed on his feet outside the ring of knights, but dropped his sword in the process. He scooped up another fallen weapon as the knights charged again, skipped back and ran at the wall. Once more he sailed over their heads, staggering a little on landing as his knees almost buckled. He glanced at his bio-status, which had dropped to sixty-nine per cent. Blood ran from shallow wounds on his arms and legs, weakening him, and he wondered if he was going to be able to defeat the fifteen steel-clad warriors who still faced him.

  They were tiring too, and some swayed with exhaustion. A few quit the battle to rest, leaning on their swords. While they were able to fight him in relays, however, he had not stopped moving since he had kicked down the door. Still, they were slowing, which compensated somewhat for his increasing fatigue. Blood slimed the floor and splattered the walls, ran down priceless tapestries and soaked ornate carpets. Tassin's throne had several deep cuts in it where swords had missed him and chopped deep into the black wood.

  The knights charged him with a roar, and once more he sprinted across the room, heading for the opposite wall. The cyber flashed a warning as he ran up it, and too late he realised that a chain ran from it to the vast chandelier in the centre of the throne room. By that time he was airborne, and he twisted, cat-like, tucking up his legs. The chain clipped one of his boots and sent him spinning. He crashed to the floor, banged his head and wrenched his arm as he landed on one shoulder. The sword clattered from his hand as his arm went numb.

  The knights closed in as he regained his feet with an agile twist, stars flashing in his eyes. His right arm hung useless, and he kicked a metal-clad giant, sending him stumbling back with a foot-shaped dent in his armour. A knight tried to skewer Sabre from behind, and he flung himself forwards. Catching himself on his left hand, he kicked the man in the chest and sent him sprawling with a great crash, noting that his bio-status was now sixty-one per cent.

  ****

  Tassin peered through the leaves, spotted a movement and fired. A man collapsed with a cough. As far as she could tell, only two men remained, and a hot blue flash from below felled one of them. The survivor spurred his horse and galloped away. Tarl glanced up at her, his face pale and drawn, his eyes filled with pain. Although she was still furious with him, concern shot through her.

  He forced a weak smile. "That was the last of them. We're okay."

  "Are you hurt?"

  He nodded, groping around the back of his thigh. "Got a bolt. It's bleeding bad."

  "Let's get out of this damned tree."

  Tassin tucked her laser into her tunic pocket and scrambled down to him, concerned afresh by his haggard appearance.

  He managed a lopsided smile. "Damn, this hurts like hell. I don't know how Sabre does it, I really don't."

  "Come on; climb down so I can have a look at it."

  Tarl groaned and eased himself out of the fork, wincing and grimacing as he descended, favouring his injured leg. On the forest floor, he sank down, holding his leg up so the bolt did not touch the ground. Tassin landed beside him, glancing around. Two of the soldiers' horses stood a short distance away, their reins snagged on a bush. Approaching Tarl, she peered under his leg.

  "Lie on your stomach, I can't see." Tarl rolled over with another groan, and Tassin eyed the quarrel. "I should pull it out, then I can bandage it."

  "No way, I'll bet that thing's got a barbed head."

  "Maybe not. It has to come out, and the sooner the better."

  "If it's barbed, it's only going to do more damage."

  Tassin went over to a corpse and searched it, found a pouch of slim bolts and held one up for Tarl to see. "No barbs. They're hunting quarrels."

  "Okay. It's still going to hurt like hell."

  "Don't be such a sissy. Sabre would pull it out himself."

  "Sabre's a goddamned cyber."

  "He still feels pain."

  "Of course he does, but he's used to it."

  Tassin squatted beside him. "Do you really think a person can get used to pain?"

  "To a certain extent, yes."

  "Well then, it's time you experienced some, then you'll know a little of what those poor cybers suffered at your hands."

  Tarl grimaced. "You're a heartless cow."

  "It's going to hurt even more if I leave it in."

  "Okay, okay, just make it quick."

  Tassin used a scrap of cloth cut from one of the dead men's tunics to grip the blood-slimed bolt, and jerked it out. Tarl let out a blood-curdling howl that made the horses shy, and Tassin stared at him in amazement.

  "You truly are a coward."

  "Let me stick that in you and pull it out, then we'll see how much noise you make," he said, gasping.

  "I have seen Sabre bear far more pain than that without as much as a groan."

  "Like I said, he's a bloody cyber. He's suffered since he was a child."

  She nodded. "Torturers." Cutting a dead soldier's shirt into strips, she bound Tarl's thigh, ignoring his groans, gritted teeth and grimaces. Then she caught the horses and led them back to him.

  "Now we're going to the castle to see what's happened to Sabre, whether you like it or not. I want see that he's okay."

  "Only if your flag is flying."

  "Even if it's not. He might need our help."

  "No, you can't. If you go charging in there you might make it worse for him. If Dellon takes you hostage, it's over."

  She glowered at him. "I won't leave him there to die if I can help him."

  "But if -"

  "Enough! I'm going, with or without you."

  Tarl groaned and shook his head. "He'll kill me."

  "Get on the damned horse."

  "Tassin -"

  "Now!"

  Tarl sighed and climbed to his feet, hopping. It took almost half an hour to get him into the saddle, and Tassin knew he was being deliberately difficult, to buy time. Her concern for Sabre burnt in her heart like a hot coal, and she almost abandoned the cyber tech. When at last he was on the horse, she mounted and cantered back the way they had come, Tarl grunting and groaning at every jolting stride. Tassin paused at the edge of the forest to study her castle. The flagpole was gone, but the gates stood open and black smoke rose from some of the keep’s windows in lazy coils. Dread clutched her heart at the fortr
ess’ ominous stillness.

  Tarl gazed at it with narrowed eyes. "Well, the battle seems to be over. But who won?"

  "You said Sabre would win."

  "He should have."

  "So let's go and see."

  Tassin spurred her horse towards the drawbridge, and Tarl groaned as his mount raced after her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sabre raised an aching arm and thrust it into the chest of a swaying knight, making the man step back. Two more moved closer with plodding steps, reaching for him. He tried to avoid them, but his legs buckled and he fell to his knees. His bio-status was at forty-two per cent, and a red warning light flashed deep in his mind. Only four of the beefy knights remained on their feet. Several groaned and twitched on the floor, too weak to rise while burdened with armour; the others lay still in blood pools. One knight stood behind the three. Sabre groped for a sword with his left hand, his right arm still numb.

  "Hold him," the fourth knight said in a rasping voice. He pulled off his helmet to reveal the thin, pockmarked face of a weedy nineteen-year-old youth who matched Tassin's description perfectly, his lank brown hair plastered to his scalp with sweat. His armour bore hardly any damage, indicating that he had abstained from most of the conflict, and had probably only darted in occasionally for a stab at Sabre before retreating again.

  Sabre raised his head to glare at him. "Dellon."

  "King Dellon, commoner scum."

  "Dellon the dolt," Sabre bowed his head and chuckled.

  A knight kicked away the sword the cyber reached for, and another hauled him to his knees. After he had lost the use of his right arm, the combat had continued in close-quarter fighting. He had dispatched seven more knights with his feet and a left-handed sword, but it had cost him dearly. Bruises ached all over him from where he had rolled across the floor or dived aside, some from the hefty punches knights had occasionally landed, as well as sword strokes that had bounced off his armour. Blood ran from fresh cuts on his neck and arms. His bio-status was ticking down rapidly; already it had dropped to forty-one per cent. All his reserves had been used up, and blood loss drained much of his remaining strength.