"So only the cyber can fight him?"
"Only the cyber is unaffected by his magic, but who knows what he's capable of?"
She shivered, despite the fire's warmth. "I wish you had killed him."
"There's a chance that he'll go back to Torrian now, I suppose."
"No, Torrian would kill him if he returned empty handed."
Sabre took the pot off the fire and set it aside to brew. "Then he's more dangerous than he was before. We'll have to be careful from now on. We don't know when he'll strike, or as what. I'll see him on the scanners, though. His magic can't do anything about that, and he doesn’t know it."
"And then the cyber will have to fight him?"
"Perhaps. At least now I know I can regain control afterwards."
Tassin gazed at him, troubled. Would the cyber grow stronger with each takeover, or would Sabre? Who would ultimately win the battle for supremacy? The thought of losing him caused a strange pain in her chest, and she looked away.
Chapter Seventeen
Sabre gazed around at the scrubby vista. Clumps of trees crowded shallow gorges, and streams gushed from rocky nooks to run through them and vanish. Herds of grazing beasts wandered in the distance, and ground-nesting birds flew up ahead with warning calls. Two weeks had passed since they had left the cave.
For two days after his victory over the cyber, they had rested, waiting for Tassin's arm to heal. He had kept a wary eye on the scanners, but there had been no sign of the magician. On the third morning, Tassin had announced that she was strong enough to travel. They had climbed out of the gorge and turned north once more. The scanners had showed no life apart from woodland animals since then, and he had relaxed a little. Perhaps Tassin was wrong, he mused, or maybe the magician had accepted defeat, and would live peacefully on this side of the Badlands.
After several days, the forest had given way to scrubland, interspersed with copses and briar thickets. They slept in the tents, which kept them warm as the nights became chillier, and safe from the dew and frequent rain. Tassin pitched the tents and lighted the fire while Sabre hunted for their dinner, then helped to cook it while he relaxed. She seemed to have come to appreciate how much he did, especially since she had tried to pick up one of the packs and had almost fallen over in surprise when she discovered how heavy it was.
With much grunting and puffing, she had dragged it along for a bit, and he had watched her, chuckling, until she gave up. It had surprised him somewhat that she was unable to lift the pack. He had always thought her stronger than she actually was, he realised. The pack only contained one of the leather tents, several water skins, an assortment of pots, and the sword, and he did not find it terribly heavy. It probably weighed a little less than she did, he calculated, which was not much by his standards. She had sewed a shorter, more practical dress and a pair of moccasins from the cured skins of the animals he killed, since her pink frock was almost worn to rags and her soft slippers had holes in them.
As they strolled through a belt of trees that meandered out of one of the gorges, a warning light drew his attention to the scanner information. It showed a human life sign ahead, and he had his suspicions as to its identity. The trouble with wandering through strange territory, he mused, was that you had no idea who was around the next corner, or how hostile they were. At least the magician was a known quantity, to be treated with extreme animosity, and not to be confused with a possible friend. As they emerged from the belt of trees, he stopped, frowning. A glossy black stallion grazed on the lush grass that grew between the scrub and woodland, and he checked the scanners again, which showed that the animal was, in fact, human. The horse threw up its head and stared at them, its nostrils flaring as if trying to catch their scent.
Tassin cried, "Look, a horse!"
Sabre caught her arm when she started towards the animal, halting her, and she looked up at him in confusion.
"What's wrong? We can catch it and ride it."
He shook his head, not taking his eyes off the beast. "That's not a horse."
"What do you mean? Oh. It's him."
"Yes. Act normal, just walk around it."
Tassin gazed wide-eyed at the horse, and Sabre admired the mage's illusion. The beast's hide twitched away flies, and he wondered if they were part of the illusion, or real. The stallion watched them, its ears pricked, and, had it not been for the scanners, Sabre would have been fooled. The horse whinnied and trotted towards them, the epitome of a lonely, tame beast looking for human company. Sabre wondered if the noise was also a delusion, or if the mage had actually made the sound. He stepped in front of Tassin, and, when the animal drew close, picked up a stone.
"Shoo!" He threw the rock, and the stallion shied.
"Sabre," Tassin muttered, "are you sure it's not real?"
"Positive."
The horse watched them walk away, then tossed its head and trotted off. Tassin gazed back at it until it vanished into the trees.
"It certainly looked real."
Sabre nodded. "He's a master of illusion, but it seems he's not keen on coming to grips with me. That's why my hostility put him off."
"What was he trying to do?"
"Get close to you. If he grabs you, he could use you as a shield or a hostage, and hurt you if I try to rescue you. Maybe he could even fly away with you, like he did as the dragon. I'd really like to know how he did that. He's scared of me, though."
She frowned. "So why didn't you just tell him that you knew it was him, instead of acting as if you really thought it was a horse?"
"That might lead to a showdown, and I'd prefer to put off a confrontation until I'm completely healed. If we pretend we don't know it's him, but avoid the traps he sets for us, it buys me more time."
Tassin glanced at his arm, which he still favoured. The bone was not entirely strong yet, apparently. Her injuries had faded to pink scars, and his other wounds were barely noticeable lines and the faint remnants of yellowish bruises. She had removed the stitches from his scalp and arm a week ago, amazed by how quickly he healed.
They walked on, and Tassin glanced over her shoulder several times, although Sabre assured her that the scanners were once more devoid of human life signs.
The scrubland gave way to a vast tract of sighing golden grass inhabited by huge herds of terrestrial buffalo, antelope and deer, which grazed beside wild cattle, sheep and goats. Streams became rarer, which forced Sabre to carry more water, adding to his already considerable load. Since there was no firewood in the rolling grassland, they collected and burnt dried dung to cook the game Sabre killed. Tassin found that she could now walk at his side all day without growing tired, and even carried a small pack to lighten his burden. She kept her hair a practical plait, while Sabre cut his with his knife.
Two days after the encounter with the black stallion, a human life sign appeared on the scanners again as Sabre crested a hillock. A clear, sparkling pool nestled in the next hollow, and Tassin gave a delighted whoop and ran down to it, taking him by surprise. He reached her as she was about to kneel and scoop up the water, and she gave a yell when he pulled her away up the slope.
"What is your problem? I want to wash! I'm sticky and dirty, and so are you! Let me go!"
Sabre leant closer and whispered, "That's what the mage wants."
Tassin gulped, glancing back at the seductive pool.
"It's stagnant. It'll make you sick," he declared, for the mage's benefit.
As soon as they were out of sight, she stopped and turned to him. "I didn't think he could become something like a pool."
"No, that was unexpected."
"You knew he was waiting for us. Why didn't you warn me? I nearly fell for it."
Sabre's lips twitched in a faint smile. "I was curious to see what he'd try next, a lost puppy or kitten."
"He's too clever for that. Next time, tell me."
The following afternoon, thunder clouds rolled in like a billowing grey blanket, and icy rain slashed down. The wind lashed th
em while they struggled to pitch the tents, driving the frigid water even into the warm spots deep in their clothing.
Tassin glanced up from the peg she was trying to hammer into the sodden ground and pointed. "Look!"
A boulder stood in the golden grass, resting on a smaller one, a cosy cave between them. She began to bundle up the tent, and Sabre checked the scanners, certain the rocks had not been there when the storm had struck. Sure enough, where the rocks stood, a point of green light indicated a human being, and he stilled Tassin's busy hands with one of his.
"It's him."
Tassin wiped away the water that streamed down her face and gazed at him with incredulous disappointment. "You're sure?"
He nodded.
"What should we do?"
"Nothing; let him sit in the rain, maybe he'll get pneumonia."
They pitched the tents end to end and left the flaps open so they could talk, and Sabre watched the point of light while Tassin dried her hair. By the time they broke out the cold rations and settled down for supper, the mage had moved away.
Weeks passed in endless walking, except when it rained and Tassin refused to travel. On those days, Sabre was glad of the rest, for although the exercise kept him fit, it also sapped his strength. Despite his massive stamina, the load he bore weighed considerably more than a normal man could carry for any length of time. The grasslands appeared to be uninhabited, apart from the grazing beasts and a few slinking, cat-like predators.
They encountered the wizard as a bubbling brook, a clump of sweet-scented flowers, a bush full of ripe berries and a shady tree in the heat of the day. Sabre began to enjoy the encounters, making loud comments about the unpleasant aspects of each object. The flowers, he warned, would give Tassin a rash. He insisted that the brook was tainted, and claimed that he could smell its pollution without venturing any closer. The berries were poisonous, he told Tassin, and the tree he said was unstable and liable to attract lightning down on their heads. Sabre wondered how long it would take the mage to realise that he knew who hid within the illusions.
Time passed in slow travel, and Sabre wondered if they would reach the sea without encountering anyone, apart from the magician. Gearn had disguised himself as rose bush Sabre had warned Tassin was full of thorns, a freshly killed animal he had asserted was rotten, and a thin, friendly dog he had chased away by pelting it with stones. Several pained yelps had rewarded his marksmanship, to his delight.
Changing his tactics from the sublime to the ridiculous, the wizard had then created an illusory feast set out on a table, and the aroma of roast fowl and savoury stew had made their mouths water. They detoured around it, Sabre declaring that it must belong to someone, and therefore should be left alone. Since then, he had detected the magician's life sign several times in ostensibly empty areas, and had given them a wide berth for no apparent reason. Sabre had to admire the mage's persistence, if nothing else.
A few days later, they came across dozens of great swathes of short green turf amongst the long golden grass, as if a horde of wandering madmen had driven gigantic lawnmowers through the plains. The tracts of lawn became more numerous, and when they found one going in the right direction it made their journey easier, but the trails always curved away after a while. Sabre found that, for once, the cyber had no answer to this strange phenomenon in its vast store of information.
The trails remained a mystery until they crested one of the many rolling hills one warm afternoon. In the next valley, a herd of monstrous snail-like creatures moved through the grass, each leaving a verdant trail behind it, dotted with manure. Sabre stopped and studied them, while Tassin gazed at them in patent amazement. Their curling shells were at least eight metres in diameter, pale grey striped with dull green. Vast, rippling dark blue feet supported them, and their heads each bore two feelers and a pair of eye stalks tipped with simple eyes.
"What are they?" Tassin asked, without taking her eyes off the strange beasts.
"An indigenous species. By the looks of it, a type of snail."
"Not him."
"No, this would be beyond his powers, I think." He did not bother to check the scanners.
The snails munched the grass, their heads moving from side to side as they mowed it.
He glanced at her. "Let's go and have a closer look."
"What if they're dangerous?"
"They don't look dangerous. Besides, even you could outrun a snail."
She grinned. "These days, I could outrun you."
He laughed. "You think so?"
"Want to wager on it?"
"No."
"Because you know you'll lose."
"No, I just don't want a tongue lashing when I win."
Sabre stepped aside when she tried to clout him, then dumped the packs and ran backwards, mocking her. She dropped her bundle and gave chase, and he turned and raced away, leaving her behind. Tassin ran after him, laughing. She must know she stood no chance of catching him, he reflected, but clearly she enjoyed the rare moment of relaxation and playfulness.
Sabre was far ahead when he became aware of the cyber's warning light, and he stopped and glanced back just as a man rose from the long grass right in front of Tassin. She gave a startled yell and tried to swerve, but slipped and fell with an inelegant grunt. Sabre cursed the fact that he had not checked the scanners for some time. There had not seemed to be much point in the open terrain, where everything was visible from a distance, and the mage had not put in an appearance for a while. He sprinted back to Tassin, alarmed by the appearance of a stranger in the apparently empty plains. A tall, tanned man with dark red hair and bright green eyes stood over the Queen, looking concerned.
"Are you all right?"
Tassin glared up at him and rubbed her elbow, and Sabre arrived at her side as she stood up. The stranger topped him by several centimetres, but then, most men did, and it did not bother him in the least. The man, who wore a fawn suede shirt decorated with beadwork, matching trousers and soft leather shoes, smiled at him and made an odd gesture.
"Greetings. I'm Shan of the Moniliid Tribe. What tribe are you from?"
Sabre introduced himself and Tassin, wondering if the mage had found a disguise he could not penetrate.
Shan turned to Tassin. "I'm sorry I gave you a fright. I was just relaxing in the grass when I heard you coming. You might have stood on me." He shifted under their combined scrutiny and asked, "Where's your herd?"
"Our herd?" Sabre asked.
"Yes, your snails."
"We have no snails."
Shan looked amazed. "You're out here on your own?"
"We're travelling in search of a cultured people."
"So you left your herd?"
Sabre shook his head. "We came from the forest."
Shan grinned. "You're from a faraway land!"
"Yes."
"That's wonderful! You must stay with us a while. Come and meet the chief."
Looking as excited as an overgrown schoolboy, Shan turned and headed for the snails. Sabre glanced at Tassin. There was no way to tell if Shan was in fact the mage, but he seemed like a harmless fellow, and had made no attempt to get close to her even when she had been within his reach. She raised her brows, indicating that it was his decision. Sabre shrugged and followed Shan.
As they approached the gigantic snails, more people appeared, as if from nowhere. Sabre wondered if they had all been hiding in the grass. He belatedly checked the scanners, and found twenty-seven life signs in the cyber's human scan total, plus thirty-two aliens. The control unit's warning light had stopped flashing, since the people were unarmed. It did, however, detect the presence of bows and arrows inside some of the snails. The people beamed and gathered around, calling greetings as if he and Tassin were long lost friends. They wore similar clothes to Shan's, some more decorative, and the women were clad in knee-length suede dresses with tasselled hems and beaded necklines, their feet shod in beaded ankle boots. A short, wiry man pushed through the crowd, grinning. His th
inning, dark gold hair was slicked across his scalp, and bright blue eyes twinkled in his deeply tanned face.
"Welcome! Welcome! I'm Chief Clon." He made the same odd gesture as Shan had done, and looked confused when they did not return it. Shan whispered in his ear, and the chief's grin broadened. "People from afar! Wonderful! You must stay with us. We want to hear all about your land, and your travels."
Sabre nodded, smiling. The tribe's open friendliness was infectious. "Thank you. Where's your village?"
"Our village? Why, you're standing in it!"
Sabre glanced around at the munching behemoths. "I'm standing in a herd of snails."
"Yes, this is our home."
"You're nomads? You live in tents?"
Clon shook his head. "No, we live in the snails."
"In the snails?"
"That's right. Come, I'll show you."
Still beaming, Clon led Sabre to the nearest snail, and the crowd followed, murmuring and smiling. Clon rapped on its shell, and it tilted, the flesh under it receding to form a passage just large enough for a man to enter. Clon crawled up, and Sabre followed.
Tassin, either unwilling to be left behind or curious, came after him. As she crawled out of the passage, he sensed the snail's movement as it closed the door. Above him, the shell curled away out of sight, and a taut sheath of muscle ran up the convex wall at the front of it. Soft golden light seeped through the shell to illuminate a spacious living area atop the snail's back, which was flat, warm and dry, the texture of brushed satin.
Pots, plates, clothing and toys were scattered around, and bedding was rolled up next to the wall. The snail's slow movements could be detected under them as it grazed. Five steps, attached to the front of the shell next to the muscular sheath, led up to the top of its curve.
Clon gestured. "This is where we live. Up there is storage and the water reservoir." He pointed to the steps. "Of course cooking and calls of nature are taken care of outside."
The Cyber Chronicles Book II: Death Zone Page 21