Tassin lazed in the apple orchard, enjoying the autumn sunshine’s warmth. A week had passed since they had arrived at Mother Amy’s hut. Sabre’s wounds healed unusually fast, according to the old witch, yet still he lay unmoving, the brow band dark. Thankfully, Mother Amy tended to the unpleasant task of keeping her patient clean and fed. Bern made daily trips into the village for fresh blood, which the old woman force fed to Sabre, along with milk and broth. Tassin longed for him to wake up so they could move on. Mother Amy found far too many tasks for her to perform. For the moment, she had given the crone the slip and lounged against a tree, munching an apple.
A movement caught her eye, and she peered between the trees. Something moved there, a glimmer of grey. Tassin watched it, unsure of whether to hide in case it was Torrian’s men, but then a riderless horse wandered into the open, grazing.
“Falcon!”
The stallion threw up his head and whinnied, trotting to meet her. Sabre’s bay mare, still wearing the tattered remains of a saddle and bridle, followed him. Tassin stroked his muzzle, and he nudged her, snuffling her ear. A warhorse such as Falcon was trained to remain with his rider, and he had followed her trail. He had probably been in the vicinity for several days, but she had been so busy fetching and carrying for Mother Amy that she had not noticed him.
Warhorses were especially bred for their intelligence, loyalty and aggressiveness, and Falcon was a particularly well-bred and highly trained animal. She recalled the months of bonding she had undergone with him when he had been a youngster, feeding, riding, training and lavishing affection upon him every day. It had been worth it, for he was devoted to her now. She caught the mare, led them to the paddock and put them in with the other horses, glad to have her stallion back. As she removed the mare’s saddle and bridle, Mother Amy appeared beside her, making her jump.
“More mouths to feed, water to carry, coats to be groomed and hooves to be cleaned for you, young lady.”
“You can have the other two now that I have these.”
The old woman cocked a grey eyebrow. “Ye think that makes a whit of difference? It still be yer job.”
Tassin bit her tongue to prevent herself from snapping at the woman.
Mother Amy smiled, her black eyes twinkling. “I be goin’ to town now with Bern. The fire needs stokin’, supper needs startin’ an’ there’s dishes to be washed.”
As she walked away, Tassin allowed herself the childish pleasure of sticking her tongue out at the crone’s back. The woman was insufferable, expecting her to do chores. If only she could tell her with whom she was really dealing. It would be so much fun to see her on her knees, begging for forgiveness. She marched to the hut, intent on leaving right away. Falcon would be her weapon. With him, she would win free across the mountains. As she entered the hut to gather her few belongings, her eyes fell on Sabre. She hesitated, torn by an inexplicable longing for the warrior to join her, and an equally strong wish to leave him behind. Deciding to leave it to fate, she shook him.
“Sabre! Wake up! That is an order!” Tassin bellowed in his ear, something she had been unable to do before due to Mother Amy’s presence. The brow band lighted in a flare of sparkling red, which dwindled to a more normal level, many of the lights turning green. His eyes flicked open.
She scowled. “So, you have decided to wake up at last. Did you have a nice rest?”
“This unit is functional.”
“Wonderful. While I have been acting as stand-in slave to the old biddy, you have been snoring your head off. I was about to leave this dump without you.”
Sabre rose to his feet, and she fetched his trousers, which Mother Amy had cleaned and mended, from a dresser in the corner. Sabre started to pull them on, but stopped when he encountered the stitches in his thigh, fingering them.
“These must be removed.” He pulled his harness off a shelf, took a tiny pair of scissors from the pouch and cut the stitches, plucking them out of his thigh and flank. Tassin wondered what he would do about the ones in his back.
He held out the scissors. “Will you assist?”
Tassin recoiled. “Can you not leave them in?”
“No.” He turned his back to her.
“Why not?”
“They will fester.”
She took the scissors and eyed the stitches. “I just cut them and pull them out?”
“Correct.”
Pulling a face, she obeyed. When she finished, Sabre stowed the scissors and went outside. Tassin followed, curious. The cyber waded into the stream that ran past the back of the hut and proceeded to wash. She smiled as she thought about what Mother Amy would say if she found her newly awakened patient bathing in the chilly stream. He returned to the bank, picked up his pouch, extracted a bottle and popped a tiny pill into his mouth. As he replaced the bottle, his cheeks swelled, and a minute later he spat out a mouthful of white foam.
Tassin tapped her foot as the sun moved past noon and her chance of leaving slipped away. It would be too late by the time the horses were saddled and loaded now. Sabre re-entered the hut and got dressed, then stood beside the fireplace and lapsed into his immobile state. Remembering the chores the crone had set her, Tassin ordered him to do them.
When Mother Amy returned, the fire blazed, the dinner bubbled and the dishes were washed. Tassin relaxed in the chair and Sabre stood in a corner. At the old woman’s entrance, his head jerked up, his brow band sparkling. Bern sidled in and sat by the fire, gaping at Sabre. Mother Amy paused, then closed the door and stood with her arms akimbo.
“I see our lad is awake.”
“Yes.” Tassin smiled. “He woke up just after you left.”
“Uh-huh. More like ’e was woken, an’ ’e’s been on the go ever since.”
“What do you mean?”
The old woman shook her head. “Yer think I don’t know? I weren’t born yesterday, Missy.”
“So he helped me, what of it?”
Mother Amy’s eyes narrowed as she regarded Sabre. “Still as empty as a beggar’s purse, too.”
The witch approached Sabre, who stared through her. She reached up and touched the brow band, then snatched her hand away as if burnt.
“Eh, that’s a nasty bit o’ magic that. Who did that to you, lad?”
Sabre ignored her, and Tassin ordered, “Answer the question, Sabre.”
He turned his head towards her. “Technicians fitted the cyber.”
“An’ did these here tech-nicians ’ave a reason for doin’ it?” Mother Amy asked.
“For control.”
“Ah. So’s when yer told to do something, ye do it, no questions asked.” Mother Amy studied Sabre’s blank countenance.
“Correct. A cyber unit must obey orders.”
Tassin stood up and approached him. “But you will not obey just anybody, will you?”
“No. A voice recognition imprint was installed prior to deployment.”
Tassin glanced at Mother Amy. “Do you understand what he means?”
The old woman shook her head, not taking her eyes off Sabre’s face. “Nay lass, ’tis gobbledygook to me.”
Tassin returned her attention to Sabre. “You only obey me, right?”
“And the alpha male designated Pervor.”
Mother Amy shook her head again, clicked her tongue and went to sink onto the chair Tassin had vacated. “’Tis evil, that’s what it be.”
“Why evil?” Tassin frowned.
“’Cos ’e has no will of ’is own. ’E has to do what yer tell ’im, no matter what. No complainin’, no questionin’ and no reward. ’E’s a tool, nothin’ more, like an axe or a broom... or a sword. Yet ’e’s not made of wood nor iron. He’s flesh an’ blood like you an’ me, but ’e’s got no life.”
Mother Amy looked up, her weathered face creased with pity. “That thing on ’is ’ead thinks for him, like a rider tells a horse where to go. Yet even a horse can buck ’is rider off, an’ ’e can still snort an’ swat flies, look around, have feelings, talk to other horses. Y
er Sabre can’t, lass, that thing on his ’ead is just usin’ ’is body.”
“Can you help him?”
Mother Amy shook her head with a rueful smile, as if the suggestion was absurd. “Nay, I know nothin’ about that kind o’ magic.”
Although Tassin did not really understand, she grasped the gist of Mother Amy’s explanation. Manutim had given her a magic warrior who had indeed saved her, but now it appeared that he was enchanted as well, spellbound to do her bidding. This did not please her. She had thought he obeyed her because of fealty to her kingdom and the honour of serving a queen. Then again, he had been originally intended to destroy the Death Zone, since no man in his right mind would venture in there. She knew little about the Death Zone, other than it was extremely dangerous to go into it and horrible creatures sometimes came out of it to terrorise villages. A thought struck her, and she turned to the old woman.
“What if we took that thing off his head?”
Mother Amy sucked her gums, watching the fire. “It won’t come off, lass. I tried. Them things go right into ’is ’ead.”
“What if we broke it?”
“I doubt ’e’d let ye do that.”
Tassin sighed. She did not think he would, either.
“’Sides,” the witch continued after a pause. “You need ’im as he is. If ye break that thing, ’e could just up an’ leave. There’d be no reason for ’im to go on obeyin’ you, no indeed. Without ’im, you’d be in a right pickle, wouldn’t you, Yer Majesty?”
Tassin gasped. “You know who I am?”
“‘Course I does. I ain’t stupid.”
“But you have been treating me like a commoner all this time.”
Mother Amy chuckled, her eyes glinting. “I ain’t got no time for airs an’ graces, lass. You needed my ’elp an’ I’ve ’elped you, but I ain’t bowin’ an’ scrapin’ just ’cos you got a fancy title.”
Tassin seethed, her hands clenching. Mother Amy looked up at her, black eyes twinkling in their web of wrinkles. “What’ll you do, order yer warrior to box me ears?”
“I could.”
The old woman laughed. “Sure, an’ you’d love to, but ’member, I be a witch.”
Tassin stifled her anger. “I am grateful for your help. I would not hurt you.”
Mother Amy nodded, looking satisfied. “Aye, now yer thinkin’. Ye may even make a good queen one day.”
Tassin snorted. “Not as long as those repulsive kings hound me.”
“Aye, they’re a problem an’ no mistake. What do ye plan to do?”
“I am going to go to King Xavier. He will help me. I know he will.”
Mother Amy clicked her tongue. “See sense, lass. Do ye really think a foreign king’ll ’elp you?”
“Why not? I am a queen. He will respect royal blood.”
“Will ’e now? An’ what if he don’t?”
Tassin moved closer to the fire. “Then I shall go into the Death Zone.”
The old woman’s eyes widened. “Are ye mad, girl? The only thing ye’ll find in the Death Zone be death.”
“I would have died honourably at the battle for my castle, if not for him.” Tassin indicated Sabre with an angry flick of her hand. “He was meant to destroy the Death Zone. If he can do that, he can take me with him and protect me.”
“Well, seems to me ye’ve got a lot to thank that man for, yet ye treat ’im like a servant. Ye owe ’im yer life, girl.”
Tassin’s lip curled. “I do not owe him anything! I was ready to die and deny Torrian the satisfaction of forcing me into marriage, now I am a fugitive.”
“Oh aye, an’ ye’d rather be dead.” Mother Amy snorted. “What a foolish girl ye are! Yer too young an’ stupid to know ’ow precious life is, an’ yer ready to throw it away at the drop of a hat!”
She settled deeper into her chair, her voice dropping. “Anyways, Torrian’s men wouldn’t ’ave killed yer no matter what ye’d done. They’d ’ave disarmed ye, trussed ye like a chicken and made a gift of ye to Torrian.”
“I know how to use a sword! I am a warrior queen!”
The crone rolled her eyes. “What a babe ye are! D’ye think yer could ’ave taken on the whole army?” Amy wagged a gnarled finger at her. “Listen, madam, yer forget ’bout goin’ into that there Death Zone, ye hear?” She pointed at Sabre. “That one can probably survive the Zone, but with yer in tow ’e’ll die trying to save yer sorry buns, an’ ye won’t last a minute longer. Mark my words, young lady, the Zone’s no place for a gentle bred little snot like you.”
Tassin’s hands clenched. “How dare you speak to me like that? What do you know of the Death Zone, you old witch?”
Mother Amy’s eyes glittered. “I’ve a mind to take a switch to that there lily white butt of yourn, wetling, queen or no! I know what the Zone is, ’tis magic, evil magic! It’ll swaller ye up an’ spit out yer bones, not even burp.”
The old woman leant forward, her voice a growl, the fire lighting her haggard features with its lurid glow. “The Zone’s apt named. It be death, pure an’ simple, but an uglier death than ye can ever imagine. There be monsters in there that’d rip yer heart out an’ eat it while it’s still a-beatin’.”
Curiosity overcame Tassin’s anger. “What is the Death Zone?”
Mother Amy settled back in her chair, her eyes seeking the soothing ripple of flames in the hearth. “Like I said, ’tis magic. The Founders created it, so I ’eard, same time as they broke the world. Laid the land to waste, they did, spread a sickness that killed most, made others mad. Them as survived, they made a life where the evil ’adn’t touched, but the Zone, that’s where it stays, all that evil magic.
“An’ them things what stagger out of it from time to time, they be its children. Monsters they be, no two alike, full o’ teeth an’ claws an’ spines, mad with hate. They jus’ kill until they’re killed, an’ it takes a powerful many men to kill ’em.” Her chin sank onto her chest, her eyes growing distant. “Many’s the brave, foolish men that ’ave ventured in there to try an’ put an end to it. None ever came out.”
Tassin bit her lip. “Then what should I do?”
“Ah, lass, don’t despair. All you ’ave to do is get hitched.”
“No! I will not marry any of those horrible kings!”
Mother Amy shook her head. “Nay lass, find someone ye like an’ marry ’im.”
“But he must be of noble blood. It is the law.”
Mother Amy laughed, revealing toothless gums. “Stuff and nonsense! Noble blood my foot! All people’s blood be the same. An’ as to the law, what’s it goin’ to do? Once yer married, yer married, ain’t nothin’ the law can do ’bout it then, as long as the marriage is consummated. Marry ’im, ’e won’t give ye no trouble.” The old woman motioned to Sabre. “’E’ll make a perfect ’usband, do exactly what ye say, no back chat, no arguments, just what ye need, lass.”
Tassin’s cheeks warmed and she glanced at Sabre. “I could not marry him, but your idea has merit. Perhaps I will find a handsome barbarian prince over the mountains.”
Mother Amy made a rude noise, her brows meeting in a mass of wrinkles. “’Andsome! You don’t ’ave to look any further than yer nose for ’andsome! That Sabre, ’e’s got looks.”
Tassin glanced at Sabre again. The old woman was right, but the idea did not appeal to her. “I must marry someone of my station, do you not see? I cannot put some yokel on the throne. By marrying him, I will make him a prince consort. He must have manners and etiquette. He must be able to act like a prince.”
“Ah, lass.” Mother Amy sighed, shaking her head. “It’s what’s in a man’s ’eart that matters, not ’ow ‘e acts. But if ye want to find a prince, well, that’s up to ye, an’ I wish ye luck. But if Torrian catches ye ’afore ye manage to find ’im, yer in trouble.”
Tassin pondered this. “Torrian will not catch me. Sabre will make sure of that. He has powerful magic; very powerful.”
Mother Amy stood up to stir the stew. “No man’s
invincible, lass.”
The Cyber Chronicles - Book I: Queen of Arlin Page 15