The Cyber Chronicles 07: Sabre

by T C Southwell

  "I'll kill Torrian myself."

  "There's a queue."

  "And I'm at the front."

  He smiled. "No, I think Dena's at the front, actually, but I might just push in ahead of both of you."

  "You'll have to fight me to do it, and you swore..."

  He drew her into his arms. "I’ll just step around you if you get in my way."

  She sagged against him. "Don't use your charms on me. It's not fair. You know I can't resist you."

  "Is that what I'm doing? I thought I was just comforting you."

  "Dena's the one who needs comfort right now, and your comfort has a fatal attraction for me."

  Sabre released her. "I'll go and see if she's all right."

  Tassin nodded, rubbing her arms, and he left her to stride into the castle, almost bowling Sharmian over as he came out.

  Sabre stepped aside. "Excuse me."

  "What is wrong with Dena?” Sharmian demanded. “She ran past me as if Hellhounds were after her. Is she all right?"

  "She will be."

  "If someone has upset her, I want to know."

  "Then you should ask her about it."

  "She would not speak to me."

  Sabre tried to go around him. "Then she doesn't want to tell you."

  The young king gripped his arm. "If you have upset her -"

  "It wasn't me, okay? Now I need to find her and talk to her."

  Sharmian released Sabre, looking uncertain. "I want to help."

  "Then when you find out what the problem is, be sympathetic, not judgemental."

  "If you would tell me, I would have the advantage of -"

  "Not now. May I pass?"

  Sharmian stepped aside, and Sabre marched into the castle.

  Chapter Ten

  Sharmian approached Tassin, struck afresh by her beauty. Combined with her superb poise and grace, it gave her the bearing of a queen even in her poor garb. He would never own such poise and bearing, being the bastard son of a poor noblewoman who had spent her latter years in a rundown mansion on the outskirts of a shabby village. His mother had reviled his birth, the result of a drunken liaison at one of Grisson's infamous parties. It had caused her husband to cast her off, taking their children with him, and Sharmian's mother had turned to drink. Banished from her social circle and pitied by her peers, she had often beaten him as a child, just for being born. Sometimes he had wondered why she had kept him. Now he was a poor excuse for a king, the figurehead of a slave nation.

  Tassin, on the other hand, had been raised as a spoilt princess by a doting father. Yet she had sought his help in her bid to regain her rightful legacy. How ironic. Had she not needed his aid, he doubted that she would have given him the time of day. She looked sad, and he was filled with concern for Dena. His confrontation with Sabre had been unnerving, and he hoped he had not shown how intimidating he found the strange warrior mage. His fondness for Dena bothered him. He could not fathom its source, for despite her elven quality and gamin smile, she was plain compared to some of the ladies at his court. Nevertheless, he did not like to see her upset.

  "Tassin."

  She turned to him and smiled. "Sharmian."

  He took her hand and kissed the back of it, a trick he had learnt to charm his mother. "I trust you slept well and enjoyed your breakfast. I regret I was unable to join you."

  "Your hospitality is generous and gracious, My Lord."

  "And gladly given. If I may ask, what has upset Princess Dena?"

  "I cannot tell you."

  "Is everyone sworn to secrecy?"

  "I am afraid so. It is her secret, so only she can tell it."

  "Then I shall endeavour to persuade her to do so."

  "I hope you succeed," she said.

  "Really? Does it concern me?"

  "Yes."

  "Ah. The ubiquitous answer to whet my appetite for more."

  Tassin smiled and plucked a rose. "Are you fond of my step-sister, Sharmian?"

  "I am."

  "How fond?"

  He smiled. "Now you seek to learn my secrets, my lady."

  "I do. Her happiness is important to me."

  "And how does her happiness depend upon my fondness for her?"

  "Are you particularly dim-witted, my lord, or is this an act?"

  Sharmian looked down at his boots, his cheeks warming. "I see. I did not think she liked me that much."

  "Then you are indeed a fool."

  "She gave me no inkling -"

  "She does not think she is good enough for such a handsome young king as yourself."

  He looked up in surprise, then away when his eyes met hers. "Ah." He coughed. "Um."

  "Um?"

  "Yes, it is a word I use commonly, when I can think of nothing at all to say."

  "I see. So, should I tell her to hope for more from you than friendship?"

  He rubbed his brow. "Ah, well. I do not know."

  "How can you not know?"

  "You have put me on the spot."

  Tassin sniffed the rose. "That was my intention. I do not beat about the woods; I go straight to the heart of the matter and beat it until I get the answers I want."

  "So I see. You have quite unnerved me."

  "So easily?” Tassin enquired. “ Are you a coward?"

  "No, I do not consider myself one, but I am faced with a beautiful, determined queen of legendary stature quizzing me with merciless intent. The bravest man would be unnerved."

  "Hmm. Perhaps. I am still waiting for an answer."

  "Yes." Sharmian studied his boots again. "What part of 'I am Torrian's puppet' did you not understand?"

  "He dictates everything you do?"

  "Absolutely. And he has promised to find me a suitable wife."

  "Ah, his cousin, I will wager. A plump, plain woman easily ten years your senior, and a widow to boot. Some say she poisoned her husband."

  Sharmian winced inwardly, hoping it did not show, and frowned at his boots.

  "It would be such a shame to see a handsome young king like yourself wed to such a harpy."

  "It is not as if I have a choice. I do as he says, or lose my kingdom."

  Tassin waved the rose. "You always have a choice. You just have to exercise it."

  "Once more you are urging me to help you."

  She shook her head. "No indeed, I am not. I am urging you to follow your heart if you want happiness, as I did."

  He sighed, gazing across the garden. "I cannot choose my wife, so there is no point in following my heart. And in any case, my being fond of Dena does not necessarily mean I wish to wed her."

  "But if you decide to help me and our plans bear fruit, you will be free to choose."

  "Adding a little extra incentive to sweeten the bitter cup?"

  "Why is it a bitter cup, My Lord?" Tassin plucked a white rose and sniffed it.

  "Because if I help you, scores, nay hundreds of my countrymen will die."

  "Ah yes, one of the penalties of war. Life is full of risks, though. When I went out into the stars to find Sabre, I could have been killed, and I lost my kingdom as a result. These risks I knew about, and I was prepared to take to get him back. I would do it again in a heartbeat."

  "But you only risked yourself," he said. "I will be ordering thousands of men to fight and die to free me from Torrian's yoke."

  "It is their battle too. They also suffer because of him. If you asked them, you would find them eager to fight. Thousands died to save me from marrying Torrian, and some of my knights thought me a fool, yet still they did it, because I am their queen. They would fight for you just because you are their king, but they have a stake in this too. If you feel badly about it, ask for volunteers."

  He frowned at the flowerbed. "There are parts of your plan that I dislike."

  "I am open to suggestions. We will be equal partners in this venture, so you have a say in it."

  "This idea of you going back to Arlin to claim your throne while I provide a distraction to draw Torrian away from your
castle. You will be leaving me vulnerable. When he finds out what has happened, he will wipe us out in revenge, and you will be too far away to help."

  She inclined her head. "I will send messengers to my generals who accompany him at the same time as his spies will send messengers to inform him of my return to power. They will join your side."

  "And what if you fail?"

  "Then we will all die."

  He nodded. "That is what I thought."

  "But we have the same thing to gain if we win. Our kingdoms."

  "Even with your warrior mage's magic, do you really think you can fight your way into Dellon's castle and confront him?"

  Tassin plucked petals from the rose, revealing a modicum of agitation. "Yes. It is risky, I admit, but I have gone up against greater odds and won with Sabre. He is a one-man army."

  "His magic is impressive, I will grant you, but it will only take a single spear or arrow, or sword thrust, to kill him."

  "No, he is pretty much invulnerable to such things. He can also see through walls, and is stronger than ten men."

  "Really? Now you test my credulity, and my patience. Wild claims will not sway me."

  Tassin smiled. "There is nothing wild about them, My Lord."

  "Prove it."

  "All right. Do you gamble?"

  "I have been known to lay gold on the horses and cards from time to time."

  "Then let us make a wager,” she said. “I will wager that Sabre will prove he is all that I claim, and when he does, you will give me your help."

  "And if he does not, I will not."

  "Precisely."

  Sharmian considered. "If you are prepared to risk everything upon his abilities, you must be telling the truth. In which case, I will lose."

  "I could be bluffing."

  "You could, but I do not think so. I will not take your wager, My Lady, but if you can prove your claim, it will sway me in your favour."

  Tassin sighed, looking frustrated. "You are a clever man. I dislike clever men, they annoy me."

  "Is your warrior mage a dolt, then? You clearly like him."

  "No, his knowledge awes me, and he never uses it to frustrate or embarrass me."

  "And I do not like being cornered by scheming women, not even lovely queens such as yourself."

  Tassin nodded, plucking the last of the petals from the mutilated rose. "Who could corner such a slippery eel as you, My Lord?"

  "Not you, apparently."

  She tossed away the flower. "When first we met, I thought you might be a little weak, but now I see that you are just not as strong as Torrian, which is no insult, for he is a brute. You must hate his hold over you with a white-hot fury."

  "I do."

  "And yet you present yourself as a mild-mannered fop to fool those around you into believing that you are harmless, so if you must, you can strike with impunity. Rather like a snake in the grass. You do not see it until you are dead."

  Sharmian smiled. "And you, Queen Tassin, appear to be nothing more than a lovely, sweet young lady, with your wide, innocent eyes pleading for aid. But beneath that velvet and satin lurks a mind as sharp as a razor and a determination that would put a donkey to shame. You will attempt this madness even without my help, will you not?"

  "Yes."

  "Show me what your warrior mage can do." Sharmian looked past her at Sabre, who emerged from the castle, and she glanced around.

  "Very well."

  Tassin beckoned to Sabre, and slipped her hand into his when he arrived beside her. "King Sharmian does not believe that you can see through walls."

  "I can't."

  She frowned. "Of course you can."

  "Not if they're made of stone."

  "Right.” She looked chagrined. “But you can see people we cannot see, in the distance."

  "Yes."

  She turned to gaze at the castle. "Apart from that old gardener, I cannot see anyone from here, can you, King Sharmian?"

  "No."

  "So how many people can you see, Sabre?"

  He glanced back at the castle. "There are four men in the stable yard, presumably mucking out the stalls. Two people are approaching from the east, along that road." He pointed to a belt of trees whence a road emerged. "There's a man in the forest, over there, and fifteen deer within my range, beyond those trees, as well as two men in the guardhouse."

  "That could be pure guesswork," Sharmian said.

  Sabre shrugged. "But it isn't. The two people on the road will be emerging from behind those trees... now."

  Sharmian stared at the belt of trees as two peasants came into view, trudging along the road, carrying bundles. "The cook and his assistant, coming back from the village." He looked bemused. "How do you do that?"

  "Magic."

  He faced Sabre. "Your queen tells me that you are as strong as ten men."

  "More like four. You want me to prove that, too?"

  The King considered, studying him. "No. I think you are telling the truth. How is Dena?"

  "Resting."

  "And still you are not going to tell me what has upset her."

  "Nope."

  "Is she afraid that I will not help you?"

  "You'd have to ask her."

  Sharmian sighed. "It must be that. She is afraid that she will never be able to return to her home, or that Torrian will hunt you all down and execute you. This time she will share your fate, not merely be sent to a lowly countess as governess to her great-grandchildren."

  Sabre glanced at Tassin, who shook her head, then turned her attention to Sharmian once more. "Possibly a combination of all three, My Lord."

  "I dislike secrets, and, if you want my help, I suggest you be more forthcoming."

  "You are trying to force me to betray Dena?" Tassin asked.

  "I assure you, her secret is safe with me."

  "But you are the one she does not wish to know."

  "Why?" Sharmian threw up his hands in frustration. "What could she possibly want to hide only from me, and what is so terrible that it sends her running to her room in tears? What have I done?"

  "It is not what you have done, but what you may do, should you learn it."

  "What I may do? I do not understand."

  "You are a clever man, work it out. Countess De'vorice does not have any great-grandchildren."

  Sharmian frowned. "So she was a servant? A lady-in-waiting to a countess? Humiliating, but hardly damning. Does she think I will despise her for accepting such a lowly position? She was ousted, for pity's sake. Her fate was deplorable, but I would not blame her for it. What kind of a bastard does she take me for?"

  Tassin raised her brows. "She thinks you are a very nice bastard, actually. A handsome one, too."

  He hesitated, then smiled, shaking his head. "Touché. But how can I reassure her if I do not know what it is she fears I might do something terrible about?"

  "Then you should ask her, not us."

  "Will she tell me?"

  Tassin shrugged. "If you try hard enough to persuade her, possibly."

  Sharmian inclined his head. "Then if you will excuse me, I will go and talk to her."

  Chapter Eleven

  Sharmian tapped on Dena's door, growing more frustrated when silence answered him. When he had met her at his coronation, he had been drawn to her in a way he could not explain. Many lovely ladies had vied for his attention that night, and, although she was not as pretty as them, she had a spark they lacked. He also suspected them of scheming to entrap him for his crown, while Dena had seemed unimpressed. Her slight deformity had escaped his notice until they had danced, and afterwards he had become aware of her reluctance to take to the floor. He was the only one she had danced with, but he had assumed that it was because he was the host, and she had not been able to politely refuse. He had found her conversation interesting and lively, her laughter infectious, and her manner demure without the false coyness so many ladies possessed.

  This had made him invite her to stay when the other guests le
ft, and to his surprise, she had accepted. Over the next three days he had got to know her, and her departure had left him saddened, his castle empty. He had written to her, and received long, interesting missives in return, which had ended when Dellon ousted her. He had sent an invitation for her to join him, but received no reply, and the ensuing three years had been empty ones.

  Sharmian had grown bitter at her neglect of their friendship and refusal to answer his letters, and stopped writing after a few months. Her arrival the day before had been a shock, but her prior behaviour diluted his happiness at seeing her again. Now she kept some terrible secret from him, but shared it with Sabre and Tassin, which angered him. Because of something he might do? What about what she had done to him? It was time she told him why she had not replied to his letters or accepted his invitation. She owed him an explanation. He pushed open the door and walked in.

  Dena sat on the window seat, staring out at the hills. Her eyes were swollen and red, and she clutched a crumpled handkerchief. The obvious signs of her weeping made him hesitate, but he dismissed his doubts and approached her. She looked up at him, averting her eyes hastily.

  "Please go away, Sharmian."

  "Not until you tell me what is wrong."

  "No. It's... none of your business."

  "You owe me an explanation,” Sharmian said. “Why did you not accept my invitation to come here after you were deposed? Why did you not answer any of my letters after that?"

  "I never received them."

  "Ah." He paused, frowning. Nothing quite like having the rug completely pulled out from under him with one short sentence. "But you could have written to me anyway."

  "No, I couldn't."

  "Why not? They would not allow you?" He studied her profile.

  "That's right."

  "And yet you were able to come here with Queen Tassin. How was she able to see you without being recognised?"

  "She wasn't. Sabre came and got me."

  "So... no one recognised him."

  "No one saw him."

  "Ah, right." Sharmian nodded. "So... you are upset because you were the countess' servant? You think I will despise you for it?"

  "I know you're not..." She hesitated. "Yes, that's it."