The Cyber Chronicles Book III - The Core (29 page)

"This is more
than you deserve, so don't complain."

The sword gave
a flat chime as he closed the door. He locked it, hiding the key in
a crack under the mantelpiece. On his way out, he turned and
addressed the cupboard. "For all I care, you can stay there
forever."

Over the
course of the following week, the stone masons and carpenters Sabre
hired built gun placements and cradles for the laser cannons. The
soldiers eyed the silver cylinders he placed in the cradles with
overt curiosity. He wondered what Tassin had said to the sergeant,
for the soldiers and workmen followed his instructions without
hesitation or question, and even called him 'sir'. Several times,
he spotted nobles watching him, even the duke, but no one bothered
him.

In two days,
he had the weapons mounted on swivelling wooden supports, protected
by walls on the sides and most of the front, allowing enough room
to turn them. He glimpsed Dena in the company of noble ladies on
several occasions, looking radiant in frilly frocks. She had been
moved to another room, but was not a princess yet. In order to do
that, he guessed that Tassin would have to adopt her, probably a
lengthy process.

When the
lasers were installed, Sabre called together the soldiers and asked
for volunteers to work the new weapons. The men muttered, shaking
their heads.

He turned to
the sergeant. "Go and tell the Queen."

The man
blanched. "Tell her what, sir?"

"That her men
are a bunch of superstitious cowards."

The sergeant's
eyes darted, and he coughed. "That – that won't be necessary,
sir."

"Good. I need
twenty men." Sabre left the sergeant to find twenty reluctant
volunteers.

When the men
presented themselves, looking cowed, Sabre showed them how to aim
and fire the disarmed lasers. The big weapons had several settings
and telescopic sights, which he removed, deciding that a glance
through them would blow the soldiers' superstitious minds. He set
them to broad beam, since they were not going to be used with any
degree of accuracy, and the power he set to medium, which was
plenty for poorly armoured men. When the men were familiar with the
weapons, he ordered them to place straw bales in the fields around
the castle and invited Tassin to watch the demonstration.

The Queen
appeared on a balcony above the courtyard with the duke, Dena,
Bethan and a number of strangers. The trainees gathered around when
Sabre settled behind a laser and inserted a power pack. He set the
beam to fine, aimed at the furthest bale and fired. It vanished in
a blast of fire and black smoke, a cloud of ash settling in its
place. He glanced around at the stupefied men who stared at the
spot where the bale had been. Tassin and Dena applauded, while the
other nobles stood open-mouthed. Sabre grinned and swung the laser
to aim at another bale. After destroying three bales, he moved to
the next laser, taking the power pack with him.

When he asked
for a volunteer, the men clamoured to be chosen. Combining testing
with training, Sabre fired each laser in turn, finding only one
that did not work. He replaced it, then tested the grenade
launchers, which all worked. The launchers impressed the men even
more than the lasers had, and they begged for permission to
practice more, but ammunition was scarce. When the training was
over, he covered the lasers with cloths and found Tassin waiting in
the courtyard.

He approached
her. "Your Majesty?"

She frowned,
fiddling with the heavy lace on the skirt of her lavish azure satin
dress. "Do not call me that."

"I'm glad you
haven't turned back into that snobbish little cow I first met."

"I shall never
be like that again. I was a fool."

"Agreed."

She looked
down at the lace she had mangled, smoothing it. "I am sending
messengers to the kings tomorrow, to tell them I am back. The
lasers are ready, so I cannot delay any longer."

He shrugged.
"I hope there isn't too much killing."

"I have asked
for a parley, so there should not be any killing, just a
demonstration."

Sabre nodded,
glancing away. He wondered why he was so ill at ease in her company
after only a few days apart. Tassin obviously suffered from an
attack of shyness, and he found it hard to look at her. His eyes
slid away from her alien finery and elaborately dressed hair.

He cleared his
throat. "Good. By the way, when are you anointing Dena a princess?
You did promise."

"I know.
Tonight, actually. I want you to come to the feast. You have not
been in the supper hall since we arrived."

He studied the
soldiers on the battlements. "All those busy bodies asking
questions. I prefer my own company. I'll never fit into your
society."

"I suppose
not. But just tonight? Dena will be so unhappy if you do not." She
stopped smoothing the lace, which was growing limp, and sent him a
quick, shy glance.

Sabre shifted,
became aware that his hands hung at his sides and clasped them
behind his back. He felt like a loitering fool, unused to the
inactivity of safety, and uneasy with it. "Sure, I'll come. The
grub's great, at any rate."

"Grub?"

"Food." He
smiled, his eyes flitting over her face. Tassin opened her mouth,
then shut it again and shot him an answering smile before turning
away. He watched her go, his heart heavy. As soon as Torrian was no
longer a threat, he would leave. When he returned to his room, he
found another foppish suit laid out for him, and groaned.

At the
banquet, which was smaller than the first, Dena sat beside Tassin,
dressed in a lacy white frock covered with ribbons and embroidered
yellow flowers. Her hair was curled to hide the bare patches, and a
lacy cap sprigged with fresh blossoms covered the worst of the
mutation. The dress was designed to hide her hunch, and she looked
like a normal, pretty little girl. A fire burnt in the massive
hearth behind the Queen, giving off waves of welcome heat. Winter
approached, and draughts plagued the castle.

Before the
main course, Tassin rose to her feet and silence fell, broken only
by Sabre munching an entrée. This drew the disapproval of every
noble in the hall, and he found himself the object of many critical
stares. He smiled and selected another appetiser.

Tassin raised
her voice to address the assembly. "My lords and ladies, Uncle,
Aunt, and Cousin. Tonight I wish to announce that I am adopting
into my family a brave young lady who risked her life to save mine.
She has no parents, for they perished in the horrors that lie
beyond the Death Zone. I am not old enough to be her mother, so I
therefore declare her to be my sister, and not in contention for
the throne. My sole heir remains my cousin until I bear a child of
my own, in accordance with our laws of bloodline inheritance.
Henceforth, she will be Princess Dena Alrade."

Stilted
applause arose from the sour-faced nobles, and Sabre wondered how
many arguments Tassin had had with her advisors and family before
this compromise had been reached. He did not doubt that she had
fought long and hard to give Dena the reward she had promised, and
he was proud of her commitment and loyalty. Dena beamed at Tassin,
her adoring eyes shimmering with tears. Sabre stood up, surprising
everyone, who had only ever seen him eat, and raised the glass of
wine he had acquired especially for the occasion.

"A toast!" he
cried in ringing tones. "To Princess Dena!"

No one could
refuse to toast the new princess, and they raised their glasses
while Dena blushed and squirmed. Tassin shot Sabre a grateful smile
as a servant appeared at her side bearing a velvet cushion. On it
lay a silver circlet, which Tassin placed upon Dena's curls,
settling it around her brow. Dena flung her arms around Tassin's
neck and hugged her, dampening the Queen's royal blue outfit with
tears of joy.

Sabre had no
interest in the rest of the banquet, and when he had eaten his fill
he slipped out. On the way to his room, he encountered Dena,
accompanied by a lady-in-waiting, also heading for bed. Sabre bowed
so deeply that his forehead almost touched his knees, and an
ominous ripping sound told him that the fancy trousers he wore were
not designed for such contortions. Recovering his aplomb, he fought
the urge to discover how large the hole in his trousers was and
straightened.

"Your
Highness."

Dena raised
her arms, and he picked her up. "Sabre."

He looked
attentive. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"Wasn't it
wonderful?"

"Yes, Your
Highness."

"Did you enjoy
yourself?"

"Yes, Your
Highness."

"I'm a
princess now."

"Yes, Your
Highness."

"Sabre?"

"Yes, Your
Highness?"

"You ripped
your trousers." She giggled, her eyes sparkling.

"Yes, Your
Highness."

"Sabre!" Dena
thumped his chest.

"Yes, Your
Highness?"

"Stop
that!"

"Yes, Your
Highness."

"Well?"

"Yes, Your
Highness?"

Dena burst
into giggles, and Sabre chuckled and hugged her. The
lady-in-waiting looked confused. Dena leant back to study him, and
her smile faded. Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes filled with
tears.

"I don't want
you to go!" She flung her arms around his neck and clung to him,
weeping.

"Oh, brother,"
he muttered, and turned to the lady-in-waiting. "Excuse us."

Sabre carried
Dena to his room, closed the door and sat down. Settling her on his
knee, he pried her arms from his neck. "Tassin told you, I
suppose?"

She nodded,
hiccupping. "I didn't think you would really leave, when you told
Tassin that you would on the cart. I thought you were just teasing.
You'd be safe here. You don't have to go!"

"I do. I'm not
safe anywhere."

Her face
crumpled, and she wailed, "I want to come with you!"

"I wish you
could, but it's impossible. I'm sorry."

"But I'll miss
you! It's not fair!"

He stroked her
hair. "I'll miss you too. Hey, do you want me to tell you a
story?"

Dena's tears dried while Sabre made up a rather silly story
about a princess and a king. She did not seem to notice the flaws
in it, but gazed at him with sad eyes, and he wondered if she was
even listening. Several times, she reached up to touch the brow
band, running her fingers along the crystals in a forlorn manner
that told him Tassin had explained it to her. His husky voice
lulled her to sleep, and he held her for a while, studying her
innocent features. Sadness filled his heart, as it always did when
he contemplated his bleak future. He would never know the joy of
the love of a wife and children, and he would have cherished them.
All that lay ahead for him was a life of slavery and pain. His
inner voice mocked him from the dark recesses of his mind, shouting
bitter words at the irony of his futile dreams.
Cyborg!
He rose and carried Dena to
her room.

As he wandered
the dim corridors on his way back to his room, a shadowy figure
stepped into his path. Sabre tensed, then relaxed as he recognised
one of the ladies from the feast, Countess somebody-or-other. Her
elaborately arranged blonde hair framed a heart-shaped face, and
violet eyes glowed in frames of thick dark lashes. He bowed and
moved to circumnavigate her, but she laid a hand on his arm.

He raised his
brows. "Countess?"

"I have been
watching you all night, and I have heard some astounding tales
about you. You must be a very brave, strong man, Sir Sabre." Her
voice throbbed and her liquid eyes roamed over him in a way that
made him want to squirm, although he did not really know why.

"I'm not a
knight, and I just did what I had to."

The countess
pouted and stepped closer, running her hand up his arm. "I want to
hear more of your adventures. Perhaps you would care to join me in
my suite? We could have wine."

Sabre cleared
his throat, averted his eyes from her blatant stare and stepped
back, only to encounter a wall. She moved closer, pressing herself
to him now that he had no retreat, and started to unbutton his
jacket. He buttoned it again as fast as she undid it, and she gave
a husky giggle.

"Are you so
bashful, Sir Sabre?"

"Countess, I
-"

"He is not
interested."

Sabre jumped
as Tassin stepped from the shadows beyond the countess, who swung
to face the Queen and curtsied. "Your Majesty."

Tassin walked
closer, her cold eyes fixed on the blonde woman. "You may pack your
things and leave, Countess Marrin, you are no longer welcome at
Castle Alrade."

"But Your
Majesty, I -"

"Now,
Countess."

The woman
picked up her skirts and fled, and Tassin turned to Sabre. "I
apologise for her behaviour."

"It's not your
fault."

"Most would
have accepted her offer. Would you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

He shrugged.
"I'm not interested."

"In anyone?"
Her eyes roamed over his face as if seeking to read his mind.
"There was a time when you were keen to bed the sluts in a tavern.
Now you act like a monk."

"I was just...
My tastes have changed."

"To what?"

"Celibacy.
I'll bid you goodnight, Your Majesty." Stepping around her, he
strode away down the corridor.

In his room, Sabre sat on the couch and stared at the wall,
railing inwardly at the joke he called a life. He gripped the brow
band, wishing he could tear it off. He was trapped. Condemned to be
a cyber. The inner voice that so often mocked him awoke and shouted
the insults he tried so hard to ignore.
Cyborg! Killing machine! Freak!
Fury
swept through him in a wild, unbridled tide that craved release. He
raised his fist and brought it down on the heavy wooden table with
all his strength, smashing it to splinters with a terrific
bang.