When Sabre woke, the control unit's chronometer informed him that it was two in the morning, local time, as he had planned, and he wondered if the computer had woken him. Sitting up on the hard bed, he listened to the amazing variety of noises men made in their sleep. The barracks resounded with rattles, buzzes, whistles, wheezes, grating, grunting, moaning, sawing, and a peculiar flubbing sound made by lips flapping in the breeze. Sabre smiled as he dressed. He certainly did not need to creep around. The racket would cover any noise he made, unless he shouted at the top of his voice.
Sabre left the barracks and used the shadows to seek the outer wall. The three-metre wall was easily climbed, and he walked into town in search of a stable, still angry that Tassin had refused to scale the wall. At the Singing Harlot, he cast his eye over the assortment of horseflesh available. Spotting rangy chestnut with a broad blaze and four white socks, he recognised it as the mount of the young nobleman in Arlin. Sabre saddled and bridled the animal, then led it outside. The chestnut pranced and sidestepped, tossing its head, so he led it to the outskirts of the city before mounting. On the open road, he gave the horse its head, allowing it to stretch out in a cracking gallop.
Dawn found him watering the horse at a stream, wishing he had been able to bring provisions. He also wished he had not lost the wrist laser, even if there had been little ammunition left. When the horse had drunk its fill, Sabre rode on at a more sedate pace, conserving the animal's strength. The horse remained eager and bouncy, moving at a fast trot.
Night had spread a gloomy shroud over the land when he spotted Torrian's gilded coach beside the road. Sabre tethered the chestnut and walked closer, using the cyber's scanners to ascertain the sentries' positions. Crouching behind some bushes at the edge of the camp, he studied it. Torrian's warriors shared a fire, while the king and Tassin sat at another, a servant attending them.
Two tents were pitched close to the coach, presumably for Tassin and the king, and Sabre smiled. The horses were picketed beyond the firelight, and he approached them, using the scrubby bushes for cover. Selecting a sturdy-looking bay, he saddled it and led it back to his chestnut, tethering it there. Returning to the camp, he settled down to wait for everyone to retire, his stomach rumbling at the smell of cooking.
Tassin glared at Torrian with deep loathing. After she had stabbed him with her hairpin, insults had thickened the air, and she had longed for the strength to overpower him and escape. Forced to quell her rage-induced wish to kick him, she had contented herself by winning the verbal sparring. By the time he had resorted to sullen silence, the atmosphere was almost too thick to breathe. Its stifling animosity remained, making the servant scuttle nervously, for fear of bearing the brunt of their ire, she assumed.
Tassin forced herself to eat the roasted fowl and steamed vegetables she was served, despite her knotted stomach. Torrian consumed his repast with much lip-smacking and grease-dribbling, which nauseated her further. He rounded off his revolting performance with several loud belches, and refilled his wine cup. The servant offered her wine, fruit, nuts and pastries, but she waved him away and retired to her tent to escape Torrian's company.
Tassin removed her girdle and hairpins, wishing she had other clothes. In their absence, she took off the outer dress and lay on the pallet in her thin under gown. Staring at the tent's roof, she contemplated her bleak future, filled with dread that Torrian would choose to molest her now that she was at his mercy. The thought made her stomach clench further, and she forced herself to relax, listening to him talking to one of his officers beside the fire. Her vigilance did not wane until she knew, from the silence, that he had retired to his tent, then she closed her eyes and fell into an uneasy doze.
Tassin jerked awake as a hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream. A man with sparkling lights on his brow crouched over her.
"Hush. It's me."
Sabre's husky voice made her slump with relief, and he removed his hand. Becoming aware that it smelt of leather oil and horse, she scrubbed her lips. Indignation rushed in to fill the void that the sudden ebb of dread left, and her anger flared.
"I wish you would not keep doing that!"
"What, rescuing you?"
"Putting your dirty hands on me," she growled.
"It's a good thing I wasn't expecting gratitude from you. Would you like to stay here? I'm sure Torrian stinks worse than me."
"No!" Tassin squeaked in panic, then realised that he was joking and relaxed. "You are well now?"
He smiled, and she stared at the brow band. Many of the lights that had been flashing red after his fall from the cliff were now steady green again, and a few flashed amber. The diagonal line of lights remained red, and the topmost two flashed. Obviously he was not under the cyber's control, but something had changed.
"No thanks to you," he said.
"You made me angry."
"I take it that means you're sorry?"
"Go to Hell."
"Likewise. Shall we go, your high and mightiness?"
Sabre stood, ducking to avoid the tent's low roof. Tassin pulled on the overdress while he rolled her bedding into a bundle.
Leaving Tassin to finish dressing, Sabre wandered over to the stew pot that hung above a cook fire's glowing embers. Sampling it, he glanced at the cyber's data. The sentries patrolled on the camp's outskirts, staying well away from the tents to avoid intruding upon the royals' privacy. The cyber tracked their meandering progress and frequent meetings to chat.
Tassin emerged and glared at him. "What are you doing? This is no time to eat!"
He glanced at her. "On the contrary, I'm hungry." Taking in her ruffled pink finery, he chuckled.
She flushed. "This was Mirrial's idea, not mine."
Sabre tried to stifle his laughter, coughing. "It suits you."
"It is a stupid dress!"
"I think it's cute. All those bows and ruffles, little flowers too. You look like a real queen."
Tassin stamped her foot. "Very funny. Let us go!"
Sabre chuckled and turned his attention back to the food. "What's the rush? This is a really good stew."
"What if someone wakes up?"
He shook his head. "That will only happen if you wake them with your squeaks of rage."
Tassin glanced around. The waning silver moon, Argos, gave little light, and the orange moon, Pythal, had not risen yet. Bridling her impatience, she waited while Sabre ate his fill, since he was not going to listen to her. The pot was almost empty when he put down the spoon and rose.
"Where are the provisions?"
"I think they are strapped to the back of the coach."
Sabre vanished into the darkness, and Tassin crept over to Torrian's tent. Just inside the flap, she found the bundle of armour and weapons she had seen him place there earlier, and uncovered a gleaming gold-hilted sword sheathed in soft leather. Digging in the bundle, she drew out a long, slender dagger and wrapped it, together with the sword, in a length of cloth.
Tassin glared at the hulking form of the sleeping king, wishing she had the skill and strength to end his life while he slept. She had never killed a man, and, much as she longed for his death, the thought of plunging the dagger into his flesh sickened her. If she did not kill him with one blow, he would rouse the camp and Sabre would be forced to fight again. Somehow she doubted Torrian would be easy to kill. Sabre could do it, but he would not, and she resented his refusal to do as she wished. With Torrian gone, Victor would marry her, she was certain, and her problems would be over.
Sabre returned a few moments later, with water skins and food, which he bundled together with her bedding, then paused, turning his head slowly, like the cyber had done.
"Okay, the sentries are moving away. Hold onto the back of my webbing, and try not to make any noise."
Sabre led her through the bush to a pair of tethered horses, making her previously impossible wish to escape seem ridiculously easy. He loaded the supplies, then turned and spotted the bundle she clutched to her breast.
"What have you got there?" Tassin displayed the sword, and his teeth flashed in a white grin. "At last, the warrior queen is armed!"
"It is not funny!"
"But it is! You couldn't swing that thing if your life depended on it." He held out his hand, and she stepped back.
"It is mine."
Sabre chuckled. "Okay, keep it. Just don't drop it on your toe."
"I know how to handle a sword, Sabre." She lashed it to her saddle.
"So, where to, Your Majesty?"
"Back to Olgara."
"Are you nuts?"
"Nuts?"
"Never mind." He ran a hand over his hair. "We can't go back to Olgara. That's the first place Torrian will look, and Xavier will help him."
"There is nowhere else to go." She sank down on a rock. "If Torrian does not find me in Olgara, he will search Arlin, and his kingdom, and Grisson's and Bardok's. Beyond those kingdoms is the Infinite Sea, which cannot be crossed, and otherwise there is only the badlands, which cannot be crossed either."
Sabre rubbed his chin with a faint rasp of stubble. "What's beyond Olgara?"
"The sea."
"And the other way?"
"Badlands. The desert cuts right across the land, stopping at the Barrier Mountains."
Sabre gazed into space, digesting this. "But there's good land beyond the Badlands."
"No one knows that. The legends say there is a paradise there, but we cannot cross the Badlands. It is cursed." She shuddered. "And if you try to cross it, you have to go through the Death Zone."
He nodded. "Mother Amy said something about that."
"It was to have been the cyber's mission, before Pervor ordered it to protect me instead. The cyber was meant to destroy the Death Zone. It is getting bigger, and the monsters that come out of it are crossing the mountains and attacking villages in Arlin. The lands we live in are Life Zones, the desert is the Badlands, and in the middle of it is the Death Zone."
Sabre turned to gaze into the desert. "Radiation."
"What?"
"The curse. It's radiation, from the nuclear war. That's what causes the monsters. They must be mutants."
Tassin shook her head. "It is evil magic, like Mother Amy said."
"Call it what you will, it's deadly."
"So we go to Olgara."
"No. We'll just get caught. We cross the Badlands."
Tassin jumped up. "You are mad! You will kill us both! Even if it could be crossed, I do not want to live in a strange land, where I will be nobody. I have a kingdom. I am a queen!"
He shrugged, tightening his horse's girth. "Then marry Torrian."
"No! I wanted to marry Victor, but Xavier made a stupid deal with Torrian, and Victor is too spineless to go against him."
Sabre looked thoughtful. "What about that young lord we met on the road to the pass. What was his name? Algar or something. He's in Olgara. I stole his horse. You could marry him."
"He is not important enough. Torrian would kill him. He would not kill Victor, because that would start a war with Olgara, but that young lord is small fry."
"Then marry Grisson, he'll kick the bucket soon enough."
Tassin shuddered. "He is disgusting."
"Doesn't Grisson have a son? Or Bardok, for that matter?"
"No. Grisson's two sons died, and Bardok has only twelve illegitimate daughters."
"Then it'll have to be Grisson. You have no other choice."
Tassin paced around. "If only Victor was not such a coward!"
"But he is, so forget him."
"Perhaps he will agree now. After all, Xavier has fulfilled his bargain and got his money."
Sabre watched her with an exasperated expression. "I think he'll still hand you back to Torrian."
"I want to try. We will go to Olgara!"
Sabre leant against the horse and draped an arm across the saddle. "Right now, we have horses and supplies. If we go back to Olgara, we lose them, and our chance to cross the Badlands."
"I do not care. I have no intention of crossing the desert. I am not going into the Death Zone." She folded her arms and glared at him, daring him to refuse.
Sabre muttered a curse and glanced eastward, where the first pale glow of dawn brightened the sky. "Tassin, if we go to Olgara, you'll end up back with Torrian, and I'm not saving your butt again. If you go to Olgara, you go alone." He glared at her, a twinge in his brain warning him of the cyber's dislike for this idea.
"How dare you defy me?" she cried.
Sabre groaned and leant his forehead against the horse's withers.
She stamped her foot. "You will do as I say, damn you, Sabre! You will take me back to Olgara, now!"
Shaking his head, Sabre untied the chestnut and gathered up the reins, preparing to mount. "Go if you want, but count me out."
Tassin flew at him and grabbed his webbing, trying to drag him away from the horse. Sabre turned to her, and she pounded on his chest, then slapped his face. He frowned, surprised when she burst into tears and sank down in a plethora of frilly skirts, sobbing and covering her face. Sighing, he stared across the foothills, quelling a surge of sympathy and reminding himself that this was how women got their way, when all else failed, by resorting to tears. This particular gem of wisdom he had learnt at the women's spa, when he had been the old woman's bodyguard.
"You cannot leave me like this, I need you!" she wailed.
He shook his head. "You need me to kill people. You certainly don't want my advice. You're a damned warrior queen, and now you've got a sword, so kill them yourself."
"I need you to help me, not to tell me what to do!"
"I'm trying to help you!"
"Then kill Torrian!" she shouted.
"What?" Sabre's eyes snapped down to her in shock.
"Kill him! He has no heir. His cousin will inherit, and he is a coward. He will cause no trouble. Grisson and Bardok will not prevent me from marrying Victor. With Torrian dead, there will be no reason why Victor cannot marry me. Do you not see? It will change everything!"
Sabre turned away in disgust. "I know you're desperate, but that's really low. I'm not murdering anyone to facilitate your little dream of what your life should be. If you want him dead, kill him yourself."
"If I am forced to marry him, I will!" She stood up, wiping her eyes.
Sabre gathered up the chestnut's reins. "Fine, go murder him then, but leave me out of your sick little plans."
Tassin grabbed him again. "No! Do not leave me!"
He pushed her away hard enough to make her stumble back and sit down with a thud. "What do you need me for? You've got it all worked out. A few convenient murders and your life will be idyllic."
"I cannot! I could not kill anyone in cold blood, not even Torrian!"
"Well, at least you have that much sense. But I'm not doing it for you, either."
She gazed up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears. "You do not know what he is. If it was only a loveless marriage, I could live with that. He is not a decrepit drunkard like Grisson, or a fat smelly lecher like Bardok. He is far worse, he is a rapist and a woman beater. Would you condemn me to that?"
Sabre frowned. "No."
Tassin drew up her knees and buried her face in them.
Golden sunlight quested across the land, and he looked inward at the cyber's scanner information. Many red and blue dots, indicating men and horses, moved on a black backdrop with a green grid for scale. A close-packed twenty came from the direction of Olgara, and the dozen in Torrian's camp moved about in agitation. They had run out of time. Victor was coming after him, and Torrian would soon be heading back. They were caught in between, with a mountain range at their backs, and a radioactive desert before them.
Tassin looked up. "Help me, Sabre... please?"
He gripped her wrist and hauled her to her feet, shoving her towards the bay horse. "Get on the bloody horse."
Shooting him a calculating look, she swung into the saddle. Sabre took her horse's reins while she clung to the pommel, the copious skirts of the ridiculous dress billowing around her. Mounting the chestnut, he turned it towards the road.
"We are going to Olgara?" Tassin asked.
"No."
Urging the chestnut into a canter, Sabre guided it through the rough terrain. When they reached the road, he slowed it to a trot and glanced towards Olgara, where a distant cloud of dust marked Victor's approach. The new-born sun glinted on weapons and armour, and the faint drumming of hooves carried on the wind.
Tassin cried, "It is Victor! He has changed his mind! He has come for me!"
"No, he's coming after me."
"Why would he do that? He has come for me, I tell you!"
Sabre guided the chestnut across the road, leading Tassin's horse. "He wants me to show him how to fight. I escaped last night."
"Where are you going? Turn towards him!"
"Shut up, Tassin, we're crossing the desert."
"No! Let go of my horse! Victor is coming to rescue me!"
Kicking his horse back into a canter, Sabre headed into the badlands' arid sands, ignoring the Queen's enraged shouts. When her shrieks stopped abruptly, he glanced back. Tassin had jumped off the horse, and was climbing to her feet, clearly intent on heading back towards the soldiers. With a muttered curse, Sabre brought the chestnut to a propping standstill, then yanked the horse's head around and urged it into a canter again. The Queen gathered up her skirts and ran, kicking up plumes of sand.
Sabre guided his horse alongside her and pulled her onto his pommel. She fought and kicked as he turned the chestnut with one hand, forcing him to increase the pressure of his arm until she gasped. He eased it when she stopped struggling, allowing her to breathe again. The bay horse followed when he spurred the chestnut into the desert, and Tassin slumped, looking back at what she thought was her prince in shining armour.
What a shock she would have got, Sabre mused, to find that she was not the object of Victor's desire after all. The prince would be after blood, for the insult of Sabre's escape from the palace. He urged the horse on, and the chestnut stretched gamely into a full gallop across the hard sand.
Victor's troops turned off the road and followed, but their slower mounts fell behind as Sabre skirted a large area of black glass. According to the cyber, the radioactivity was still high in the glassy areas, where the bombs had exploded. Sabre kept checking the scanner information, and avoided invisible pockets of radiation. He slowed the tiring chestnut to a canter, allowing the bay horse to catch up. Far behind, the dust that marked Victor's position had stopped. Evidently the prince and his men were unwilling to brave the badlands' curse.
Sabre slowed the blowing gelding to a walk, not wanting to exhaust it at the outset. Although it was unlikely that the animals would survive the trip, he wanted them to last for as long as possible. The scanners showed him that Victor's men had turned back, and met up with Torrian's dozen. They would have a nice little chat, he surmised, imagining how furious they would be. Tassin gazed over his shoulder until the troops vanished into the distance, then buried her face in his chest. The situation was rather too intimate for his liking, but he knew that if he objected, it would only spark another furious outburst and lead to an argument. After a few minutes, she leant back and glared at him, her eyes accusing.
"You have doomed us. We will die out here."
"Not necessarily. The cyber and I have come to an arrangement. It's programmed to help you, so it's agreed to help me. It can detect radiation, or the curse, as you call it, so I can avoid it. With a bit of luck, we'll cross the desert."
"The Death Zone will kill us!"
"The Death Zone is just radiation."
She shook her head. "It is evil, terrible magic, just like Mother Amy said."
"There's no such thing as magic. Believe me, we'll be all right."
She rubbed her eyes. "If we do not die of thirst."
"There is that."
"And if we do reach the other side, we will be trapped in a strange land."
"Perhaps you'll find a nice prince there, or even a king, then you can come back. If it can be crossed one way, it can be crossed the other."
Tassin stared over his shoulder. "I am the Queen of Arlin."
"Well, you don't want to marry any of the kings, so you're being a bit picky."
"Victor was coming to save me!"
"Victor was coming to try to chop off my head."
Tassin sniffed. "Are you sure?"
He shrugged. "Either that, or he still wanted me to train his troops."
"So you could have stayed with him?"
"Yes."
"But you came after me."
Sabre smiled. "The cyber made me."
"Oh." She rubbed her nose. "So you did not want to?"
"Not particularly. I knew you'd only find fault."
"You do not like me, do you?"
He glanced at her. "You're a hard person to like."
"Why?"
Sabre gave a bark of laughter. "Because you're bossy, selfish, pig-headed, thick-skinned, rude and abrasive."
She scowled. "That is because I'm a queen!"
"You're still a human being."
She snorted. "You are just a commoner, what do you know?"
"Then don't ask me."
"I will not."
"Good."
A thick silence fell, which only the steady thudding of the horses' hooves broke. As the sun climbed higher, the heat increased, and shimmering waves danced on the horizon. Sweat trickled down Sabre's chest, and Tassin leant away from him, rigid with disgust and indignation. Her hair grew limp with perspiration, and clung to her brow in damp tendrils. The chestnut sweated under the double load, but he did not trust Tassin not to steal the bay and make a dash back to the mountains.
At midday, Sabre stopped and helped Tassin to dismount. The heat drained the horses' strength, and the sweating dehydrated them. The distant mountains danced in the heat waves, a beckoning haven of verdure and water. The horses stood with drooping heads, and Tassin flopped down in the bay's shadow. The sun had reddened her arms and face, and he knelt beside her to inspect the burns.
"You must cover yourself, or you'll get sunstroke."
"How solicitous of you. Would it not be better if I died? Then you would be rid of an unwanted burden."
"Stop being stupid. Take off one of your petticoats."
Tassin complied, muttering, and he fashioned it into a hooded poncho, then retreated to his patch of shade and contemplated their situation. They had enough water for several days, if it was used sparingly. The food would last longer, and, if the Badlands could be crossed in a few days, they would be all right, but for all he knew, there might not be a paradise on the other side, only a poisonous sea. A gurgling sound made him glance around to find Tassin gulping from one of the water skins. He jumped up and grabbed the skin.
"The water has to last. Drink only a little at a time."
"I am thirsty!"
"So am I, but you'll suffer more if we run out."
Hanging the water skin back on the horse, he retreated once more to his precious patch of shade and lay down, ignoring Tassin's glare.