Tassin gazed at the tall grey walls of her keep, her heart filled with a poignant mixture of joy and anguish. The sight of it brought a rush of homesickness and memories, blighted by Dellon's green and yellow colours flying from the battlements. She wished she could march inside and rip down the offending flag.
The journey from Mandor had been achieved without mishap, thanks to Sabre's scanners, which had kept them safe from Torrian's scouts and picked up the leading edge of the army.
Judging by the number of soldiers patrolling her castle���s battlements, Dellon had kept a sizeable force at the castle, as she had suspected he would. Torrian's colours were not in evidence, which meant he had left with his troops, to her relief. Torrian's absence would make it easier. Once Sabre had Dellon hostage, the battle would be won, essentially. Nothing had gone that smoothly since she had left Arlin, however, and she was sure something would go wrong again.
Tassin glanced around as Sabre came to her side. They stood within the forest, hidden from the castle. He cast her a smile when she slipped her hand into his.
"Are you ready for this?" he asked.
"No. Are you?"
He shrugged. "The longer we wait, the more Sharmian and Dena are at risk. I'll go at first light, while Dellon is still in bed. Once I have him, I'll order your banner raised and the gates opened, and you walk in and take over."
"You make it sound so easy."
"If all goes to plan, it will be. Just stay away until you see the banner, no matter what, okay?"
She sighed. "We don't even know how many men he has in there. It could be as many as three hundred."
"It won't matter. Don't be so pessimistic."
They returned to the campfire, where Tarl cooked the two rabbits Sabre had shot before they camped. Sabre stared into the flames while he accessed the image of the map of the castle Tassin had drawn, which the cyber had stored, and studied it again. The King's bedchamber was on the far side, overlooking the sweeping valley beyond. To reach it, he would have to scale the wall, but that did not daunt him. What awaited him inside the room was his only cause for concern.
After Tassin fell sleep in her blankets, Sabre pondered what lay ahead, and the potential pitfalls. Tarl sat opposite, huddled in a blanket, yawning. Sabre looked up as the cyber tech rose and came around the fire to sit next to him.
Sabre raised his brows. "Do you want to hold my hand now, too?"
Tarl chuckled. "Not really. Just wanted to make sure you're ready for tomorrow."
"Do I need a tune up?"
"Your attitude does." Tarl sighed. "Three hundred is a lot of soldiers, bud."
"They only have primitive weapons."
"Which, in some ways, are worse than modern ones. You'll be almost blind to them."
"I don't plan to fight them,” Sabre said. “Once I have the King, the battle is won."
"But you might have to if things go wrong."
Sabre shrugged. "I have two lasers, with a full complement of power packs, a grenade launcher and full cyber armour."
"What's your bio-status?"
"I knew that was coming."
"Yeah, you should by now. What is it?"
"Eighty-seven per cent."
Tarl grimaced. "That's not so good."
"I'll survive."
"Yeah, you probably will, but you have to win."
"I'll do my best. You just keep Tassin here until you see her banner. Don't let her come rushing in there, no matter what you see or hear."
"I will," Tarl said.
"I'm counting on you. It's important."
"When have I let you down?"
"You haven't... yet."
Tarl added wood to the fire. "I want you to know, I have only the greatest admiration for you. You... you're a real good guy, better than me. You should be proud of how far you've come, and how well you've adjusted. I am."
"You make it sound like you don't expect to see me after tomorrow."
"Who knows? I'm not nearly indestructible, like you."
"And if anything happens to Tassin, I'll kill you myself."
Tarl smiled. "No, you won't, but don't worry, I'll look after her."
"You'd better."
"Count on it. Night bud." Tarl rose and thumped Sabre on the back hard enough to make the cyber sway, then retreated quickly to the other side of the fire, grinning.
Sabre chuckled, shaking his head. "Pathetic."
Sabre crouched behind a hedge at the bottom of the castle's eastern wall, gazing up at the window high above. Dawn's first faint light brightened the sky, and dew whitened the grass. A quartet of yawning, bleary-eyed guards had wandered past a minute earlier, and the time had come to scale the wall. Rising, he walked over to it and set his fingers into the cracks between the stones, pulled himself up and slipped the toes of his boots into more cracks. Using these, and the tiny ledges made by protruding stones, he worked his way up the wall, pressed against it.
When he reached the window two storeys above, he swarmed over the ledge and dropped down inside, where a pair of green velvet curtains concealed him. The scanners showed two life signs in a four-poster bed on the other side of the room, and another two outside the suite’s main doors, detectable through the archway that led into the lounge. The structural scanners mapped everything that was not stone, which appeared as a green grid, impenetrable. Glad that Dellon did not keep hounds in his room, Sabre opened the curtains a crack and peered out at a spacious chamber. Tapestries and portraits adorned its walls, and several rugs warmed the granite floor. A carved wardrobe stood against one wall and a dressing table with a lacy cloth on it, spread with pots and brushes, stood against another. Sabre turned his attention to the bed's occupants. A plump blonde girl lay beside the weedy nineteen-year-old King, her arm flung across his narrow chest.
Sabre pushed through the curtains and walked across the room on silent feet. Bending, he pressed his fingers to the woman's throat. Her eyes opened and widened before they glazed and closed again. Pulling her arm off the youth’s chest, Sabre moved her aside and gripped Dellon's throat, tightening his grip when the King woke with a gasp.
"One sound, and I cut off your air," he said.
Dellon gulped and nodded, his brown eyes riveted to the brow band. His thin face bore the pockmarks of a bad case of acne, and his frightened gasps through his open mouth, with its full, slack lips, stank of halitosis. He also honked of body odour, and the combined stenches offended the cyber’s keen olfactory senses. He found it hard to believe that this ill-washed youth was related to Tassin at all. Sabre dragged him off the bed, discovering that he was naked with a grunt of disgust. Drawing a laser, he held it up.
"Do you know what this is?"
The youth nodded.
"Good. Get dressed."
Sabre released him, and he grabbed a pair of royal blue velvet trousers off the floor and pulled them on. When he had also donned a rather wrinkled and smelly off-white shirt and royal blue jacket, the cyber stepped closer and jabbed him in the chest with the laser.
"Let's go. You tell the guards to stand down, and do exactly what I say, or you die, got it?"
Dellon nodded, and Sabre wondered why he was being so co-operative. It might be cowardice, but it seemed too easy. Gripping the back of Dellon's collar, he frog-marched him through the lounge and made him push open the brass-hinged oak doors. They emerged into a narrow corridor with bare grey stone walls, where the sleepy guards snapped to attention, trying to salute and hang onto their spears at the same time. The pair, clad in faded green and gold livery under chain mail, their helmets bearing tufts of yellow feathers, gaped at Sabre when he followed the King, reaching for their swords.
"Hold!" Dellon yelled, too loudly for Sabre's liking.
The guards froze, and Sabre wondered if they were Tassin's men, or Dellon's. "Queen Tassin has returned,” he informed them. “Spread the word, and tell your comrades that if anyone tries to attack me, I'll kill the King. All those who wish to keep their heads should reclaim their loyalty to the Queen and help me take the castle. They'll be rewarded. Go."
The soldiers backed away, then loped off, their mail jingling. Sabre headed for the broad staircase that ran down the wall on his right, trundling Dellon along by his scruff, the laser pressed to the back of his head. They encountered another two sentries at the bottom of the staircase, whom he advised of the Queen's return and sent trotting off to spread the news. Making his way through the grand, banner-hung entrance hall, he headed for the tall doors that led into the courtyard. The pair of sentries that guarded them pushed open the portal at his command, retreating.
Emerging into the cobbled courtyard, he glanced at the scanners. Fifteen men patrolled the ten-metre tall battlements that enclosed the yard, and a quartet guarded the main gates. A few spluttering torches still burnt in wall sconces, but the sky had brightened to pale pink. He could just make out the forms of the soldiers on the battlements, and the cloth-draped laser cannons he had installed four years ago. Dellon’s colours, a rampant yellow panther on a green field, flew above the gatehouse, steps leading up to it.
Marching Dellon to the middle of the courtyard, he stopped and shouted, "Queen Tassin has returned! Make one hostile move, and Dellon dies. Take down that flag and run up the Queen's colours, now!"
A full minute of stunned silence fell before a man on the battlements went to the main flagpole to take down Dellon's banner. Sentries emerged from the gatehouse to gape at Sabre, and he pointed the laser at them.
"Go and stand over there by the wall. You men on the walls, come down and join them."
They descended the steps, one soldier trotting ahead towards a door on one side of the courtyard.
"Stop!" Sabre bellowed, and the man froze. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To fetch the Queen's colours."
"Right. Make it quick."
"Yes, sir."
The man vanished through the door, and the rest of the soldiers joined the sentries, muttering. The man on the battlements struck Dellon's colours and joined the group, and Sabre glanced around at the door through which the other soldier had left, wishing he would hurry up. The lack of resistance made him uneasy, and he wondered at Dellon's continued silence. Was it possible that the skinny boy was too cowardly to even protest, or was something else afoot?
Sabre waved the laser at the soldiers. "One of you, open the gates."
A grizzled veteran headed for gates, and Sabre jammed the laser's muzzle into the side of Dellon's head, making him wince.
"The rest of you, remove your swords and armour."
A sergeant stepped forward. "Sir, we're the Queen's men. We'll help you."
The red light that flashed in Sabre’s mind told him the man lied. He did not want to reveal his ability to sense lies just yet, however. "Right, and I should just take your word for it. Throw your weapons over there by the wall, and be quick."
As the men threw their weapons down with a clatter, the soldier returned with a piece of cloth and trotted up to the battlements. The portcullis rattled up, and Sabre glanced at the open gates, his brows drawing together. Everything was going too smoothly, and his suspicion grew more acute. No inkling of rebellion showed on the soldiers' faces; not even a hint of resentment or anger, and the King was far too compliant. Something was not right. If this was a trap, it was quite an obvious one, but it could only be one if his hostage was not Dellon. He shook the King and pressed the laser harder against his head.
"You are Dellon, aren't you?"
"Y-yes."
Sabre raised his voice to address the soldiers. "Is this your King?"
They nodded, and one replied, "Yes, sir."
The warning light flashed in Sabre's mind again, and he swung towards the man who stood by the flagpole, preparing to run up the Queen’s colours. "Stop!"
The man lowered the flag he held and stepped back, and Sabre cursed, wondering what he was going to do now. They were all lying, including the pimply youth he held hostage, who was probably the cook's cousin. He had double checked by asking the men because the youth's agitation was such that the cyber was unable to be certain he was lying. Now he was sure. He was in a trap, but it was not intended for him and would not spring until Tassin came, which she would only do when her banner was raised. He shoved the scrawny young man away and drew his other laser, wagging it at the wide-eyed youth.
"You can go and join them. I know you're all lying."
Sabre glanced up at the battlements again, where the soldier was attaching Tassin's flag to the lanyard. "Hey! You! Drop that and get down here, now!"
The man continued to tie the knot, fumbling in his haste. Sabre shot him, and he collapsed with a grunt. Now Sabre would have to take the castle on his own, or escape. He wondered how many men were hidden in the fortress, cursing Dellon's duplicity. A great many men would have to die, and he did not relish the prospect of killing them. If he made his escape, however, Tassin would be in grave danger, for Dellon would send troops to hunt her down and kill her. They would be on the run again, back to the almost identical predicament they had been in when they had fled from Torrian four years ago, only now Sharmian would be doomed, too.
The plan to take the King hostage had seemed like a good one, even though he did not know what Dellon looked like. Tassin's description had been detailed, and he had thought it would be enough. The youth he had found in the King's bedchamber bore a close enough resemblance to fool him, however. He should have asked him if he was the King, then the cyber would have picked up on his lie, but he had gone on the assumption that the youth in the King’s bed who matched his description was the monarch. The cyber would have checked. Once again, he had failed where the cyber would have succeeded, through his human ability to make mistakes. He signalled to the soldier by the gate, indicating that he should rejoin his fellows. Sabre kept his weapons trained on the men, and waved them towards one of the doorways that led off the courtyard.
"Get going, inside."
Sabre needed cover; he was too exposed in the open without a human shield. Realising that someone else could run up the Queen's colours after he had quit the courtyard, he wagged a laser at a man at the back of the group.
"You! Go and fetch that flag. Try to raise it, and you'll die like your friend. Run!"
The soldier raced up to the battlements, and Sabre watched him while the scanners tracked the men who headed for the door. His heart rate and breathing quickened, and a rush of adrenalin heated his muscles and made his hands shake. The cyber’s battle schematics appeared in his mind, mapping the courtyard and all the potential foes in it, their weapons and the potential trajectories of missiles they might fire. Twelve more life signs appeared, some on the battlements, who must have emerged from the keep where the wall joined it. Others appeared at windows and doors that faced the courtyard, and blue lines on the cyber’s blueprint indicated their lines of fire. Sabre shot the soldier who was heading for the flagpole, then dropped and spun to strafe the new life signs as vicious hisses filled the air. Arrows buzzed over his head, several hitting the soldiers behind him, who scattered, racing for their weapons. Three of his shots hit their targets, and two archers slumped in windows and one on the battlements. Another volley hissed from the remaining men, and Sabre dived aside.
Arrows ricocheted off the cobbles beside him with tinny clinks as he hit the ground and rolled, shooting five more men. Two bolts hit the walls with crackling pops. Nine soldiers reclaimed their weapons and charged him from behind. He spun, cutting them down with a sweeping lash of blue light. Rolling to the wall, he jumped up and ran towards a door, eager to quit the rain of arrows. A tug on his arm told him that he had been hit, and he glanced down at the black crossbow bolt that protruded from it. Ducking into the doorway, he turned and fired at the flagpole, shearing it off with a sizzling crack.
Pressing his back to the wall just inside the door, he glanced up and down the empty corridor. If none of the men in the courtyard were Tassin's, it could only mean that Dellon had already incarcerated them. He sprinted down the passage, heading for the dungeons. Any form of reinforcement would do, even unarmed men. A man stepped out of a doorway ahead and tried to ram a spear through his gut. Sabre leapt over it, kicked downwards as he did so and snapped the shaft. He fired point-blank at the soldier, blowing away his face an instant before he hit him. The corpse sprawled, and Sabre sailed over it as arrows hissed after him.
Three thudded into his armoured back and one glanced off his scalp, ripping a gash. Four men leapt out from behind a corner, swords raised. Sabre jumped aside, aimed and snapped off four shots without thinking about it. The cyber had started to override him, speeding up his reactions to milliseconds as it spotted enemies and predicted their movements. He let it guide him, shooting men who tried to charge him from the side or leapt at him from doorways and corners. Arrows whizzed past, and more thudded into his armour, one slicing through the skin of his biceps.
Sabre leapt down the dungeon stairs three at a time, the hail of arrows momentarily cut off. A soldier thrust a sword at him from a doorway, and the blade skittered off his abdominal armour. His right hand snapped around and fired in the instant he passed the door, felling the man. Two sentries waited at the bottom of the steps, crossbows aimed. The bolts thudded into his chest armour, and they fell as he fired. He reloaded and loped down the passage to the cells.
Pausing outside the first, he peered in through the barred window at the top of the sturdy oak door. The shadowy forms of men moved about inside, assuring him that it was occupied. The old-style lock required a large key to draw back the thick bolt that fastened it, and he had neither a key nor the time to find one or burn through the door. The corridor was narrow, but he moved to the opposite side of it and pushed off the wall. Reaching the door in a bound, he leapt at it, channelling all his power and momentum into his right leg. His foot hit the door square in the centre, smashing it inwards with a terrific bang and clatter of splintered wood. A dozen men gaped at him in the guttering light of a smutty torch, several rubbing bruises where bits of the door had bounced off them.
Sabre pointed a laser at them. "Are you Queen Tassin's men?"
Most of them nodded, and an officer, judging by his commanding demeanour and the silver braid on his sleeves, stepped forward. "Has the Queen returned?"
"Yes. Arm yourselves and free the rest."
"She's truly alive?"
"Yes, now hurry up!"
The officer glanced back. "The Queen!"
The men boiled out and charged down the corridor to take the dead sentries’ weapons, and one dashed back with a bunch of keys to open the other cells. Sabre leant against the wall to snap off the arrows that protruded from his back. Blood ran down the side of his head and dripped from his elbow, but neither wound was serious. His bio-status was eighty-four per cent, still good. He cursed the habit he had picked up from Tarl and pushed himself away from the wall, heading for the stairs as more men emerged from the cells to join him. He had to find Dellon.