The Cyber Chronicles Book II: Death Zone (10 page)

Tassin raised
her eyes to his face. "So you're saying that if I had not been
scared of falling, I would not have?"

"Exactly. I'll
prove it to you. The next time we come to a fallen tree, you walk
along it and see how easy it is when there's no danger."

"And if I
still fall off?"

He shrugged.
"Then you're just plain clumsy."

Tassin lowered
her gaze to the fire once more. She looked subdued, as if the
drenching had quenched some of her spirit. Sabre prodded the fire
again, remembering his dip.

Water was not
his favourite element; he preferred dry land. The extra twelve
kilos was only partially offset by his increased lung capacity and
strength. A cyber was a not a strong swimmer, and dragging a
struggling girl from the water had proven awkward. He had
considered rendering her unconscious with a neck pinch, but the
prospect of her verbal retaliation had daunted him. The tongue
lashing he would have received for harming a queen would have been
severe, he surmised, although technically it was not really harm,
since it did not injure her. Even so, he had been surprised that
she had not berated him for making her walk across the log, or
being tardy in his rescue. Perhaps she was mellowing.

When Sabre was
dry, he left to hunt, and returned with a buck that he cleaned and
cooked as usual. Tassin stared into the fire until the food was
ready, unable to look at him. The light faded as the sun sank
beyond the trees, and croaking frogs and singing crickets replaced
the daytime racket of bird calls and chirring caracans. Her brush
with death had engendered a strong sense of inadequacy, which he
had compounded by pointing out her failings.

After the meal
she lay down, exhausted by her ordeal. Sabre poked sticks into the
fire and waved them in the air to create glowing patterns, and
Tassin watched him with drooping eyes. She could remember doing
that as a child, but the novelty had worn off long ago. Sabre did
it with the innocent fascination of one who has never been able to
indulge in such petty activities before.

A surge of
pity went through her as she thought about the cruelties to which
he had been subjected. Tears stung her eyes as he twirled two
glowing sticks and watched the circles and figure-of-eights they
formed in the air with obvious delight. At the same time, she
wanted to laugh at his childish antics, and the bittersweet mixture
of emotions confused her.

How strange,
she mused, that she should feel so safe in his company, so certain
that he would never do her harm. She owed her life to this strange,
mutilated man whose gentleness was utterly at odds with his lethal
skills and strength. She trusted him more than she had ever done
another, yet she hardly knew him. Still pondering, she drifted off
to sleep, secure in the knowledge that he was nearby.

An hour after
dawn, Tassin donned her damp clothes, and they continued through
the jungle. The trees became bigger and the undergrowth thinned,
but the insects grew more prolific. Sabre warned Tassin to check
herself for leeches, especially her legs. She shuddered at the
thought of little beasts sucking her blood, and, when she found
one, he sliced off its body, leaving the head to drop off by
itself. The scope of his knowledge astounded her afresh. He seemed
to know a solution to every problem and a cure for every
situation.

They walked
for two days, and spent the nights under fallen trees or between
massive buttress roots, using the petticoats to keep off the dew
and unwelcome droppings from above. Tassin was horrified by the
variety of things that fell from the trees, either by accident or
design. Huge spiders, lizards, beetles, rotten fruit, bird and
animal dung, seeds, nuts, leaves, branches, bits of bark and
flowers rained down. For a time, a troop of monkeys followed them
above, pelted them with fruit and dung and shrieked with what
sounded oddly like laughter.

The jungle
teemed with screeching, honking, hooting, chirping animals. At
night droves of insects took over, filling the darkness with their
mating songs, and hosts of frogs held the endless chorus.

Gearn stared
at the log with dawning horror as the wolf trotted across it, then
back again, as if to prove how easy it was. The trail led here,
which meant that the warrior mage had used the log to cross the
river. The tree trunk looked old and slippery, its surface mottled
with lichen and fungi. He slid from his horse and turned to look at
Murdor, who leant against a tree. The gladiator looked smug, as if
he was laughing inwardly at some private joke. Gearn frowned,
resenting the giant's lack of respect.

"My horse will
not cross that."

The gladiator
shrugged. "Then you'll just 'ave to walk, like the rest of us."

The mage
grunted, staring at the log again. Obviously Murdor was pleased
that Gearn would now be afoot, as he was. The man's smugness
annoyed him, like an itch he could not scratch. Gearn reflected
that he could not have chosen worse travelling companions than a
coarse ruffian and a grinning wolf. Added to that, the journey's
discomfort and the raw patches on his rear combined to make him
most disagreeable.

Much as he
wished for one, he had no spell to help him here. Even if he
shrouded the log in an illusion to fool the horse into trying to
cross it, the animal would only fall off. He sighed. They were not
far behind the warrior mage now. Unsaddling the horse, he turned it
loose to forage and hid the tack in a hollow tree. When he
returned, he would recapture the beast and ride it back, for he had
no intention of walking across the desert.

Gearn climbed
onto the log and tottered across it, waving his arms to keep his
balance on the treacherous surface. Murdor padded after him,
smiling as the rotten wood creaked under his weight. Gearn jumped
down to safety, dismayed to find himself facing a wall of foliage
and vines. The wolf sniffed around, then sat and stared at him.
Gearn looked back at Murdor, who gazed around, picking his nose.
The trail ended here. The warrior mage and the Queen had walked
onto the log, but not off it, which could only mean that they had
disembarked in the middle of it.

Gearn scowled
at the muddy torrent. Did the warrior mage know that he was being
followed? He shook his head. No, it could only have been an
accident, which meant that they had been swept down river, and, if
they had survived, that was where they would be. Torrian would not
be pleased if the Queen was dead, but he could hardly blame Gearn
for that. Turning to the gladiator, Gearn gestured at the
river.

"It seems that
they fell off the log, Murdor. We will have to look down river. I
shall need you to clear a path."

The giant
smiled and unsheathed his sword. It seemed that after weeks of
tedium, he was glad use his strength, even if only to clear a
path.

Sabre was
relieved when the jungle gave way to a forest of tall slender trees
whose leafy branches formed a green roof, its floor carpeted with
golden-brown leaves. The insects were less bothersome, and it grew
cooler, which was pleasant after the humid tropical heat. He
sheathed the sword, glad to give his arms a rest. The soft trilling
of birds and the occasional rustle of a fleeing animal replaced the
jungle's din. Tassin walked beside him, and her smile reflected her
appreciation of the new landscape. Their conversation was
desultory, since he was in a rather terse mood.

The cyber's
scanners picked up the life signs of seven humans ahead, and Sabre
stopped. "There are people ahead."

She turned to
him. "At last! I thought we would never find civilisation in this
stinking country."

He raised his
brows. "I didn't say they were civilised."

Tassin
snorted. "Well, let's find out who they are."

"We will, but
I think we should be a little cautious. You stay here, and I'll go
and take a look first."

She frowned.
"I want to come too."

"They could be
savages. I'm only thinking of your safety."

"I am coming,
you might need help."

Sabre gritted
his teeth, wishing that he could tie her to a tree and gag her
until he returned, but he had no rope. "Remember what happened the
last time you tried to help?"

"Yes, you got
all huffy and left me behind to be bitten by a snake."

Sabre shot her
a surprised look, unable to refute her statement, although that was
not what he had meant, of course. Tassin's glare dared him to deny
it. Instead he said, "I want to move very quietly, so I can get a
look at them without them being aware of me."

She shrugged.
"All right."

Sabre frowned
at her, then turned and walked on. Of all the dumb, stubborn,
mule-headed females in the world, he had to get stuck with the
prize-winner. He cursed under his breath. As they drew nearer to
the people, who were moving across their path, he slowed, wary of
twigs and rustling leaves, but Tassin continued to tramp through
the fallen foliage. He winced and turned to her.

"Will you walk
quietly?"

"I am!"

"You're making
enough noise to wake the dead in Arlin!"

She put her
hands on her hips. "What do you want me to do, float above the
ground?"

"That would
help. Why don't you wait here? I won't be long."

"No."

"Then be
quiet!"

Tassin pulled
a face, and when he started forward again, it sounded like she was
making more noise than before. A herd of elephants could have made
less of a racket. The points of light on the scanners scattered,
moved towards them and spread out. Sabre groaned and halted.

"What is it?"
Tassin whispered.

"They heard
you."

"Oh. Well,
then we will meet them soon."

"Whether we
want to or not," he grumbled.

"Now who is
being pessimistic?"

Sabre swung
around, his brows knotting. "I'm not being bloody pessimistic, I'm
being cautious! I'd rather know who I'm going to be dealing with,
and whether I want to be dealing with them, before I reveal my
presence. Fools rush in without knowing what they're getting
themselves into."

"So now you
are calling me a fool?"

"You're too
pig-headed to see it, aren't you? You just can't admit that you're
wrong!"

Tassin folded
her arms. "Maybe I am not."

"How do you
figure that, since we don't know..." he trailed off as seven
painted women emerged from the trees, surrounding them. He had been
too distracted by the argument to check the scanners, and the
cyber's warning light had started flashing the moment the strangers
had come into range. Sabre studied the newcomers, who intrigued and
puzzled him.

They were two
metres tall or more, and carried spears that were aimed mainly at
his belly, except for those that were pointed at his kidneys. None,
he noted, were aimed at Tassin. Leather halter tops and short
skirts clad their lithe, muscular bodies, revealing long, tanned
legs. Strings of beads adorned their necks and entwined their
flaxen hair, which hung down their backs in thick braids.
Multi-coloured stripes decorated their hostile faces.

Sabre held out
his empty hands in an appeasing gesture, and one woman stepped
forward to relieve him of his knife and sword, which she examined.
Tassin appeared dumbstruck by the strange females, and stared at
them with wide eyes. The woman, who topped Sabre by four
centimetres, eyed him as she tested his weapon's keen edge. She
stepped in front of Tassin, who drew herself up, and the two looked
each other up and down. The woman fingered the tattered pink dress,
then touched the Queen's hair, but made no effort to remove the
dagger tucked into Tassin's belt.

"Who are you,
wandering alone in the jungle?" she enquired without malice.

The woman used
the same language as Tassin, although so heavily accented that
Sabre wondered if the Queen would understand it. As was common on
civilised planets, the entire population spoke a single tongue,
although regional dialects were typical and population groups often
had their own language. On Omega Five, the dialect for this region
had clearly corrupted the original language, which was Engron, a
common tongue on many planets. He glanced at Tassin, wondering if
he would have to translate for her.

She frowned,
but replied, "I am Queen Tassin Alrade of Arlin. I come from the
land on the other side of the Badlands." Tassin exuded a haughty
air, despite her bedraggled appearance.

The woman
looked a little puzzled by Tassin's foreign accent, but smiled. "A
queen, eh? You must come and meet ours; she will want to greet
you."

Although
phrased politely, Sabre knew it was not an invitation, and he had a
nasty suspicion that these women belonged to a man-hating culture
known on old Earth as Amazons. The leader stepped in front of him
again, and her lip curled as if he stank like a week-old
corpse.

"And this? Why
are you accompanied by a man?"

Tassin looked
confused, glancing at Sabre. "He's my ... servant. He takes care of
my needs."

Sabre was glad
she seemed to have grasped the situation, although what she had
said was basically true; she had evidently sensed the woman's
hostility towards him.

The big woman
sneered. "A slave."

The Amazon
stood so close to him that he could smell her musky odour, and her
eyes roamed over him, lingering on the brow band. She raised a hand
to finger and tug at it. "What's this? An ornament on a slave?"

Tassin shook
her head. "No, it... subdues him."

"Ah." The
Amazon raised her brows and tilted her head. "Science."

"Yes, that's
it. Science."