Chapter Eight
For four days, they rode along the foothills of the Barrier Mountains. Sabre hunted every afternoon, shooting rabbits for supper, although he once said that it was a waste of ammunition. Tassin shrugged it off. She enjoyed the fresh meat. Once, they came across a shepherd’s hut, and spent the night in it, but mostly they slept in the scrubby clumps of stunted horse-tail trees that dotted the slopes. Tassin relaxed again, thinking that they had given her pursuers the slip. Sabre remained vigilant, and she enjoyed the journey a little. Certainly the scenery was spectacular. The mountains towered over them, their snow-clad peaks often clothed in wind-torn clouds like cotton wool flags. Sunshine bathed the verdant foothills, although the air was chilly as autumn gave way to winter.
On the fifth afternoon, they reached the entrance to a deep, sheer-walled canyon that cut into the mountain range, and Tassin recognised it from the drawings that she had seen on maps. The horses could go no further, and the prospect of saying goodbye to Falcon tore her heart. There was one final command she could give him, which would ensure his freedom and prevent him from trying to follow her, and one day she might return to reclaim him. She unsaddled him and stroked his muzzle when he butted her, impatient to graze the lush grass. At least he and the mare would not go hungry, for even in winter there was grass here. A year or so from now, there would be three of them.
As she slipped off the bridle, Tassin murmured, “Ware, Falcon.”
Falcon pricked his ears and stared at her. The command meant that he must let no stranger approach him, and remain behind when she left. It was designed to prevent enemies from injuring picketed warhorses, and he had not been given that command since he had been in training ten years before. He tossed his head and trotted away, soon stopping to graze beside the mare. He would protect the mare too, she was sure.
Tassin plodded to the sheltering rocks, where Sabre built a fire. The prospect of the long walk on the far side of the mountains depressed her, and she wished they could ride through Devil’s Run. Flopping down beside the fledgling fire, she watched Sabre set up camp with his unflagging efficiency. Although he was a dour companion, she was becoming accustomed to his terse ways. He had killed two rabbits that afternoon, and cleaned and skinned them.
Sabre’s half fierce, half gentle looks fascinated her. His hair had grown a little, which improved his appearance and made the white hair that grew from the thin scars on his scalp more prominent. His face was unlined for a man in his mid-twenties, but then, he lacked any expression that would cause them. His skin had darkened in the sun, and glowed with health. The harness and trousers were a bit worn now, but in surprisingly good condition, considering. She wore a warm coat in the growing chill, and there was another in the packs for him, purchased in the last village for the journey over the mountains. Even on the main pass, where the road zigzagged up the mountain in a series of torturous switchbacks, it became extremely cold at the top, and Devil’s Run would be worse.
The Queen let her gaze drift to the green slopes, which darkened as night fell, and pondered her situation. She was about to embark on a dangerous journey through this ill-fated pass, into an unknown land, disguised as a commoner. A magical warrior accompanied her, and enchanted wolves pursued her. Someday, she thought wryly, she would have some good tales to tell her children as she dandled them on her knee in front of the fire. Her husband, an obscure figure in her dream, would sit and listen too, while Sabre stood in the corner. The smell of roasting rabbit drew her from her reverie, and she sat up to watch him turn the spits.
“Sabre, have you ever thought about having children?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Cybers do not have children.”
Tassin plucked a blade of grass and chewed it. “Your parents did. Were they not warriors too?”
“No.”
“What happens when you grow too old to be a warrior?”
“The control unit is transferred to a new host body.”
She raised her brows. “What happens to the old body?”
“It is destroyed.”
Tassin spat out the grass. “How many... err, bodies, have you had?”
“Unknown.”
“Do you not remember?”
“Memories are stored in the biological brain, therefore the cyber has no memory of prior hosts.”
Tassin listened to the distant snorts of the grazing horses, pondering his strange words. An eerie quiet hung in the still air, and not even the wind sighed through the canyon. The movement of Sabre’s brow band caught her attention, a sparkle in the gathering darkness. His head snapped up, and he turned to stare down the slope. Her neck hairs rose.
“They come.” He stood up.
Tassin leapt to her feet. “We will have to catch the horses!”
“No. Up the mountain.”
Sabre picked up the cloth sack containing the salted meat and tossed in the half-cooked rabbits. Swiftly he gathered up their equipment and stuffed it into the two bags, which he tied to his harness and slung over his shoulders. Tassin stared downslope, straining to make out something in the gloom. Sabre stamped out the fire and took her arm, yanked her around and towed her towards the mountain.
“Let me go! There is no need to grab me all the time. I can keep up, Sabre!” she tried to free herself.
Sabre clambered over the first rocks, ignoring her struggles. The canyon walls loomed over them, growing higher as they moved deeper into it. Tassin tripped and would have fallen, but for Sabre’s grip on her arm. He jerked her upright, and she realised that her struggles were only hampering him, so she concentrated on keeping up instead. The canyon narrowed, steep slabs of rock hemming them in. The only way was up, and she had no doubt that the wolves had reached the entrance by now.
An hour passed in a blur of panting, scrabbling desperation as she struggled over jagged rocks, barking shins, hands and elbows, stubbing toes and tearing fingernails. Her lungs burnt as she gasped the cold air, for the temperature dropped as they climbed higher. Sabre hauled her along, his grip bruising her arm, but her legs burnt and her muscles had lost their strength.
“Sabre, stop!” she gasped. “I have to rest, stop!”
Sabre turned to her, the brow band flickering. Releasing her arm, he stepped around her to face down the canyon. Grey shapes ran over the rocks towards them in the moonlight. He raised his arm, and a brilliant streak of light sliced through the darkness, momentarily illuminating the canyon and the wolves. The laser bolt hit the rocks close to one of the animals with a flash, causing it to veer. Sabre fired twice more, once rewarded by a howl, but the elusive wolves moved too fast, and dodged amongst the rocks, their claws scrabbling on the stone.
Sabre wedged himself into the rocks downslope and waited. The lead wolf appeared from behind a boulder and leapt at Sabre’s throat. He fired point blank, slicing the animal in two. A second wolf attacked and died. The other three hung back amongst the rocks, waiting for him to turn his back. Sabre picked up loose stones and hurled them into the shadows, and a yelp and scrape of claws rewarded his efforts as the wolves retreated. He turned to climb again, grasped her arm and pulled her after him.
The wolves gave chase, whining, and Sabre towed Tassin along so fast her feet barely seemed to touch the rocks. If he hoped the slope would become too steep for the wolves to follow, he was disappointed, for it continued to be just gentle enough for them. Tassin slipped and stumbled beside him, propelled by his grip. Every so often, he stopped and turned to fire at the wolves, forcing them to take cover and gaining a few precious metres each time.
It felt like hours later that he stopped and turned to face back down the trail, listening. Only the soft sighing of the wind broke the stillness. Sabre relaxed against the rocks, and Tassin allowed her legs to fold and sat down, gasping, her throat and lungs burning. Sweat trickled down her face, chilling her skin as it cooled.
“What has happened to them?” she panted.
“They have fallen back. They will
stalk us now.”
“But you can detect them.”
“They do not know that.”
Tassin nodded, concentrating on satisfying her lungs’ craving for oxygen. While she recovered, Sabre spread her bedroll and blankets on a flat spot. She lay down, her muscles jumping with fatigue. Sabre sat beside her, his eyes closed.
“Are you not going to sleep too?” she asked.
“No. Cybers do not need sleep.”
Tassin sighed. “Where are the wolves?”
“They have stopped further down.”
“You are going to watch them all night?”
“Yes.”
Tassin closed her eyes, but her burning throat and twitching muscles kept sleep away for a while.
It seemed like only moments later that Sabre shook her awake again. The sky blushed pink with the pearly light of dawn, and bitter cold nipped her. Her breath steamed as she sat up with a groan, rubbing her aching legs.
“They approach,” Sabre stated.
Tassin’s teeth chattered as he pulled off her blankets and stuffed them into a bag. He had finally donned a warm coat, she noticed.
“Where are they?” she asked.
“They move towards this position, probably hoping for the element of surprise while their targets are asleep.”
“No chance of that,” she grumbled, rubbing her eyes.
Sabre took her arm and towed her up the mountain again, supporting her when her stiff legs refused to move speedily. Tassin groaned with every step, her stomach rumbling and her parched throat aching. She wondered if it was all worth it. Perhaps she should have married the toothless Grisson, then kept him out of her bedchamber with a sharp knife until he died. She longed for the comforts of her home, where a small army of servants was at her beck and call, fires warmed every room and her bed welcomed her into its soft embrace each night.
It seemed like an eternity since she had enjoyed a walk in the sun-drenched gardens, or a leisurely afternoon of book reading and sloth. Anything would be better than toiling up an icy mountain at dawn, dragged along by a ruthless magical warrior and pursued by enchanted wolves. She tripped, and Sabre’s iron grip saved her from smashing her face into the rock, swinging around to crash into his chest. She gazed up at him with despairing eyes. Her lungs ached and her skin tingled, her head pounded as if it would burst.
Sabre stared through her, then released her arm and bent as if performing a deep bow, hoisting her over his shoulder with the rest of the baggage. Tassin wanted to shout at him to put her down. The indignity was immense, but she was too tired. Tears of frustration and bitterness leaked from her eyes, dripping onto the rock that passed beneath her. Her head pounded even more as the blood rushed into it, and she shut her eyes as he strode up the slope, apparently unaffected by her weight.
From time to time, she raised her head to look back down the trail, searching for signs of the wolves. The sun warmed her back and Sabre warmed her front, making her almost cosy. She marvelled at his strength. No ordinary man could carry a fifty-kilogram woman, plus twenty kilos of baggage, up a steep slope for hours, as he was doing. He breathed deeply, but he did not flag.
The sun blazed overhead when he put her down, and only then did she notice the toll the effort had taken. His features were haggard and pale. Sweat beaded his brow and made tracks down his cheeks. He eased the baggage off his shoulders and squatted, head hanging, the brow band flickering with a lot of red.
“Sustenance is required. The wolves have stopped,” he said.
They drank water and shared the cold rabbit. Afterwards, she relaxed against the sun-warmed rock, until he repacked the bags and stood up.
“Can you walk?”
Tassin nodded and climbed to her feet. This time, he moved slowly, gripping her arm to steady her. The sense of urgency was gone. She gasped in the thin air as they ascended to the snow line, where patches of white nestled in shadowy clefts, and the raw wind stung her cheeks. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, and not slipping, as they toiled up the peak.
When next she took stock of her surroundings, the sun sank towards the horizon, and they were nearly at the top. Snow covered much of the rock, and ice hid beneath it. Twice she slipped, saved by Sabre’s hold on her arm. Once he slipped, and released her lest he pull her down too.
Finally, he stopped, and she rested while he scouted around, then returned to guide her to a cave. As soon as the blankets were spread, Tassin wrapped herself in them. When Sabre offered her some cold rabbit, she shook her head, her appetite gone. She drank a little water and lay down. Sabre settled close to the entrance and closed his eyes, his back against the wall. Tassin knew he was going to keep watch. Sabres did not need sleep. Humans, on the other hand, she thought bitterly, did, and closed her eyes.
A sizzling hiss woke Tassin, and a lupine howl followed it. She sat up, disorientated. The howling went on and on, then dwindled to a whimper. Three down, two to go. Tassin listened to the agonised whimpering, stifling the pity that welled up in her. That was not an animal, she reminded herself, but a man in a wolf shape. The whimpering faded, and a faint scraping of claws told her that the injured wolf crawled away. She hoped it would put the others off.
Tassin became aware that her fingers were numb and her feet had turned into blocks of ice. Shivers racked her, making her gut ache, and she chafed her hands, but it did no good. Dragging her blankets, she crawled towards Sabre. He still sat against the wall, facing the cave entrance.
“Sabre!” she whispered. “I am freezing!”
His head turned towards her, the brow band bright in the gloom. Her teeth chattered like castanets, and he stretched out his legs and pulled her onto his lap. Tassin tensed, but he merely grasped her hands and rubbed them, his touch warm. He radiated warmth in a glorious glow.
“Why are you not cold?” she demanded.
“The cyber regulates body temperature.”
“Is there any damn thing that the bloody sabre cannot do?”
“Yes.”
Tassin sighed as he enfolded her in his coat. He appeared oblivious to her tension, and she pressed her icy hands to his chest, surprised when he did not protest. The embarrassment of being so intimate with a relative stranger soon faded as she warmed up. She risked a peep up at his face, but his head was turned towards the entrance once more, his eyes closed.
Tassin had always found men to be rough, hairy and smelly, but even Sabre’s slight body odour lacked pungency, perhaps because he washed more often. Her father’s hugs had almost cracked her ribs and his beard had scratched her cheek. Sabre’s gentle hold imparted security without the sense of entrapment. He also lacked body hair, and even his breath was fresh, she marvelled. With a sigh, she snuggled closer, listening to his strong steady heartbeat, and sleep claimed her in a swift inky rush.