CHAPTER 4
BEFORE THE GATE
CHAPTER 4
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I
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"Don’t!” Menda pleaded, but—wearing a look on his face that hardly befitted a holy man—the monk pulled the crossbow’s trigger. Driven at speeds of six hundred feet per second by compressed air, the steel arrow pierced Menda’s chest, leaving the lost soul writhing on the ground.
“Stop it . . . Just stop!”
Her sobs were like pouring gasoline on a fire for someone of a sadistic bent, and the monk ran his tongue over his lips. “Oh, does that hurt? Are you in pain? Do even lost souls feel? I believe I could write a paper about that to send back to the main temple in the Capital. Just let me make some more observations.”
With a whuuut! a second shot scorched through the air, penetrating her heart and sticking into the ground far behind her. Menda rolled around, not even able to speak.
“How’s that? Here’s another,” he said, bracing the crossbow against his shoulder again.
But just then someone called out from behind him, “Knock it off, you bald bastard.”
The second he realized the voice was the same low tone the young man in black had used earlier, cold steel pressed against the base of the man’s neck, and he froze before he could say a word.
“Got here quicker than I expected. Have a look at him,” said the other D, who stood with his longsword at the ready. Mia was by his side, naturally, and as she rushed over to the Hunter she cried out, “D!”
“Looks like you lucked out, baldy,” the fake D said.
Still standing where he was, the man asked, “How’s that?”
But his eyes beheld a shadowy figure rising smoothly to its feet. A veritable spirit of the black earth—however, if that was the case, this spirit of the earth was undoubtedly an avatar of beauty.
“You—you’re alive? Even a Noble dies if you shoot it through the heart!”
“You see, I am special,” the fake D said, watching proudly as D effortlessly pulled out the arrow jutting from his chest.
The blackness that clung to the Hunter’s lips was blood the monk himself had drawn. It was the source of the energy behind his revival.
“If I hadn’t stopped you, you’d have been whacked in half before you got off that third shot. You see, that me isn’t as nice as this me.”
“Are you two twins?”
“No. We’re one and same, only there’s two of us.”
On hearing this, the monk looked bewildered. But when he saw the other D approaching, his panic reached an all-time high. “He-help me,” he stammered. “He’ll kill me!”
“Well, that’s to be expected, isn’t it? You’re the one who shot him in the back out of the blue.”
“I—I only did it for the village—”
“And was it for the peace of your village that you shot not one but two arrows into a defenseless soul?”
“You—you mean you can see her?”
“Of course I can. After all, he’s me and I’m me, too. Anything he can do, so can I. Anything he can’t do—well, I suppose that’d be out of the question.”
And while the fake was saying all that, D just kept getting closer.
“His power is at work in Menda’s heart,” the Hunter said. “Though she was killed by the villagers, that heart has kept her from moving on. Upon learning this, he went and sealed Menda’s ghost away in superdense stone.”
“I see. So, that’s why he took a shot at you for busting her grave open? What a tricky bastard!”
“I—I only did it for the villagers—”
“By torturing a spirit in distress? What’ll you do with him?” the fake D asked the other.
D turned to face the monk. His handsome features were unaltered. However, his mien had changed completely. His eyes gave off blood light, and it looked like sanguine tears might fall from them at any moment. The corners of his slender lips pulled up, and a pair of threatening incisors poked from the crescent his mouth formed. And those lips stained crimson could mean only one thing—
“N-No-Nobility . . .”
Saying only that, the monk slumped to the ground limply. He’d fainted dead away from surpassing fear.
“I’m sure he’s telling the truth about doing it for the village,” the fake D remarked with apparent amusement. “But this weasel is a sadist, through and through. Sooner or later, he’ll accuse some gypsy or migrant girl of being a witch and drag her off to his temple under the pretext of saving her. I can just picture him poking her with needles, roasting her with flames, and even slapping her around. Oh, what’s this now?”
His voice grew fainter. For he’d just seen D’s right hand flash into action.
The monk was in a kneeling position, but fresh blood spurted from his throat and crotch. The crotch wasn’t hard to figure, but why had D cut his throat?
Holding both places, the monk rolled around on the ground, but not a sound came from him.
“Did you cut his vocal cords? He won’t be chanting any prayers now. And seeing where you also cut his manhood, he won’t be feeling too randy, either. He’s finished as a monk and as a man. You know, you—I mean I—am looking crueler all the time.”
Saying nothing, D sheathed his sword and walked off toward Mia. The fake D quickly followed after him, and the two of them stood by the fallen Menda.
“Could you do anything for her?” D asked. His expression had returned to normal—the madness of the Nobility had left him.
“I think I eased her pain a little,” the nodding Mia replied.
“I’m fine now,” Menda said, sitting up.
“You’ve been through quite a lot—will the next time be the same?”
“This time, let me try,” the fake D called out, and that made Menda’s eyes go wide. She’d finally noticed that there were two Ds.
“Sit back and relax. I’ll take one swipe at it for starters.”
“No,” Menda cried, backing away.
“What’s the matter? I’m just like him. Relax.”
Given the results up to this point, there was no way she could relax.
“Why the long face? If the first shot doesn’t work, I’ll give it a second whack—”
“It hurts!” Menda exclaimed.
“Is that a fact? Then let’s do this on the first shot.”
“You’re a reckless fool!”
“What?” the fake D shot back angrily at the woman, but D put a hand down on his shoulder. “Let go of me.”
“I’ll give it a try.”
“You already blew it, didn’t you?”
“This is the last time. If this doesn’t work, I’ll give up.”
“Oh. Just so you know, your successes are my successes, and your failures are my failures. So don’t embarrass me, okay?”
There was a hoarse laugh.
“What was that I just heard?” he said, looking down at D’s left hand. “You’ve got something strange inside of you, do you? That’s something I don’t have. What is it?”
“It’s a secret,” the hoarse voice replied.
“Step back,” D said.
Tension filled the air—even the fake D retreated a good distance. Menda was motionless, as if frozen solid.
D reached for the hilt of his sword. His eyes were closed again. When they opened, the sword flashed out.
Slowly getting to her feet, Mia tried to slip past D, but he caught her tightly by the wrist. Before she even had time to scream, she was pulled close as if her body weighed nothing, her pale throat laid bare before D’s panting lips.
“Don’t!” someone shouted, but whether it was the fake D or the left hand was unclear.
Red lips were closing on Mia’s throat—but just before they did, D hoisted Mia high into the air. His fingers sank into her wrist, and Mia sensed that the skin had broken. A warm stream dripped down from her wrist. It spattered noisily against the ground. For some reason, Mia didn’t look at D. The air snapped taut as a bowstring, making her body tremble, and just then she heard a groan in D’s voice. Actually it’d come from the fake D, and when Mia raised her head again, D’s blade was sliding back into the sheath on his back without a sound while the illusory Menda wavered before him.
“Ah . . . It’s true . . . after all . . . You really are . . .” the fading woman said, tears spilling from her eyes. The tears vanished in midair.
“Muma—where is it?” D asked. His words rushed forward.
As D tumbled to the ground, Mia went right after him with a handkerchief still pressed to her wrist.
“I’ve told you now. Farewell, D. The great one’s own—”
There was no longer any sign of Menda, but her voice flowed from somewhere that was neither the sky nor the earth.
“She’s gone,” the fake D said, sounding deeply moved. Beside him, Mia had rolled D onto his back and had one ear pressed to his chest. “But who’d she tell, and what?”
“It was the location of Muma. She gave it to D,” Mia said.
“How?”
“I don’t know. You’re part of D, aren’t you? Well then, hurry up and get him to wake up!”
Mia fairly flung the words at the fake D, but he had an unexpected reply for her.
“Look,” he said.
On the spot on the ground he indicated with a toss of his chin, Mia saw that D was reaching out with one hand. When it stopped, the index finger was pointing toward the plains straight ahead.
“Looks like north it is,” the fake D said.
“That’s right,” Mia said, adding her own opinion.
North again. Was that where Muma lay? And when was D going to wake up?
The two of them looked off into the distance. The twilit plains were darkening with a deep and endless blue.
“Ready?” the fake D asked, putting the other D over his shoulder and rising again.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Mia replied, having already started walking toward the wagon.
-
II
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D was walking across a vast expanse of clouds in an unfamiliar place. He had passed out. This was the world he was seeing while unconscious—he knew it was a dream. He was walking. But where was he headed? He wasn’t at all concerned about what might be happening to his physical self. He knew that this place, where Menda had brought him, was the entrance to Muma. It would have defenders. And they wouldn’t stand idly by when someone reached the entrance. Menda had most likely been given this ability while in the service of the great one. Who that was, D must’ve surely known.
On the sea of clouds, a titanic lozenge-shaped structure could be seen. It seemed as if it might be reached in a few steps and at the same time as if he might never get there.
“There’s a gate,” his left hand whispered, but was that just part of the dream? “Beyond it is Muma. But first, you’ve gotta unlock the gate.”
D halted, but not because what his left hand said had alarmed him. Something stood between him and the gate. While it was a presence devoid of substance, D could still distinctly sense its weight, its density.
So, you made it this far? he heard a voice say. It wasn’t a sound ringing out to tremble against his eardrums, but a voice nonetheless. I suspected you, of all people, might. Still, it is truly remarkable.
“I’m going. Don’t try to stop me.”
I’d never do anything of the sort. To begin with, I’m not even here. What you feel here is no more than an illusion spun by your own senses. You sense me because you want to, and now you’ll try to slay me yourself. It’s an exercise in futility, D.
D resumed his strange trek. Beneath his feet, the clouds swirled fiercely, surging up all around him.
This voice, too, is nothing save what you yourself wish to hear. In other words, it is nothingness. Muma might well be the same, D. And you, and the whole world too.
D felt the presence drawing nearer by the second. And yet, it too was probably no more than a product of his own will. The real question was whether or not he himself thought this was pointless.
This is all in vain. You should turn back.
D’s right hand went for the hilt of his sword.
-
The horse bearing the fake D came over beside the driver’s seat of the wagon.
“You notice that?” he asked casually.
Still holding the reins, Mia turned to him and replied with equal ease, “Yeah.”
“When I give the word, jump over to me, okay? I’ll catch you.”
“I’m counting on it.” While the girl smiled and seemed calm enough throughout the exchange, her spine iced up from the tension she felt. She sensed a strange, murderous intent emanating from the back seat.
Oh, D!
“Is he directing that at you?” she asked, her characteristically calm tone melting into the twilight, but the words conveyed a matter of deadly seriousness.
“Nope. It might sound strange, but the killing lust from that me is quickly being funneled away somewhere. My guess is that’d be wherever my consciousness is.”
“And where is that?”
“In our head—or else in our subconscious. If it goes poorly, even I might not ever make it out again.”
“Who’s he fighting there?”
“Who indeed? Oh, he just grabbed the hilt!”
Disregarding his terrifying news flash, Mia asked, “How will he get back here?”
“One way would probably be to slay his opponent. The other—well, not to put a jinx on this or anything, but that me would have to die.”
“Help him. You’re him, aren’t you? You must know what to do.”
“This time, I’m afraid not.”
“You know, I wonder about something,” Mia began, spitting out the next fiendish thought that popped into her head. “Yes. This is just speculation, but if the D behind me—if the you behind me dies, won’t you die, too? You’re like one and same person, aren’t you?”
The fake D was clearly shaken. Mia’s words were more potent than she’d imagined, being right on the mark.
“Hmm, that may well be,” he said after some consideration, and it almost sounded like he was directing the comment at himself. “In that case, I can’t relax and think that I’m safe just because I’m out here. So, fortuneteller, got any bright ideas?”
The way he asked that with a completely straight face made Mia question if this man was truly D’s other self. But she couldn’t answer that. The ghastly aura against her back was almost at its limit.
“How could I possibly know that if you don’t?”
“Don’t be that way,” the grinning fake shot back, but his eyes gave off blood light.
“Now!”
It was miraculous how Mia acted without any pause or delay. Without a second to spare, she jumped from the driver’s seat toward the fake D.
The sound of ripping fabric made her blood freeze. The hem of her jacket had snagged on a nail poking up from the edge of the seat.
The fake D reached out.
For a fraction of a second, she was frozen in midair.
There was a flash of white light behind Mia.
-
D drew and struck in a single motion.
-
Sparks flew, and the blade was deflected.
-
D changed his stance, holding his blade out at eye level, while above him a voice gravely intoned, It would seem I am not the only one who would interfere with you. You must triumph, D. Not over me, but over yourself.
As the young man stood there stock still, all around him the clouds eddied.
-
“That was close.”
Having parried D’s unconscious sword blow, the fake D looked down at his own blade. It was unclear whether he was talking about the matter of the sword or Mia. As for the girl, he’d caught her at first, and then returned her to the driver’s seat.
“Thank you,” she told him as she turned and looked back at D.
Still gripping his sword, the gorgeous Hunter had fallen back into that strange slumber. Had the fake one not narrowly managed to draw and swing his own blade, Mia would’ve undoubtedly been bisected from one shoulder down to the opposite armpit. For the fake, parrying the blade had been far faster and easier than grabbing Mia and reeling her in.
“Shouldn’t we take away his sword?” Mia suggested, but the fake D shook his head.
“On the other side, I have to fight. We can’t be sure that our meddling out here wouldn’t have a negative impact. Let’s just leave him like that.”
“But he might—”
“If you’re that worried, come ride with me. At any rate, I can’t let my movements be constrained.”
“I see,” Mia replied, but then she giggled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Well, I just don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“The two of you—from what I’ve seen, you’re enemies, but you help each other at the strangest times. Is that how it is with twins?”
“I don’t know,” the fake D said, looking off into empty space. Shrouded in bluish darkness, his profile showed the sorrowful traces of what looked like fatigue. However, he quickly reclaimed his intense expression and stared at the distant outline of mountains that lay before them.
“It could be a long trip, it could be short—at any rate, all we can do is get going.”
“I know,” Mia said, tightening her grip on the reins.
-
The gate drew nearer. And in the aura that surrounded him, the killing lust grew stronger and stronger. If what the voice said was true, the murderous intent came from D himself.
“Calm down, D,” his left hand told him. “Something’s not right in your head. The way you’re secreting adrenaline—” The voice cut off.
A human figure had appeared before them.
“Oh—it’s you,” the left hand said with apparent distaste.
Though the approaching figure’s face couldn’t be discerned, anyone could’ve told who it was. The dashing silhouette, the elegant curve of the longsword on his back, that gait—all exactly like D.
-
“What in the—”
Suddenly besieged by a new wave of murder lust, Mia froze in the driver’s seat. What an endless, deadly battle it must be! Feeling more threatened by the slumbering D, Mia turned to the fake D.
A little scream resounded in the back of her throat.
What she found there was his horse alone. The other D had unexpectedly vanished right out of the saddle.
-
The D that’d just appeared halted about fifteen feet ahead of him.
“Is that you, me?” D asked, apparently sensing that this D might be the fake D he knew.
“Yes, indeed,” the new D replied, showing his pearly teeth. His cheery tone certainly sounded familiar. “I don’t know how it happened, but it looks like you called me. What’s more, it would seem we’re gonna have to have it out, eh?”
D already had his weapon drawn. The fake D drew as well, menace emanating from every inch of his body.
“I don’t know where we are, but it’s not a very pleasant setting. There’s all this pointless hostility blowing around.”
“Apparently it’s a product of my mind.”
The fake D tilted his head back and groaned at that. “So, does this mean I was born to be a homicidal maniac? This is more than I can handle. What we need is something to take the edge off, I’d say.”
“Think there’s anything like that here?”
Pondering this for a moment, the fake D then said, “Not really. It seems both of us are fated to travel troubled paths. I suppose it wouldn’t be too bad if we were to settle things here.”
Two blades rose smoothly into the air, and from them a transparent will to kill surpassing any malice rose in unseen flames.
If the two Ds crossed blades with all their lethal skill, what could possibly be the outcome? For anyone who lived on the Frontier, the answer to that was sure to be of interest—especially if what the fake said was to be believed, and that he was absolutely identical to the other D. Which would triumph? Which would be defeated? Though there was no one else there to see it, a deadly battle of the most staggering proportions was about to occur.
“Stay out of this, you hear?” D said, oddly enough. The remark had been addressed to his left hand.
It seemed for all the world as if they dug into the ground simultaneously. More than the steely war cry of sword meeting sword, it was the power in the legs they planted on the cloudlike ground that was astonishing, for the front foot of each sank in ankle deep.
The two shadowy figures stiffened. In power, they were equal. In accordance with the laws of physics, neither of them could move a muscle. Whichever one moved would be cut down. Both of them knew it.
But before they could sink into a motionless morass, both leapt away, one to either side. Flashes of white light intersected. They landed identically, each falling onto his left knee. A stark gleam protruded from the chest of each. Needles of unfinished wood.
“Knock it off!” the left hand shouted. “Keep fighting and you’ll both die! You’re perfectly matched in power.”
Apparently the only effect this attempt to stop them had was to fan their animosity. Like fierce black jungle cats, the two charged at each other. But this time was different. Choosing the shortest distance, D lunged from the right. The fake D used all of his weight to strike from the high position, as if splitting firewood. The result would be clear in a millisecond.
“Quit it!”
In a heartbeat, the two stayed their blades, flying back like ominous black birds. A slender figure had appeared in the path of their swords: the way they’d halted blades that’d been swung with all their might just before they made contact was a display of ungodly skill.
“Mia?” one of them groaned.
-
III
-
“How did you—” the fake D began to ask, but then he fell silent— having come there himself, there was nothing strange about Mia coming, too. If anything was mysterious about it, it was that at the very instant Mia appeared, the pair felt the raging storms of ill will within them fleeing like the tide. A second later, Mia had disappeared from view.
“Wow,” said the left hand.
“Wow,” said the fake D.
D’s lips remained buttoned.
“If that doesn’t beat all! All of a sudden, I’m all peaceful. I bet the same goes for the other me, too. Looks like we’ll have to call it a tie, eh?”
“What did she come for?” D said accusingly, but his voice had lost its intensity.
“As if you didn’t know,” the left hand said.
The fake D stood there somewhat awkwardly. Noticing the sword he still gripped, he sluggishly returned it to its sheath.
“All appearances to the contrary, that girl’s got a core of steel running through her. The fact she was able to get into your world so easily is proof of that. To be able to make two guys geared up for a bloody battle lose the will to fight just by poking her head in—yep, that’s one scary female.”
Though the fake D was scratching his head, the other D quietly stared forward. There lay the gate.
“Let’s go,” the Hunter said. He was already walking.
“I’ll leave the rest to you,” the fake D said.
All sign of him faded away.
“He’s gone back, has he?” the left hand remarked with some amusement.
-
“What is it?” the fake D asked from the back of his steed. “Don’t give me that look.”
“I’ll kindly thank you not to give me any funny looks,” the girl countered.
“It’s just that, for a second there, it seemed like you’d vanished.”
“Hey—that’s what I thought, too. I didn’t see you. But then, a second later, everything was back to normal—uh, was that what happened with me, too? I wonder what on earth went on there.”
“Well, I get the feeling I did battle with that me over there,” the fake D said, his gaze on where D lay.
“Well, if you did, it doesn’t seem to have had any unfortunate results. Look. His face looks so peaceful in his sleep. I’m sure no one’s ever seen that look on him before.”
“Probably not.”
“I wonder who in the world could’ve done that to him. It’s remarkable!”
“I’ll say. Come to think of it, I get the feeling I ran into you in that dream.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“No, really,” the fake D said with a nod. And then he stared at Mia as if looking on something of great importance.
The wagon and horse advanced through the darkness. All they could do now was wait for D.
Behind Mia, there was the sound of someone stirring.
“D?”
“So, is it the final battle at last?” the fake D said, his eyes shining.
-
As D got closer, the gate revealed itself in all its immensity. Its height must’ve been in excess of five hundred yards. There was a gigantic door, and the frame that supported it—and that was all. Though the door appeared to be made of wood, it had a horrible luster to it, and in that respect it was just like the apparent stonework of its frame. Its width was unknown. To either side, it melted away into walls of roiling cloud.
“Can you open it?” his left hand inquired.
“I’ve come this far. I’ll have to open it.”
“How?”
D quietly drew his sword. “If this world is of my mind’s making, my will alone should be enough to do something.”
Precisely, the voice remarked. You summoned me. Not to hinder you. To slay you on the spot. There is nothing more mysterious than the workings of the human mind, you know.
D advanced toward the door. His left hand pressed against it.
“So, its thickness is infinite? That’s about what I’d expect from his mental defenses. D, how are you supposed to unlock it?”
“I’m not going to unlock it.”
“What?”
D held his sword at the ready, poised for a thrust. Somewhere a cry of pain could be heard.
The clouds eddied. An almost imperceptible light played across their surface as they churned. It was unmistakably an energy current.
“What’s this?” the left hand shouted. He’d just felt D’s body absorbing the energy. “You really are something. Now you’ve finally learned how to control the very life of this world and make it do your bidding. Hell, it’s not even control, it’s just simple concentration. With that alone you—”
Eyes shut and not moving a muscle, D looked to be a beautiful sculpture. And the silently raging energy cloud was being drawn into his body.
“Stop it—or you’ll be killed!” the left hand cried excitedly.
-
The horse and the wagon stopped simultaneously. Before them, a black chain of mountains stood in their way. The top ridge had fused with the darkness.
“That’s the North Lake Mountain Range, isn’t it?” Mia said.
“Yeah. Orogenetic activity formed them about two hundred million years ago. So, Muma lies somewhere in them, then?”
“Probably. Don’t you know?”
“I haven’t a clue,” the fake replied, being perfectly clear on that point. “What I do know is—”
Looking once more at D in the wagon, the fake stiffened. Mia did, too.
“Come here. You’d do well to keep your distance.”
The fake D’s breath was frozen and white. This was no atmospheric abnormality. His lungs, or actually all his organs, were freezing up.
Mia had started to get up and was frozen with one hand extended. White breath discharged from her mouth, and then stopped.
“Oh, this isn’t good. Get over here.”
Moving the frozen Mia back behind his saddle, he said, “This time, he plans on opening that gate, I’d say.”
And having said this, the fake D scanned the wagon’s surroundings. “Oh, looks like we’ve got some odd participants gathering to celebrate the opening.”
Mia strained her ears, but she heard nothing. As the daughter of a fortuneteller, she’d received special training to sharpen all five of her senses. Even in a good-sized throng she’d be able to pick out any sound within six hundred feet, and in a quiet setting she could even hear footsteps a quarter mile away.
She was just about to ask where on earth they could be coming from when she was startled to see the fake D dismount. Stroking the back of his steed, which was the ordinary sort of cyborg horse they sold in every village, he was the picture of kindness as he gave his beloved mount some condensed nutritional supplements. As the horse’s muscles unknotted and its eyes watered, he turned his gaze to Mia and said, “They’re here.”
Mia had also noticed that, in the direction from which they came, a semicircular ball of spirit fire seemed to be bearing down on them. Standing out in the darkness like glowing wraiths were definite human forms on horseback. However, both the horses and the people were all bone. Bones pale as will-o’-the-wisps came into view in the darkness, swaying closer and closer in the kind of spectacle witnessed rarely even on the Frontier.
Coming to a halt some ten to fifteen feet from the pair, a skull attached to a particularly impressive skeletal frame asked them, “Are you the ones who hurt Barga?”
His tone was dark.
“Who’s that?” said the fake D.
“The monk back in the last village. He got in touch with us and asked us to go out and avenge him. Said we’d be looking for two guys with the same face and a girl, don’t you know.”
“So, what’s that depraved monk to you, a relative?”
“A colleague, by some stretch of the word. After travelers staying at his temple have left, he secretly sends us word of their destination. His cut is a bit high, but I guess that can’t really be helped.”
“You’re highwaymen?” the fake D said. “Even at that, those outfits are too much. In these getups, you must be going after women and children, eh?”
Glancing at the ten-strong riders, he continued, “I don’t owe it to anyone to take you guys out. Just make tracks. There’s going to be some trouble here soon.”
Needless to say, the trouble he was talking about involved D. His tone was derisive.
A malevolent air rose from the group of wraiths.
“We’ll take your severed heads and hang them at the entrance to our village. And that monk can handle your funeral. Not that you’ll be getting into heaven, mind you.”
A bony hoof scratched at the soil. That was the signal for a charge.
“Hold up just a second,” the fake D said, one hand raised. “What did you boys do to those travelers?”
Base laughter scuttled through the skeletal mob.
“What do you think, we apologized and sent them on their merry way? They’re all planted in the ground around here. Including the women and children you mentioned.”
“You don’t say.”
It may well have been that his foes only heard his voice.
The fake D leapt, coming down in front of the skeleton he’d been talking to and its horse, but no one even noticed him until he’d taken the heads off both the rider and the steed. His speed was incredible.
The booming shock wave when horse and rider fell roused the rest of the skeletons. Tightening their grips on glowing reins and kicking the flanks of horses with only bones visible, they made a mad rush at the fake D.
In the voids that had been the horses’ eye sockets, fireballs glowed. They shot out at the fake D in rapid succession, and where his blade parried them, a dazzling sphere of fire quickly swelled. One fiery sphere became two, then three, engulfing the fake D in light and turning that whole area into glowing ground. Everything dissolved into the white light, and before long that grew fainter, but no sign remained of either the cyborg horse or the fake D.
“D?” Mia cried out from the driver’s seat in spite of herself.
“One of our guys knows how to control the Nobility’s nuclear power. He showed us how to use that weapon you just saw there. Hardly puts out any radiation at all, so you can relax.”
“How kind of you,” Mia replied with all the sarcasm she could muster.
“Now that I’ve had a good look at you, I can see that even if you’re a bit boyish, you’ve got a sexy mug on you. Instead of getting rid of you out here, we might be better off selling you to a traveling slave factory.”
“No chance in hell,” the girl snorted, turning her face away with distaste until bony white fingers sank into her shoulder.
“Get down from there,” a skeleton with a dirk ordered her, but Mia vanished right before him, appearing without warning five or ten feet away at the nose of a different horse. The startled mount whinnied and reared up. This was repeated with all the horses, plunging the group into chaos.
There were those who somehow managed to control the animals rising on their hind legs, those who fell from the saddle, and those who were trampled by the horses after falling. Screams and whinnies shook the night air.
Suddenly a ghostly light formed in one spot, swelling into a little fireball about three feet in diameter. Though it didn’t emit the radiation associated with nuclear fission or fusion, its core temperature still reached ten thousand degrees. When the fireball began to contract, the paralyzed Mia appeared right next to it. At the same time the glowing sphere of fire faded, she toppled forward. The left half of her body, which had been exposed to the light, was smoking.
“That did the trick. Half her face is burned, but what the hell, we’ll still get good money for her,” the one who’d unleashed the fireball guffawed from the back of his steed.
But then a voice whispered in his ear, “Go to hell.”
“Wha—”
A peaceful sort of surprise was the last feeling the skeleton ever experienced.
Kicking the skeleton whose head had been so neatly severed right off his horse, the fake D gave an angelic smile from his place in the saddle to the badly shaken bandit group. The bony white steed beneath him seemed to suit him better than it did the skeleton rabble.