CHAPTER 4

-

I

-

The second the Hunter passed through the enormous gate, the world began to change. The walls, floor, ceiling, and pillars that’d had straight lines and right angles until that point rippled like a heat shimmer, losing all proper geometry. Even the sunlight began to shine from impossible angles, casting shadows in impossible places.

“A force field’s creating a distortion,” the Hunter’s left hand said, sounding repulsed. “Those old-time Nobles sure did believe in a strange god. They’d have been better off believing in just the Sacred Ancestor. Oh, what’s this?”

Up ahead, the floor rippled like waves and twisted, and where it swapped places with the ceiling, they could see the back of a figure in black.

“That’s you, D! Interesting. So, space has been distorted too? Right now, if you were to throw a stake, it’d probably go right through your own back.”

D remained silent, seemingly taking in what remnants of battle were still left around him. Pillars were smashed, a huge hole had been blasted in the floor, and part of the ceiling was melted. The Sacred Ancestor’s army had pushed in this far.

Presently there appeared ahead of them a cyclopean doorway that could only be described as a parallelogram on the verge of collapse. Ten yards from it, D halted. The doors were two panels of lustrous black metal. In front of the entrance—hinged to open down the middle—lay fragments of bizarre sculptures that had apparently been decorations for the doorway. The utter indifference of the unblemished doors became an overwhelming force thanks to their sixty-foot height and thirty-foot width. No weapons the Sacred Ancestor’s forces possessed were any use beyond this portal—not even a dimensional cannon could obliterate the doors.

“All alone, the Sacred Ancestor opened these doors and went inside. And returned a year later. They say he never did tell anyone what happened in that time.”

The surface of the Hunter’s left hand rippled and shook, the muscles quaked, and a tiny human face took shape.

“The Nobility succeeded in calling forth gods. That much is certain. When they first attacked this place, the Sacred Ancestor’s army had thirty thousand men—but they were wiped out in a day. By nothing short of the power of a god. It’s said the only one to escape was the Ultimate Noble, Grand Duke Valcua. If left to its own devices, their god surely would’ve conquered the world. But it wasn’t perfect. The day the Sacred Ancestor himself took the field, it allowed him to make it this far, then squared off with him. Just thinking about what kind of battle took place behind those doors gives me goose bumps. After the contest, they say the Sacred Ancestor went to sleep for a hundred years. Apparently it took quite a toll on him.”

“He screwed up,” D said.

“Too true,” the left hand confessed. “And that’s why you’re out here. But no matter how you look at it, you shouldn’t have taken this job. Look at my goose bumps! I bet even the Sacred Ancestor got them. The question is, can we even get these doors open?”

If you’d asked a hundred people this, all one hundred replies would’ve been in the negative.

The door trembled and twisted without a moment’s rest, and even when D stepped forward and put his left hand to it, it still didn’t take its normal shape. After applying a little force, D quickly pulled his hand back.

“Damn,” the face in it groaned. “Why, the power you put into it heads off in a different direction—or rather, it just spirals off! At this rate, that door could be made of tissue paper and you still couldn’t get it open.”

The voice flowed. Once D’s left hand had entered his coat pocket, the sound of something being chewed could be heard. When he pulled his hand out again, it had a little mouth in it. Black dirt tumbled from its lips as it chomped away.

“Been a while since I did that,” the hoarse voice stated with pleasure.

D put his left forefinger against his right wrist and pulled it lightly. A fine vermilion line immediately appeared, and D put the palm of his left hand beneath the blood that spilled out. The bright blood flowed into the tiny mouth. The mouth coughed, and then D took his left hand away and stroked the wound. The bleeding ceased. And the wound began to fade.

When he raised the hand high, the mouth let out a belch. With a great roar the wind whirled around—it was being sucked into the mouth with terrific force. Pale blue flames burned in the depths of its maw. Earth, wind, fire, and water had been assembled.

Once again the black-gloved hand touched the surface of the iron door. The Hunter didn’t seem to put any particular force behind it. He remained that way for five seconds. Then ten.

Look. Both halves of the door swung in ever so slightly with a creak. The crack where the iron doors met became a fine line of light, its thickness grew, and from beyond it blew a mysterious black wind. Was there nothing concerning the Nobility that this young man couldn’t handle? The iron doors that were supposed to disperse all force applied to them now seemed ready to yield.

It was then that the change happened. In the stone wall to either side of the iron doors was a three-foot-deep niche, fifteen feet long, and each of them housed three monklike statues in hooded robes, though the ones to the right of the doorway had their heads lying down at their feet, while the three to the left remained intact.

The latter trio had begun to move. Letting out the kinds of grotesque screams that were inconceivable from any human throat, they writhed on the floor. They were the movements of stone; there was no mistaking that. However, little by little, they were becoming more human. Even the colors of their robes became evident. Dark blue, yellow, and gray.

“The six guardian knights,” the hoarse voice said. “Three of them were beheaded by the Sacred Ancestor. But supposedly the other three were turned to stone. And they say those three were the only ones that managed to wound the Sacred Ancestor. So, the legends are true? People turned to stone, stone changing into human beings . . . D,
you have to take care of these clowns first.”

D turned. He knew that what his left hand said was true.

The robed figures charged toward him like the wind. The Hunter’s right hand went for his weapon’s hilt. A silvery gleam shot toward the neck of the one in front of him. It could even cleave rock.

“Oh!”

The cry of astonishment was overlaid with a metallic sound. One of those who’d just finished turning into a human being—the one in the yellow robe—had parried the blow—a blow from D’s sword! An instant later, a blade whizzed toward D. The parry had become an attack. Sparks shot out twice—and the two combatants switched places. The robed figure reeled, clutching his belly as he twisted around. Not taking another strike at him, D flew through the air. A blow mowed through the position he’d occupied, then headed for where he landed. It was from the figure to the rear—the foe in dark blue.

At this point, heaven and earth shook. Though D managed to land safely, his opponent was thrown off balance. Not facing his foe, D dashed in the direction of the corridor that had led him there, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

“Were you whipped?” the hoarse voice groaned, sounding like it had to squeeze the words out.

D’s left shoulder was split open. Fresh blood fell to the floor. The one in the yellow robe had scored a hit.

“Even for you, those three are a lot to handle. Don’t take them on unless you can do it one on one.”

Not replying, D looked at the gate. The doors slammed shut.

Once again, heaven and earth shook.

“What’s that?”

This time, the voice got an answer.

“An attack from outside. This was a fortress, wasn’t it?”

Undaunted, the gorgeous figure in black started back the way he’d come at a rapid clip. But behind him, the number of headless statues had increased by one.

-

On his return, D was met by Jan and Weizmann. He learned Bierce had gone to the command center to get a peek at what was happening outside.

“I’m going, too. Don’t leave this room.”

As D quickly turned around, Jan was right behind him.

“Take me with you. I’m sick and tired of babysitting women and children.”

“It’s a job just the same.”

“I’ll do as I please!” the mobster shouted, and then his eyes met D’s. The mobster stopped moving.

“I told you not to leave this room.”

Not waiting for his reply, D went through the door. It was precisely thirty seconds later that Jan’s metabolism returned to normal.

-

The command center was on the seventh floor of the fortress. All told, the fortress had ten floors. All of the electronic devices arrayed in the vast chamber had been destroyed. It was apparent at a glance that they were powerless. From the window the warrior could see outside—that, at least, was something.

The holographic schematic in the medical center had given them the layout of the fortress. Carved out of the heart of a mountain, the fortress was protected by a rock wall that towered more than a hundred yards high. To either side of the natural stronghold, walls towered in excess of two hundred yards, while the defile between them was so tight that only one person at a time could pass, hampering enemy invaders.

Before the rocky stronghold there had once lain three layers of defenses, but all of them had been destroyed by the Sacred Ancestor’s forces, leaving only a cratered expanse. And beyond that—in a spot about a mile and a quarter away—the ground was covered with innumerable troops and weapons. The armored soldiers were divided into infantry in yellow and cavalry in green astride cyborg horses, while the figures in blue and green lingering in the rear on the tanks were probably the commanders or other high-ranking officers. Bathed in the light of midday, the vibrant colors seemed to gleam brilliantly.

“They’re not Nobility—so what are they?” Bierce mused as he peered down from a window where all the glass had broken out, but just then the door behind him opened.

“D?”

When Bierce turned to look, his eyes were greeted by a man in a yellow robe closing on him. There was no killing lust about him. And yet, the warrior’s body was rapidly cooling from its core. Within the robed man’s hood was a face that some would even describe as refined, and a faint smile now graced it.

While he was making a leap to the right along the window, Bierce swung his right arm. His aim was flawless—the arrows he hurled had dropped everything he aimed for until now.

As the man in the robe dashed, his right hand flashed out. Striking down both arrows with ease, he moved with unbelievable speed toward the rooted Bierce.

A broad blade fell toward him—the blow would split him like a piece of kindling. Bierce parried it with the arrows in his left hand. Cutting through two of the four the warrior clutched, the blade got halfway through a third shaft, and then halted. Bierce knew he was in a fix. Though he thought he’d been braced well enough to parry the blow, his opponent’s strength was beyond his expectations. His feet felt heavy, as if they were sticking to the floor. He could neither flee nor attack.

His face still emotionless, the other man put more strength behind his assault. The third arrow snapped. The edge of his blade was sinking into the fourth shaft.

Is this where I cash out? the warrior thought, and then even more strength was brought to bear on him, driving Bierce down on one knee.

-

II

-

The foe’s power was focused on the relentless pursuit of Bierce’s demise. As soon as he made the last push, the warrior would be finished.

Without warning, the pressure abated. Even before Bierce sprang up, the man leapt to the right, putting a scorched automated table to his back. His blade pointed at Bierce, the enemy turned his face toward the door—and saw D standing there. Impatience bubbled into his hitherto-emotionless face.

“Stay out of this,” Bierce called over to the Hunter, drawing a fresh arrow.

The enemy turned to Bierce. He seemed to be shouldering the blade of his sword as he charged forward.

Leaping back, Bierce swung both arms. His opponent’s blade flashed out, cutting down the first four arrows. And he had speed and time enough to do the same to the remaining four. However, they evaded a swipe of his sword and sank into the floor, while the timing of the third attack was staggered, scattering the arrows like the seeds of an impatiens.

A cry of pain rang out. Although the enemy had cut down two of the arrows, one of the remaining ones pierced him from the right shoulder to the lung, while the other stuck horizontally into the right side of his neck. When four arrows had come at him at the same time, the enemy had easily taken them out with his swordplay, but when they simultaneously came from different angles, he was powerless to stop them. With two arrows sticking out of him, the foe in yellow simply stood there for a moment, and then fell flat on his back.

On seeing this, Bierce finally exhaled. There was laughter in his heart. Taking a deep breath, he let it fill him, then let it out again. He repeated this once more, and then his breathing was back to normal.

“Well done.”

When he looked up, D was beside him. He alone knew the power of the foe Bierce had slain. And for that reason, his praise carried great weight.

“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t say thank you,” Bierce responded. “I knew I’d gotten rusty, but I had no idea it was this bad. I was so afraid of knowing for sure, I even skipped training. And now it’s coming back to haunt me.”

With a disheartening promptness D went over to the window and peered out. The wistful glory days of others didn’t interest this young man in the least. The blood-chilling beauty of his frozen profile no doubt captivated Bierce.

Looking out the window from beside D, he said, “They’re not Nobility, eh?”

Countless colorful forms filled the valley—they reminded the warrior of insects stuffed into a little box. Naturally, there were humanoid soldiers, but there were also spiderlike figures clinging to the cliffs. Perhaps the reason there weren’t any in the water had something to do with their being an army of the Nobility.

“They’re the Sacred Ancestor’s army,” the Hunter said.

“What?”

“Part of the destroying forces were sealed away somewhere to guard against this fortress going back into operation. They were probably in a pocket dimension, though there seem to be a bit too many for that.”

“Roughly thirty thousand—and there’s no telling if that’s all of ’em or not.” The warrior looked at D and asked, “Why’d the fortress start up again?”

“Because I came along.”

“And you brought us all here knowing that would happen?”

“If nothing had been done, those three would’ve died. Besides, it was all of you who decided to follow me.”

Bierce was at a loss for words.

“I came here to put down a god. However, it’s probably protecting you now. It’s ironic.”

“But we—”

Before Bierce could finish speaking, he was assailed by a tremendous impact. The fortress carved from the rock of the mountain trembled—for the mountain itself was shaking. However, it wasn’t for the expected reason.

“They’re not doing anything out there!” Bierce shouted, one hand planted against the wall to support his body. “Not firing any missiles or atomic cannons at us. Yet the place is shaking like mad—I don’t get it.”

Although he stared at D in expectation of some sort of answer, the owner of that heavenly countenance made no reply, but simply gazed in silence at the land. His face was unexpectedly thrown into shadow.

As he crinkled his brow, Bierce too was assimilated by the darkness.

“What’s that shadow from?” Bierce asked, fright having taken residence in his voice. Reckless outlaw or warrior, so long as a person remained human, he couldn’t eliminate fear from his consciousness. Perhaps that was what made humans such odd and hopeless beasts. And now, that fear had ridden out on his words to show itself.

An enormous shadow covered the world outside. Sliding over the ground, the walls, the remains of the defenses, it closed on the Sacred Ancestor’s vast army. The army began to retreat—they’d noticed the shadow’s true form. As they systematically backed away from the rear, they remained facing forward—but they weren’t in time. The shadow swallowed half of the thirty thousand.

There was a light. Beneath it, soldiers could be seen. Suddenly it was engulfed in black. The blackness deepened only in the spot where the soldiers had been swallowed up. The shadow then moved away . . . but there was no sign of the soldiers there.

“Half of them—fifteen thousand men—just gone!” Bierce exclaimed, wiping his brow. At some point, sweat had started to pour from him. But now there was no shadow. “What was that shadow, anyway? D, you must’ve seen it, right?”

D nodded. Bierce suspected that this man knew everything. If not, how could he remain so calm after seeing that? The shadow, which had painted over the silhouettes of the two men in the room before spiriting off fifteen thousand people to parts unknown, possessed countless writhing tentacles.

“That thing—was it the god?”

“That’s right.”

The Hunter’s calm reply physically chilled Bierce. What were this man’s nerves made of?

“The enemy has withdrawn, but they’ll be back again.”

D watched the soldiers retreat down the valley, then turned and headed for the door.

“There’s no guarantee the power of this god will be manifested every time. Nor should it be allowed to. Go back downstairs.”

“Please, wait,” Bierce called to him. “If you hadn’t come, I’d have been killed. Ten years ago, I’d have held my own, but now I just get knocked around. It doesn’t matter what I’m fighting. The folks downstairs think I’m still a full-fledged warrior, but the truth is I’m washed up. I can’t do squat.”

He spat out his confession like a glob of blood.

D didn’t even halt. As he passed through the doorway, his steely voice came back to Bierce, saying, “You’re alive. The others downstairs are counting on you.”

“Yeah, but I’m—” he called out, but by then D was already through the door and out of sight.

-

Those in the treatment center already knew that the battle had begun. Huddling around D and Bierce upon their return, they all sought some explanation. When D clarified the situation, their anxiety only deepened.

“So what happens if we stay here like this? If the fortress falls, will we all be killed?”

“Yes.”

When D said this, his verification of the cold, hard truth was merciless.

“And knowing this would happen, you led us here. You cold-hearted bastard!”

Though Maria’s body trembled with rage, when D gave her the same reply he’d given Bierce, the woman fell silent.

“In other words, we’re caught between a rock and a hard place,” Weizmann summarized, looking as if he were about to scream at any minute. He was fighting back his fear, too. “The enemy’s going to attack the god that started this place up again. On the other hand, the god will counterattack. So, to our friend the Hunter here, who’s supposed to put down this god, both are enemies, and both are allies. The forces outside could help attack the god, while the god protects us from the army trying to kill us. What do you plan on doing?”

“It’s simple. Kill the damn god!” Jan snapped, his hostility naked and virulent. “Then, if all goes well, we get the hell out of here as fast as we can. Instead of walking around with all that dead weight, I could make better time on my own. Oh, delivery boy, you can stick with him, because it was your bright idea to hire him in the first place. How do you plan on paying him?”

“That was the best we could do at the time. You think we’d have been better off just hanging around in that valley waiting to die, you stupid little hood? If we make it back to the Capital in one piece, I’ll give you a taste of my clout. I’ll have your punk ass in front of a firing squad the same day we get there.”

“Don’t make me laugh, you stupid flunky! There ain’t a chance of an incompetent like you making it out of here alive. Either those clowns out there will shoot you full of holes, or our wonderful god is gonna gobble you up. It’s fine if you wanna pretend you’re running the show, but I doubt you can even wipe your own ass.”

“You little son of a bitch!” Weizmann growled, his hand going for the motor gun by his hip. The cylindrical magazine rested at his feet.

“You want a piece of me?” Jan said, getting a firm grip on the hilt of his broadsword.

“Hold it right there. This is disgusting,” Maria said, stepping between them. “We’ve got three sick people in the next room. They can hear every word you say. If you’re grown men, try acting like it. So, good-looking, you sure you don’t want to come up with some way to get all of us out of here first?”

“I’ve got something to do before that,” D replied.

Maria shrugged her shoulders. Though she had experience changing men’s minds, she knew in an instant that this time it wasn’t going to work. That being the case, she had to look for the next best alternative.

“Then we could always take off on our own. What do you think, warrior?”

Bierce nodded. He shared her sentiment.

“The best thing to do would be either to go by boat under cover of night or scale the mountain behind us, I suppose.”

Having said this, he looked at D to gauge his reaction, but all that lay before him was the Hunter’s icy beauty. D had promised to protect them once he’d taken care of his previous engagement. If they were to nullify that, they would mean nothing to him.

Looking at the door to the treatment center, Bierce said to Maria, “We can get out of here, but can we bring them with us?”

Heaving a sigh, the woman shook her head. “That’s the tricky part. All three of them are running high fevers now, moaning and groaning. They need two or three days of complete bed rest. If we had some medicine, they wouldn’t be in such pain, though.”

Silence descended—it was the silence of everyone waiting for someone else to save them.

“Leave ’em.”

It wasn’t clear who said this. Nor could they even tell which direction it’d come from. They all eyed each other uncomfortably. The remark had made one thing perfectly clear.

“That’s a hell of a thing to say,” Jan said, glaring all around him, but his voice had no force behind it.

No one responded.

“At any rate, when we leave, we’ll all be going together,” Weizmann finally said, and the rest of the group nodded in unison.

Turning to D, he said, “Seems your job is to defeat this god thing, but what are your chances?”

“You mean to tell me you only take jobs you know you can do?” D replied frostily. “I can’t say that I’ll come out on top. I can’t say how long it’ll take, either. So you folks have to choose your own path. But since a Noble’s after you, I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”

The officer was at a loss for words, and everyone looked down at the floor. Weizmann himself had come up with the lie about him being pursued by a Noble.

“But first, you have to wait until this job is finished. Whether you make a break during that time or stay here is up to you. You’ve got a leader for that.”

No one looked at Weizmann.

“I’m off. I leave the rest to you.”

As D walked away, no one called out to him. He was right. Everyone had to look out for themselves. This was the Frontier.

-

III

-

After turning a fourth corner, D suddenly halted.

“What is it?” asked a hoarse voice from the vicinity of his left hand.

“The path is changing.”

“I don’t sense anything at all.”

“That’s how the believers brought it human sacrifices.”

“Hmm, you’re just full of fun facts, aren’t you. Well, it sure seems they don’t wanna let you reach the god. Looks like that time with the Sacred Ancestor took a lot out of it.”

“Make a path.”

“Again?”

A slight belch came from the palm of his left hand.

Just then, a figure came into view at the far end of the gloom-shrouded corridor.

“We’ve got company,” the hoarse voice said with amusement.

The hooded robe was a grayish hue. The man inside it already held his longsword in his right hand. Before D drew his, his opponent charged at him without a word.

The instant his foe brought his sword down, D’s right hand flashed into action. With a mellifluous sound the blades bit together. As he parried his opponent’s blow, D stood perfectly straight. D then easily reversed the force that traveled from his waist to the soles of his feet. Adding just a tad more power to it, he sent his opponent flying.

By the time the hooded figure made a desperate bid to regain his posture, D was already overhead, transformed into a mystic black bird. He swung his blade down. Beneath it, his foe’s face warped with despair—though D saw something a split second before he struck. His opponent’s miserable look had become a smile.

As he felt his sword cleave the man from the left side of his neck all the way to the right lung, D experienced a blistering pain in exactly the same location and staggered backward. His foe was also reeling. But look at his foe as he just barely managed to stay on his feet—the black coat, the wide-brimmed traveler’s hat, the longsword he carried, the blue pendant that swayed against his chest. He was exactly like D. However, while blood gushed like a waterfall from the gaping wound on the real D, this one was calmly smiling.

And then the foe adjusted his footing and launched a vicious attack. Narrowly blocking it, D leapt back, hurling a rough wooden stake as he did so. It pierced his bounding foe through the base of his throat, and blood then spilled from the throat of the real D. D was down on one knee as his double walked over to him and raised his blade to strike. The tip of it shook ever so slightly.

A streak of stark light skimmed along the surface of the ground. A futile blow—but while D was unaffected by it, his foe received a deep gash to his right knee. Tumbling forward without a sound, the Hunter’s opponent barely managed to turn himself around.

As he listened to the sound of his foe fleeing with a trail of blood behind him, D used the sword he’d jabbed into the floor to steady himself. The agony surging through his body didn’t draw so much as a single cry from him.

“They made another you,” the hoarse voice said in amazement. “And he was the real thing, too. As a result, when this real one gets cut, the other real one is cut too. Hmm, there’s a certain logic to that.”

And after relating this, the hand followed the trail of blood across the floor, saying, “He might’ve become you, but he couldn’t keep the face. That’s why he took off in the middle of your battle.”

The voice flowed upward—D had gotten to his feet. While he’d sustained life-threatening injuries in two places, the bleeding had stopped. He didn’t seem to be in any pain at all as the hem of his coat fluttered out around him and he turned to walk away. At his back, there was the sound of his hilt clicking against the scabbard.

-

“This is a hell of a place we’ve come to!” Jan said, swinging the broadsword in his right hand. He wanted to cut into their enemies so badly he could hardly stand it. The sound of his weapon knifing through the wind was unusually sharp, proving that he’d braced his hips for added power.

“We’ve got a castle that houses a monster, and a ghost army from ages ago laying siege to it. It’s like a play you’d see at some Frontier festival!”

“There’s not a lot we can do about it. After all, we’re the ones who followed the Hunter here. Now, if you’re really a man, why don’t you pull yourself together? You swinging that shiny toy all over the place isn’t exactly what I want to see.”

“Shut up, you slut—a woman’s not worth shit when the going gets tough. Keep flapping those lips of yours, and you’ll wind up crying yourself hoarse!”

“What’d you say, you petty thug?” Maria said, getting up from her chair and slowly heading toward Jan.

“Hey, knock it off,” Officer Weizmann called over to them.

Bierce leaned back against the wall and remained silent.

“Keep your nose out of this, delivery boy!” Jan shouted, thrusting the tip of his broadsword toward the chest of the approaching Maria.

“Wow, pretty impressive. You feel like a big man, waving a blade at an unarmed woman?” Maria said, not a speck of fright in her expression. Looking Jan square in the eye, she continued, “Go into any bar in the Frontier and you’ll find a heap of guys like you. You think you’re special, different from everyone else. Now you’re just a mobster or a drunk, but if you set your mind to it, you could make something of yourself anytime you like. That’s the kind of self-serving pipe dream you idiots believe. Those are the very same guys who’re the first to turn tail and head for the hills when the going gets tough. All you’re good for is acting like a big man in front of women and children.”

“You bitch!” Jan snarled, his whole face stained vermilion. As it gripped the hilt of his broadsword, his right hand trembled with rage.

“What’s the matter? If you’ve got a problem with me, go ahead and make something of it with that pig sticker of yours. If you can’t even manage that, then drop the tough-guy routine!”

“Why, you little—”

Jan’s field of view clouded with rage. It was pitch black, like the middle of the night.

Bierce pulled away from the wall.

“They’re coming,” said a voice. It was faint, but it speared through the deathly silence to pound against their eardrums.

Turning in the direction of the voice, Maria suddenly looked surprised as she said, “Kid?”

Standing in front of the door to the recovery ward with the bed sheets wrapped around him was Toto. He didn’t have a change of clothes. But his damp things would be dry by now.

Glaring at the frozen Jan, Maria walked over to the boy. His little face was flushed as red as an apple. Touching her hand to his forehead, Maria looked like she was going to cry.

“You’ve got a terrible fever. Hey, one of you, locate the storeroom on that map and go find us some medicine. Well, what are you waiting for, you lazy slobs? If you don’t wanna go, I’ll go do it myself!”

Once again, that tiny voice returned to the earlier topic. Moving lips made dry by his fever, Toto said, “They’re coming.”

“Who are?” Maria asked, and it came as little surprise her tone was somewhat unsettled.

The others all listened intently from their respective locations.

“Three people—really scary ones—from outside.”

“Scary people? Who are they?”

The small head shook from side to side. “I don’t know. But there are three of them. And they’re almost here.”

Everyone looked at the door and the window. There was no sign of anyone. Outside, it was evening. From that place of jostling darkness and night, there could be no doubt that three disturbing figures had slipped into the fortress.

“Assassins?” Weizmann asked Bierce.

“Probably. After the rumbling, the enemy didn’t pull anything else. You couldn’t see it from here, but this side counterattacked. The hand of their god reached out and slapped them right back. They must’ve seen that a hard push would leave them at a disadvantage. If you can’t conquer from without, destroy from within—that’s the first rule of laying siege.”

“Then those three came in here to put down the god all on their own?”

“Can you think of another reason they’d be here?”

“What happens if they run into us?”

“Try explaining our situation to them, and they’ll probably say what a shame that is, forget all about what they’re supposed to be doing, and save us all,” the warrior remarked snidely.

“Just perfect! Killers from outside. They’d better pray they don’t run into me,” Jan said, breaking into a grin as if he’d forgotten all about the earlier incident. His broadsword sliced through the air again.

In a completely emotionless tone, Bierce said, “These are three guys who were considered up to the task of disposing of a god. You’d do well to watch out. Maria, if you value your life, don’t go outside.”

“Oh, of course I won’t—or I wouldn’t, but I don’t have a choice,” Maria said, her low, urgent tone drawing the attention of the entire group. The boy rested in the woman’s pale arms. It was clear that he’d passed out from his fever.

“Put the kid back into bed for me. I’m gonna go find some medicine,” she said, but even though she held out the boy, no one took him from her. “Oh, you’re all worthless! Here, he’s all yours!”

Walking over to Jan, who was closest, she thrust the diminutive form against his chest.

“Wh—what the hell? Why’re you giving him to me?”

“Because you’re at the bottom of the pecking order.”

“You—you stupid bitch!”

The pair of them were about to start round two—but then another voice interrupted. A laughing voice. It was the evil cackle of an imp that relished no morsel more than the suffering of others—that was the only way to describe the malevolence of the laughter.

Everyone looked in its direction. This time, even Bierce turned slowly.

A figure squatted next to a ravaged data-processing unit. The suckling. The same man who was bound by a rope to the leg of the unit. The man who up until now hadn’t said a single word. A man who, having received the kiss of the Nobility, ordinarily would’ve long since been killed by his countrymen. This man was laughing. Not from lunacy. It was laughter underpinned by reason, as if he understood everything—all that had happened up until now, and everything that would come next. That is, supposing a devil could possess reason.

ASSASSINATION