A SHADOW OVER THE CASTLE RUINS

CHAPTER 7

—

I

—

When the guns turned his way, all Beatrice could do was grit his teeth. He’d missed his chance to run. Flames filled his field of view. He watched to see if they would billow toward him. Instead of jumping away, he hit the ground. What came wasn’t a blast from the tank’s gun. Twisted armor plating and scalding-hot pieces of pipe ripped through the air above him, and then the shock wave came. He thought it was going to carry away all the baggage on his back. Though he covered his ears, the massive explosion that occurred at such close quarters was trying its damnedest to shatter his eardrums.

Feeling woozy, Beatrice got to his feet. Flames burned in the spot where the tank had been. Distant areas of brush and stands of trees where the shrapnel had fallen were on fire. Apparently he’d been just the right distance away. Any closer and he would’ve been engulfed by the fireball, any farther away and he’d have probably been hit by shrapnel.

Beatrice had just one thought.

“Who the hell did that?” he said, wondering about the destruction of the tank.

Suddenly, a series of shots struck him in the temple. Leaving him numbed to the core of his brain, the blast had clearly come from a machine gun. The warrior thudded to the ground. But as he fell, he readied his own machine gun. He intended to fire wherever he sensed the enemy. Clearly there were a large number of them approaching.

Opening his eyes a crack, he watched intently. If Beatrice wasn’t good at playing dead, he wouldn’t have been in this line of work.

He sensed someone halting off to his left—it couldn’t have been more than three feet from him. There were four of them. Moving only his eyeballs, Beatrice watched through the crack in his eyelids.

What the hell? he thought.

The supernatural soldiers looked just like all the others he’d seen, except their uniforms were a different color. These seemed to be a deep green.

Is this another unit?

“Finish him,” he heard someone say. One of them took the elongated, riflelike weapon he carried and aimed it right between Beatrice’s eyes.

I’m afraid not, buddy!

Ready to jump up, Beatrice tried to pull the trigger back as far as it would go without firing.

“What the—” he exclaimed.

The trigger wouldn’t budge. The warrior remembered that when he’d toppled, the firing mechanism had struck the ground.

That’s all it takes to jam it? What a piece of shit! Beatrice thought, despair sinking into his heart like a knife.

A black gale unexpectedly gusted through the quartet. As they thudded to the ground, all of them split open at the shoulder.

“Heya!” the giant exclaimed, the tension immediately draining from him.

As the fallen Beatrice lay on the ground with one arm raised, just in front of him the gale took the form of D.

“You saved my hide,” Beatrice said, winking at the Hunter. “Who are these jokers? They seem to belong to a different command from the others.”

“The mercenaries split into two factions before they fought. Each side had their own employer.”

“Who?”

“The battle in the past took place between Grand Duke Dorleac and his son. This is a repeat of that conflict.”

“Just how do you know that? There’s no record of that crap anywhere!”

There was no reply.

“Why’d they fight?”

“It’s unclear.”

“Then you don’t know about this time, either, eh? Upsy-daisy!” Beatrice said, getting to his feet. “What happened to Mr. Twin Personalities?”

“At least one of them will be okay.”

“For a pretty face, you say some heartless shit, you know.”

Beatrice turned away from the four soldiers. Harsh cries and bursts of gunfire were audible.

“They die in battle, just so they can be revived and fight again? That’s gotta suck. I wonder if we’ll even be able to find that girl now.”

“Let’s go,” said the Hunter, leaving only his gorgeous voice behind.

Beatrice stared as the figure of unearthly beauty quickly walked away.

When they arrived ten minutes later, the fighting had ended.

“Well, that was pretty damned fast!”

It’d been a small encampment—one of fifty soldiers, at most. Yet now that not a single figure was moving, it was quite eerie. Tanks, artillery, and buildings had all been destroyed, and tiny fires danced all around. But what really caught the warrior’s eye was the soldiers’ corpses littering the ground.

“Wow, that’s some carnage right there. A thorough sweep. They took out everyone.”

“That’s funny.”

“Huh?” the warrior exclaimed, the eyes he had trained on D bulging in their sockets thanks to the hoarse voice he’d heard.

“Even if it was a surprise attack, these clowns were all set for battle. They’ve even got their weapons in hand. But there ain’t a single one of the enemy lying here.”

“Now that you mention it, all I see lying here are guys in gray. You know, sometimes you start sounding like an old geezer, right out of the blue.”

Without warning, D halted. “They’ve been drained,” he murmured.

“Just like in the legends,” the old geezer’s voice responded.

This is a hell of a time to be doing a ventriloquist act! Beatrice thought. Is this some of that stand-up comedy like they do in the towns down south?

“What legends?” Beatrice asked, with a bad feeling all the while.

The hoarse voice replied, “They say that while Dorleac’s son drank blood like a normal Noble, the Grand Duke sucked life directly from his prey. In other words, he was an aberration. One theory is that it was the grand duke’s manner of feeding that put him on the Sacred Ancestor’s bad side.”

“So, no love for the freak? . . . Huh?” Beatrice exclaimed, turning his gaze to his left at the same time D faced that way.

A wind blew at them, or something like a wind. Was it someone’s aura?

The barricades that shielded the encampment were all being destroyed by it. Beyond them, there was someone. No, something.

“Unbelievable,” Beatrice said, shuddering. Behind his teeth, he began chanting something. A spell for trapping spirits.

D simply stared, saying nothing.

Footsteps were approaching from the darkness. Though whoever it was should’ve felt D’s unearthly air, the figure didn’t seem to hesitate.

D’s eyes could see clearly. They made out a caped figure nearly seven feet tall. From either hand dangled what were apparently soldiers. He gripped them by the belts of their uniforms. Each step across the ground sounded like a spade cutting into the earth.

The figure in the dark green cape loomed about ten feet from D.

“Who are you, that you might enter the land of death I’ve prepared without any fear?”

“I’ll have your name first.”

At D’s reply, the figure in green shivered faintly. “Such an exquisite voice—and what lovely features. Perhaps I shall have to fight you blind. O beauteous and fearless one, I am Grand Duke Dorleac.”

“I’m known as D.”

“Never heard of you. But I couldn’t be happier! How pleasing, that a treasure like you has been born in the last five millennia. This far-too-tedious world still has its graces, it would seem.”

“Why have you returned?” D asked bluntly.

“That I don’t know,” the giant in green—Grand Duke Dorleac—replied, his tone becoming distant. “Would that I’d been left at rest. But I’m not without my suspicions.”

“And they would be?”

“My son Drago has also come back. It’s likely due to that.”

“You intend to slay your son?”

“My son is out to get me, just as in days of yore. And for that we incurred the wrath of the Sacred Ancestor.”

“Why do the two of you fight?”

The grand duke’s lips twisted, revealing his pearly teeth. The trenchant fangs characteristic of the Nobility were absent, for he had no need of them.

“I’m quite proud of these teeth, you know. They’re much nicer than my son’s.”

Unexpectedly he raised his right hand high. The soldier he grasped stirred feebly. Apparently both were still alive.

“It’s a woman,” Beatrice croaked. It seemed he could also see quite well at night.

D’s eyes had made out the lines of the pale woman trapped in the darkness. The grand duke’s mouth approached her half-opened lips. A purplish glow linked the two of them. But it wasn’t from the grand duke—it came from the female soldier.

The mercenary had weathered brutal training with her womanly curves intact, but in the blink of an eye that softness was gone, exposing the underlying bones. At the same time, her skin lost its luster and yellowed, and she grew covered with time’s malicious gifts—wrinkles. Though the transition seemed to occur endlessly, it actually took less than a second. The desiccated female soldier fell to the ground with a dry snap.

“He sucked the life right out of her,” the hoarse voice groaned.

“Men may be more filling, but it’s the women that taste the best,” the grand duke remarked, lifting the soldier in his left hand—also female—up to his lips. But his weird consumption was halted by D’s voice.

“These troops—your son’s forces—made off with a woman. Where is she?”

“A very good question. We may be family, but at present we’re also foes. I have no idea what he’s doing. So, it’s a mortal woman he made off with? When we hit them, I believe I’ll take the woman as well.”

“One thing more. When your soldiers came back, some people took refuge in your castle. Are they safe?”

“I believe so—if they’re in the castle. Come with me.” In the darkness he grinned, saying, “But first, let me finish this second one off—”

Just then, the grand duke looked overhead. A supernatural bird was swooping down at him—an ominous creature beloved of the pitch-black night. It glided on outspread black wings, and it had something longer and sharper than talons aimed at the top of the Noble’s head.

The grand duke opened his mouth—almost as if the beauty of the supernatural bird descending on him had entranced him—and from his mouth he discharged a glistening jewel. Before the green jewel could sink into the Hunter’s forehead, the sword cut through it. An explosion of light turned night into day, and D was thrown back. He landed some thirty feet away, and smoke poured from his body.

The grand duke’s laughter rolled across the death-strewn battlefield.

“Most impressive. You parry the energy of a thousand lives with a sword, of all things, and come off no worse than that? Well, time for a second wave.”

The Noble raised his right hand high. However, his arm fell off at the shoulder, crushing the neck of the desiccated female soldier with a grave sound. The grand duke’s unearthly air became one of terror when black blood bubbled and dripped from the wound.

“You—you’ve taken a Noble’s arm off at the shoulder . . . Who are you?”

“D.”

The grand duke heard the reply at his chest. The speed with which the Hunter had bridged the distance between them was startling; the Nobleman didn’t even know when his adversary had assumed a stance or made his thrust. A blade the hue of darkness now pierced the life-sucking demon through the chest and out the back. Releasing the woman in his left hand, the grand duke staggered.

“You bastard . . . you ran me right through my most vital point,” Dorleac said, and then he smiled. “But that won’t slay me. You see that by now, don’t you?”

Had any foe of D’s ever been so smug?

“Try to take my left arm,” he said, his mouth snapping open, his throat revealed.

—

II

—

Once more the power of the lives he’d taken shot out. A green globe a mere two inches in diameter sank into D’s forehead, intent on incinerating him.

“What?”

Eyes agleam with reflected green light betrayed tumultuous shock as they gazed at the fireball fading into thin air. In a fraction of a second, the mass had vanished, and the mouth that’d swallowed it had closed. Lowering the left hand he’d held out in front of his brow, D pushed against the sword he was still holding through Grand Duke Dorleac’s chest.

A strange roar that sounded like massive artillery split the night. The grand duke’s body was sent flying like so much twisted shrapnel. The twenty yards he sailed was twice D’s distance. The Nobleman knew of nothing that could hurl his titanic form so far with such ease. Landing on his feet, he found the ground that supported him had sunk substantially. Cracks ran off in all directions, like a spider’s web.

“You have a power to rival the life force that remains within me—so, who in damnation are you?”

Not answering, D made a sweep with his left arm. But his rough wooden needles were batted down with a single flourish of the grand duke’s cape.

Neither of them had lost even the slightest intention of fighting. D held his sword at eye level and aimed right at his foe, apparently anticipating the grand duke’s next shot, but the Nobleman’s mouth was shut tight.

Just then, a lone bat flitted down and landed on the grand duke’s shoulder. The Noble’s cruelly elegant countenance flooded with a blood-freezing look of malice.

“This duel must wait,” the Nobleman said.

And with that, the bat took off. As the bat ascended with a speed unimaginable, the grand duke clung to its feet with his left hand. Apparently the bat was not of this world. A few flaps of its wings and it’d risen a good fifty yards to meld with the darkness.

“Well, he got away!”

D asked the hoarse voice, “Did you hear that?”

“Yep. Damned if it didn’t say something about his kid throwing down the gauntlet,” the left hand replied, for it had no trouble deciphering the bat’s voice that even D couldn’t make out. “Father and son both do things big—so, what’s your next move?”

“Look for Irene, then set off for the castle.”

“Hmm. Think finding her’s gonna be that easy?”

“I’ll search for an hour, and if I haven’t found her by then, that’s the end of it.”

“Isn’t that pretty cold?”

“My work is up at the castle.”

The Hunter’s bizarre one-man dialogue was interrupted by a certain warrior, who said, “Hey, I’m going too, D!”

“Do as you like,” D replied.

“But what about the others?” Beatrice asked. He was referring to Strider and Stanza, who were still back at the rest area.

“If they don’t come, we get their share. I would think that’d appeal to you.”

“Galloon galloon!” Beatrice exclaimed, expressing his thanks with words from an ancient people now long vanished. The gigantic warrior was beaming. Apparently he liked the way the conversation had turned.

“Well, time to start searching?” the warrior asked.

—

Zenon opened his eyes. Above him, he saw a strange sight: a girl with a big chunk of stone raised high above her head.

When their eyes met, the girl grimaced, asking, “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Zenon replied, putting his hand against his feverish shoulder where the baronet had cut him. The bleeding had stopped. This waking was the same as always. It was his doing.

What happened, then? he thought, even though he really didn’t want to know.

“How about you put that down?” the outlaw said to Irene, who was still holding the stone.

“I think you’ve got a point. I’ve been holding it like this for two minutes. My arms are getting tired.”

Given a good toss, the chunk of stone landed to the right of Zenon’s face. Irene let out a deep breath.

Zenon sat up. His muscles and nerves screamed with agony. He managed to express the pain with no more than a slight tightening of his cheeks as he tried to get to his feet.

“It’s too soon for that!” Irene told him, stopping him. Her desolate tone made Zenon stare at her.

“What happened?” he said, not wanting to ask, What did I do?

Irene lowered her gaze. “The other you threatened me. He told me he was going to lay low for now. And he said I was free to run if I liked, but if I tried to hurt him, he’d make me pay.”

He didn’t imagine that was all it’d taken for her to want to bash his brains in. Wanting to know what had transpired after the Nobleman split his shoulder open, he once again asked, “What happened?”

Shutting her eyes, Irene leaned back against a nearby pile of rubble. It was probably part of the collapsed ceiling. Given that they could build palaces that stood up to a direct hit from a hydrogen bomb, the Nobility were funny. Decay seemed to be one of their tastes.

“There,” the girl said, pointing to the right—the direction from which the intruders had come.

Zenon stood up. His legs wobbled, and intermittent bouts of dizziness assailed him. His artificial bone marrow was working overtime to make up for all the blood he’d lost. His right shoulder was hot and numb.

He had the answer to his question soon enough—before he’d gone fifty paces. Zenon didn’t divert his gaze from the scene spread before him. It was the result of his own actions. His eyes alone weren’t enough—he had to let it all seep into his body.

Irene was still leaning against the rubble. Noticing Zenon, she asked, “You saw them?” She sounded absolutely exhausted. She must’ve witnessed the whole thing. No matter how severe the girl’s life on the Frontier might’ve been, she couldn’t see something like this and not have it affect her.

“You, too?”

She nodded, saying, “You’re really something, you know that? How many of them were there?”

“Around seventy.”

“And you killed them all in less than five minutes’ time. It made my palms sweat,” Irene said, closing her eyes. Her eyelashes were trembling. She was going through the whole scene again. There was nothing she could do to stop the memories.

Plopping himself down on the ground, Zenon laid back. “I’d tell you it wasn’t me,” he said to her, “but what’s the point? That rock you had earlier—I don’t care if you drop it on me.”

“It’s a little late for that now!” Irene replied, shaking her head repeatedly. “You saw them, right? Some of those soldiers were women and children! But you were merciless. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“If I said it was because they attacked me, wouldn’t that count for something?”

“You even cut down the ones that ran away. They were kids!”

Zenon let out a long sigh.

Silence descended, the kind of silence on which no one wished to intrude.

Soon, a faint sobbing began to fill the air. Irene’s body was quaking. Her sobs flowed through the murky world like an unending stream of woe.

It was unclear how many minutes passed. Suddenly, Irene lifted her head.

—

Fortunately, they were able to locate one magneto car that was only slightly damaged. Opening the hood to examine the engine, Beatrice stated, “It’s okay. I’ll have ’er fixed inside of five minutes.” To D he then said, “All the tools are here and everything—but are you sure you’re okay with this?”

He was talking about Irene and Zenon. Though they’d searched for an hour, they hadn’t found any trace of either one.

“Are you worried?” D asked.

“No, not really,” Beatrice replied, already busy with his repairs. Wherever his fingers made contact with the exposed engine, blue sparks flew.

“A long time ago, I heard about a certain Hunter of Nobility. It seems he was even better at repair work than he was at Hunting.”

“Wow, that’s really something else.”

“Only, he had one fatal flaw.”

“Really? What’s that?”

“He was too kindhearted.”

“I see. That’s not the sort of thing that mixes with the Hunter profession, is it?”

“I hear that’s why he retired. He was only active for about three years.”

“But in that span of time, I bet he put a lot of ’em down, eh?”

“A hundred and one, I heard.”

“How about you?”

“Not even close.”

“I’m sure he regrets it. Taking all those lives, I mean, Nobility or not. He probably realized that sooner or later, his time was gonna come, too. And once he did, he couldn’t work as a Hunter anymore. He must’ve got out to live his life, taking the money he’d socked away and starting a repair shop for farm equipment somewhere or something.”

While this conversation was taking place, the gigantic warrior’s hands continued their deft movements, and before two minutes had elapsed, he stood up again and said, “All right, now she’s just perfect!” Slamming the hood shut, he gave it a couple of pats.

“Shall we go?” D said. The darkness was receding from his face.

Beatrice turned his gaze to the east. Shadow and light were swapping places.

“It’s dawn,” he said.

From much higher up, a single streak of light knifed obliquely through the darkness. Death and darkness left as a new time began.

Zenon’s face took on a white glow.

“Dawn!” Irene declared.

—

Carrying the Hunter and the warrior, the magneto car ripped through the wind with a speed that hardly suited its stocky appearance. Beatrice had settled into the driver’s compartment, while D was in the combination seating area and cargo bed behind him.

“What’d I tell you? She’s just perfect. She’ll do up to a hundred twenty. If we gun it, we could get to the ruins in three hours.”

“If there ain’t interference, that is.”

“You know, it’s creepy when you do that hoarse voice, D. Knock it off.”

“I wish I could.”

“Damned joker,” Beatrice grumbled, and then he turned his head and twitched his nose. “Something smells good. Hey, D, you think maybe there’s a service area around here that hasn’t—”

“It’s the enemy.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Still—”

He cut the wheel sharply to the right. They raced through a dense forest.

The palm of D’s left hand was placed against the scruff of the warrior’s neck.

Mumbling something unintelligible, Beatrice decreased their speed as if in a trance. A second later, the vehicle pitched wildly. The two men and their cargo flew through the air. While the magneto car rolled, kicking up black soil, D watched from the spot where he’d landed more than fifteen feet away. In his arms he carried Beatrice, the machine gun, and the ammo. Only the box of grenades was in the car.

“That’s some lousy driving.”

Not replying to the hoarse voice, D stared straight ahead. “It was control smoke,” he said.

“Hmph. That stuff can even reel in someone with a full stomach. But it ain’t the army.”

“The lord of the forest?” D said in reply, but just then from beyond a stand of trees to his left there was a sound like a great rumbling in the earth drawing nearer. The sound of something scraping against the ground.

—

III

—

What pushed its way through the stand of trees resembled a ham split down the middle. It was easily fifty feet high. As for its length, that was unclear—it stretched back into the forest. D noticed that above them and below them, to their left and to their right, innumerable forms were running or flying toward it. Rabbits, fox monsters, forest hippos, bristle beasts, fire tigers, flying snakes, air squids—the kind of menagerie that could be found only on the Frontier. And it was obvious that all of them had been drawn by the “control smoke.”

A small hole opened in the center of the sharp, semicircular muzzle, and then spread across its entirety. All the creatures, large and small, were sucked in. Once the last of them had disappeared, the bizarre mouth—or entrance—returned to normal, and the enormous creature wriggled like a titanic serpent as it vanished back through the stand of trees.

Putting his left hand against the crown of the giant’s head, D returned Beatrice to consciousness. And then he broke into a run. Beatrice followed him. Reaching the rolled magneto car, D easily righted the vehicle. This time, he took the driver’s seat.

“Oh, yeah!” Beatrice exclaimed, seating himself in the back.

D stepped on the accelerator. They didn’t move. Though he made five attempts in a row, the result was the same every time.

“You said it was perfect, didn’t you?” D said softly, giving Beatrice a look.

“I thought so. There’s gotta be some mistake. It can’t be my repairs. The car’s the problem.”

“The whole point of repairs is to fix the problems.”

The gigantic warrior growled.

D quickly alighted from the defective vehicle. At the same time, he bounded off the ground. That was normal for D, but Beatrice did likewise.

Where the two of them had been, nearly a hundred slender blow darts jabbed into the ground. White smoke poured from the earth.

The blow darts had come from all sides. As the two dashed toward the only safe zone—the point at which the enormous serpent had disappeared—gleaming darts pursued them. The blow darts D fended off with the hem of his coat fell to the ground, while those that stuck into Beatrice fell free again. He’d applied a fresh layer of the protective spray before entering the forest.

Out of the trees dropped figures with machetes in hand. Beneath them, D’s right hand flashed into action. By the time a bloody cloud had engulfed each and every bisected torso, D had already dashed off.

Next to the Hunter, there was the endless staccato of gunfire: Beatrice and his machine gun. Even carrying a twenty-pound gun and more than a hundred pounds of ammunition, he still kept pace with D. What’s more, not a bullet fired at their scattering foes went to waste. With short bursts of three rounds each, he took them down surgically.

Suddenly, their way was blocked by enormous figures in gray. It was said ten-foot-tall soldiers like these had been created to suit the Nobility’s own tastes. They already had the longswords in their right hands raised high.

As a blade seared through the air, D was beneath it with his own sword ready to parry, though it didn’t look up to the task. The instant the swords crashed together, D’s blade shot upward. His arms raised as if in a cheer, he made a second strike. He cut halfway through one giant’s torso. Ignoring its titanic frame as it fell with a force that made the earth tremble, D leapt, evading the sword of a second one and slashing him open from the top of his head all the way down to his sternum. Beatrice gunned down two more.

The giants fell back. They formed a ring, with their two foes in the center.

“Maybe they wanna talk this out, you think?” Beatrice said, using one hand to mop the sweat from his brow.

“Can you come up with terms for a cease-fire?” the hoarse voice asked.

“Here they come,” said D.

In front of the giants who’d tasted his sword, new gigantic forms appeared. Above their heads they held wooden clubs covered with barbs. They swung them wildly toward the ground. The reverberations that rose from the depths of the earth knocked Beatrice on his side. There was another blow—and not only did the shock of the impact throw the warrior into the air, but it completely upset his inner sense of balance. He was vomiting before he even had a chance to try to keep it in. This was no time for firing his machine gun. His internal organs felt like they’d been flipped upside down and turned inside out.

But a hand with a grip like steel grabbed the warrior by the scruff of the neck. It was D, his face clearly distorted with pain.

“If this keeps up, my guts are gonna . . .”

Nevertheless, there was nowhere to run.

They were standing on the ground. Beatrice immediately felt himself being hurled into the air. His innards settled down. At that moment, he realized what he was supposed to do. From fifteen feet in the air, he opened fire on the ring of giants. Two of them dropped to their knees. The circle was broken.

D sprinted. Becoming a black gale, he wove his way between the giants. In the span of two breaths, all of them lay on the ground.

Turning, the Hunter saw Beatrice running toward him. Behind the warrior came the sound of footsteps crushing forward like a tidal wave. Since the giants had failed, the forward guard had been sent in.

“Yee-haw!” Beatrice shouted, and he was just bringing his machine gun to bear on them when he was asked an odd question.

“Can you climb trees?”

“Huh?”

By the time the warrior replied, the Hunter was flying like a black supernatural bird to land on a thick branch in a colossal tree.

“Well, let’s see how he does,” the hoarse voice said with amusement, and just then, Beatrice leapt onto a massive branch in another tree about ten feet away. “Wow, carrying the gun and ammo, to boot. Not too shabby.”

It was at this point that figures in green appeared from the direction D and the warrior were facing. In the light of dawn, the soldiers crashed together like waves of gray and green. Battle cries, gunshots, and the ring of steel on steel filled the forest, and occasionally flashes of what seemed to be lasers streaked across the dawn sky.

“Hey!” Beatrice called over. His hand was over his lips, and the words themselves didn’t escape. It was a means of conversing unique to Hunters. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Looks like father and son have locked horns. We’ll look for an opening, and then get going,” D replied in the same voiceless manner. He didn’t even have his hand up to his mouth.

“Oh, it seems such a waste to just run off,” Beatrice responded.

Nothing from the Hunter.

“Look how fierce the fighting is. To the rear, it’s gotta be just as chaotic. I’m gonna go filch us some transportation. Don’t try to stop me!”

And saying this, Beatrice leapt down into the eddying melee without even waiting for a reply. He was soon swallowed up by the chaos of swordplay, shooting, and grappling.

“Ain’t he the reckless one,” the hoarse voice remarked, dumbfounded.

Not replying, D merely kept his gaze trained where Beatrice had vanished. Whether he was worried about the warrior and intended to stop him were the real questions. Even the ever-intensifying battle below grew calm before long, with only groans flowing out into the forest by the rays of dawn, and those also quickly ceased.

“That’s an awful lot of death for the start of a day,” the hoarse voice said, and it too sounded weary.

D easily alighted from the massive branch.

“Ol’ sissy name’s not coming back, is he?” the hoarse voice whined.

“Is that what you think?”

“You think I’m wrong?”

D turned his head slightly. He turned his left hand in the same direction.

“Eh?” the hoarse voice exclaimed, as it heard the sound of an approaching engine.

Before long, an incredibly outdated internal-combustion-driven single-seat vehicle with two wheels—in other words, a motorcycle—deftly wove its way through the corpses to stop beside the Hunter.

“Heya!” said Beatrice, of course, lifting his goggles up onto the leather helmet. He wore a leather jacket as well, and he had the machine gun and ammo in his right hand.

A wry smile wafted to D’s lips. He realized he’d underestimated Beatrice’s startling ability to procure things.

“Well, hop on! The magneto car didn’t work out too well, but this baby’s easy to drive and fix.”

Saying nothing as he watched the enormous warrior slap the seat behind him, D got on.

“Hmm, your legs have no problem touching the ground, eh? Kinda strange how all your height’s in them instead of your trunk. Well, this’ll probably toss your guts around pretty good. Ha ha ha!”

Quite pleased with himself, the cackling Beatrice clutched his belly as he started the bike.

“We’ll cut through the forest for a ways.”

Skillfully weaving between stands of trees, they sped along.

After a while, D said, “Looks like your right hand’s carrying quite a load.” It was rare for him to make such a comment.

“And?”

“Would you like to pass it to me?”

“Sorry, but it’s just not in my nature to trust folks. Let’s say you were to drop it, and then I needed it. I wouldn’t blame you, but I’d be mad as hell with myself for being so stupid. Don’t worry. Both my arms have had cyborg upgrades. You know, back in my old job—huh?”

The faces of both men turned simultaneously toward the highway—or the sky above it, to be precise. A stocky flying machine was zipping along there. The rapidly dwindling craft had a small window at its center, and through it they saw someone.

“That’s Stanza!” Beatrice said, clucking his tongue. “Those idiots. That’s what they get for lying around. I bet they’re both in there!”

“Probably.”

“Where do you think they’re headed?”

“The ruins, most likely. It was green.”

The flying machine had been painted in Grand Duke Dorleac’s color.

Seeming blinded by the light, Beatrice looked up at the dawn sky and said, “They went to the trouble of taking ’em prisoner. I don’t figure they’ll kill ’em soon. More than that, I’m worried about whoever took refuge in the castle ruins earlier.” He paused for a moment. “Because I get the feeling that freak’s got one hell of an appetite.”

There was no reply. This in itself signaled the Hunter’s agreement.

Suddenly, Beatrice’s form stiffened. “That big vacuum-cleaner deal earlier—that’s not . . . I mean, that monstrosity . . . it’s just sucking up living creatures indiscriminately . . .”

“You know it.”

“I thought I told you to stop using that creepy old voice,” Beatrice shouted. “Imagine dozens of those things. If left to their own devices, they’d drain all the life not just out of this area, but from the whole damned planet!” he said in a horrified manner. “And all of it gets sucked up by Dorleac . . .”

“Step on it. At this rate, we’ll be there by noon!”

“Quit it with that geezer voice!” Beatrice shouted, twisting the throttle as if to shake off his fears.