NOBLEMAN ON THE STAND

NOBLEMAN ON THE STAND

chapter 9

I

—

It started raining the second morning after leaving Toro. Out in the middle of the plains, there was nowhere to take shelter from the rain. They ended up draping the waterproof coats from the saddlebags over their heads and pressing on. Still, when the wind came, the rain slapped their faces and pounded their hands. Dhampirs’ strength sprang from their Noble blood, and it was halved in the rain.

“Curse you, you blasted imbecile. Couldn’t you have at least listened to a weather forecast?” the baron grumbled, but a malfunction in the weather satellite some three millennia earlier made weather forecasts extremely unreliable. In a world where cloudless skies could turn to driving rain in five minutes’ time, who could possibly predict the weather?

“Damn it, can’t you do something? If this keeps up, I’ll have no strength left at all in an hour. Do you know what it’s like to be afraid of dissolving in the rain?”

The baron’s words weren’t mere complaints. Even without being directly exposed to the rain, a Noble out in weather like this would see his biorhythms sink substantially. The core temperature would drop, the muscles would lose stamina, and the leaping and running abilities would be at half their normal level. Therefore, noontime on a rainy day was the best time for hunting the Nobility.

“Would you just suck it up, already?” the hoarse voice responded, and it too sounded languid. “The rain will stop soon. Besides, in another two hours we’ll be off the plains.”

“Hmph! That’s if we don’t drown in the saddle before then. Look!”

Pursing his lips, the Nobleman ejected a stream of water with all the skill of a comedian.

“Be sure to show ’em that little trick in the courthouse in Zappara. You might be better off trying to get laughs from the jury instead of sympathy.”

“Oh, shut up, you meddling little ventriloquist.” Surprisingly enough, the baron still thought D was the source of that hoarse voice. “Speaking of which, there’s something I’d like to discuss,” the baron said, rubbing his hands together high in the saddle. “So, if we keep going and you bring me to Zappara, you’ll probably be paid a pittance. What’s more, it seems to me a bond of friendship has taken root in the five days we’ve spent traveling together. I’d like to see both of us come away satisfied. How about it? Would you be willing to let me get away for a cool hundred billion dalas?”

“What hundred billion dalas?” said the hoarse voice. “You’re a tattered little two-bit Noble. Where are you supposed to get a hundred billion dalas? I bet you’ve got nothing but lint in your pockets.”

“Those are the balls off a squid, actually,” the Greater Nobleman replied, laughing uproariously at his own attempt at humor. But he immediately glared at D, saying, “That was a joke. Why aren’t you laughing?”

“You’re something else,” he said in a voice of cold steel. He must’ve been disgusted.

Nevertheless, the baron seemed satisfied, replying, “Hmm, fair enough. How about your answer, then?”

“When they’re done chopping your head off, I’ll give you a big, fat kiss on the lips.” This time it was the hoarse voice.

The baron squirmed in the saddle. “You dolt. Give this some serious consideration. I’m talking about one hundred billion dalas. Tell you what—I’ll make it two hundred billion.”

“Where have you got that kind of dough?”

“Right here,” he said, giving his leather satchel a loud slap before wedging it in front of himself again. “All my aces are in here. Be thankful I haven’t broken them out. If I had a mind to, I could escape at any time.”

“Then go ahead and do it. You’re all talk, Nobleman.”

What ensued was bickering that almost blotted out the sound of the rain, but it was interrupted by the steely voice saying, “The day after tomorrow, we reach Zappara. That’s where we part company. And not before.”

“D-d-don’t you want anything? Don’t you realize how beautiful friendship can be? Are you supposed to be a human with Noble blood, or—”

“Or what?” the hoarse voice inquired, sounding intrigued.

“No—never mind,” the baron said, hastily covering his mouth. “At any rate, just let me go. Please, let me escape. I don’t want to have my head chopped off.”

“How about a stake then?” the hoarse voice asked.

“Waaaaah!” the baron shrieked, having essentially fallen into a panic.

D just stared at him quietly, but then he suddenly turned his face for a look behind them. The baron quickly turned his gaze that way, too. His Noble blood was at work.

They could sense several things coming up behind them. Cyborg horses and riders. They could tell from the sound of the rain. There were three of them.

“What in the world,” the baron said, his voice trembling. And it wasn’t due to the rain. It was on account of the ghastly aura billowing at them from those riders. “What the hell are they?” the baron asked, and then he swallowed hard.

One of the shadowy figures had come from the rear and was riding right alongside them.

“Evening,” he said in a gloomy voice. His gender was clear, but his age was masked by the sound of the rain.

“E-e-e . . .” the baron stammered, only able to get that one sound out. At any rate, he’d apparently intended to respond in kind.

The first one left. The second pulled up.

“Evening,” said the rider. Another man.

“E-e-e . . .”

The third rode up and asked, “Where you headed?”

“Zappara,” D replied.

The rider halted and turned. So did the other two.

“How . . . frightening,” the third rider said. They could tell now it was a woman’s voice.

The baron blinked his eyes.

“To think there’s still anyone in the world with such an air about him—the town of Zappara will be quaking in its boots, I’m sure.”

Rain. That was the only sound the baron heard. It was frightening. He noticed the horses and riders were growing hazy in the distant depths of the rain.

Once they’d dissolved completely, the baron slumped forward and wrapped his arms around his steed’s neck, asking, “What was that?” He was physically and emotionally drained.

“Even rain can’t wipe away the smell of blood and gunpowder,” the hoarse voice said. “Those were warriors. And the kind that specialize in killing, at that.”

“You told them we were going to Zappara, right?” the baron said, quaking against his horse’s neck. “You don’t mean to tell me they’re gunning for me, do you?”

“Why, can you think of any reason those killers would be after you?”

“N-n-no reason at all!”

“Then don’t be scared,” the hoarse voice jeered. “From what I’ve seen up till now, when it comes to humans’ hatred, five thousand years is a drop in the stinkin’ bucket. Those characters were probably hired by some humans with a bone to pick with you after all these years.”

“Shiiiit!”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Once we’re in Zappara, there’ll be a sheriff around. The courthouse will have guards, too. When the trial gets started, your safety will be assured.”

“And what about once it’s over?”

“Don’t worry about that, either. After all, you don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of being found completely innocent and released back into the light of day. They’ll haul you straight off to jail or your place of execution.”

“E-e-execution?”

“Whichever the case, nobody’s gonna lay a hand on you except for the official headsman and his ax. So relax.”

“Who could relax? I’m absolutely not going into that town. I’ll die here.”

It was unclear what his intent was, but the baron wrapped his hands around his own neck and let out a choked groan. He quickly gave up, and D waited for the gasping and wheezing Nobleman before giving a kick to his steed’s flanks. The town of Zappara lay in the far reaches of the rain. No matter what awaited them there, the graceful figure in black made it clear they had no choice but to go.

—

Zappara was a mining town about thirty miles south of the center of the northern Frontier sector. Though similar in size to Toro, the town’s mines had been scaling back for the last dozen years or so, and the resulting population shift had left it with about two thousand residents. The welcoming arch at the entrance to town was so rusty that the baron snapped, “Positively disgraceful.”

D halted his steed in front of the sheriff’s office.

“I’ll wait out here. Take your time,” the baron said, but the Hunter caught him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him into the office.

Once the situation had been explained, the sheriff eyed the baron intently, saying, “I’ve heard talk about this situation. So, this is the Noble who walks in the light of day? Well, our jail isn’t built to hold Nobility. I’m sorry, but could you hold onto him until the trial tomorrow afternoon? I’ll inform the hotel.”

“My job ends here,” D said.

“Yes, that’s right,” the baron said with a nod. Apparently he believed he could make his escape as long as D wasn’t around.

“The fact is, we’ve got ourselves a bit of a dilemma here,” the sheriff said with sincerity, glaring out of the corner of his eye at the baron, who was clearly plotting something. “Before you showed up, three others came to town—top-notch warriors. Gerard, Puff, and Vinne are their names, and they’re killers for hire. Seems it’s this squirt here they’re gunning for.”

The baron began to stammer loudly, while D asked, “How do you know that?”

Furrowing his brow, the sheriff looked at the clock on the wall. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It’s not even noon yet. While I get your transport fee together and finish all the paperwork, why don’t you take him for a little walk around town? Then you should see what I mean.”

“This has nothing to do with me anymore. I’ll be back when the paperwork’s done.”

As D was about to leave, the baron followed him, saying, “Wait, I’ll go with you.”

They soon saw what the sheriff had meant. As D and the baron began walking down the plank-covered sidewalk, looks of hatred focused on them from every side. From the bat-wing doors of the saloon, from the windows of the casino, from the shadows of the alleys, the spears of hatred shot at the pair with such malice it wouldn’t have been at all strange if the target had dropped on the spot, yet the baron merely cocked his head to one side.

“What in blazes is this? I don’t recall ever doing anything that would draw such ire from the humans.”

“You don’t?” said D.

The baron pursed his lips worriedly.

On returning to the sheriff’s office, the baron immediately demanded an explanation. Not D—the baron.

“What’s with this town? The whole place has it in for me. No way in hell can I get a fair trial here. I demand a change of venue!” Wham! he smacked the desk.

“Just doesn’t know when to give up, does he?” the hoarse voice said.

Gazing at D with an unnerved look, the sheriff replied, “The circuit court’s already here. The trial begins at noon tomorrow. Stay in your hotel until then. I’ll post my deputies around it as guards.”

“Hmm.” Seeming somewhat relieved, the baron mopped the sweat from his brow and asked, “At any rate, what’s the reason for this animosity from the people in town?”

“It’s alleged that more than five thousand years ago, you asked Lord Begley and others to abduct the girls of this town. Because the community resisted, the town was put to the torch and nearly a thousand humans were killed. Including babies. This town is made up of the descendants of the survivors.”

The baron was speechless.

“Still waters run deep in this town,” the hoarse voice said, sounding impressed.

Though the baron seemed to be contemplating something with a crafty look in his eye, he stared at the sheriff and asked, “Who are your deputies?”

“Why, they’re people from town.”

“You intend to leave murderers in charge of protecting someone? I’ll have none of that! Besides, how am I to know you’re not in league with them, you bastard?”

“I was called to this town. But I don’t have the resources to protect you myself. Let’s leave that to pretty boy here.”

“My work is done,” D said, pulling his back off the wall.

“You’ll be paid for guard duty.”

A maddened look in his eye, the baron cried out, “Stop! You’re my only hope. I’ll make it worth your while. Please, don’t abandon me.”

“It’s a pity for him, you know. Those killers have a reputation for using whatever dirty tricks they have to so long as it gets the job done. We won’t be able to breathe easy even during the trial.”

“Help me, please.”

Turning his back on the tragicomic tableau, D filled the doorway.

The baron’s cries followed him.

“I know where the Sacred Ancestor is!”

Like darkness in motion, D turned.

—

II

—

Ultimately, D accepted the baron’s offer. Perhaps it was the mere mention of the Sacred Ancestor that did the trick.

Leaving the office accompanied by a high-spirited baron, he rode his cyborg horse toward the hotel. Fifty yards ahead, the building came into view.

“Odd hotel, isn’t it?” the baron remarked after turning his gaze on the place. “I’ve been looking at it for a while, and the first floor’s a restaurant. Yet no one’s gone in or out of the place.”

“Get down off your horse and lie flat on the ground.”

“What?”

An arm like steel wrapped around his waist, and a heartbeat later the baron was flying through the air. The instant he landed, he once again sailed up, landing on the sidewalk.

The hotel exploded. The explosives must’ve been set by a real veteran. Though the blast blew the building away without a trace, almost no fragments of it fell near D and the baron.

“What was that?”

“What the hell was that?”

Both voices came from D’s vicinity. It went without saying who they represented.

“That was a threat, I take it,” D said.

No one had run out of the hotel, and none of the townspeople even came outside. This deed had been well planned and organized.

“A threat? They’d blow up a whole hotel just for that?”

“Their hatred runs deep, and the whole town’s in on it,” the hoarse voice replied in amazement.

“Our lodgings are gone. Want to go back to the sheriff’s office?”

No sooner had D spoken than a voice from behind him called out, “Hey, bro!”

A familiar face was hustling down the sidewalk. Apparently he’d been in the casino. It was the hairless fatty Tong, and between him and the powerfully built Galil was Delilah, with her blazing red hair.

“Out of the blue, it was like ka-boom! You okay?” Tong inquired, the words bubbling out of him.

“I’ll survive,” D replied, his tone as curt as ever, but there was a little sense of warmth in there somewhere.

“You might be fine, but what about the little bald Nobleman? Oh, there’s a good boy.”

Galil was reaching to pat him on the head, but the baron batted the man’s hand away, saying, “I don’t believe I need to allow filthy Hunters like the lot of you to touch my person. Back, lowly humans. Back, I say!”

“Still short on everything but hot air, I see, Mr. Greater Noble,” Delilah said, blowing him a kiss.

“Were you headed to that hotel?” Galil asked, giving a toss of his chin to the black smoke and flames of the building.

“That’s right,” said the hoarse voice.

Though the trio looked shocked at first, they accepted it soon enough.

“We got here yesterday and have been hearing a lot of things. Seems you’ve jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire, eh?”

“A tiny nation that sank into the sea apparently had a saying about that: Like moths to a flame.”

“At any rate, I think that was meant to piss you off. Got someplace to stay?” Tong asked with a grin.

“Back that way.”

On seeing the direction D’s face was turned, a different voice said, “With the sheriff? The jail’s not all that hospitable. Come along with us.” Mikado seemed to bulldoze his way through his three compatriots, continuing, “That bar over there’s got a hotel on the second floor. Pretty nice rooms.”

“Think I’ll pass.”

“Why? We’re guests there. The hotel folks won’t give us any trouble.”

“I’d better not,” D said, stepping down from the sidewalk and getting back on his cyborg horse.

The baron stood with arms akimbo, whining like a spoiled child, “No! I want to stay in the hotel!”

The Hunter gave him a look. The glint in his eye deflated the baron like a balloon, and the Noble walked dejectedly back to his own cyborg horse and mounted up.

“Hey, the trial’s tomorrow, right? What do you say to joining us for a drink once the bald shrimp’s been thrown in the slammer?” Tong suggested.

“Yeah, come on. Let’s have a drink together,” Delilah added.

D was already riding away. After his steed had taken two or three steps, the Hunter’s left hand went up. That was his answer.

As the warriors, male and female, looked on, D and the baron rode away.

“So, the whole town’s against them?” Mikado murmured. “He’s all on his own, just like usual.”

“But it suits him. That kind of blood-chilling solitude fits the man.”

The men nodded in unison at Delilah’s words.

In a strangely pensive tone, Galil added, “You said it. But I’d never wanna be like that. I’d rather die first.”

There was no reply. Not even nods. There was no need.

“Head back now?” Mikado suggested, turning. And then he stopped.

A few yards away, there stood three figures.

“Looks like it’s the competition,” Mikado said, grinning.

“What’s your business?” someone asked.

—

Perhaps due to the sheriff being there with them, no one lobbed any bombs into the office, and D and the baron lived to see the next day. The circuit court was set up in a hall on the edge of town.

“I suppose they’ll give me a lawyer,” the baron mused, unable to think of anything else after returning to the office the night before.

“Don’t worry. There are lawyers attached to the court. Seems they can vary wildly in ability, though. If it’s representation you need, we’ve got a lawyer here in town, but he’s kind of pricey at a thousand dalas a day. Also, I don’t think he’d take a Noble for a client. You in particular would be on the shit list.”

“Sheesh . . . Then what am I . . .”

The sheriff brought the edge of his hand down on the back of his neck with a chopping motion, then balled the same hand over his heart.

“Shit, they’ll take my head off and put a stake through my heart? Damn it all . . . That’s about as certain a death as you can get.”

“Well, good luck. A carriage will escort you to the court. I’ll be along, too, so relax. Although if pretty boy there is around, I’m not likely to be needed,” the sheriff said, seeming to have quite a good grasp of the situation.

The circuit court consisted of a judge, prosecutors, public defenders, a clerk, and one additional person who handled assorted duties. Ordinarily the clerk would receive lawsuits from the area they were visiting and relay them to the judge, then divide the plaintiffs and defendants among the prosecutors and public defenders. When pleading a case to the clerk, all pertinent physical evidence had to be provided, because the time allotted to a case, from the start of the trial to the end of sentencing, was limited to less than an hour. It was safe to say that the trial hinged on this evidence.

This time, the only case on the docket concerned the baron. The plaintiffs were the families of the children abducted five thousand years earlier by the baron or those acting on his behalf, and also the descendants of those families. The evidence consisted of R-disks from more than five thousand years earlier that contained footage and taped testimony by people who had been there.

When the brutal deeds of Lord Begley and other Nobles acting on the baron’s behalf were projected in the air, the spectators filling the hall fell silent, and then the sobbing began. Assemblymen, town workers, bankers, saloon owners, casino and hotel operators, the butcher, the baker, students, the sword fighting instructor, the owners of the general store and thrift shop, teachers, housewives—the eyes of all of them were mad with loathing.

As D was leaning back against one wall in the same gallery, his left hand said in a low voice, “Now this is what I call being surrounded by enemies. No matter how much of a fight he puts up, he’ll get the death penalty for sure. What are you gonna do?”

“Nothing,” D replied.

The baron had promised him that no matter what the outcome of the trial, when he was returned to his cell, he would tell the Hunter the whereabouts of the Sacred Ancestor.

“So, is the defense up next?”

Well out of range of the hoarse voice, the public defender got to his feet and in a much raspier tone stated that more than five thousand years ago the Nobility were far from being emotionally mature, not knowing how to contain their own cruelty, and that in light of the relationship between the Nobility and human beings at the time, there were even some humans that admitted such actions were unavoidable. He explained that, with that in mind, he hoped they would make allowances for those circumstances and show human mercy when sentencing him. Though unenthusiastic, the graying, middle-aged public defender actually turned out to be quite an eloquent lawyer.

Once both sides had finished presenting their cases, the judge turned to the baron and asked if he had anything he’d like to say in conclusion.

“I most certainly do!” the baron responded, rising from the counsel table and beginning a fervent speech.

“Just who do you bastards think I am, anyway? I am the one and only Baron Alpulup Macula, a member of the Greater Nobility known far and wide five thousand years ago. Indeed, at that time I had your ancestors abducted, snatched from their homes. I will admit that. However, my purpose wasn’t the simple drinking of blood or shameless fulfillment of sexual desires you’ve just conjectured. I sought to investigate the immense possibility that lay between mankind and the Nobility. Those who were taken from you never came back. I recognize that. But I never once disregarded their wishes. I told all of them about my grand purpose, then let them decide for themselves whether or not they would sacrifice themselves toward that end. If they said no, I intended to promptly return them to their families. All of them were good enough to agree. The proof of that is the fact that not one of them ever returned. You see, their young brains, their spirits, their very souls understood the thrust of my experiments, so they cooperated. To put it another way, the very act of holding a trial of this sort denigrates not only myself, but them as well. Don’t you see that, you bloody imbeciles?”

Before he’d finished that final tirade, a gunshot rang out, and the baron reeled back, clutching his chest.

—

III

—

“This is payback!” one of the people in the gallery shouted, a pistol in hand.

The guards rushed toward him, but another report echoed from elsewhere in the hall, carrying away a quarter of the baron’s head. That man, too, shouted about payback.

An arrow whistled through the air, jabbing into the baron’s abdomen, and a man with a hatchet leapt forward, only to be headed off by a guard.

“Order in the court! Order!”

The judge pounded his wooden gavel, and the guards stopped what they were doing, but the people were now a mob that left their seats and pressed toward the baron.

Thunder boomed.

The people froze, no longer an unruly mob but spectators in the gallery once more.

“Order in the court!”

Having just discharged both enormous barrels of his shotgun into the ceiling, the judge ordered everyone to sit down again.

“Nice going,” the hoarse voice whispered.

As if he’d heard the voice, the judge turned to D and said, “According to the documents the sheriff provided, it seems you’re the one who brought the defendant all this way. You even hired on as his guard. Why, then, didn’t you do anything just now?”

“Guns don’t work on him. He can dodge arrows.”

A rumble of voices stirred the murderous air, but even that was absorbed by the voice of darkness.

“Also, because we have you here, Judge.”

“Hmm. You’re an excellent judge of character, I see,” the judge said, nodding. “From the more-than-human look of your face, I take it you’re a dhampir. If you weren’t, you couldn’t escort a Noble here all by yourself. So I have a question for you: What do you make of this case?”

D stood up.

People who’d frozen at the first mention of the word “dhampir” now quivered with rapture. They had seen D’s face for the first time.

“I have no intention of defending his actions,” D said.

“What?” the baron exclaimed just as he was pulling the arrow out of his own abdomen, his eyes bulging in their sockets. Ninety percent of what’d been blown away from his head had already regenerated.

D looked over the spectators.

“The person who shouted about getting payback from the defendant—payback for whom, tell me.”

Eyes like a winter’s night bored through the first man to attack. The man remained silent.

“And the next?”

Even as the second one stood enraptured, he showed signs of poring over his memories. He quickly shrugged his shoulders.

“Next?”

“Next?”

“Next?”

Not one of them could give him a single name.

“There are those who have a right to hate, and those who don’t,” D told them stoically. “All you have is anger and spite.”

There in the gallery, even the sound of breathing had been stilled.

Presently, the judge announced, “We find the defendant guilty. He’s sentenced to one hundred thousand years in the Capital’s antimatter prison—however, I grant a stay of five years’ time before he begins serving his sentence.”

There was surprisingly little booing from the spectator gallery.

“We’ve got trouble here,” the hoarse voice murmured. “If they’d thrown the book at him, that would’ve been one thing, but letting him off with a light sentence is practically inviting this mob to lynch him instead. Watch for it any minute now.”

—

It was an hour after the trial’s ending that the paperwork was finished and they exited the courthouse.

When the baron got into the carriage, the sheriff slapped him on the shoulder and said to him, “I don’t know whether you’ve got the best luck in the world or the worst.”

The carriage started off. In addition to D and the baron, it carried the sheriff and two guards. Two more guards were up on the coachman’s perch.

Before five seconds had passed, D said, “Town’s in the opposite direction.”

“What?” the sheriff exclaimed as he got to his feet, and through the window beside him the upside-down face of one of the guards peeked in. “What’s going on?” he asked the man.

“It’s weird. The horses are doing their own thing—they won’t mind us at all.”

The sheriff was about to say something when D laid his hand on the lawman’s shoulder, stopping him.

“What’s up ahead?” the Hunter asked the guard.

“Not a thing,” the man replied flatly.

The guard pulled himself back up.

Gazing out the window, the sheriff said, “The horses are under a spell. Should we bail out? The Noble would probably be fine.”

“Let’s just keep going.”

Listening to this exchange, the baron went pale. “What are you talking about? I’m gonna make a jump for it!”

“Get out and they’ll still come after you,” D said. “We’ve got to finish this.”

“No way!”

The baron was still ready to leap out, but D pulled him back, forced him to sit, and took a seat right next to him.

After about ten minutes, the carriage came to a halt. They were out in the middle of the wasteland. Yellow earth spread without end in all directions.

Sticking his head out the window, the sheriff asked, “See anything?”

There was no reply.

Going over to the door, D told them, “Stay in here,” then left like a black wind.

He climbed up into the coachmen’s perch. The two guards had breathed their last. There wasn’t a mark on them. He put his left hand to their faces.

“Poison,” the hoarse voice told him. “But there’s no sign they were eating or drinking anything, and I don’t think there’s much chance both of them just died of a drug overdose. Where’d it come from?”

At that point the carriage door opened and the sheriff and guards stepped out. Guns at the ready, they scanned all around them.

“Stop!”

Even before D’s shout, the sheriff had looked in front of the carriage, cried out in surprise, and readied his gun.

It was at that moment that three figures fell to earth about thirty feet away. Before anyone knew it, the trio had fallen from the sky to smash into the ground feet first—only they didn’t. Stopping dead about a foot from the surface, the trio slowly settled on the ground. The sheriff looked up, but there was no sign of any kind of flying machine. The only conceivable answer was that at least one of the three had the ability to fly.

“Freeze,” the sheriff ordered them. The guards had their guns at the ready, too.

“I’m Gerard,” the man in the half coat said by way of introduction. He had a green muffler covering his mouth.

“I’m Puff,” said the man in a commonplace shirt and pants, a rugged-looking machete and its sheath tucked through his belt.

“I’m Vinne,” said the girl, who had a crimson scarf wound about her head. With her supple limbs and lovely countenance, it really seemed a pity she was there in the company of those sandy, bearded men. “Killing’s our job,” she continued. “Give us the Noble, and no harm will come to you.”

The sheriff wagged his pistol from side to side. “Can’t do that. I’m gonna give you to the count of three to put your hands behind your heads and lie face down on the ground. If not, we’ll shoot you dead. One—”

The three of them looked at each other. Vinne’s lips curled. She’d smiled.

“Two . . .”

Gerard reached for his muffler with his right hand.

“Three!”

The sheriff and the guards concentrated their gunfire on their three opponents.

“They’re gone!”

Staring at the spot where the trio had been, the sheriff and the guards found their field of vision violently rocked when they turned around. Even before they had time to claw at their own throats, there was bright blood spilling from their mouths, and then their convulsing bodies fell at length on the ground.

Someone else writhed as well—the baron.

From behind him, a stark wooden needle was launched toward the sky. D was certain he’d seen the trio about thirty feet in the air. However, they suddenly disappeared, and the needle of unfinished wood shot through empty space and out of sight.

A wind blew down on him from overhead. Caught in it, the baron spat up blood again. There was poison mixed in that wind.

Covering his mouth, D ran. He sensed a presence behind him. Making a backward thrust with his blade, he heard a harsh clang and deflected something. Limning a parabola, the dagger flew off, disappearing somewhere into the wasteland.

The Hunter looked over his shoulder. The trio stood behind him on the ground. One of them moved with unholy speed, one expelled poison, and one used the wind to direct it at people. As he twisted around, D let the needles fly.

The trio vanished, and at the same time male and female screams rang out behind D. Tangled together, the three of them fell. Judging from the way the group was balanced, Vinne was the flier. Stark wooden needles protruded from her chest and abdomen.

Overhead or behind his back, their movements had always been within thirty feet—and D had read the pattern.

Vinne fell. Streams of blood lent their vivid hue to the wasteland.

That left two.

D charged forward, all the while hearing the baron wailing about how he was dying.

Gerard’s lips were pursed. There was a howl as a vortex formed.

Being spun like a top, the Hunter was lifted into the air. Every bone in his body creaked. Ribs broke, and internal organs ruptured. With fresh blood spraying from his mouth and nose, D hurled his needles. Each and every one of them was blown back to pierce the Hunter.

“What’s wrong, kid? This is where we’ll bury that Noble,” Gerard laughed. The Hunter could even make out his Adam’s apple. But suddenly, his voice changed. A different wind struck his face. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he saw something. A shadowy form like a black bat was charging straight at him, tearing through his deadly air turbulence in the process. He saw D, the hem of his coat spread like a pair of unholy wings. All he could do was stand there, stock still, as the Hunter’s blade sank into his head, splitting it down to the chin.

The third—Puff—let out a scream and started to flee. He’d only run about ten feet before a rough wooden needle penetrated the nape of his neck.

After watching Puff thud to the ground, D slumped forward, spitting blood. The turbulence Gerard had thrown at him had carried Puff’s poison. Bracing his longsword against the ground, D drew a succession of ragged breaths.

“This is . . . some serious . . . poison,” the hoarse voice said. “It’s even got me . . . messed up . . . That Puff character . . . must’ve studied . . . the Nobility’s . . . pharmacology.”

A face surfaced in the palm of his left hand. It was contorted with pain.

“But we’ll . . . get over it . . . eventually. Just hang in there . . . about an hour. Lie down . . . and rest . . .”

“Afraid not,” said the Hunter.

“Wha . . .”

D stood up straight. A streak, thin as a silk thread, shot past his eye. Rain. It instantly became a downpour that left a haze of raindrops bouncing off him.

“Ooooh, that’s just rubbing salt in the wound. At times like this, having someone put us out of our misery wouldn’t be half bad!”

“Every once in a while, you hit the nail on the head.”

“Oh, don’t flatter me!” the hoarse voice said, laughing feebly. “Better hurry up and get the whereabouts of the Sacred Ancestor from the baron. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Pulling his blade out of the ground, D turned toward the baron.

Pretentious laughter overlapped with the sound of the rain.

“Bwahahaaa!”

—

IV

—

The baron was on his feet. When had he recuperated from the poison? Not even D could recover from it immediately.

D’s gaze was drawn to the leather satchel the Nobleman carried in his right hand. It should’ve been back in the sheriff’s office, where the Hunter had left it.

“You little bastard . . . How on earth did you . . . ?”

In response to the groans of the hoarse voice, the baron chortled once more. “Who would’ve thought he would show himself at this of all times? D, you still don’t measure up to him yet. At any rate, I’m free. See you around!”

Gossamer sheets of rain swallowed up the diminutive form. D tried to go after him, but for some reason his legs wouldn’t move.

“Ah, yes—his whereabouts. It was quite some time ago, but I heard he was in the castle ruins section of the Capital. I suppose that’s better than not knowing anything. Be careful when you go there. I’m off to get myself a bath and the very finest Tokai wine. And I’ll thank you to never cross my path again. Bwaahaaahaaahaaaa!”

And then the baron’s laughter and all other signs of him abruptly disappeared.

Turning his head slightly to the right, D focused his gaze into the depths of the rain. A number of presences were coming. Before long, they formed a line in front of D.

“You okay, brother?” The inquiry came from Mikado, high on the back of his steed. “We came to check up on you. Me and Delilah won the bet.”

“I’m glad,” a female voice said, and she meant it from the bottom of her heart.

“Truth is, I was hoping I’d lose,” Tong said, as if to make amends.

“You lying sack of shit!” Enba shot back at him good-naturedly.

“State your business,” said D.

There was no chance the group being out there was a coincidence. Since mention had been made of checking up on him, they undoubtedly knew about the trio and what they’d planned to do.

“Oh, yeah—the baron must’ve just disappeared,” Mikado said, sounding somewhat displeased. “That was thanks to the power of a certain great individual. And we happened to run into that same individual on our way out here just now.”

“Oh, really?” the hoarse, rain-soaked voice gasped from the vicinity of D’s left hand.

“Sorry, D, but we took the folks in town up on an offer, too. They asked us to get rid of the baron and you,” Delilah said in a voice that sounded like she was on the brink of tears.

“But, you know, we want to do this strictly fair and square. No freakin’ tricks, we told ’em,” Enba added.

“The folks in town went and hired that damned trio, too. We were there first, but the mayor told us to settle the order between us, and we ended up with the second turn,” said Mikado. “Getting back to what I mentioned a moment ago. We were given power by the Great One. Enough power to take you. In return, the Great One got to take the baron with him.”

“Then you won’t be getting paid,” said D.

It was the baron the townsfolk really wanted.

“We considered that, but we decided we’d pass on a little income in favor of power that would stay with us. Now we could slay greater dragons, or even the toughest Nobles.”

“So, you’re turning on your employers?”

“Don’t put it like that,” Galil said, sounding mortified.

“Come at me, then,” D said in a low tone that froze the rain. Even the sound of the raindrops died out. His ghastly aura had cowed it.

“This might sound self-serving, but we at least want to do this fair and square,” Mikado said, and the shadowy figures in the rain nodded.

The hoarse voice said, “Hope you don’t regret it.”

“We’ll meet again.”

Mikado turned around.

“Later,” said Tong.

“See you,” Galil said.

“Farewell,” said what must’ve been Delilah.

“So long, bro.”

Enba vanished. The thunder of their hoofbeats took the longest time to fade into the sounds of the rain. All that remained was death and D.

White clouds scampered around the blue sky like kittens. After bringing the bodies of the sheriff and the guards back to the lawman’s office, the Hunter left matters in the hands of the judge, who was still there. A doctor was called in, and three days later it was decided that it’d all gone as D said. Word of the baron’s disappearance had already spread through the town, and the people seemed to stab at D with their gazes as he left Zappara.

After about thirty minutes, there was a black forest up ahead. The road was sucked right into the trees. Without warning, D gave a kick to his steed’s flanks. He galloped on, the wind swirling in his wake.

The sunlight became dappled as it fell through the trees. A shadowy figure dropped from above. Silvery gleams crossed right above D’s head. A sharp ting! followed the small figure that was swallowed by the treetops to the left.

Swinging like a pendulum from a rope tied to a tree on the opposite side of the road, his opponent had apparently enjoyed some success. With blood still spurting from his right side, D had already galloped another hundred yards. The shadowy figure’s weapons had been tegaki claws, and the bright blood dripping from the treetops where his opponent had vanished told D something. The lone blow he’d dealt the man had fatally wounded him.

From up ahead, a horse and rider were approaching. More than his height, it was the rider’s buckteeth that made an impression. However, crossing the blades of the longswords he held in either hand, he was the very picture of heroism.

D’s sword gleamed in his hand. The instant they passed each other, there was a hard clang! like a scream from D’s blade as it broke in two.

A red trail streaming from him, D galloped off.

Galil’s horse stopped. The broken blade was stuck through the right side of its neck and out the left. With his horse halted, the warrior turned and looked back at D.

“That was mighty fine . . . Godspeed to you . . . brother.”

And then the second assassin fell from his steed and moved no more.

Blood still poured from the Hunter’s right side.

“It’s pretty deep—but whatever, I’ll have it closed up in no time,” his left hand said.

“Leave it.”

“What?”

“The next one’s coming.”

Suddenly, his cyborg horse reared up like a vengeful god. The blob that’d appeared to one side of him had cut across the road just in front of the beast. The way D kept from being thrown without relying on the reins, using just his legs to grip the barrel of his steed and stay on, was a testimony to the power of those legs.

Above him, a sphere about six and a half feet in diameter flew down. From the ground it’d scurried up a nearby bole, then leapt out of the top of that tree. It made a gleaming thrust that D barely dodged, his left shoulder being split open in the process.

Perhaps D was prepared for as much, because he didn’t even flinch, striking at the sphere with his broken sword, but the blade sank in only to spring back ineffectually.

Bouncing back onto the road, the sphere made a rubbery twang! and turned into Tong with a sword gripped in one hand.

“Did you think I was just a plain ol’ fatty, D? Forgive me, but I’ve gotta do this.”

Puffing up, he became the sphere again—and then a red line streaked right into his throat. With ridiculous ease, it poked out again through the top of his head. The same rubbery ball of flesh that’d deflected his blade couldn’t stop a stake.

“That’s something else,” the hoarse voice murmured from the horse’s back, sounding a little scared.

“Looks can be deceiving, eh?” D replied as he gazed down at Tong rolling back and forth. For some reason, the fat man was smiling.

“Not him. I’m talking about you. I was wondering what you were gonna use for a weapon . . .”

The thing jammed through Tong’s throat was covered with both his blood and D’s own. The Hunter had stuck his hand into the wound in his side and snapped something off. The stark stake was one of D’s ribs.

“Two to go,” the hoarse voice said rather wearily, “and here they are now!”

At the far end of the road, two riders waited on their steeds. A lithe figure turned straight toward the Hunter. It was Delilah. D had already experienced her skill with the sword she held in her right hand. As they passed each other, would she attack him from a safe distance? Could D guard against an unseen sword with a ten-foot reach in his present condition? What’s more, Delilah had been given power by the Great One. D, on the other hand, had only a broken sword for a weapon.

Each galloped toward the other in a cloud of dust until they were close enough to collide. A second later, Delilah and her steed hit him. A blade flashed out.

D’s left arm went flying, taken off at the elbow. The broken blade demonstrated sufficient strength and sharpness as it sank into the woman’s pale neck.

Why had she charged him instead of keeping her distance?

With no time to ponder what had been going through the girl’s mind, D squared off against his final opponent.

“Without your left arm, it seems you can’t rise from the dead,” Mikado said. Five yards lay between the two of them. “The Great One told me so. And I didn’t order Delilah to do that.”

“So, she chose to do it for her father?”

Faint ripples of surprise rolled across Mikado’s face.

“You knew about that?”

“She looks like you around the eyes.”

Mikado closed his eyes, then immediately opened them again.

Both of them dismounted at the same time.

“I’ve been powered up, so I can finally face you as an equal. But how could I ever explain to my daughter and our comrades that I faced a man with only one arm?”

D watched as Mikado put his left hand behind his back.

“Use this,” he said, throwing a knife down at D’s feet before putting his arm behind his back again.

D bent over and picked it up, saying, “I’ll take you up on that.”

Mikado nodded.

A great calm hung between the two of them. And an invisible will to kill.

The woods began to sing. Every last bird in them was chirping and squawking. And it wasn’t the forest alone—the angry howls of heaven and earth seemed to press in on them from all sides. Little by little it grew louder, rising in a plume to the heavens—and spreading across the sky like a supernova. Each and every bird took to the air at once. A maddening chaos of flapping wings painted the sky, blotting out the sun. It lasted a few seconds, and then the birds flew away, and the sun once again shone down starkly on the road.

Two figures—one had fallen, the other was standing. A slim shape crept over to the latter. Picking it up, the one who remained standing reattached it to his left elbow.

“Yep, they came after you one at a time,” said the hoarse voice.

—

THE END