Duke Gilzen

Duke Gilzen

chapter 7

I

Although the group hadn’t gotten caught up in an avalanche, the snowstorm picked up with the coming of twilight and began to trouble them. They dug a hollow in the snow and planned to use their coats as sleeping bags to keep warm. Vera’s medicine would also prevent Dust’s wound from getting infected. That left as their only problems the fear of the darkness and the castle.

The snow-covered peak of Mount Shilla had suddenly transformed into an enormous castle. The ridge had collapsed, leaving the four of them utterly stranded. They had to wonder if the mountain folk who’d been turned into vampires might not somehow return to life yet again to assail them with fangs bared. Worst of all, they didn’t know what had raised them from the dead, where the culprit was, or what they had planned. Even if whoever it was had returned to the castle, they would be watching them even now with the bloodshot eyes of the Nobility and lips crazed by eternal hunger.

Two tents had been erected. Vera and Dust went into one, while Crey and Lourié occupied the other. Initially the plan was to have Vera and Lourié in one and the two men in the other, but not knowing what might be prowling around out there, it was decided to have one man in each tent.

When their meal of crackers and canned goods was finished, Lourié—who hadn’t said a word up to that point—was looking out the window when he started talking.

“Say, you think that lady’s okay?”

He was referring to Lilia.

Rolling over, Crey was incredulous.

“You’re worried about that sorry-ass woman? She treated you like crap, and left us in the cold! Normally, that’s the kind of thing you could hold against her to your dying day.”

Nothing from the boy. Lourié was silent not because he agreed with the outlaw, but because he’d noticed the malice that permeated the man’s words. Nevertheless, he ventured, “But what if, somehow, she ended up in the castle and . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to finish.

Crey chortled. “Then so much the better. Hell, right about now the master of the castle’s draining her blood.”

Then the boy changed the topic. “I’m worried about the two next door.”

Crey gave the boy a stunned look. “Why’s that? They’re a guard and a doctor!”

“I’m worried about them. The doctor seems to think she’s done something wrong to Mr. Dust, and he’s so cold to her.”

“You’re gonna grow up to be a nosy old man. I agree with you, though.”

The boy then turned back to Crey and asked, “Why do you suppose that is?” He was talking about Vera and Dust.

“Damned if I know. Something must’ve happened.” Crey looked up at the ceiling. “Frontier or Capital—wherever you go, so long as there’s people there, you’ll find kinds of trouble you’d never imagine. Then throw the Nobility into the mix, and you’ve got a real mess. What really makes things dangerous is the Nobles seem to have emotions like hate and sadness and love, too.”

“They both look so sad.”

“Really? It don’t look that way to me.”

“I think it’s in their hearts.”

“You really are like a nosy old landlord, aren’t you? I’m sure that’ll serve you really well!”

“Mr. Crey, why are you up on the mountain?”

The guileless eyes upon him flustered the outlaw.

“Don’t go turning your guns on me all of a sudden.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just—”

“I know. I don’t exactly look like the mountain-climbing type. You’d expect to see me shaking folks down at knifepoint at best, eh?”

“That’s not what I—” Lourié began angrily. He shook his head ferociously in denial.

Crey grinned wryly. “Oh, that’s okay. Let me take this opportunity to put my cards on the table. You get to be about your age, that makes you an adult out on the Frontier. You should make it a point to find out a little about the man sleeping in the next bed. I’m Crey Jansen, just so you know. Knife expert and outlaw. The first time I killed anyone, I was seven.”

Lourié gazed, dumbfounded, at the willing confessor.

“It was the landlord of our apartment, who was pawing at my mother. That was some pretty smooth knife handling, if I do say so myself. Even at that age, I was already a full-blown punk!”

“Please don’t bring out your knife.”

Seeing how the boy’s terrified eyes focused on the knife that flew from his sleeve, Crey smiled at the boy and said, “No need to be as scared as all that. Hell, a knife is just a tool. The same as a hoe or a plow.”

“I don’t think so. A knife like that can’t be used for anything but stabbing people. And the person who carries it—” Here the boy hastily clamped a hand over his mouth.

“C’mon, can’t you come right out and say it?”

“Say what?”

“You’re a crafty little squirt, ain’t you.” Giving another one of his countless bitter grins, Crey twirled the knife intently. “Sure, the kind of fella who carries a couple of these around ain’t gonna amount to much. By the time I realized that, it was already too late. Yeah, I’d killed fifteen, maybe sixteen by then. I was, what, maybe eighteen years old?”

“Are you sure you don’t think of those as ‘the good old days’ ?”

“Shut your yap.”

“So, why go up Mount Shilla?”

The boy then buttoned his lip. He’d noticed a shadow skim across Crey’s profile. Though Lourié wasn’t yet fully grown, even he could understand it was a wound that would never heal. It was enough to give him the impression the outlaw had a very good reason for climbing the mountain.

“That’s enough about little ol’ me. Getting back to you—you were up here searching for your dad, weren’t you?”

“That’s right. Even now, my father lives somewhere on the mountain. I’m sure it was my father who took care of those mountain folk.”

“Well, that’s just great. But, if your dad’s still alive, wouldn’t he be better off coming down the mountain instead of wiping out mountain folk? I mean, that’s only human. Or is there some special reason why he wouldn’t wanna come back? Your mom wasn’t some kind of mad nymphomaniac or something, was she?”

“Please, stop it!”

Crey shrugged his shoulders and laughed sheepishly. “Sorry for saying that. Forgive me?” Seeing the tears filling the boy’s eyes and the way his body quivered, the outlaw pointed the knife in his hand in Lourié’s direction. “To show you how bad I feel, I’ll save you just once if you get into trouble. Even if it kills me. Then that’ll put us square, okay?”

Wiping the corners of his eyes, Lourié replied, “That’s all right. Don’t worry yourself about it. I’m used to people saying all sorts of things to me.” And saying that, he got into his sleeping bag. “I’m going to bed now. Good night.”

The sound of the wind howled fiercely in Crey’s ears.

–

When they found Crey at their tent a few minutes later, Vera and Dust were startled.

“What is it?”

“Well, I just wanted to hear a female voice. Say, Gramps, go keep an eye on the squirt.”

“Gramps” glowered at the outlaw. For a moment his look was savage enough to drain the color from the hired killer. But the guard quickly turned to face Vera.

“It’s okay. Go on.”

Once Dust had left, Crey asked right away, “About the squirt: you happen to know anything about his family?”

Vera was stunned. “What are you trying to hide? It’s hard to picture you being concerned about that child.”

“I ain’t really concerned about him. The squirt’s got nothing to do with me. It’s just that, in my experience, when a kid like that pulls a stunt you’d never imagine, there’s usually a heap of money involved. No way in hell would a kid that age be climbing a mountain in winter—I don’t care how much he loves his dad. What I wanna know ties into that.”

“I figured it was something like that—or I wish I could say I did.” The doctor’s gaze seemed to see right into his soul, and Crey averted his eyes. “So you really want to know about the child’s family situation because of money?”

“Why else?”

“Very well, then. I pretended not to know around the boy, but his father went up to check out the Noble’s castle.”

“What, he was a scholar or something?”

Vera shook her head wearily. “Paintings and jewels, weapons and machines the likes of which the Nobility alone could produce but humans could use—haven’t you ever heard how Nobles were able to make gold from seawater?”

“So that’s what he was there for, to loot the joint?”

Knitting her brow, Vera shushed him. Drawing a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the chest pocket of her thermal coat, she took one for herself, then offered the pack to Crey.

“I feel like I’m in one of those classy ‘liquor salons’ in the Capital.”

“Do they have hostesses my age there?”

Sparking the strike-anywhere match on the sleeve of her coat, she lit her own cigarette and Crey’s.

Blowing out a lungful of smoke, the outlaw said, “That tastes foul. What’d they do, roll up dried mildew or something?”

“Live with it. Out on the Frontier, this is what you get.”

That life on the Frontier was no easy thing had surpassed fact and become the stuff of legends. To wit: Without shipments from the Capital, they would starve in three days. In this constant state of starvation, parents would kill and eat their children. When there was nothing left to eat, they would drink their own blood. In doing so, they would become half vampire themselves despite never having been bitten by a Noble. And so on, and so forth . . . The truth was, most areas were capable of self-sufficiency, and items that supposedly could be acquired only in the Capital were frequently brought out by black-marketers and moved at exorbitant prices. Depending on the territory, there were places that had entered contracts with mail-order firms in the Capital and squeezed out the black-marketers. Still, luxury goods remained in short supply.

“Well, I bitched about it too for the first six months I was on the Frontier. Out with a bunch of bumpkins like that, you weren’t likely to find someone looking to hire a killer. Hardly a surprise someone would turn sneak thief and go after a Noble’s treasure.”

“There were rumors for a long time that the child’s father was collecting items that belonged to the Nobility and selling them to black-marketers. I think the boy knows it, too. When I served as the school’s doctor, it was the cause of a big fight that ended up with students carried into my office.”

“Oh, the poor little fella.”

Blowing out smoke, Vera replied, “Wrong. It was the children he fought you should feel sorry for.”

“Really?”

“Three upperclassmen. All boys who stood a head taller than him and were used to getting in scrapes.”

“Just a minute,” Crey said, pointing in the direction of the other tent. “You mean to tell me he’s some kinda wolf in sheep’s clothing?”

“He is when he fights. The rest of the time he’s just like you see. If he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, sometimes he’s just a sheep. But . . .”

“But what?”

“The child didn’t remember anything about the fight, you see. He knew they were teasing him about his father, but after that his memory was a complete blank. The other three weren’t hurt too badly, so we didn’t ask too many questions.”

“You sure he wasn’t so excited his mind just went blank? I’ve seen a fair bit of that myself.”

“No—but that’s just my intuition . . .”

“In that case, what is he, some kind of genius brawler who loses his memory? I don’t get it,” Crey said, exhaling smoke flamboyantly.

“Well, whatever he is—and I didn’t come right out and ask him about this—but he might have come looking for his father to clear him of the accusation of looting ruins. I don’t know how he’d do that; frankly, I think it’d be impossible.”

“Amen to that. Thanks.”

Crey got up. Perhaps due to the wind, he had to struggle to get the door open, shoving his way through the snow as he stepped outside.

About five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. After the sealing tape had been removed, the person who stepped in accompanied by the wind and snow wasn’t Dust.

“What is it, Crey?” the doctor asked in a suspicious tone.

With a rather odd expression on his face, the outlaw replied, “They’re gone!”

“What?”

“The tent’s there. Inside, it’s like they just stepped out. They left cups of cocoa and coffee, both still warm. Both of ’em were there until a second ago. It’s just . . .”

Though Crey’s features stiffened, no terror surfaced in them. Even if he was holding it back, that in itself was laudable. Leave it to the professional killer.

“Were they taken?”

“Most likely. I don’t know about the kid, but I hardly think your bodyguard would’ve gone without a fight. Think maybe a roaming dimensional vortex got ’em? Or did some foe come along who was so tough they couldn’t do a thing . . .”

“From the castle?” Vera didn’t conceal the fright in her voice. “In that case . . . it’s Duke Gilzen . . .”

“It’s a little late to be getting scared. When the mountain changed into that castle, we decided not to take off, right?”

“I know.” Putting her hand on her chest, Vera let out a deep breath. “I’m okay. But what’ll we do about those two?”

“At any rate, I’ll search our immediate surroundings, and if I don’t find ’em I’ll give up. You’re staying right here. You’ve got a weapon, don’t you?”

Vera touched her hand to her right coat pocket, where she’d tucked a rapid-fire rivet gun. She had a rifle, too. Neither calmed her in the least.

“See ya, then.”

Crey disappeared into the darkness.

After redoing the tape on the door, Vera went to the center of the tent and sat down. Anxiety gnawed at her heart.

As she was rubbing her right hand over her face, there was a knock at the door.

“It’s me.”

She recognized the voice as Crey’s.

“Open up. If you’ve got a flashlight, I need to borrow it.”

“Just a minute.”

Running over, Vera peeled off the tape. In that instant, a horrifying thought sparked in her brain. The voice was Crey’s. But was the person using it really him or not?

A snow-covered man stepped inside. Brushing the flakes off his hood, Crey looked up.

“Doc—”

His breath caught in his throat. There was no one there. The lady who’d just undone the tape was nowhere to be seen.

“Not the doc too . . . She was just here . . .”

Rooted in place, the outlaw stood mired in a bottomless solitude—but it was immediately extinguished. Someone had tapped him on the shoulder.

II

D halted.

“This is the place,” the hoarse voice told him. Its tone was low, but it carried a steely confidence.

Just ten feet away was an iron plate set in a stone wall. It was thirty feet high and ten feet wide. Myriad rivets studded its surface, and on the walls to either side of it torches burned in iron sconces.

“This clown’s old fashioned to the very last,” the hoarse voice said.

This was the central control room.

D stepped forward, putting his left hand against the iron door. It creaked open. In light of what the room contained, this was a bit underwhelming.

“Great—this is a trap.”

That went without saying. However, this young man wasn’t the sort to fall back just because of that. Waiting for the trap to be sprung, D stepped inside.

“So, this is why nothing’s interfered with us up till now. Even though we made it out of that elevator in one piece, it’ll pay to be careful.”

It seemed the Hunter had easily escaped from the iron box that dropped two thousand stories.

D pressed forward without a word.

It was a white room. D was in the very center of a plain littered with white metal. Ahead of him, at an indeterminate distance, lay a hemispherical dome.

“That’s the anti-energy reactor. For all the Nobility’s science, up till now they’ve never managed to make a perfectly stable one. One little slip-up and they go berserk. There’s a theory that the reason the Sacred Ancestor had Gilzen put under wraps was to keep his reactor under control. What the—”

Cold air crushed in around D. Even the white light was frozen, the crystallizing air forming dancing flakes of ice in D’s periphery.

“Oh, no . . . It’s four hundred and fifty-eight degrees . . . below zero. So sleepy . . .” His left hand let out a yawn. “Be . . . careful . . . This guy . . . knows . . . about us.”

“Enjoy your rest,” D said softly, and he started forward.

A voice rained down from the heavens. “Oh, even without your guardian angel, you can walk, stripling?”

Though D focused his gaze, he could detect nothing save ice crystals in the air of this world at almost absolute zero.

“You can’t see me because I have no form,” the voice said. “I myself find it strange, but you too are a creature that doesn’t seem to be restricted by your human form. Come here and you will see.”

“Will you interfere?” D inquired softly.

“I suppose I will, at that. That’s the reason we, the Sacred Protector Knights, returned to life. My name is Budges.”

“D.”

A sense of bewilderment radiated from the presence. “D? Did you say D? I’ve heard that name somewhere before . . . Oh, but it’s been ten millennia since I last lived. I’m sure I’ll remember it sooner or later. After I’ve disposed of you, that is!”

D sailed into space. Making one whistling slash through the air, he executed a splendid landing.

“Oh, is that where I am?” the voice from the ceiling remarked with admiration. “You see, not having any feeling in my limbs, I’m not entirely sure of my own location. You probably determined it by my voice, but this is a treat. However, no matter how competent you might be, you can’t cut something that has no form.” The voice laughed thinly. “That being the case, you’d think it impossible for me to attack, but it would seem that even without form I still have a mind. That will serve as my hands and feet. Like so!”

A sharp pain ripped into D’s right shoulder. With fresh blood spurting from it, the Hunter changed to a backhanded grip on his sword.

“Oh!”

Not even giving Budges time to voice his surprise, D hurled his sword. The distance to the reactor was unknown, but after a hundred yards the weapon broke apart.

“What?” Budges cried, as if his eyes were bugging from his head.

The sword his will had fractured still continued to zip straight toward the reactor. But it was just the blade, which had broken free of the hilt. Perhaps it was too late for Budges to do anything with his willpower, because the blade flew another two hundred yards and sank into the wall of the reactor. Pale light raced through the air.

“Damn it! The wall’s been breached?” Budges’s voice cried out weakly. “My willpower didn’t work on your blade. Who the hell are you?”

There was no reply.

D turned around. A number of figures were speeding toward him from the same direction he’d come. They were accompanied by something that sounded exactly like the buzzing of an insect. Ion engines. D was surrounded by a number of vehicles that resembled wheel-less motorcycles. The orange-armored figures straddling them were almost lying flat. The red muzzles protruding from the fronts of the vehicles were undoubtedly laser cannons. Even D, with his left hand asleep and his sword gone, was in no position to do anything.

“Is that you, Jeanne?” the voice of Budges inquired.

“Don’t use my name.”

The source of this new voice came over like a celebrated actor stepping on stage. Splendid in form, like a crystal given human shape, the lithe figure wore similar armor to the others, yet was draped in a purple cape. The sword on this one’s hip was more delicate than those of the other riders. The stride could be termed naught but elegant. However, the aura that gusted from her was so powerful, the men lined up there naturally stepped to one side and let her pass. “Her”? Yes, it was a woman.

With a beauty that would make males both human and Noble alike weak in the knees, she looked D straight in the face. And said nothing. Blinking her eyes, the lovely woman—Jeanne—turned and looked away. As she looked up toward the ceiling, the madly dancing electromagnetic waves truly bathed her face and body in pale light.

“Don’t ever say my name again. I won’t have that from a moron like you, who couldn’t even protect the reactor.” Such anger tinged her lovely voice.

Budges was silent.

The young woman called Jeanne then finally turned to D and said, “You did well to make it this far. I have orders from Duke Gilzen that you’re to be treated courteously. I, Jeanne, shall be your guide.”

Respectfully dropping to one knee, she brought her right hand against the amply curving breast of her chest plate and bowed. Her breath was white, so at least she had warm blood coursing through her.

The laser cannons on the magnetic force bikes surrounding D all lost the glow in their muzzles in unison. Suddenly, flames burst from one of the vehicles. It’d taken a direct hit from the electromagnetic waves. The rider leapt off it.

“You dolt—we have a guest here!”

But even faster than Jeanne’s reproach was the hand that shot out to her right. It was unclear where her whip had been secreted, but it burned through the crystallized air like a tentacle for a single crack that rang out with earsplitting volume, and the man’s head sailed into the air. Its origin still a mystery, the whip returned to the beauty’s hand—and vanished.

With all the grace of a stage performer, Jeanne elegantly folded the five fingers she had spread like the ribs of a glamorous fan, then got to her feet again.

“Hey, Jeanne,” the voice of the formless knight called down from the ceiling in an agitated manner. “Has Gilzen returned yet?”

“I hope that was a jest. As the reactor has been breached, he has no choice but to return.”

Was that why the reactor was the first thing D had targeted? To make Gilzen step into the ring with him?

Having coolly answered that query, Jeanne grinned at D. Never letting the smile leave her face, she said, “Your punishment for damaging the reactor will be meted out eventually. Do keep that in mind.” It was a tone that would freeze any listener to the bottom of their heart. Though her words changed, the tone didn’t vary in the slightest as she continued, “Very well, let us be off, Sir D. Duke Gilzen awaits us.”

Her purple cape whipped around. The snowflakes danced.

Quietly D began following the female knight who’d walked off down the corridor.

–

Around that same time, the mayor of Mungs made a sour face as he greeted some very dangerous-looking guests. These men and a trio of military aircraft had landed on the outskirts of town, having been dispatched by the Northern Frontier Airborne Division of the Capital’s standing army stationed about a hundred and twenty miles to the north.

“An experimental reconnaissance balloon launched six months ago recorded the changes to Mount Shilla three hours ago,” their leader told them. “We understand that to be Duke Gilzen’s castle. We’ve come to destroy it.”

“That’s absurd!” the mayor protested vehemently. He had been pressed into service by Director Marquis, who was also in attendance.

He explained that an accomplished Hunter and several villagers were presently climbing to ascertain the condition of the crew and cargo of an aircraft that’d crash-landed near the castle. Until they made it back alive, an attack would be out of the question.

The military men neither laughed nor scowled. Expression still devoid of emotion like a machine, one of them said, in a mechanical tone lacking blood or tears, “Duke Gilzen lives again. Do you actually think the search party will come back in one piece?”

The mayor and the archaeologist fell silent.

“The two of you need not take any kind of responsibility. We haven’t come to request your permission. We came to inform you. The attack begins with the coming of dawn tomorrow. This is a holy act of destruction to save the entire world, Frontier and Capital alike.”

“But, at the risk of repeating what you yourself said, that’s Gilzen’s castle. With just three planes . . .”

“Numbers don’t make the battle. It’s the quality of the ordnance that counts. Our forces will be carrying new weapons that can wipe away a whole mountain chain with a single blast. My apologies, Mr. Mayor, but before the night is through, I need your villagers to evacuate a thirty-mile radius from the village.”

The mouths of the two old men dropped open at this new twist of fate, and five whole minutes were wasted before summoning the servants who would need to contact the other village officials.

III

D passed before a huge door.

Perhaps the castle had been completed, or was immeasurably close to being so, because the sounds of construction no longer reached him, and the towering marble pillars and the precious-metal reliefs that adorned them now had a composed look, for all their ostentation. The floor absorbed the sound of Jeanne’s footsteps, allowing even the stillness of antiquity to be felt. To get this far, they’d ridden on moving sidewalks and taken supersonic elevators, but they hadn’t met a single person. From time to time a figure might be glimpsed at the end of a corridor or lurking behind a row of columns, but when the Hunter’s gaze turned toward it, no one would be there.

The magnificent door was etched with weird dragons and strange flowers. Rather than giving a menacing impression, they all looked terribly forlorn.

“This is as far as I go.” Jeanne halted, stepping off to one side.

Giving her neither thanks nor a bow, D headed for the door.

“How can you be allowed to enter?” Jeanne asked him. “Not even we of the Sacred Protector Knights can hope to pass beyond this door. That you, from whom our master should be protected, should be allowed to pass—”

“Ask your master.” That was all he said. This young man cared not a whit for Jeanne’s beauty or the desolation that seemed to cling to her query. That was how he’d always lived. And it was how he would probably die.

Several yards ahead of him, the door began to open slowly. Its heavy, dull sound gave the impression that this was accomplished not by nuclear power but by a titanic lever.

It was a vast room. You might even call it a great hall. It was so large that if a human were ordered to make use of it, they wouldn’t be able to begin to imagine what to do. People could be gathered for a game—but they could have ten thousand people on each team and would need equipment the size of three-storied palaces. The ends of the room couldn’t actually be seen. Only a dim light fell from above. Looking up to the ceiling found it concealed in darkness.

What greeted D’s eyes was a colossal pyramid that loomed just fifty yards ahead. Blinding. A golden glitter was trying to burn itself into his retinas. The pyramid was made of gold. And in fact, it wasn’t a pyramid. There was a wide staircase up its front slope. Thirty feet up, at the summit, was a throne, also of gold, and on it sat a man in a dazzling golden cape. His face had stolid proportions that didn’t suggest Nobility. But perhaps that was on account of his stubbly beard. If he had shaved, every inch of him would’ve had an air of pure refinement.

“D, is it?” A solemn voice echoed across the sprawling plain—and yet there was an inescapable impression of softness and weariness to it.

“Duke Gilzen?”

“Correct. So good of you to come.”

“Let me ask you something first: what became of the crew that was on the aircraft with you?”

The man on the throne was silent for a while, and then he said, “That’s the reason you’ve come here? I’ll be happy to tell you. They’re right there.”

Suddenly there were evil presences to either side of D. Though it was unclear where they’d been, the two men stood there now. Both had their hands poised in front of their chests, as if to grab someone, and stark incisors peeked from spitefully red lips.

“I’m Del Rey, the pilot.”

“Geeson, an archaeologist.”

“I’m D,” the owner of the handsome visage replied. “I came to find you two. But I can’t bring you back now, can I?”

“Why not?” asked the master on his throne.

D didn’t reply. The answer was far too obvious.

The man on the throne gave him a sarcastic grin. “I see you don’t fathom the meaning of my question.”

There was a loud clap. He’d brought his thin, pale hands together.

From D’s right side the pilot attacked, wind churning in his wake. His evil visage, the speed with which he leapt, and the terrible claws that aimed for D’s face were all those of a vampire. And realizing that, who would’ve believed what happened next? That one who’d received the blood of the Nobility could be slain with a single blow?

Dropping straight down from midair, he landed at D’s feet. A tapered point protruded from his back in the vicinity of his heart. D hadn’t used his longsword on him. It’d been a long wooden needle.

The face of the instantly killed pilot quickly turned back to that of a normal person, and as soon as it did the archaeologist to the Hunter’s left exclaimed, “What have you done, you murderer! The pilot and I are both still human. Wasn’t your blasted hide sent up here to save us?”

D had already seen the truth to what the man said.

“That was a human being you killed,” said the man on the throne. “Which makes what you did murder, plain and simple. How does it feel to murder a man you came to rescue?”

D asked, “So, you can turn them into either human or Noble, Gilzen?”

“Precisely.” The pale face above the lavish cape smiled. “Now, if you’d be so good as to show me what you’ll do with the other one.”

D was going to have to make a terrible decision. If this person could instantaneously switch between human and Noble, his condition at the moment he was killed would either make D a Hunter or a deplorable killer.

“Murderer! Murderer! When I get back to the village, I’ll tell everyone. I just knew you dhampirs were all—”

Geeson’s voice stopped dead. Again there was the sound of hands clapping. The archaeologist’s looks changed. The figure that bounded for D was a hideous vampire.

What will you do, D?

A scream exploded. The archaeologist fell on top of the pilot and rocked with spasms. His chest had a rough wooden needle jutting from it. Once again, D’s single blow had been precise. Just as the man was about to fall, he’d reached out to D with one hand. He’d fairly sobbed the word, “Murder . . . er . . .” And then, as if fused to the pilot, he moved no more.

A faint, nearly suppressed laughter had reached D’s ears. “I suppose that was a stupid question,” the man on the throne said with a self-deprecating chuckle. “What would you do, save dispose of the pseudo-Nobility that attacked you? Such a fearsome man. It’s a joy to meet a man such as yourself, D. Let us hope you live up to the expectations I, Gilzen, have for you.”

“You were the cargo?” D inquired.

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Then I’ll have to dispose of you,” said the Hunter. That was what it meant to be the young man known as D.

Gilzen’s eyes bulged, and then the man immediately smiled. “So, that’s how it’s going to be? My, I’m coming to like you more and more. D, might I have one moment more?”

A murderous implement flew through the air without resistance, straight for the Nobleman’s forehead—and the rough wooden needle poked out through the back of his head. For a split second, a look of incredible pain and rage skimmed across Gilzen’s pale countenance, but before he could even catch D’s eye, he grinned wearily. Three times he clapped his hands, and D’s deadly needle came out as if it were being pushed back through, tumbling halfway down the stairs before it came to a stop.

“Not even your skill can slay me. Why not stay here in the castle for the time being and hone your abilities?” He then added, “I know quite a bit about the Sacred Ancestor.”

D bounded.

Gilzen clapped his hands together. Beam weapons secreted about the room should’ve pierced D from head to toe. On D’s chest, his pendant glowed blue. And nothing happened.

When the dashing figure in black alighted right in front of him, Gilzen gazed at him half in surprise, half in admiration. “You fight, even knowing it’s pointless?”

D’s right hand caught the man by the neck. Unexpectedly thin, his neck was crushed with one great squeeze.

As D gazed at the twitching Gilzen, his eyes were incredibly clear. But his ears caught someone saying, “Mr. D!” He didn’t even turn to look, but the voice continued, “Everyone’s here. We got caught.”

The diminutive figure standing just inside the door was Lourié.

“—As I was just saying,” Gilzen said as little coughs racked his crushed throat. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. It puts even me in such a strange mood. Look, I must be blushing. Ah, but I read you right. It seems there does exist something that can melt your icy machinery. I know it’s a terribly shopworn phrase, D, but I take no responsibility for what happens to the boy!”

“He’s nothing to me.”

Gilzen smirked. It would be no exaggeration to term his smile evil. “The very fact that you’d say that proves you’ve played into my trap. Look.” He snapped the fingers of his right hand.

Darkness enveloped Lourié’s body. Cries gushed into the air.

“The screams of a child with no connection to you. They don’t bother you, do they?”

As Gilzen said that, bubbles of blood came out with his words. He slowly pulled his torso away. D’s fingers came free of his neck, and they didn’t try to find purchase on it again.

“Well, I shall welcome you as my guest.” Putting his hand to his ravaged throat, Gilzen continued, “However, as the ruler of this land I must first make an example. This is how we reward filthy Hunters.”

Suddenly, curved blades appeared from either side of his torso. Blades? No, clearly they were ribs. At the same time the left one pierced D’s flank, the right rib changed direction like some clockwork mechanism, stabbing into D’s heart from above. With the tip of it poking out from his back like a stake, D arched backward without a word, reeling. His body instinctively sought to pull away, but his torso was skewered.

“And here end my sanctions against this despicable character. Later, we shall chat to your heart’s contentment. Nights in my castle are long, D!”

The bizarre rib swords had been pulled out of him. At last D backed away, his body swaying greatly, and then he fell straight backward from the summit of the pyramid.