Wendover Gorge

chapter 6

I

In this era, there were swords that could cut through stone. There were also those that could slice steel. However, they chose their masters. Cutting through stone and slicing steel were skills for an expert. At present, even out on a Frontier choked with warriors and superhuman Hunters, there was no woman who was known to slash through stone.

Now, bringing her blade straight down on the marker, Iriya sliced halfway through it without meeting any real resistance, then brought her arm back again. Suddenly, she realized that everything had ended. Around her were none of Those Who Wait. The lights were out in each of the homes, all of which had become dilapidated ruins.

“Meeker!” the Huntress called out.

“Miss Iriya!” he immediately replied. He was close.

Just as she was about to walk toward his voice, three cyborg horses came into view far down the road. A figure in a black coat rode one, and Meeker was on another. The third was Iriya’s steed. They galloped up, and then Meeker jumped down and threw his arms around Iriya’s neck. The girl bore his weight through sheer joy.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No problem. It was looking bad, but D saved me!”

“Oh, that’s right. He was here, too.”

The gorgeous Hunter stood quietly before the two of them.

“How’d you know to cut through that stone marker?”

The question made the boy turn and look at D.

“Go ahead and tell us. It was all your doing.” Though the Hunter’s voice was steely, it somehow seemed gentle.

The boy nodded. Through the darkness, Iriya saw his flush of pride.

“In my dad’s room, there were a bunch of really old books. One of ’em was called Frontier Evils and Their Means of Destruction Based on Oral Tradition. It was about all kinds of demons and monsters—how to get away from ’em, how to hide from ’em, and even a little bit about how to slay ’em.”

“Up till now, no one’s known how to get rid of Those Who Wait! That must’ve been a pretty old book.”

“It wasn’t really a book. More like a bunch of ratty old papers bound together. My dad made the cover himself.”

“Looks like someone was a smart cookie,” remarked the hoarse voice. “Your father found all these old scraps and notes and put them together into a single volume. Any ideas whose notes they were?”

“Yeah, I think . . .” Closing his eyes, Meeker’s face took on an adult’s grimace. “I’m pretty sure it was Montague—Father Montague Lord Jessun.”

“Oh, him,” the hoarse voice said, seeming satisfied.

“You know him?” Iriya inquired.

“He was an eccentric holy man who roamed all over the Frontier about a century ago collecting all kinds of old legends and stories. But before he could put them all together in a single volume, he had a heart attack and died. Since he was staying at an inn for merchants when he croaked, his valuable possessions were gone before his relatives or apprentices could get there, and I heard that, aside from a small portion, his notes and other writings had scattered to the four winds. So, the squirt’s father got his hands on ’em, eh?”

“You’ll come in handy. You just saved me—and D, too.”

“That’s right,” D said.

Iriya gave the boy, so happy and proud he was frozen in place, a look of exceeding tenderness.

“And so another legend falls—let’s go!” D said.

When they were just shy of the village gates, Iriya pressed her hand against her chest and halted her horse.

“Oh, no—I wonder if I could’ve dropped it? Go on ahead.”

“What is it?” Meeker inquired with concern.

Giving him a wry grin, she replied, “A present from my mom—a bitty little pendant. The chain must’ve snapped while I was fighting. It’s probably no use, but I’ll try to find it anyway. I’ll catch up with you soon.”

“We’ll wait fifteen minutes,” D said matter-of-factly.

“Roger that.”

Wheeling her steed around, the warrior woman galloped off into the depths of the darkness.

D and Meeker decided to wait by the entrance. The gates were rotting away.

After waiting fifteen minutes, D murmured in a tone so faint Meeker couldn’t hear, “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

“That Noble?” Even the hoarse voice sounded tense.

“Viscount Albidozen, most likely.”

“But how’d he manage it?”

“Ask him.”

“Hmm,” the hoarse voice groaned. “If he was in the village, he would’ve had to deal with Those Who Wait, too. You suppose he worked his spell from outside?”

“Listen closely,” D said.

“I don’t get it,” the hoarse voice replied several seconds later. “They’re already three miles away. So—” The hoarse voice buttoned its lip, but quickly continued, “Oh, here comes something else!”

D’s left hand shot out. There was a dull thud, and his fist grasped a single silver arrow.

“There’s a thread tied to the head of this arrow. Seems like you’ve got all kinds of handy acquaintances.”

Ignoring the taunting tone of the hoarse voice, D followed the thread so fine it would’ve been imperceptible to the naked eye, then turned to the boy.

“The highway’s to the west. Is there a mountain or a hill along the way?”

Furrowing his brow for a moment, Meeker replied, “Sure. About a mile and a quarter up ahead, there are four hills.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I read maps of the Frontier.”

“You don’t mean to tell me you’ve got ’em memorized, do you?” the hoarse voice said.

“I do!”

“Little shit,” D’s left hand said, rising.

Using his right hand to pull it back down, D remarked, “It’s like Iriya said. You come in handy.”

“Don’t I, though?”

“Get on behind me. We’re in for a rough ride. Your tail end will be killing you.”

“Yes, sir!”

Meeker gladly transferred to the Hunter’s steed, and leaving the other two steeds there, D gave a kick to his horse’s flank—and with a toss of its mane, the cyborg horse broke into a gallop.

Though from the outside the carriage appeared to be of average size, the interior was strangely roomy. Iriya found herself resting on the floor of a room that looked to be about eighteen hundred square feet. Her arms and legs were immobilized. Though her body told her she was bound by some sort of fine thread, she couldn’t see it, no matter how she strained her eyes. Yet the pain of the thread biting into her and the deep welts it left on her skin told her it was no illusion. From the faint shaking, she determined that the carriage was still in motion.

Beyond a few sofas and tables, a wide staircase rose in an elegant spiral. Iriya no longer found it odd that a carriage that looked from the outside like it would have room for just four occupants had a second story. As she was thinking about how she was going to escape, a figure in a black cape came down the stairs.

“Send another dummy?” she asked. Iriya wasn’t the least bit cowed.

“I’m the genuine article.”

The caped figure came over. With the pale skin unique to the Nobility and red eyes that burned in the darkness, he had a slender frame that projected a particularly cruel image.

“The horses that draw this carriage are unusually swift. You should know we are already more than a dozen miles from the village. Not even the Hunter known as D could possibly catch up to us.”

“Sooner or later this shit heap of a wagon will have to stop. And when it does, you’ll have a fight on your hands. In fact, I don’t even need to wait for D. I’ll dispose of you myself. Okay, then. Cut me free.”

“Hmph. It would appear you are merely capable of making threats, human. And yet—”

Resting his hand against his slender chin, the viscount stared thoughtfully at Iriya. Huntress though she was, the look was unsettling enough to freeze her solid. The viscount quickly bent over and gazed at the nape of Iriya’s neck. Though she tried to resist, her body was still bound tight. Iriya was seized by the fear of those vile fangs piercing her pale throat.

Reaching for her trembling chin and examining her scrupulously, seemingly in spite of himself the viscount murmured, “Hmm. It’s as if we never bit you. Who could do such a thing . . .”

“It’s just your imagination,” Iriya spat venomously. “No one bit me. If you want to, go ahead and try biting me now.”

“Yes,” the viscount said with a nod, and Iriya thought, Damn it! “That would be the best way to resolve this question. And I must thank you for making the suggestion.”

He smirked, stark fangs gleaming behind his lips.

“Save your thanks for your son in hell.”

“Regrettably, I have neither a wife nor a son. Therefore, I was able to join my compatriots, night in and night out, for the delightful sport of feasting on human blood. As I did when we called on your home.”

“You mean to say . . . that was a game for you?” Iriya asked in a voice like a crone’s.

“What else would it be? Killing your parents and abducting your siblings was merely a caprice! There was no need to tear open their throats, and we hardly wanted for servants.”

“Give me back my father . . .” Iriya’s voice trembled. A torrent of almost insane rage surged through her supple form, trying to transform it into wrought iron. “Give me back my mother . . . and my brothers . . . Give me back my little sister . . .”

And what should the Noble do but nod?

“Very well. In Vinmel I told you as much. Now I shall reunite you. Yan!”

The viscount’s grin broadened. His right arm rose, his cape hiding the staircase from Iriya’s view. Peering into her eyes, which had become vacant the instant she heard Yan’s name, the Nobleman grinned viciously. His cape quickly came down again.

II

At the foot of the stairs stood a young man, short but sturdily built. He was dressed in rough old clothes and sported close-cropped hair—for a second, Iriya thought her brother must’ve just come home from a hunting trip. The kiss of the Nobility had prevented the years from changing him.

“For your benefit, I’ve had him don the same clothes he wore that evening. Here you are, brother and sister, reunited by chance after all these years. We have plenty of time. By all means, please get reacquainted.”

A heartbeat later, Iriya realized she’d been set free. As she leapt to her feet with lightning speed, she saw the caped figure vanish into the depths of the darkness.

“Big brothers and little sisters are a thing for the world of humans. I look forward to seeing what becomes of the bond between you now that one of you is a servant of the Nobility!”

“Iriya . . .”

The mere sound of his voice left Iriya feeling dizzy.

“Yan . . .”

You’ve gotta pull yourself together, a tiny voice whispered to her, but its tone was also vacant and dazed.

“Iriya—you’re all grown up, aren’t you?”

Yan broke into a grin. It was the same warm and dependable smile she remembered from days of old.

Her older brother had carried a weapon as heavy as their father’s since the time he was ten and used it to bag game just as big, too. Taciturn by nature, he was warned by their mother that folks would take him for a mute, but with his evening drink he would give them a friendly grin. And every time he did, Iriya realized it was a treasure.

“What’ve you been doing all this time? Are Mom and Dad doing well?”

“No,” Iriya replied, shaking her head. “What are you talking about? The night the Nobles came, their throats were ripped open! They’re dead! You, Pol, Chulos, and Maggie all got bitten and were carried off. I was the only one they didn’t bite!”

“That . . . is a lie,” Yan said sadly.

“Why do you say that? It’s true! I don’t remember it happening. And look at my throat—there’s not a mark on it, is there?”

“I saw it, Iriya—I watched the great Count Langlan drink your blood. We’d all been bitten already. You were the last. And then they carried all of us off. If Count Langlan hadn’t told them to leave you there, you would’ve met the same fate we did.”

“No. You must be remembering it wrong, Yan.”

“You’re the one who’s wrong.”

Yan gazed patiently at his little sister.

“What’s with your eyes—why are they red? I’ll tell you what happened, okay? Just don’t look at me.”

“Iriya.”

“Afterward, I was rescued by a passing witch doctor. He took me on the road with him. With my whole family bitten by Nobles and taken away, I couldn’t very well stay in that village. After all, there was no saying you wouldn’t all come and attack the place. Then I learned how to use swords and other weapons, and I set out on a journey to find all of you. I wanted to rescue you—if you hadn’t been made servants of the Nobility yet. If I was too late, I would drive a wooden stake through your hearts before you could hurt anyone else.”

“Who taught you how to use those weapons?”

“Who? Different people!”

“Before you slew Baron Mitterhaus, you took care of Count Zegreib, Duke Schultz, and Baron Luzbon. And you had to deal with Pol, Maggie, and Shezk. Quite an accomplishment. I can imagine what Mom and Dad would call you—sibling slayer.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Iriya protested.

The shock had been surprisingly faint. From the instant her blade slid into the heart of the first she’d dealt with—Maggie—all consciousness of their blood ties had been transformed into something else entirely. Iriya had since stained her hands with the blood of two more siblings.

“Being servants of the Nobility, you have to do whatever you’re told. And I had to stop that.”

“And now it’s my turn?” Yan’s smile broadened. His meaty hands grabbed hold of Iriya’s shoulders.

“I know how you feel about me,” her older brother said.

What’s he talking about?

Terror squirmed somewhere in Iriya’s heart.

“I knew perfectly well how you viewed me. But there was no way I could accept it. After all, we’re brother and sister.”

His rugged face drew closer. In the old days, he’d often smelled of sweat. Now, however, he carried the stench of blood.

“But things are different now. You don’t have to hide anything, Iriya. I like you, too.”

“Yan, don’t talk craziness.”

“Why can’t brothers and sisters be together? Who decided that? That’s a human rule, isn’t it?”

Before Iriya’s brother’s face approached hers, his powerful chest crushed against her breasts. His waist melded with hers, and her brother’s hands slid from her shoulders to her back.

Iriya couldn’t shut her eyes, which saw those of Yan as they glowed burning red, like coals. Iriya’s right hand went for the dagger on her hip. It was still there—not because Viscount Albidozen hadn’t noticed it, but rather because the Nobleman considered Iriya to be a slip of a girl who posed no threat to him. Her weapons had been left alone, and even her longsword had been placed on the floor by her side.

“Iriya.”

Her brother sought her lips. Iriya didn’t refuse him. Even when her brother reached for the hand she used to grip her dagger, she didn’t fight him. Her brother was far more passionate than she’d imagined back in those distant days. He sucked against Iriya’s lips so hard it seemed he’d pull them right off, and their teeth made a noise as they banged together. And then—

There was a scream that fell short of words. Yan leapt back, bright blood gushing from between the fingers pressed to his mouth. His tongue had been bitten clean off. As he stood there frozen with surprise, a dagger plunged into his throat, and while he staggered backward, Iriya pounced on him with her sword in one hand—and split her own brother from the top of the head right down to the crotch. As Yan fell without a word, his eyes weren’t those of a brother looking out for his little sister. As if to escape those eyes crazed by loathing and hunger, Iriya made a second swipe, this one from the side—and her older brother, split crosswise from the base of his throat, flew into the air. Still breathing easily, Iriya raced over to the shuddering body, reversing her grip on the longsword and dealing the final blow to the still-pulsating heart.

“This comes as a surprise,” said Viscount Albidozen, his voice drifting out from nowhere in particular, yet Iriya remained facing straight ahead, her face a mask devoid of all emotion as she sheathed her blade. “I would have thought your feeling for your brother would trump your pride as a Hunter, but I see how callously you cut him down. Your great accomplishments up until this point are understandable. Another notch for your belt, sibling slayer. Acting dazed and compliant, then biting his tongue off—whoever could have taught you such a tactic?”

Ignoring him, Iriya mouthed a farewell prayer, then turned to the staircase.

There, on the landing halfway up, stood Viscount Albidozen.

“Is that how you put your relations at peace? Who did you learn this from, and who will you pass it on to? You are a deeply troubled girl. However, I admire your resolve! Your cold-bloodedness. Be mine, child. Then you shall be able to call on the true power that the gods or whoever granted you.”

He wasn’t joking. The look in the viscount’s eye was the same he’d give any beloved Noblewoman.

“Look into my eyes—that is what I would normally tell you, but you were unperturbed by the Noble’s gaze of your brother. It would seem I have no choice but to resort to force. Child, are you prepared to do battle with Viscount Albidozen?”

“Come and get it,” Iriya responded with a terrible gleam in her eye.

The carriage was approaching an old suspension bridge. It wasn’t one of the Nobles’ making. About a century earlier, this six-hundred-foot bridge had been designed by humans and fashioned from wood, steel, and cables. The iron plates and bolts supporting it were rusted and loose, leaving it in such poor shape some joked about whether it would support the weight of a crossing baby. What would happen when the Noble’s carriage rode onto it? Or if it were struck with a single arrow, for that matter?

A silver arrow scored a direct hit on a floorboard near the center of the bridge while the carriage was still a hundred yards shy of it. An arrow made of silver. Just one. Who would’ve thought it capable of such destruction?

The instant the arrow found its mark, all the nuts and bolts securing the bridge shot into the air. And that was just the start. It was unclear what kind of damage the bridge had received, but it was now pulled back in the direction the arrow had come from, and a few seconds later it plunged toward the rapids three hundred feet below, twisting and turning like a dying serpent—even though no one was present to witness its throes.

It was about ten minutes later that D caught up with the carriage, halted some twenty yards from the cliff. No matter what the speed of his cyborg horse might’ve been, it was hard to believe how quickly he’d erased the carriage’s lead of a dozen miles.

Going straight over to the carriage, D checked the interior and promptly returned.

“She’s not there,” he told Meeker, who was crestfallen.

Before the boy could ask where she’d gone, the hoarse voice said, “A terrific amount of energy was unleashed here. Before we arrived, a fight of some sort took place.”

D looked around.

What had happened? The rocky cliffs and forests to either side of the road had been wiped away, leaving flat land for as far as the eye could see. The plain was so vast, anyone who hadn’t known about the existence of the cliffs or forests would’ve thought about building a home there.

“How much would this take?” D asked. He was wondering how much energy would be required to work such a transformation on the place.

“Roughly fifty billion—” the hoarse voice began, but then a prismatic mist blew their way, like a rainbow borne on the wind. In front of D on the ground and Meeker on horseback the mist changed shape, swayed, and in the blink of an eye resolved into a pair of human figures.

“Miss Iriya?”

“Albidozen.”

In response to the cries from Meeker and the hoarse voice, the man in the cape made an elegant bow. Surprisingly enough, Meeker bowed his head in return. The Nobleman’s actions were so refined the boy couldn’t help himself.

“So good of you to come all this way,” the viscount told D and Meeker. From the sincerity in his voice, it seemed he meant every word. “However, the girl has kept me from doing much.”

He gazed lovingly at the pale visage of Iriya, who stood like a zombie by his side. Suddenly, his eyes filled with naked hate and his gaze shot to the plain to his left.

“Wherever can you be, you hateful yet remarkable archer? By all means, take another shot once I have dealt with this hindrance.”

“The bridge was shot out?” D said, seeming to glean the truth.

“With but a single arrow. My driver and the guard both plunged into the ravine below.”

“Then you can go and join them.”

A silver flash shot up from D’s back. The blade came out without a single wasted movement.

Powder in all the colors of the rainbow flew through the air. The second the blade had split his head, both the viscount and Iriya had turned to dust.

“Albidozen’s sorcery? Watch yourself,” the hoarse voice said.

“Stay right there,” D told Meeker, and then the Hunter shut his eyes. He was searching for a sign of the Nobleman.

“Here I am. Right here.”

Once again the prismatic fog drifted, taking the form of the Noble and the Huntress. Straight ahead of D—and to his right and left, and behind him—the unmistakable image of the pair took shape while the viscount laughed scornfully. “Not even the superkeen senses of a dhampir can see through my pack of duplicates.”

Now more than twenty viscounts were undoing the top buttons of the same number of Iriyas and stroking the pale throats that were exposed. The Iriyas groaned in a low voice. For all its loathing, the tone also carried an inescapable ring of desire.

“D . . .”

Though D didn’t move in response to her moan, when the viscounts charged at him from all sides, his right arm flourished his blade, reducing each and every one of the attackers to dust.

“Quite an accomplishment. I see my duplicates don’t return to normal. So, this is the man they call D?” one of the viscounts exclaimed, unmistakable fear and admiration in his voice, and then he dashed toward the cliff with Iriya in his arms.

“Watch yourself!” the hoarse voice urged.

Albidozen stood stock still, unable to flee any further, while the Hunter’s blade rose to strike him down—but at that instant, D felt a change in the ground beneath his feet. He’d stepped out into empty space! Without saying a word and with his sword still raised, D was swallowed by the darkness.

III

However, as D fell, he thrust his sword into the rockface before him. Perhaps it was a result of his otherworldly pose, or maybe it was D’s skill, but the blade sank halfway into the rock, supporting its wielder. But D didn’t move after that. With no footing for a leap upward, he was left hanging in midair—literally high and dry, as the saying went.

“You are a stalwart foe,” Viscount Albidozen laughed, standing on a rock just shy of the edge of the cliff a scant fifteen feet above the Hunter. Iriya was in his arms. “However, you find yourself in quite a fix. You may hang there, helpless as a bagworm, and watch as I make this girl mine.”

His lips latched onto her supple neck. Iriya writhed, but when the lips came away, there was no wound there. Apparently it’d been an ordinary kiss.

Although it seemed like the viscount wanted to sink his fangs into her, he sounded somehow dissatisfied as he said, “I was going to take this girl to Kraken’s castle. Though at first he intended to kill her and dispatched assassins toward that end, he came to harbor the same doubts that I do and changed his mind. There is something unusual about this girl. She leaves me ill at ease. As a result, I have decided to grant her the blood of the Nobility here and now. Forgive me, Kraken. But you share the anxiety I feel. Now, I will remove the need for it.”

His mouth opened wide, and within it gleamed a gruesome pair of fangs. More than anything, it was the blood-crazed look on the Noble’s face that spoke of his true intention this time.

Strength flowed into D’s right arm. His muscles became iron. His body rose immediately. With nothing but the power of one arm, he propelled himself upward. There was a whistle as the black streak knifed through the darkness—the Hunter had extracted his longsword, as well.

Albidozen bent backward almost reflexively, escaping with just a cut to the end of his nose only because the timing of the blade had been thrown off. The Nobleman backed off a few yards, and on seeing D on top of the cliff, he pressed his accursed lips to the throat of the enthralled Iriya.

Iriya’s body stiffened—then relaxed. Her vacant expression was quickly transformed into one of rapturous delight. No matter what a person’s state of mind, from the peaks of excitement to the murky depths of despair, the kiss of the Nobility would put them in a trance.

When the viscount turned and grinned at D, his lips were stained with blood. Licking them, the Nobleman lifted Iriya with the intent to hurl her at the charging Hunter. In his hands, the Huntress’s body spun agilely.

“Wha—” the Nobleman grunted and froze in his tracks; Iriya had landed behind him and plunged her dagger through his heart from the back, while D’s blade raced forward, bringing with it the cruel crunch of severed vertebrae.

As the viscount’s head sailed through the air in a gentle parabola and dropped into the gorge, it rotted away, turning to dust. D looked down at the Noble’s equally dusty cape without a word and then crouched by Iriya’s side.

“Do you remember now?”

Some time passed before Iriya looked up. Her expression was one of extreme fatigue, and she looked around dazedly, but on noticing the items at her feet, she finally expressed surprise.

“This is Viscount Albidozen’s . . . D, did you do that to him?”

D looked down at his left hand.

“She ain’t tugging your chain. She’s had her memory wiped clean,” the hoarse voice said.

Closing her eyes almost as if she’d been wounded, Iriya said, “My memories wiped clean? Did I do something?”

“You slew Albidozen,” said D.

“What?” Iriya exclaimed, her face slowly contorting with shock.

“But before you did, he fed on you, though there are no marks on your neck. It’s like you were never bitten.”

“What do you mean? You’re telling me I was bitten, but there’s no wound on my throat? You must’ve seen it wrong, then!”

“Of everything you’ve said, there’s just one name whose meaning remains unclear. It might be tied to your missing memory.”

“What name?”

“Alucard.”

Iriya squinted her eyes, poring through her memories, but she quickly shook her head.

“So, this Alucard person set it up so that when I destroy a Noble, I lose all memory of it?”

“While you’re fighting them, it’s not your memories you lose, but your emotions. The memory erasure is so you’ll forget that you’ve been bitten. The human psyche isn’t equipped to deal with that shock. Just getting bitten would probably take every last bit of fight out of you.”

“In that case, when I’m fighting and slaying Nobles, I wouldn’t remember anything, right?”

“That’s about the size of it,” said the hoarse voice. “But I don’t think there’s a witch doctor or sorcerer in the world who could keep the kiss of the Nobility from going into effect. But you say, ‘Alucard,’ ‘Alucard.’ ”

“D—are we setting out soon?” Iriya inquired, turning a doleful countenance toward the Hunter.

“It’ll be dawn soon. We’ll wait till then.”

“In that case, come with me. My brother’s remains are in the carriage.”

He was a pile of dust and rotting bones on the floor. Putting them into her big brother’s jacket, Iriya left the carriage and went to the edge of the cliff.

“Ashes to ashes,” she intoned in a faint voice, her eyes shut. “Dust to dust. Be borne off on the winds, carried with the rain, lost in the ground. Bring forth new trees and new grass, new flowers and new grains. Bring forth new life.”

She scattered the dust. The girl watched without expression as her older brother’s remains spread like smoke, melting away into the darkness.

“It’s done,” she told D, and there were no tears in her eyes.

The strength was returning to her stride as she walked toward Meeker, and watching her go, the hoarse voice remarked, “She does away with her own blood, and she ain’t even upset about it. That’s gotta warp you!”

“In what way?” D asked the hoarse voice.

“If I knew that, it’d save us a lot of trouble. It’s lousy for her, but hopefully it’ll work out good for us.”

As the Hunter walked back to his cyborg horse, Meeker called out to him, “How are we supposed to cross here? Now that the Noble we were chasing’s been slain, will we turn back?”

“No, we’ll keep going this way.”

Looking at D with utter disbelief, Iriya said, “We’ll fall!”

Still facing the cliffs on the opposite side, D said, “Load the horse into the back of the carriage. The interior is an area of distorted space. You could fit ten thousand of them in there.”

“What’ll we do then?”

Giving no reply, D went back into the carriage, then quickly returned with a spool of wire over his shoulder.

“What are you going to do?”

Iriya’s voice carried a tone that said, You can’t be serious.

“The supports are still there.”

In the darkness, the black iron supports that’d secured the web of cables at both ends of the suspension bridge still towered on either cliff. Walking over to the brink of the cliff with the massive spool of steel wire, which must’ve weighed hundreds of pounds, D faced the opposite cliff and uncoiled about five yards of wire that he began to twirl over his head like a lasso.

Iriya muttered to herself something about how he must be joking, but her remarks were obliterated by a forceful whistle in the wind. And it wasn’t the whispering of a breeze; it was the angry howls of a gale. Even before Iriya and Meeker could react, the cyborg horses backed away.

D’s right hand shot out, and the two-millimeter wire flew like a javelin to a support on the opposite side, which it coiled around as if it were a snake. It was a distance of over six hundred feet. Giving a good tug to test its strength, D drew his sword and easily cut the wire with about five yards to spare, which he then wrapped around a support on their side of the cliff. Once the entire procedure had been repeated, there were two thin wires bridging the cliffs.

“Get in the carriage,” D told them, not showing a sign of exertion.

“Wait just a second there! You planning on crossing on those wires?”

Meeker looked pale, even in the darkness of night. Iriya had a distinct look of fear on her face.

“Let’s go!” D said, mounting one of the cyborg horses and heading for the carriage.

A few minutes later, the carriage began to race across the new bridge. It looked for all the world like it was flying above the abyss.