Traveling Companions

chapter 3

1

Though Annette rubbed her still-sleepy eyes and made a great show of saying how tired she was, the dashing young man in black would hear none of it.

“You’ve got ten minutes to get ready. I’ll be waiting outside,” was all he told her before making a prompt exit.

“How about treating me like a human being, you lousy employee?!” she snarled, hurling her pillow at the door D had left through a good minute after he’d gone.

At any rate, she’d gathered her things and indignantly left the hotel when she was greeted by a chilling sight. D was over by the post the horses were hitched to—and she’d be damned if it wasn’t that malodorous kid he was talking to!

On spying the stunned Annette, Pikk flushed crimson. He then stood bolt upright, and, scariest of all, showed her a white grin.

It seemed as if enraged blood had risen to infuse each and every hair on her head. Hustling over, Annette said, “What are you two whispering about? D, you don’t seriously intend to let this kid—”

D looked at her face, rather cute but trembling with rage, and said coolly, “Seems he’d like to go with us.”

The blood her anger had heated cooled. Or rather, it froze.

“That’s right!” the boy exclaimed, dealing the coup de grace with a jubilant face. “This town’s plumb run dry of hospitality. Hire me. It’s gonna be a long haul, right? I’ll find drinking water, hunt wild boar, or do anything! My rate’s a dala a day. A good man at an affordable price.”

“That’s the gist of it,” D said.

Annette scrutinized the faces of the two of them. Apparently they were serious. Could they be plotting to annoy her so much she’d turn neurotic, then force her family to pay a king’s ransom in medical costs? Annette had such a strong aversion to the boy—Pikk—that this sort of wild idea could gain purchase in her head. For starters, he still stank!

“Not on your life!” Her brain was still seething with anger and loathing, and it was probably on account of that she spoke. “No way on earth are we taking that filthy brat along. And if you’re hell-bent on having him go, D, I’ll dismiss you right here!”

“Seems like an overreaction,” a hoarse voice murmured with amusement somewhere.

“And that’s the way it is,” D told Pikk.

For a minute the boy sniffled a bit, but then he stood up straight, tucked one hand in his armpit, and started whispering about something.

“Could be,” said D.

At that point, the boy started whispering again.

“Hmm, good point,” the hoarse voice then conceded.

This called to Annette’s mind visions of a great-great-grandfather nodding his head sagely, and she stomped her feet, saying, “Stop your secret plotting!”

She shouted that so loudly, stunned pedestrians stopped in their tracks.

“Just as I thought,” Pikk said, nodding gravely.

“Uh-huh,” the hoarse voice added.

The boy’s dark face grinned at Annette and D, and he said, “I see. Okay, I give up. Still—”

When he’d said that much, from down the street there were shouts of “There he is!” and shrill cries as a bunch of rough-looking guys dashed in that direction, bulling their way through the pedestrians and forcing wagons to come to a sudden stop. Each face was angry and wore the look of a huntsman who’d finally cornered his prey—or worse, they were deeply stained with the air of a carnivore.

For a moment Pikk looked perfectly ready to run, but one glance at Annette and he quickly stopped.

“The kid puts on a brave front,” the hoarse voice said with admiration. “Just so he can look good in front of a girl. He’s a man, all right.”

Saying nothing, D gazed at the boy.

Glancing once more at Annette, Pikk then quickly strode out into the middle of the street.

“Taking care that we don’t get mixed up in this? Considerate little cuss.”

There were six men. Rough faces, bull necks, arms and legs as thick as logs—and though they looked dimwitted, their bodies and faces seemed the result of a steady diet of hard physical labor and abuse.

“The bouncers from Animal House, eh? Well, I’ll be damned. Not much of a match for the great Pikk, but I’ll give you a go!”

Raising both arms easily, the boy made short, quick movements with his feet. Footwork. He had a remarkable boxing stance. As for how good he actually was—not one of the angry men showed any signs of stepping forward.

In terms of size, they were literally adults against a child. The fight would probably come to an anticlimax as soon as they grabbed him by the arm.

“Well, why don’t you come at me?” Pikk jeered, looking up at his foes. “Big lunks like you. Well, you won’t take me on one-on-one, will you? That’s ’cause you know full well what happened to your friends. But that girl used to give me candy, and after her time was up you kept her there under a phony contract. When she tried to run out, you ganged up on her and burned half her face off. After she went and killed herself, I avenged her. He was the one who pressed the hot iron against the girl’s face. So I put the hurting on the old man and his cronies. You wanna follow in his footsteps? You’re wastes of skin for even taking money from a shithole like that. Guess it’s only fair you get the same treatment!”

Not surprisingly, after the preteen had rattled on that far, every speck of hesitation was blown to the wind, and one of the men looked over at D. Shrieking, Annette hid behind his black back.

“And you, stay the hell outta . . .” he began menacingly, but the thuggish demeanor fell to pieces and the man was forced to avert his gaze.

“So it’s one against six, maybe one against five and a half. A thousand dalas on the kid,” said the hoarse voice.

Some people in this world had nothing better to do than sit on the bench by the hotel entrance watching people come and go, and one such idle individual replied, “I’ll wager a thousand on the six.”

From the crowd that’d formed at some point there came further cries from men and women of “Me, too,” and “I’ll take some of that action.”

“Okay, now, money. Let’s see your money,”

As soon as the left hand reached out and extended its palm, those who’d spoken out thronged around—and when the crowd parted, the black-gloved hand gripped a thick wad of bills.

“Act your age,” D said in a low, reproving tone, but he was wasting his breath.

“What, it’s just a little diversion, all in good fun. Me and three of the townsfolk are the only ones betting on the kid. The other fifteen all have their money on the six. Travelers who don’t know the situation, I guess. Heh heh, this’ll be easy money!”

Not even waiting for D’s next remark, the hoarse voice called out, “Okay, go get ’em!”

Three of the men suddenly charged at the kid, one from either side of him and one from the rear, making for a rather odd fight. The boy would be crushed by the giants before he could do anything. That’s what everyone was thinking, but at that instant an impossible scene came to pass. Who should be crawling on the ground clutching their solar plexus, or knee, or crotch, but the giants?! Slumping forward out of necessity, the men’s bodies were exquisitely arranged so that each supported the others. The boy who appeared from beneath them to take a bizarre stance was greeted with cries of surprise from the crowd—and applause.

“The squirt knows some martial arts, eh?” the hoarse voice murmured. The tone carried something more than admiration. “And strange ones at that . . .”

The voice was drowned out by the buzz of the crowd. Three foes remained—and all of them were armed. One had a longsword, one a spiked club, and one an iron whip. Normally in a situation like this those a safe distance away would deride this as underhanded, but to the contrary, the crowd grew quiet because they all knew these men were truly out for blood, and the spectators were in awe of the skill of the boy that’d driven his opponents to this extreme.

“Now things are getting interesting,” said the hoarse voice. “These three are old hands at the rough stuff—so, who would you bet on?”

Miraculously, there was actually an answer. “The boy.”

What happened next took so little time it was a snapshot of action faster than the average person could follow, though D saw it all quite clearly. First the spiked club swung at Pikk. The club itself was oak. But it bent like rubber. That little trick was to mess with the defenses of an opponent who was expecting a normal club.

However, the boy deftly and quickly ducked below the curious blow. He didn’t flee, but rather slammed into his opponent’s chest. His palm made a light strike to his foe’s solar plexus, and the man’s sculpted abdominal muscles gave way like they were made of cake. As he collapsed, his body was still angled forward as when he’d swung his club, and the boy grabbed his foe’s crotch with his other hand, turned to the right with unbelievable speed, and hurled the man at the one holding the iron whip.

Naturally the boy intended for them to collide, but the man with the iron whip didn’t hesitate to bring his weapon down on his compatriot. A snap! of struck flesh reverberated like a gunshot, and the man with the club was slammed against the ground.

Apparently the boy had had a different aim. Still poised as he’d been when he’d thrown the man, he bounded off to his left—right next to the guy with the longsword. Surprised by an attack contrary to his expectations, the man with the longsword still managed to make a horizontal swipe with his blade as he moved to the right. The boy had more than sufficient time to duck his head just low enough to escape the slash. However, the sword blade ignored the law of inertia, stopping dead in midair, then dropping toward the boy’s head with less than a hundredth of a second’s pause. The longsword’s deadly blade, however, slashed only air.

A thousandth of a second sufficed for the boy’s movements. Faster than the sword could make another slash, the boy’s foot shot up past the man’s chest like a splash from a raging river, sending him toppling back with a shattered jaw. Though his body reeled, the man didn’t drop on the spot. A black snake wound around him, as if he were only in the way, and flung him back a good thirty feet. It should be noted that such a distance was well in excess of the iron whip’s length, and this was a feat of ungodly skill.

“Oh, so that’s how you use that iron whip, is it? It’s a special alloy. He went and left the worst for last.”

“I reckon so,” the young man standing beside D said in agreement. He was mistaken. Shaking his tightly clenched fist, he said, “That whip fella goes by the name of Henshaw, and he’s started trouble before with me and my friends. Just watch him. Right there. There’s just no way of telling which way his whip’s gonna come at you.”

A stout forearm was thrust out in front of D, and the flesh on the underside of it had been split like a pomegranate from the wrist to the elbow.

II

The man—Henshaw—had seen through the boy’s techniques. There was no room for horsing around. He meant to finish this.

With a flick of his wrist, the two-foot-long whip stretched out to ten feet. Usually it whistled through the wind to strike his opponents before they could blink, whether coming down from on high, skimming across the ground at their feet, or arcing in from either side as he saw fit. It was impossible for his opponents to follow the tip of his whip.

Henshaw chose a killing blow. He raised his whip to strike. That venomous serpent of steel was hidden from the boy’s field of view. The whip flew through the air with a searing howl, aiming obliquely for the base of the boy’s neck, but he dashed in the same direction to dodge it. Instead of striking the ground, the whip reared in midair like a serpent, taking aim once more at the boy’s neck.

The boy stopped in his tracks.

Looks like he’s given up, Henshaw thought.

His whip definitely wrapped around the boy’s neck. However, a tremendous force pitched Henshaw forward. As he jammed on the brakes, his eyes caught sight of the boy standing right in front of him with the whip gripped in his right hand.

When the hell did he manage that?!

The instant that thought flashed through his mind his field of view was filled by the palm of a hand, Henshaw felt the shock of his nose being broken all the way to his brain, and he passed out on the spot.

The victor of the six-on-one fight was greeted by cheers and unadulterated applause.

“Okay—pay up now! Oh, thank you kindly. Hey, where do you think you’re going? You’re not getting away! Go on, pay up. Gambling’s a sport for gentlemen. Wait, damn you! Come back here!”

Men who buttoned their lips and tried to dissolve into the crowd were caught by the scruff of the neck by D’s left hand, and when they turned to snarl an insult, one look at D’s face instantly turned them to putty, so that they dropped coins or wads of bills five or ten times their actual wager into his black-gloved hand.

“Heh heh, money, money, money!” the left hand cackled, clutching a wad of bills when a little hand was casually extended.

“What?”

“What nothing. Those are my winnings, ain’t they? Fork ’em over,” the boy Pikk said intimidatingly. His chest was rising and falling like mad and he barely had enough breath to speak, probably due to the feat of super-speedy movement he’d just executed.

“What are you talking about? This is what we—I mean, what I made gambling. Not so much as a thin—”

The left hand stretched forward.

“Take it,” said a steely voice.

“Wh-what are you saying? That’s my—”

“That’s what the kid earned through his hard labor.”

D’s eye was trained on Pikk’s other hand. The boy must’ve torn off one of his sleeves, because a piece of cloth the same color as his shirt was wrapped around the hand, though blood was soaking through it. A result of grabbing the whip.

“So, this is where that voice like death warmed over comes from?”

Having finally taken notice, Pikk glared at the left hand.

“I don’t know why, but it looks like you’ve got yourself a cranky parasite. Is it really okay for me to take this money?”

“It’s yours.”

“I guess it is. In that case, I won’t be shy about accepting it!”

The boy was in the process of stuffing the money into the pocket of his cotton trousers when a burly voice said to him, “I’ll take that.”

“Sheriff?!”

Resembling a bloated wineskin, the corpulent giant of a man had a gleaming gold star on his chest and a double-barreled shotgun tucked under one arm as he waddled over. Apparently the trip over from his office, wherever that was, had been a taxing endeavor, and without even bothering to mop the cascade of sweat from his face, he grabbed the wad of cash from Pikk’s pocket and tucked it into one on the chest of his shirt.

“Aw, you can’t do that, Sheriff. I earned that fair and square.”

“I realize that. And these here are damages, fair and square,” he said.

Running his eyes over the sheaf of papers he was handed, the boy let his gaze linger on a few of them.

“What are all these? The butcher, baker, grocer, saloon, cobbler, and a mess of others—these are all bills?!”

“You betcha. It’s a tally of everything you’ve swiped up till now. And you’re getting a bargain at that. Now, get out of town real quick-like.”

“Why?”

First the lawman nodded, then he pointed to the six unconscious men and ordered a few of the reluctant-looking townsfolk who were still standing around, “Get ’em to the hospital.” On top of that, he barked at the rest to move along before lowering his voice and continuing, “The owner of Animal House has connections to all the right people in these parts. In two, maybe three days’ time, some fine-tuned killers and warriors will be here looking for your head. A little while ago I saw twenty or thirty messenger hawks taking wing from the roof of Animal House. Probably at the bidding of the owner’s wife.”

“I ain’t running! I’ll stand and face ’em like a man,” the boy said, his chest puffed with anything but false bravado.

Pulling a dour face, the sheriff said, “That’s all well and good for you, but I can’t have anybody else getting caught up in this. If anybody dies on account of you, either directly or indirectly, you’ll be getting a hell of a lot more than a week in the hot box!”

Pikk saw the muzzle of the double-barreled shotgun rise to his chest.

“Okay. I’ll leave. That’s all I’ve gotta do, right?”

“That’s about the size of it. Happy trails to you.” At that point the sheriff turned to Annette and said, “Miss, if it’s not too much of an inconvenience, would you be so good as to bring this young fella somewhere he won’t cause a ruckus?”

No doubt this proposition came because the lawman could see she was set to make a journey.

Annette’s reaction was perfectly natural. Raising the corners of her eyes sharply, she said, “Surely you jest. You’re talking about taking a filthy man-eating rat of a child on the road with me? He’ll make off with all my food and money. I absolutely refuse!”

She had unloaded so forcefully that pedestrians halted and looked in her direction. Annette held her tongue. Her cheeks flushed with shame.

“That’s a pity. We’d prepare a cyborg horse for the boy as well as rations. He won’t be a nuisance—”

Having said that much, the sheriff looked at Pikk.

A smile covering all of his small face, the boy nodded.

“—I think,” the lawman added, but it was plain he had no confidence in that remark.

Annette said nothing, but shook her head in firm refusal.

At that point, a hoarse voice suggested, “Sheriff, how about a letter of commendation?”

“Letter of commendation?”

Annette’s expression softened, and the sheriff’s face beamed.

Taking care not to look at him, he said to D, “For one so young, that’s a mighty grim voice you’ve got there.” That said, the sheriff continued, “That’s right. If you were to honor our request, naturally you’d be awarded a letter of commendation. As you know, ten letters of commendation from the sheriff’s office will earn you a special letter of commendation from the governor of that Frontier sector. Collect five of those, and you get written up in the Frontier News. It’s fair to say you might even appear in the Capital on that there Capital Channel they’ve got.”

“Frontier News . . . The Capital . . . Capital Channel . . .”

Annette’s murmuring carried an undisguised lust for fame.

“What’s it going to be?” D inquired flatly.

“I see,” Annette said with a sober nod. “You simply cannot send that child off alone, can you?”

“Well, of course not. Set one foot out of town, and the place is crawling with monsters, wild animals, and pseudo-Nobility. A kid alone can’t deal with that. He’s got to have traveling companions who can be trusted.”

The sheriff put special emphasis on the “trusted” part.

Pikk grinned.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Annette said, making a put-upon face, “I accept—however, should he prove the slightest impediment to our journey, I will cut him loose on the spot.”

“That’s fine.”

The sheriff nodded deeply and gave Annette a quick V sign. Though the sign of victory in this case meant that things had gone well for him, it didn’t register with Annette. She was quietly envisioning herself not only gaining notice across the entire Frontier, but also gracing monitors in the Capital.

“Where’s that horse at?” Pikk asked ebulliently.

“It’s hitched out in front of my office. It’s the sorrel. There’s a blanket and three days’ rations, too.”

“What about weapons? I’m thinking a revolver or a laser rifle sure would be nice.”

The sheriff scowled at him, and Pikk slowly backed away. The way he did it without even seeming to move his feet made passers-by bug their eyes.

Not even bothering to watch the diminutive figure dash off, D said to Annette, “Let’s go,” and started walking toward the cyborg horses.

Though Annette eventually followed after him, her narcissism hadn’t waned in the least, and she stood unusually straight and tall as she did so.

“A surprisingly predictable girl,” the hoarse voice remarked in a tone that carried laughter.

Before they passed through the back gate, Pikk’s horse caught up to them.

“Well, this is where I set out for a new life. Let’s drink to that!” the boy said, riding up between the two of them as if it were the most natural thing in the world and thrusting a bottle of liquor from his saddlebags at Annette.

“What? That’s disgusting! Don’t offer me a bottle of your backwash.”

“Don’t be that way. This booze might be cheap, but it’s a real find. It’s plenty good.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t want any. And I’m warning you here and now, if I even once catch you drunk, we’ll part company on the spot. Is that understood?”

“Okay, I guess,” Pikk said, pursing his lips purposefully. “But without me around, you won’t be hitting viewscreens in the Capital.”

“Just what’s that supposed to mean?!”Annette shouted, her entire face tinged with vermilion. “Do you think I brought you along because I want to be famous?”

“Why did you, then?”

That just went to show that children are unfamiliar with the adult concept of tact.

Annette went wild. Her finger aimed between the boy’s eyes, she bellowed, “All right, the next time you insult me . . .”

“Next time, next time! You don’t have to put up with it if you don’t wanna. Hell, boot me out right now. Heh heh, I’ll just follow along behind you anyway.”

“Why, you . . .”

“That’s enough of that.”

One remark from D, riding to Pikk’s right, was enough to silence the pair. It felt like being dunked in icy waters.

For a while they continued down the road in silence, but Pikk finally regained his nerve and thrust the hand with the liquor bottle in it at D.

“Will you drink to me?”

D accepted it without a word, and the boy’s face, still retaining some innocence, beamed with joy.

“Just knock it right back and take a big ol’ swig.”

D did indeed “knock it right back.” The boy watched in amazement as the bottle’s contents swiftly dwindled. The Hunter returned the empty bottle without saying anything.

Taking it, Pikk wore a dazed expression as he said, “That stuff was ‘Serpent Slayer’ . . . And you . . . in one gulp . . . You’re gonna die!”

“Got a light?” a hoarse voice inquired.

Now beyond astonished and in an almost mesmerized state, Pikk pulled a small lighter from the pocket of his trousers.

D’s left hand came up, palm forward.

“Huh?”

Not only did Pikk furrow his brow, but Annette did as well. There was no telling what this gorgeous Hunter would do. He was a being incomprehensible to a girl of good breeding.

“Spark it up. Yeah, right there—in front of my hand,” said the hoarse voice.

Iron scraped stone, and a small flame ignited. An instant later, that became a massive fiery bloom.

“Whoa!” Pikk exclaimed, leaning back, and Annette backed away too far, to the point where she almost fell out of the saddle.

“What the hell, mister . . . You can blow fire from your hand?” Pikk groaned, the smell of alcohol still lingering in the air.

“Just a bit of entertainment,” the hoarse voice cackled, but it wasn’t enough to anger the little scamp.

Eyes invested with a glow of wonder and surprise, he said, “That’s excellent—just the best! Who in the hell are you, anyway?”

“Good question. Were you surprised?” the hoarse voice asked, a ring of pride to its words.

The second the boy heard that, his expression grew brazen. “Sheesh. Think that’s all it takes to impress me? You’re selling me short, pal. And I’ve got a thing or two to say about how it’s gonna be from here on out. Don’t try getting bossy, you hear?”

As the boy hastily pulled away from the other riders, D didn’t so much as look at him, though the hoarse voice remarked, “Interesting brat. Someone like him could come in handy, if used right. Of course, him and the princess here are, as the saying goes, like chalk and—”

“Cheese.”

Making another puzzled face, Annette looked at the Hunter. Quickly turning forward again, she muttered something to herself so that D wouldn’t hear it.

“A fine journey this is! My only companions are a guard who doesn’t recognize his employer as such and an ill-mannered brat. I expect a bit more consideration in the future. And who’s he to call me cheese? He’s got a face as cold as a robot’s.”

And in that manner, the group left town.

III

“Hey! Heeeeeeeeey!”

The voice that echoed from the darkness grew nearer as D and his companions advanced.

“What the hell’s that?” said Pikk, turning a sharp eye in that direction. Having been through worse trouble than most adults, the boy had a pistol in his right hand.

D halted his steed. The other two followed his example.

“Who’s there?” inquired D.

After a sufficient gap, from about thirty yards away came the reply, “A traveler—only I’ve hurt my leg and can’t walk.”

“Really? Sounds mighty suspicious,” Pikk jeered. “How’d you get injured? And where were you headed?”

“My horse got attacked by a desert snake and bolted. That’s when I got thrown. My right knee’s all smashed up.”

“What about your horse?”

“Run off.”

“Just when was all this?”

“Been here since noon—you’re just a kid, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, that’s the word around town.”

“When did it happen?”

This time D asked. His voice was shot through with steel rebar.

“Just a little while ago, I said. I’m begging you. Take me as far as the town of Pekoe.”

“You’ll slow us down,” D said matter-of-factly.

Pikk nodded. He appeared to share the Hunter’s indifference toward other people.

“Oh, that’s right . . . You’ll be rewarded for your trouble.”

“Wow, that’s a different matter, then,” Pikk said, wholly unlike D in the way he now grinned from ear to ear.

“We don’t have a horse for you. Give it two or three days, and someone should pass this way.”

“Hey, that’s mighty cold of you. I thought the rule of the road was that in times of trouble, we’re supposed to help one another?” The man’s voice was tinged with anger.

“Well, we’re in a hurry.”

D started forward again.

“Please, wait. There’s a hydra’s lair around here. Hell, it’ll swallow me whole. Please, you’ve got to help me.”

“Wait, D,” said Annette. Maybe she didn’t like traveling through the night, or perhaps she’d just held her tongue this long, but as if she’d finally had enough she told him, “I’m ordering you as your employer. You’re to allow this person to accompany us.”

“He might be the enemy.”

“That’s preposterous. You mean to say they’ve already caught up to us? That couldn’t possibly be the case. If they have, it’s through an error in judgment on your part. I’ll discharge you on the spot.”

D’s next words made Annette go pale.

“Wise call. Well, I’ll be on my way, then.”

“Wait.” The voice sounded flustered. “There’s only the three of you. If you pull out now, a woman and child won’t be able to do much. And I’m in tough shape, too. Please, just patch things up and take me with you! I’ve got a wife and kids waiting back home for me.” The voice had become a whimper.

“Got any weapons?” D inquired.

“O-oh. Just a knife. The rest were on my horse when it—”

“In that case, toss it over here. Then you can ride on the kid’s horse.”

“Thanks a million! I’m much obliged.”

The knife promptly sailed over, sheath and all. Catching it, D drew the blade. After quickly running his eyes down it, he slid it back into its sheath.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh, they call me Hiryuu. Pleased to meet you.”

The three riders advanced.

The voice belonged to a short man who was terribly skinny. He was also rather young.

“What’s with this joker. Looks like a strong wind would blow him away!” Pikk remarked without reservation.

With a wry grin, the man conceded he was right. He got on behind Pikk, and soon after they galloped forward he said with interest, “So you’re in a hurry, and with a motley crew like this—you folks sure must be mixed up in something.”

“Shut your trap. Don’t be so quick to shoot your mouth off after we went and saved you,” Pikk snarled. He didn’t like having to ride double. It was even worse that he had a guy wrapping his arms around his waist. The boy was just beginning to wonder if they’d be able to ditch him somewhere when D’s left hand went up.

Something came down from overhead with flapping wings to land on the back of his hand. Pikk recognized it as a hawk. He could see pretty well in the dark, and the moon was also bright.

Racing along beside the boy, Annette asked, “What’s that?”

“It’s a messenger hawk.”

“Huh? He told me it died!”

“He must’ve bought another one. That bastard keeps a lot of secrets, don’t he?”

“He sure does.”

As the two of them glared at D, who rode on ahead, the man calling himself Hiryuu watched them with a look of special interest.

“No fair side-tracking.”

It was the hoarse voice.

Hiryuu’s eyes bugged. D didn’t even turn around. Pikk and Annette looked at each other. D deviating from the set route was beyond surprising; it was downright mysterious. He wasn’t supposed to be like that.

“Where are we going?” the voice inquired with trepidation.

“Dakilysil Valley. I have to meet someone.”

“Pretty dangerous place, that. Home to monsters.”

“All the more reason to go there.”

“Whaaaaat?!”

“I don’t want to go to any such place. Explain yourself,” cried Annette.

“What, are you stupid?” the hoarse voice sneered. “He said he has to meet someone. Someone who’s indispensable for keeping the lot of you safe!”

The world of early morning was clear but lacking in verisimilitude, as if it were being viewed through a glass. And the narrow road the three horses took, as well as the boulder and cliffs to either side, looked somehow cold and distant. For the world’s life had only just begun.

“I wonder why we’re going this way,” Annette said loudly enough so she’d be overheard as she eyed the boulders to either side. “From up top any wild animal could—”

With a gasp, her voice retreated down her throat.

At the very top of the enormous boulder to their left, a dull yellow creature covered with needle-like spines had appeared. A base growl reached the ears of all present.

“Son of a bitch!” Pikk exclaimed, reaching for the pistol on his hip.

“Don’t.”

D’s quiet command stopped him.

“Why not? That thing’s—”

As the beast braced itself to pounce, Pikk cocked the hammer of his gun. Even after the beast fell from the rock in the same pose, he kept the weapon’s muzzle trained on it.

Intently watching what were clearly the beast’s death throes, he said, “It’s been shot.”

“That’s an armored needleback. Look, it’s missing the needles on part of its back. Must’ve got off an attack of its own. In concentration, their needles can shatter rock, so even professional huntsmen go after them from long range with rifles. That’s probably what killed this one.”

“It was no ordinary gun,” said Hiryuu.

“What makes you say that?”

“From the look of the blood, it looks to have just been shot. But did any of you hear any gunfire?”

“Come to mention it, no,” Pikk snorted. “But that wound ain’t from no arrow, or crossbow, or even a sword. I can’t see it being anything but a gunshot. Say, is there any such thing as a firearm that don’t make any noise?”

“There are if you count the Nobility’s weapons.”

The hoarse voice’s reply sounded terribly distant.

D and Annette’s horses had already started forward.