Noble V: Greylancer

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  Leticia began by regaling them with the tale of the troubadour who’d sung her a song.

  “Why that’s wonderful,” said her mother. Her plump face broke into a broad smile. “I don’t know about troubadours, but he sounds like a generous man. He makes his living from singing.”

  “Then again, I imagine most men would do anything for my Leticia,” said her father, who was surprisingly skinny for a farm owner. A blind girl was an impractical presence on a farm. Nevertheless the kindly farmer had said, “A pretty girl like Leticia? Why her presence alone would brighten up our lives,” and brought her into the family. From that day forward, the girl had never forgotten her gratitude.

  True to his words, Leticia’s adoptive parents accepted her like their own. Only Arrow remained gruff with her, but in time, she realized that his outward demeanor belied his kind heart.

  The maid Miranda and manservant Alts looked after her.

  They spoke little, but both helpers attended to their duties and did not once treat Leticia cruelly because she was adopted.

  But it was Miranda, setting out the bowls of stew she’d ladled from a large pot before the others, who remarked, “This bard seems a bit rude, if you ask me. Here he’s been taken into a stranger’s home, albeit the barn, and he doesn’t even bother to say thanks. It’s ungentlemanly, eh, Alts?”

  The stoutly built manservant was in the dining room fixing the broken fireplace.

  He did not answer right away, but once he’d finished the repairs, he asked in a flat voice, “You sure he’s really a troubadour?” adding, “I saw one years ago in the Eastern Frontier. I’d expected a troubadour to be stately in bearing and appearance…turned out to be this dirty old vagabond with a banged-up lyre. Didn’t even look at the children hanging on him to sing them a song. I heard he was taken in by the village chief and ended up writing a good ten, twenty pieces in exchange for meals and lodging. Two or three years later, one of the verses he’d composed on that night had gotten out, and—it was as awful as if I’d written it. Even a newborn child could have sung it. That’s what everyone thought at the time. But it’s not about the song,” Alts said, casting a sideways glance at the girl. “My point is, Miss Leticia, troubadours are stingy that way. That’s what it takes to survive.”

  “Are you saying this troubadour is a fake?” Miranda narrowed her eyes.

  “I don’t know. Just that no one would be so generous with the art that feeds him.”

  “Arrow?” The father shot a glance at the boy silently working his spoon into the stew.

  “I can’t say whether he’s a troubadour or not, but he’s definitely not a man.”

  “What was that?”

  “I meant that he’s…not a bad man.”

  “I agree,” Leticia chimed in. “The song he composed was sad and very lovely. Sure, he frightened me a little at first, but he’s very kind.”

  Leticia’s parents looked at each other. They recognized that their daughter’s appraisal was far more accurate than that of the sighted.

  “If Leticia says so, he must be,” said her father, to which Miranda shrugged in half-hearted protest, and there was no more talk about the bard in the barn.

  “By the way, Arrow. You’re not still thinking about joining the Nobility’s army, are you?” the mother asked, tearing a bite out of a roll so hard it made her lips curl.

  The boy’s answer was enough to make a mother cry. “It’s not the army. It’s the guard corps, in charge of guarding Noble graves during the day.”

  “Why would a human do something so horrible?”

  “Because only humans can do it.”

  “But I thought they have machines for that.”

  “The OSB’s technology is more advanced. Who’s to say the OSB won’t sabotage the mechanized guards to turn against their masters? No, humans make the ideal guards. Not to mention the status of standing by the Nobles’ side, not as a servant but as their protector.”

  “That may be, but why you…”

  After the mother’s words trailed away, the father asked bluntly, “Think of the danger you’d be putting us in. What if the Anti-Nobility Alliance comes after us?”

  “No problem. I’ll just tell them that you have to jump into the bosom of the enemy to strike them down. The Alliance is so blind with rage that they’ll send me off into the lion’s lair with tears of joy in their eyes.”

  “Even so—”

  “To be honest, I’m not all that interested in the Nobility or humans, for that matter. All I want to know is whether the Nobility will recognize the wicked bow skills that Master Slade passed on to me.”

  “What the Nobility need now are not archers but telepaths, I’ve heard.”

  “If it doesn’t work out, fine. But I’m not going to be able to live with myself without at least trying.”

  Mother and father looked at each other, sighed and returned to their meal. Only Leticia silently applauded his determination. She adored her taciturn and courageous brother, who liked to make silly jokes when they were alone.

  †

  After dinner, as Leticia got up to deliver a bowl of stew to Greylancer, there was a visit from Savagonin and his wife from next door.

  After apologizing for their abrupt visit, Savagonin began, “We saw this giant of a man on our way to see the village chief. I think it was a Noble.” His voice trembled. His wife wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck.

  “It can’t be,” the father said forthrightly. “The overseer forbids unannounced visits. No one would dare disobey him.”

  Cinching up his scarf, Savagonin added, “You know, he looked exactly like the overseer of the Northern Frontier. No, I’m certain it’s him.”

  “The overseer of the North is Lord Greylancer. I don’t believe it. What would he be doing here?”

  “I haven’t a clue,” Savagonin’s wife said, her voice strained. “But that ominous, imposing figure. That cape. He had to be a Noble…and one of some importance, I know it.” Her bloodshot eyes turned to Arrow. “You’re handy with a bow. Would you track him down and find out what he’s doing here? We can take you to the place where we saw him. That’s what we came here to ask.”

  Leticia could feel her heart about to burst. An imposing figure wearing a cape. Could it be…?

  “All right, I’ll get my bow.” Arrow rose from his chair.

  “Now wait a minute, Arrow,” said his mother. “Why must you—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll recruit some help on the way,” Arrow said coolly and exited.

  His father said nothing, resigned to the daily reality of living in the Frontier ruled by the Nobility.

  3

  Arrow went to his room where he slung his quiver over his shoulder and grabbed his bow before going to the barn to confirm the bard’s absence. The answer was evident soon enough.

  Letica appeared behind him. “Mr. No-Name. He isn’t here, is he?”

  “No.”

  “He can’t be a Noble, can he? It was light out when we met him.”

  “Right.”

  “Then the Noble that Mr. and Mrs. Savagonin saw couldn’t have been Mr. No-Name.”

  “No, it had to be.”

  Leticia stared at her betrothed in astonishment. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve heard the stories—about the Noble who walks under the sun.” Arrow began to pace and brushed past Leticia.

  “Of course I have. But those are just stories.”

  “Not necessarily. I heard from the Anti-Nobility Alliance that the Sacred Ancestor has the Science Center in the Capital working on a number of projects. One of them is called the Vampires Living in the Day Project.”

  “What a long name.”

  “Long is right.” Arrow’s voice came from behind Leticia.

  “But that’s not possible. A Noble walking about during the day. I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it.” Arrow wrapped his arms around her neck.

  “No.” Try as she might, she could not wriggl
e free. Feeling his hot breath on the nape of her neck, Leticia let out an imperceptible moan. “We mustn’t—not here.”

  “We’ll be married soon enough.” He brought his lips to her pale flesh, making Leticia gasp. Pulling away immediately, he said, “So the bard is a Noble…but if you ask me, there are others who are more suspicious.”

  “Who?”

  “What happened to the Savagonins?”

  “They left while you were in your room. You don’t think…”

  “Did you notice how they both kept fixing their scarves? Maybe they did more than see the Noble.”

  “Do you mean they were bitten?”

  “I’m afraid not,” said a calm voice.

  Arrow and Leticia twirled around in the direction of the voice. “Mr. and Mrs. Savagonin?”

  Unlike earlier, the couple stood in the barn, smiling. “We haven’t been bitten. Look!” Mrs. Savagonin pulled down her scarf. Her neck was tinted yellow with black speckles.

  “It’s true we encountered the Noble,” said Savagonin. “We were about to feast on him in the prairie, but you got in the way. We came here to express our gratitude—but after feeding on this couple first.” He unfurled his scarf, revealing his brightly colored neck.

  Long nails grew out of the man’s fingers, each of the digits sprouting into gangling legs and feelers before Arrow’s and Leticia’s very eyes.

  “The ghost spiders.” No sooner had Arrow said it than the impostors’ clothes were torn away. “There were three of you. Where is the third?”

  “Paying a visit to your parents.” The woman’s voice descended from three meters above. Attached to its neck was a squat, ovular body, held up by eight legs measuring ten meters.

  “Tsk, two siblings carrying out a secret affair. Where is your bow now? Whoa—too late!” The male spider’s legs lashed out, sending the bow flying across the barn and crashing against the far wall. “We’ll make short work of the Noble when he returns. He’s probably out drinking his fill of human blood. It must be quite a feast.”

  “Exactly right.”

  The spiders recoiled in shock. When they shot a look at the entrance, the wind let out a sharp whistle.

  The spider with the face of the female Savagonin was lifted up and suspended five meters in the air.

  Greylancer stood entranced by the silver lance impaling the spider, its face already frozen in the throes of death, as blood gushed like a waterfall down the handle. “I discerned your true identity just as you did mine. A sense of foreboding brought me back here soon after sating my thirst, and lo and behold, here you are. Pity—if you’d not harbored thoughts of revenge, perhaps you might have lived a day longer. Look at how you writhe and suffer. Vermin that you are, nothing is more precious than the pleasure of watching a woman meet her end.”

  The nameless troubadour pulled back the lance and struck again.

  The female spider’s body flew off the lance, crashed against the ceiling, and exploded into pieces.

  Greylancer spun around and looked overhead.

  The male spider—Savagonin had jumped and now clung to the ceiling.

  Moonlight poured in from the one-meter square skylight above. Savagonin broke through the window headfirst and slipped out, stretching his eight legs behind him like an octopus.

  As shards of glass rained down around him like jewels, Greylancer kicked the ground. Grabbing the window frame with one hand, he hoisted himself up onto the roof in one motion. Barely looking around, he spotted Savagonin scurrying away and leaping onto the next roof.

  It was the very silhouette of a giant spider leaping beneath the moonlight.

  “Arrow,” Greylancer called down below. “Can you shoot him down? Do not disgrace your master’s name.”

  The answer was a sharp, whizzing noise from the window. Only Greylancer’s eyes were able to recognize the arrow.

  The fiendish instincts of the spider, already but a speck in the distance, sensed its coming.

  The spider jumped from the roof. The house was located at the end of the road, across from which was a square, where there stood the gutted remains of a religious building and a stone hut made of three enormous slabs.

  Fifty years ago, a research team sent from the Capital had discovered a sarcophagus enshrined underground. Contained within the sarcophagus was a mummified humanoid creature dating back three thousand years; its origin was never identified. Though the research team had taken with them its garments, necklaces, and various other articles, the results of the analysis were never made known to the village.

  The ghost spider slipped inside the hut. It was completely enclosed in stone, so not even a razor blade could enter the chamber. The spider’s was the only route in and out of the hut. There was no way an arrow shot from the rear could enter.

  The spider allowed himself a moment’s peace. It was still smarting from the pain and terror of when its parent body was shot down in the prairie. One of its three lungs let out a breath.

  Then the ghost spider expelled what breath was left in its remaining lungs.

  Before the spider realized the arrow had entered through the front and pierced a hole in the middle of its forehead clear through the back, the spider was already dead.

  †

  “Got him?” Greylancer asked, after jumping from the roof and landing next to Arrow in the barn.

  Arrow nodded and grunted his satisfaction at having proved his skill, following his three kills from earlier in the day.

  “There is another. Go.”

  “All right.” Notching another arrow in the bow, Arrow ran for the main house.

  Drawing a bead on wherever the target might be, stopping at nothing to shoot through its jugular—such was the meaning of the wicked bow’s existence.

  The proud, even arrogant expression on the Noble’s face vanished instantly like light snow upon looking at the lithe shadow. “Leticia.”

  The girl, who adored the nameless troubadour, shook her pretty head. “Who was it that sang that song for me?”

  “It was I,” Greylancer answered.

  “Who are you?”

  “Greylancer—overseer of the Northern Frontier sector.”

  “Then I do not know you.” Leticia’s voice sounded exceedingly mournful and clear at the same time. “The man who gave me my song was someone who traveled distant lands. Someone who’d promised to tell me about all the things he’d witnessed and seen. Someone who’d bashfully composed a very lovely and sad song. Why didn’t you feed on my blood?”

  “I must take my leave.” Greylancer set out toward the wagon. A siren blared from the open door. The emergency alarm. “Someone must have discovered my blood victim. I commend the rest to you.”

  “Is that why…you came?”

  “I couldn’t bring myself to drink your blood. Your brother has only been hypnotized. I will release him when I’ve left the village. I wish you a happy life.”

  The giant exited through the barn door and returned pulling a cybernetic horse. After hitching it to the wagon, he climbed on and said, “Fare thee well.”

  The girl pointed a pale finger outside. “You should go to the West Country Highway and head north by northeast.”

  After a breath, Greylancer said, “You have my gratitude,” and flicked the reins.

  The wagon sped off out of the barn.

  Leticia stood there until the rattling of the wagon left the property and receded into the night.

  Dance, will you

  Dance, will you

  Cut the strings of fate into the night

  Several minutes later, Arrow returned and informed Leticia that he had avenged the death of their parents, who’d been killed by the elusive third ghost spider.

  CHAPTER 6:

  THE BENEVOLENT

  OVERLORD

  1

  Greylancer had scarcely driven an hour out of the village when a gyrocopter appeared in the sky.

  A floodlight shone down upon the wagon on the highway and its driver. Greyl
ancer did not halt the wagon as the light chased after from behind.

  “We are with the patrol force under Lord Mayerling’s command,” said a voice issuing forth from the gyrocopter. “Excuse me, but you bear the appearance of a Noble. Please state your name and destination.”

  “The name is Greylancer. My destination—”

  “Yes, I thought it might be you,” the voice of the patrolman interrupted. “My ignorance notwithstanding, please forgive my impudence. Allow me to escort you to the overseer’s castle.”

  “No!”

  “Pardon?”

  “I intend to return directly to my dominion. Tell the others I want no more interruptions during my journey.”

  “That would make me delinquent in my duties.” The voice of the patrolman sounded rattled. “The reports of your disappearance came directly from the OSB attack force, and the Capital has issued a search order throughout the world including the Frontier. It is an honor to find you here in this territory, of all places. Please come with us, I beseech you.”

  “What is my name?” The Noble’s voice that seemed to spout from the earth shook the gyrocopter.

  “Lord Greylancer.”

  “I will not go, I tell you.”

  The voice from the gyrocopter fell silent. After the wagon began to creep ahead of the floodlight, the patrolman said, “But…”

  “If you require an excuse, tell Mayerling that I find him disagreeable.”

  The wagon continued on its way.

  Five minutes later, a massive gyrodyne appeared before Greylancer.

  This aircraft exceeded one hundred meters in length and bristled with military accoutrements reminiscent of lances and swords. It was plain for anyone to see that this aircraft belonged to a Noble, no less one from a long line of war hawks.

  “What is a warrior the likes of Greylancer doing riding such a rickety box?” said a booming voice.

  Peering up, Greylancer said scornfully, “Zeus Macula…” and continued to drive the wagon.

  “Wait, wait. As surly as ever, I see. I knew you would turn up alive somewhere. Well now, perhaps the fates have conspired for us to meet. I’ve been visiting with the invertebrate…er, I mean Mayerling. What say we renew old friendships?”