“With your help, a lot of folks might be saved. And you still won’t do it?”
“Sorry.”
“Fine, then!” Meg said, utterly giving up. “Thanks for all you did. And good-bye. Just tell me the lay of the land in the center of the island. And I have one more thing to ask of you.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t you ever go telling anyone you’re a teacher again.”
Returning to the cellar, d’Argent explained the geography of the area, drawing a map with plant extracts on some sort of animal hide.
“Give me a little of your food. I’ll pay you back later.”
Saying nothing more, Meg left the rocky area about twenty minutes later. She was incredibly angry, but she pushed forward on foot to keep her temper in check.
The rocky terrain extended for more than half a mile in all directions according to what d’Argent had told her and what was written on the map. There was fog, as usual. But the odor that assailed her nose, like that of sulfur, must’ve come from the jets of gas all over the place.
Just then, from the far reaches of a lumpy plain that seemed to go on forever, a black speck flew into the air.
In the Name of Science
chapter 5
I
What was coming wasn’t flying down from the sky, but rather it’d kicked off the ground far in the distance. And it ripped through the wind like a stone, landing just ten feet ahead of Meg. It made no sound. The wind struck Meg head-on. Perhaps it’d reduced its own mass to zero just before touching down, for as soon as it landed it seemed to stop dead.
Meg’s reaction was swift. Leaping back about a yard, she had presence of mind enough to level a harpoon at it. Her will to fight was dwindling rapidly.
“What the hell is this?”
It looked for all the world like a beetle. Horns jutted from its head like radar, its limbs were covered with thorny barbs, and its body gleamed like iron. However, it was a hundred times the size of those to be found on trees back in the village’s forest, and its tremendous proportions weren’t the only thing strange about it. Its lower half was clad in tattered trousers, and a wool muffler was wound about its head. The latter was also threadbare, looking as if even a child could tear through it with the slightest application of strength. There was no reason for an insect to wear clothes. Strangest of all was how the beetle stood on two legs.
Could it be this is a person? Meg thought, gazing at its muffler-shrouded head. Through a gap in the fabric she saw a pair of eyes. Accustomed to spotting fish through rough seas, fishermen had keen eyesight. The shock went right through Meg like an arrow. Those weren’t the eyes of an insect. They belonged to a human being.
“Okay—just wait a minute. Who the hell are you?” she asked in spite of herself.
As if in response, the bug squealed. At the same time, it stepped forward.
Meg didn’t give an inch. A certain feeling made her stay right where she was.
“Who are you?!”
She let the harpoon fly. Its target was the left side of the insect’s head. The harpoon pierced the end of the muffler and tore it free. The rest of it went off in the breeze with no particular difficulty.
“Just as I thought.”
Meg’s words were directed at the face of a middle-aged man, now exposed to the fog and sunlight. With bronzed, leathery skin that the girl knew at a glance to be that of a fisherman, he had rough-hewn features, but not those of anyone she recognized.
Was he one of the settlers, too? She turned around. D’Argent would know, Meg thought.
Darkness engulfed her. Sharp pains shot through her back and shoulders. The barbs on the insect’s limbs had sunk into her.
“Let me go!”
Meg grabbed another harpoon and used it to strike at the insect’s limbs. If she tried moving her body, the barbs would only tear at her.
“What are you doing?! You’ve gotta be human inside that head of yours!”
After glaring at it, the girl realized she was wasting her breath. What filled the man’s eyes was stark-naked madness. The instant she saw a hint of gladness suffuse his face and saliva drip from the corner of his mouth, Meg thrust the harpoon into the insect’s abdomen. The beetle’s scream resembled the cry of a cicada.
The spell was broken. Meg made a mad dash for d’Argent’s cellar. She’d also remembered to pull her harpoon back out. After all, she was low on weapons.
With the sense of balance a fisherman gained from the swaying of a boat, the girl raced through the bumpy region of rocks without incident, until the entrance to d’Argent’s cellar finally came into view. Relief welled up in Meg’s heart—and withered again suddenly. A beetle had landed right in front of her. Though it also had a muffler wrapped around it, the state of the hair protruding from the wrappings and the shredded skirt told her it was a woman.
“So, he wasn’t the only one?!” the girl said to herself.
The beetle with a female head came at the girl to grab her.
No sooner had Meg leveled her harpoon than she heard, “Hit the deck!”
Diving off to the right, she hugged against the rocky ground. Her eyes never left the insect.
It seemed as if a wad of light sank into its back. The insect’s body glowed, turning crimson. No doubt that was due to the flames that burned it down to its base molecules.
“Don’t move!” d’Argent shouted from the entrance to his cellar. His right arm was extended, sheathed to the elbow in an armored gauntlet of what looked to be bronze, and from the wrist there projected a cylinder more than an inch in diameter. It glowed crimson.
Three more wads of light flew from it in rapid succession. Two insects burst into fiery red, but the third shot missed. Spreading the wings on its back, the third insect flew over d’Argent’s head with terrific speed and snatched him up with evil clawlike limbs.
D’Argent paused in his slaughter. He was too close to it.
The former teacher had been lifted about three feet off the ground when a harpoon came whistling through the wind to pierce the insect’s abdomen. As the creature doubled over, d’Argent managed to leap free of it, backed away a few steps, and then reduced the beetle twitching on the ground to charred, smoking remains.
Looking at Meg, he asked, “You okay?”
“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” she replied.
D’Argent seemed sullen, but his expression quickly twisted and he clutched his back. He’d hit it when he fell.
Running over, Meg said, “Are you all right?”
“I’ll survive.”
“Good. So, what is that thing?”
She was pointing at the bronze weapon.
“It’s called a ‘hand of destruction.’ I stole it from the Nobles’ castle. It can vaporize a huge boulder with just one shot. This is what keeps monsters from hanging around here.”
“Quite the item you’ve got there,” the girl said, sounding impressed. Turning around, she asked, “And what are these things?”
“I’ll explain. Let’s head back inside.”
“No way. Do it here and now. Don’t have the time to waste. I’ve gotta get going soon.”
“You’re just a regular spitfire, aren’t you?” d’Argent said in amazement. And then he looked at Meg with an oddly calm expression and continued, “There was one like you in our group. Wait a minute. I’ll go get ready.”
As the man gave a nod and turned around, Meg said to him anxiously, “Hold up. Get ready for what?”
“I’m going, too. I’ve had a change of heart,” he replied over his shoulder without even halting.
“Why now?”
“Don’t badger me about it. It might change right back.”
It was five minutes later that d’Argent reappeared from the cellar. A leather backpack was strapped to his back, and he was riding a strange contraption. It was a metallic plate three feet square with a control stick attached. Simple and elegant in design, it was apparently one of the Nobility’s items.
Zipping across the rocky terrain without a sound, it halted right in front of Meg. It had neither the smell of fuel to it nor the rumble of an engine.
“One of the Nobles’ things, I take it?”
“That’s right.”
“You go and swipe that from ’em, too?”
“No. It happened to go missing when one of their underlings left it parked.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“That’s a debate that’ll have to wait until later. Well, hop on behind me and grab onto my waist.”
“Can it fly through the air?”
“No, it can’t manage that. But it can take any road, no matter how bad, without stopping.”
“It doesn’t even have wheels, so how does it work?”
“I’m no Noble. But it seems to allow us to control a power that’ll push us along across the surface.”
“You don’t say. Can you drive it okay?”
“Sure,” d’Argent replied. “It’s amazingly simple. Why, a child of five could master its operation in an hour.”
“Show me how to do it later.”
“No problem.”
Damn! Meg thought on realizing the surrounding scenery was streaking by like arrows. The rocky terrain vanished. A stand of trees was drawing nearer. She shrieked, and they were already into the forest. Another shriek. There was a gigantic rock dead ahead.
We’re gonna crash! she thought, but by that point the rock was already behind them.
The girl found their vehicle incredible.
“You’re really good at this,” Meg remarked with deep admiration.
D’Argent shook his head from side to side.
“It’s not me. The vehicle avoids obstacles on its own.”
“Huh?! But I didn’t even feel it swerve at all!”
“That’s a Noble vehicle for you.”
“I see,” the girl replied, but she really didn’t understand at all. She wondered why the same species who could make such wonderful devices would drink human blood. And she questioned why humans couldn’t make such incredible things.
No sooner had she formed these questions than the wind slammed into the pair mercilessly, then stopped flat. The two of them were halted, as if frozen.
“What’s wrong?” Meg asked.
The vehicle spun to the right. It turned 180 degrees.
The girl finally noticed that they were in a section of ruins. From between green bushes and copses, crumbling ramparts and stone walls could be glimpsed, and the ground was spread with snaking paths of smooth stone. About fifteen or twenty feet down one of these paths, almost out of view, was what might’ve been part of a staircase. Beside the stairs, a pair of feet jutted out. The black boots were intricately tooled, speaking volumes about the nature of the one who wore them.
“A Noble?” Meg murmured. “But he’s still got his legs. Even though the sun’s still high in the sky . . .”
“There are some who could walk in the light of the sun.”
“What?”
She felt as if her whole body were being wrung out like a towel. Nobility who could walk in the light of day? Impossible!
“We’ll dispose of him,” d’Argent fairly groaned.
Shock shook Meg out of her numbness.
“I’m not exactly sure, but he seems to have either collapsed or to be sleeping. I’ll drive this through his heart.”
At some point the man had pulled out a stake of rough wood, which he now gripped in his right hand.
The vehicle landed. D’Argent was the first to reach the boots. Peeking around from behind him, Meg widened her eyes.
Slumped back against the marble stairs was a Noble in a crimson cape. Blond-haired, he had a pale face that was staring up at the pair. The left side of his chest was stained with blood. His wide blue eyes pierced those of Meg.
“I remember you. You’re Lord Danae, aren’t you? Do you remember me?” d’Argent asked, his voice quaking with rage. The tremors echoed from a ghastly past.
II
The Noble’s thin lips twisted. He’d smiled.
“The likes of a human? Would you . . . remember the face . . . of a fly you swatted yesterday?”
After saying that in fragments as cold as ice, he spat up blood.
“I’ll see to it you never forget!” d’Argent cried, raising the stake with both hands.
But Meg drove her shoulder into his waist as hard as she could. Incredibly enough, the man didn’t offer much resistance, being thrown ten feet and falling among the roots of a stand of trees.
“Wh-what the hell?!”
The man immediately sprang right back up, waves of shock and anger washing over Meg from every inch of him.
“Noble or not, you can’t just kill a helpless foe!”
“The hell I can’t!” d’Argent shouted, mouth open as wide as it would go. “If you only knew what this bastard did to us—I didn’t say anything about that earlier. It was so terrible, I didn’t want to think about it. But if you’re gonna try and stop me, I’ll tell you all about it. It’ll keep you up at night!”
“Like hell you will! I didn’t come out here to hear about that. At any rate, I’m telling you you can’t go killing a defenseless person!”
“Goddamned idiot!” the former teacher snarled, raising the stake and charging forward.
“Knock it off!”
Meg’s body moved of its own accord. The instant she’d crouched down, the teacher was on her back. She sprang back up. Her timing was exquisite. D’Argent was sent flying over to the remains of the staircase, pieces of which crumbled to the ground.
“Damn it all!” the man bellowed, but after pulling himself back up, he stopped dead.
“What the—?!”
Meg, too, was motionless, with her eyes bugged.
Lord Danae was behind d’Argent with his hand around the man’s throat and a well-attended nail pressing into the former teacher’s flesh. The nail had been sharpened like a blade. It would no doubt open d’Argent’s throat with a single swipe.
Despair spread across the face of the former teacher. However, the finger was taken away unexpectedly, and Danae gave d’Argent a shove from behind. Even gravely wounded, the Nobleman possessed monstrous strength—and d’Argent landed face-first at Meg’s feet some fifteen feet away.
“Why’d you help me?” Meg inquired, and she noticed her own voice sounded terribly calm.
A thin, cynical smile slid across Danae’s lips.
“Soon I shall be no more. There’s little point in taking any humans with me.”
“Anyway, thank you. Why don’t you show me your wound.”
Danae’s smile grew even more cynical.
“Could it be you actually intend to save me?”
“’Never turn your back on the injured,’ Dad always told me. ‘Even if it’s a Noble’—no, I made that part up.”
To d’Argent, who was looking up at her in astonishment, Meg said, “Simmer down already. There’s nothing we can do to him, and you know it.”
The declaration drove into him like a knife. Apparently he’d dropped the stake when he’d hit the stairs.
“Maybe that’s the case with you.”
Diverting his loathing gaze, d’Argent lay spread-eagled on the ground.
Walking over to Danae, Meg examined his wound.
“It’s right over your heart! I’m surprised you’re not dust already.”
“I have a rather unique physiology. My heart is far to the right instead of in the center. He didn’t know that. Instead of finishing me off, he went off in pursuit of another.”
“By ‘he,’ you mean the man in black—D?” Meg asked.
Danae nodded. His look then became one of dawning comprehension, and he said, “You know him, do you? Your expression says that his recollection makes your heart throb sadly.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you big dummy!”
But even as she denied it, Meg felt her cheeks flush. That face, li
ke a gorgeous winter moon, had begun to emit a glow she couldn’t contain. Somehow or other, she had to put it out.
“But enough about that,” she said. “Where are the folks you brought over here?!”
“At the castle. It’s about two miles due north of here. Do you intend to go there?”
“Of course,” Meg replied, tearing off one of her sleeves and pressing it to Danae’s chest. She continued, “I thought they said the only ways to destroy Nobles were to stab ’em through the heart or cut their heads off. If he missed the kill shot, how come you won’t stop bleeding?”
“His sword is special. He’s undoubtedly a dhampir.”
“A dhampir?!”
Meg had learned in school that they were the half-breed children of humans and Nobility. He would have his Noble blood to thank for his lovely countenance and impressive physique.
For some reason Meg felt her mind drifting away, but one remark from Danae brought her back to reality.
“However, he is no ordinary dhampir.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“In the eight millennia I’ve been alive, I have slain hundreds of dhampirs. However, not one of them could match his eerie aura, his skill with a blade, or his beauty. Rather, they weren’t even fit to lie at his feet. He looms as far above them as the heavens are above the earth.”
The way Danae’s expression was melting with rapture was something that left Meg half stunned, but half understanding. This was a foe who could deal death to you and still you would be unable to keep from singing his praises. Yes, that was precisely the sort of man he was.
“I sealed him away in a space that didn’t exist. No one, not even a Noble among Nobles, had ever escaped it. However, Duchess Mizuki didn’t believe it. She said that D of all people wouldn’t be slain by the likes of me. We got aboard the light-shielder and headed for the spot where I had contained him. And there we learned that he had escaped. You can’t comprehend how miraculous that is. But as we hastened back to the castle, we encountered him. Though Duchess Mizuki made good her escape, I was defeated by him and left to let death slowly creep over me.”
“That’s what you get for throwing down with such a looker!” Meg said, the words coming from the bottom of her heart. “But you survived, so you’ve gotta have a pretty mean streak of luck. Try hard enough, and you might yet get to go on living. Say, isn’t there any other way to get you to stop bleeding?”
Undead Island Page 8
