Both the explosion and the death of the device were relayed to the ground through the control thread. Gillian doubled over and a cry of pain escaped him.
“As I expected,” Gorshin said, nodding morosely. “The transplanted control thread transmits any impacts to the person currently controlling it. Even a few nanoseconds of the condensed information is more than a living creature can bear. Even if that creature is a Noble.”
In other words, for a span so brief it was practically negative time on the cosmic scale, Gillian’s body had been subjected to the flames and concussion of the missile. However, as the three cousins watched in amazement, Gillian quickly rose to his feet again.
“I felt it . . . D’s ability . . . To be able to destroy the sensors on a missile flying at supersonic speeds, then deflect it to score a direct hit on the FPU . . . he’s a freak.”
His pale, stiffened face gradually formed a horrible expression. One of malice—with a grin.
“But now . . . I recognize D’s trick . . .” Gillian continued. “When we come face to face, I will surely slay him . . . Mark my words . . .”
And then his blazing eyes glared ahead. His eyes were indeed tinted crimson.
“Gorshin,” he called to his cousin. “Have you the intention of making a new FPU?”
“Of course.”
“How long will it take?”
“If you would give me but half a day’s time.”
“I shall give you a day.”
A surprise too raw for words swept through the group.
“But in return,” their leader continued, “make it an FPU I can ride. I believe D is not our only foe. It would seem reports of our revival have reached the ears of Krishken’s descendants. My take is that D’s involvement in this matter is purely a coincidence. In order to save the girl, her father or other relatives will have sent rescuers after her. We must do away with them before they encounter D and his party.”
“As you wish.” Gorshin put his hand to his chest and bowed.
A dauntless smile rose on a face pure with resolve.
“Okay, this is where I leave you folks,” the old woman said, throwing both hands into the air. That was a parting gesture unique to this region. “But be careful out there, will you? And whatever you do, don’t head into Django’s Lot!”
“We’ll be careful,” D replied with a nod. Then he asked, “Sure you won’t come with us?”
“Appreciate the offer, but traveling solo suits my style. I’ll see you again, fate be willing.”
Not asking again, D turned his back to Granny.
Where the stone roadway turned, Pikk looked back. The darkness was swallowing up the figure of the old woman.
“Strange old girl, ain’t she? Being an arms dealer at her age!”
“The enemy’s found us. From here on out, best to figure they’re watching us at all times.” Those were Hiki’s words.
D didn’t reply, but he was listening to a low voice issuing from the vicinity of his left hand on a wavelength only he could hear.
“Better watch out for that one. He’s playing innocent, but the way he carries himself, the look in his eye, the way his hands move—they’re all the marks of a pro fighter. Skinny as he is, it wouldn’t be strange if he could fly too. At any rate, seems he tangled with something in the sky over the pass that rainy day.”
“You’re right,” D said in a voice that no else could hear, naturally. Between rocky walls that towered in the moonlight, only the sound of the cyborg horses’ iron-shod hooves echoed.
“Don’t figure he’s part of Gillian’s bunch. Just the opposite—probably hired by that snip of a girl’s family. You should put him down, and the sooner the better.”
“It’s no concern of mine,” said D. He’d been relieved of his duties.
“So you say, but you know what they say about fellow travelers making the trip or something—if you don’t wanna be mixed up in any more of the girl’s trouble, you’d best get on a different road real quick.”
“Exactly,” D replied.
In no time at all they were through the valley and out onto the plains. The wind alone moved dustily across the desolate ground.
“Well, time for another parting,” the hoarse voice gaily called back to the other three riders.
“So, kid, where are you headed?” D looked at Pikk, who was on horseback.
“Ain’t it obvious?” Pikk replied, puffing out his chest. Not the least bit uncertain, he continued, “I’m going with her. After all, the pay’s real good.”
And having said that, the feigned cheer that colored his expression changed. For the boy had seen the smile that skimmed across D’s lips. A warmth filled the boy’s chest.
“Happy trails to you,” the hoarse voice told him, and the figure in black turned his steed to the right and galloped off in the moonlight.
After watching the horse and rider instantly disappear into the darkness, Pikk spat, “Not the most personable guy ever.”
“Feeling lonesome?” Hiki inquired mockingly.
“Who, me? I’m glad he’s gone!”
Even though Pikk glared at him, Hiki didn’t hide his sneer as he said, “Well, we should head out now, too. Relax. We’ll be in the village of Krishken in no time.”
His tone was swimming in a self-confidence both the boy and Annette found dubious.
II
A full day later, many different colors of lamps rocked in time to mirthful voices in the depths of the night. The music of a fairly accomplished band was overlaid with the singing of rustic men and women. This was Lawless Years, an entertainment district out in the wilderness.
Even on the Frontier, densely populated areas were favored as more comfortable environs—the exception being towns that were constructed in “mobile locations,” as the pieces of movable property were known. But out in the wasteland where not so much as a tree or blade of grass grew, the eyes of many far-ranging travelers would pop at suddenly spotting an entertainment district there, strung with endless lights and bathed in music.
Just as oases existed in the desert, out in the wilderness people gathered in search of water, oil, and tonics. In the case of Lawless Years, they’d discovered springs containing countless minerals and a “rejuvenating substance” that defied analysis, then spent the next three centuries or so delivering their spring water not only around the Frontier but to the Capital itself in a huge mobile factory, all the while singing the praises of the prosperity to be found out in the deadly, wind-churned wasteland.
True to its name, there was no law there. Though there was a sheriff, he was strictly a figurehead in charge of cleaning up the corpses. That night, trouble in the saloons had already seen three dead and seven more hospitalized. Those responsible, of course, were back gambling without a care in the world, while no one knew the identity of the three slain.
The altercation had taken place at a cathouse on the town’s main thoroughfare. A hooker who was a favorite of the employees of the waterworks was being monopolized by a group of prospectors from a nearby mine, and the disagreement about whether or not they would turn her over brought out the blades. True to form, the sheriff and his deputies only arrived on the scene after the fight was over. The dead and injured were carried out, the blood was wiped up off the floor, and, as always, that should’ve been the end of it.
And then a certain man came. With the smell of blood and a sense of slaughter still heavy in the air, he stood in the foyer and demanded they bring out their prettiest girl. Judging from his enormous size, the way his eyes and mouth were nearly buried in the flesh of his face, his manner, and his tone, the madam figured he was no ordinary drifter and tried to satisfy him with the most presentable of her unoccupied girls. When the girl came out, the man sent her flying. The bouncers raced in only to have both arms dislocated in a flash, at which point the man repeated his demand for their top girl, this time by name.
From amid the women and customers watching the situation as if to say Again? one
girl stepped to the fore. This was the girl the man had requested.
She told the panicked madam, “I’m sick of the same old customers every time. I want this one.”
In a voice like the winter wind blustering from a cavern the giant said, “Sure do speak your mind, don’t you? I’ve heard stories about you, and always wanted to look you up. I’m on a job at the moment, but figured I’d blow off a little steam.”
“A pleasure,” the girl replied, looking up at the customer with no small amount of seductive power in her eyes.
The customer was nearly six and a half feet tall, and seemed almost as wide. A number of what looked to be weights hung from the belt of his long robe, seemingly odd accessories.
That night, the cathouse was apparently a magnet for trouble. As the pair was about to go upstairs, the miners who’d prevailed in the earlier brawl surrounded them. They had been the girl’s customers that night. As the men suggested they take it out back, their eyes were already bloodshot.
The customer was going to step out alone, but the girl said, “Okay,” and clung to his arm. On glimpsing the peaceful expression on the beautiful face beneath her heavy makeup, anyone would’ve become obsessed with a certain notion.
Though the madam screamed and shouted, it did nothing to change the situation, and the pair and ten thugs started to leave the establishment.
Suddenly the giant halted and asked, “Missy, you wanna see this cathouse knocked flat?”
The girl smiled thinly. “Sure. That’d be great.”
Her smile froze when she saw the giant’s grinning face. He couldn’t be serious.
“My name’s Quake Resden. Remember it.”
And saying that, the giant looked around at the miners. The moonlight gave a vicious gleam to the steel blades. Longswords, scythes, machetes, and javelins—their weapons certainly had variety to them.
“Hop on my back,” Resden told the girl, raising his right leg up by his side. It was unclear if any of the spectators realized this was the sort of leg stomp a sumo wrestler performed.
“Here we go!”
The instant he brought his foot down, the ground thudded noisily. Astonishment spread across the faces of all but Resden. The lamps and electric lights adorning the building’s eaves swayed back and forth.
“I might be big, but I was born with awful balance, you see,” Resden said with a grin. Though his mouth and eyes were hidden by plump wads of flesh, it was obvious that he was smiling. He touched his hands to the weights around his waist. “To stand up or walk straight, I’ve needed these since I was a kid. Now, all told, they’re a ton.”
The girl on his back bugged her eyes. Not only the miners, but even the spectators went pale.
“Way back in the day, they were lighter, but I got used to them, and as I was going about my business something strange happened. This!”
His other foot rose. When it came down, this time the earth most definitely shook. The girl on his back let out a shriek, and people reeled regardless of where they were in town.
“Okay, come at me—you hole-digging dipshits!”
The roughest of the miners rose to his bait. His weapon was a great scythe. Gore from the waterworks employee he’d stabbed to death still clung to it. Raising it high, the miner charged forward, but suddenly the ground before him opened its maw. Resden had planted his right foot—and the crack had raced from beneath the sole of his shoe.
“Ouf!”
Sunk waist deep, the miner planted his hands on either side of the split and tried to pull himself back out.
Resden raised one leg.
“Don’t do it!”
To the accompaniment of the miners’ cries the crack closed. The miner’s upper body toppled backward to face the sky, fresh blood gushing from his nose and mouth.
“Bad news, we’ve had a casualty. And when that happens, the aftershocks continue for a while.”
Resden gave them a smile with those indiscernible eyes and lips, and his words must’ve had a disturbing ring to them, because the rest of the miners then screamed and turned their backs to him. Before they’d gone three paces the madly shaking ground threw the men like a bucking horse, and the deadly mouths that snarled open swallowed them. Desperately reaching out for life, several of the men’s hands were left sticking from the cracks when they brutally closed. People frozen in shock from witnessing these horrible deaths couldn’t help feeling like they were bound to the victims by invisible chains.
Once again the giant did a sumo foot stomp, and a fierce tremor assailed the town. Buildings crumbled like papier-mâché. The first to go was the cathouse. The customers and girls inside were ruthlessly dispatched by the crushing weight of the beams and roof.
The only one able to frame her thoughts was the girl on Resden’s back.
“Stop it! Stop it!”
“What are you crying about?” asked the man. “I squashed the place you hated, and the madam. Now let’s go somewhere and have ourselves some fun.”
“How on earth could I do that? Quit it already. Are you out to ruin the town? Oh, even the factories—”
“Yeah, if you’re gonna do something, you’ve gotta go whole hog, I figure.”
For him, this destruction might merely have been an opportunity to display his power, because he continued striking his limbs against the ground, and in less than two minutes Lawless Years’ three centuries of history were reduced to rubble.
“What do you say? Feels good, right?” Resden said boastfully, while on his back the girl sobbed. “Okay, let’s go. We’ll have our fun in the nearby woods.”
The giant turned around and headed for the one safe spot—the hitching post where he’d tethered his cyborg horse.
Five minutes at a gallop and they were close to the woods. Leaving the road, Resden rode in on the cyborg horse.
“You know, it’s not that I mind camping, but isn’t this dangerous?” the girl inquired, being well aware of how terrible a forest could be by night. Lands of trees and vines where maneating plants were commonplace and supernatural beasts and monsters roamed, they were ominous places where humans feared to tread.
“Actually, it does run contrary to my nature. See, it really reduces the effectiveness of my power. But if I’m gonna have some fun with you, I think doing it on a bed of grass would be better. I may not look it, but I’m real big on chivalry.”
“Thanks,” the girl said, shrugging her shoulders.
To be sure, it was thanks to this man that she’d escaped that hellish cathouse. She’d witnessed his terrible power with her own eyes. However, now that she was free, she found the man’s ultra-violent actions and the fact that his conscience allowed him to commit them so impassively a disturbing thought. In short, he was now a hindrance.
Soon after entering the woods Resden found a clearing and dismounted. The girl followed his lead.
“I’m cold,” she said, pulling closed the front of the coat Resden had loaned her. Perhaps that bit about him being chivalrous was actually on the mark. But in this case, the coldness she felt was due to nervousness and the atmosphere of the woods.
“I’ll get the portable heater going,” said Resden. “But there’s a better way to get warmed up!”
Fighting back an expression that would’ve read Ugh, here we go, the girl quickly donned a smile. At any rate, she was in his debt for getting her out of the loathsome establishment. Also, he’d provide the protection she needed until she reached another town.
The heater he’d set on the ground began to glow red as it generated heat.
“It’s warm, but won’t the stone-flies come if you leave it going?”
Those were monstrous insects as big as your thumb that came flying at insane speeds whenever they saw fire. Just buzzing in would’ve been bother enough, but they would heat themselves to blistering temperatures, then explode. This presented a real problem for people and livestock in the vicinity. A stone-fly’s body was encased in a carapace as hard as stone, pieces of which could ca
use grave injuries when they scored a solid hit, though that was still better than the not-infrequent cases of instantaneous death.
“It’s okay. You can put your mind at ease.”
And saying that, Resden raised one knee. He’d been sitting cross-legged. The ground must’ve shaken from the same power that’d leveled Lawless Years. No sooner had the girl noticed an irritating buzzing in her ears than something angled down to strike the ground. On seeing the black shape that’d stopped moving soon after impact, she said, “But that—it’s a stone-fly?!”
“Yep. My power doesn’t just work on the ground. It shakes up the air, too. Not a problem for people, but for bugs like stone-flies the shock is like getting hit with a tornado. See how handy I can be?”
“Yeah. But one bug’s not going to do much. Stone-flies form swarms when they attack, don’t they?”
“You really don’t know anything, do you?” Resden chided.
“What’s that crack supposed to mean?!” the woman asked sulkily.
“Stone-flies, you see, are like a kind of hive mind. First, they send out a couple dozen scouts to find a target and see just how dangerous it is. These act as eyes. If any one of them gets smooshed, all the rest know about it. Now, when a person gets one of his eyes poked out, you think he wants to go anywhere near the guy who did it? The stone-flies won’t come near us again.”
The girl let out a relieved breath. “Good,” she said.
The man’s hands took hold of her shoulders.
“What—so soon?”
“Something wrong with that? I happen to be your savior. It’s only natural you give me my reward, right?”
Throng of Heretics Page 9
