“Also what?” the duke asked him, and after receiving no answer he asked again. His tenacity was rare.
“It may be that this new model wasn’t made by humans.”
“You mean to say that Nobles built them?” Gazing at D, the duke insisted, “Nobles wouldn’t re-create a weapon they themselves had banned!”
D simply stared at him, saying nothing.
The duke’s expression changed. “I see, someone like you might . . .”
Just then, voices could be heard arguing violently off in the distance, and a soldier came rushing over. According to him, villagers who’d escaped the slaughter were trying to get through.
“Let them pass.”
Appearing before the duke were a half dozen bloodied people. One was a man in his thirties, the rest boys and girls around ten years old. The man was a schoolteacher. Since the attackers were relatively late in hitting the school, he’d taken all the children who were there for night school and evacuated them to a nearby cave.
“We heard gunshots and people screaming from all over the village. It lasted about an hour, though it seemed to go on for a century. When it got quiet, the kids all nodded off. Not that it was time for them to go to bed. They were so scared, they sought refuge in sleep. All of them lost their families.”
“Tell the children this: their families will be avenged if I have to chase those responsible to the ends of the earth.”
“Your kind always says that,” the teacher replied, his expression becoming almost demonic. “They will be avenged, we will have vengeance no matter how long it takes—but that’s because you’re immortal.”
He prodded the duke.
A soldier slammed the butt of his laser rifle into the teacher’s solar plexus and was about to deal a second blow to the man’s neck as he doubled over, but at that moment the harsh sound of something being cut rang out, and the rifle fell to the ground with both the soldier’s arms still attached to it.
“Hold!” the duke commanded, and if he hadn’t, the rest of the soldiers would’ve attacked D, which would’ve ended with every last one of them lying on the ground. “I’m so sorry for that,” the duke apologized. There could be no doubting that the words came from the bottom of his heart.
D went over to the motionless teacher, took hold of his arm, and helped him up.
Thanking the Hunter, the teacher got to his feet, aiming a finger at the duke again.
“Your kind doesn’t know how hard life is. Since you’ll presumably live forever, you can’t understand the weakness of humans, who have only a set span to live.”
The duke made a face that said, Oh, this again?
Grinding his teeth, the teacher continued, “I’m well aware that you’re much more benevolent than the lords of other Frontier sectors. But you only care for us to the extent that a human would an insect or a dog. Your kind doesn’t know the meaning of life, of living. And that’s why the resistance will never end.”
The duke, who said nothing and merely listened, stared at the teacher. Though the Nobleman’s expression was nearly blank, the teacher felt his own anger unexpectedly burn away like a fog.
“To be sure, dogs and humans are similar creatures to me,” the duke replied. “However, you think that discrimination.”
Turbulence raced through the teacher’s eyes.
“There is this expression, ‘after all.’ ‘After all, they’re only human,’ we say. When you see a dog, don’t you say to yourself, ‘After all, it’s just a dog’?”
The teacher had no answer for that.
“To us, humans trying to construct a civilization are like insects crawling around on the ground. If necessary, we can save the life of a single insect. However, when it tries to suck the blood from us, we crush it ruthlessly. And the same goes for the humans in the rebellion. Would you not call that equitable?”
“The rulers can say what they like.”
“Are not your own village mayors rulers? What of the government leaders in the Capital? I know of this sort of rule, without sword or gun in hand. If you know a leader to be incompetent, do you not replace them immediately?”
The teacher stood there, rooted and without a thing to say. Darkness was beginning to envelop his body.
The duke ordered the officer by his side, “Dispatch all your peacekeepers to the neighboring villages. And manufacture more soldiers. Your sole duty is to seek out and destroy the bandit scum. Tonight I shall make the rounds of the nearest villages and say something to put their minds at ease. D, I have bodyguards with me this time. Go on back ahead of us.”
“I’m out here because I want to be.”
“So you don’t take orders from me, then? My apologies. Well, do as you wish. We’ll be heading out right away.”
Five minutes later, the aircraft flew away, and D began galloping down the road that led back to the duke’s castle on his cyborg horse.
III
The moon was out. There were grassy plains to either side of the Hunter. He was already at a different village. Lights twinkled up ahead and to the right. Red ones. D’s eyes could make out a sign with a liquor bottle painted on it.
Advancing in silence, he had only fifty yards of road left when a trio of figures spilled from the establishment. From the way they walked, they’d had quite a bit to drink. Laughter could be heard.
“Would you look at that,” the left hand that gripped the reins sighed sadly. “The neighboring village was completely wiped out. Is this any time to be laughing?”
Once the trio reached the road, they turned their backs to the Hunter and started walking away. He soon caught up with them. The stink of alcohol assailed his nose. He passed right by them.
“Howdy!”
“Evening!”
The voices called from behind him.
The trio drew guns from their hips. The barrels were four inches in diameter.
Propelled by compressed gas, clouds of needles assailed D from three directions, only to disappear vainly into the air.
Hitting the ground as if he’d been dropped, D then executed a somersault, landing behind the men’s backs. It must’ve looked to them as if part of the darkness had bounded.
They weren’t given time enough to turn. D’s sword flashed just twice in the moonlight, and two men’s bodies fell to the road, cut in quarters.
The air whistled. For D had hurled a needle of rough wood.
Convulsing madly, the third man dove back into the bar.
Leaving his cyborg horse there, D sprinted.
On passing through the doorway, the Hunter was greeted by silence. The world was blue with cigarette smoke. The establishment seemed large enough to accommodate about fifty patrons. There was actually about half that number there. And all of them had their eyes on D—and the man on the floor—going back and forth between the two.
The man was sprawled there. He was dressed just like the villagers, the only difference being that he had a wooden needle stuck through his throat.
“He a villager?” D asked.
Everyone exchanged glances, while the bartender said from behind the counter, “Nope, just a drifter who came in a little while ago. Probably changed clothes after he left. One of ’em brought the horse they came in on around back, which seemed a precaution of some sort. Maybe so that you wouldn’t notice, eh?”
On seeing the weapon the man held in his right hand, one of the patrons groaned, “What the blazes is that thing?”
“Hell, those were the guys who attacked Melmecky.”
“They ain’t getting away with it!”
With an assortment of shouts, they were about to rush the man, but then they stopped in their tracks. D had gone over and taken a knee beside the dying man. All of them realized the young man in black was no mere traveler.
Taking the needle gun from him and sliding it across the floor, D then pulled out the wooden needle. It was unclear what kind of ungodly skill he called upon, but not a drop of blood came from the wound.
A buzz spilled from the villagers’ mouths.
“You’re in league with the bandits, aren’t you?” asked the Hunter. “Seems there’s someone you were gunning for before me.”
Raising his right hand, the man gestured toward his throat. By that, he meant that he couldn’t speak.
“There’s no damage to your vocal cords,” D said, taking the needle he still held, pressing its point against the wound, and pushing it back in again.
Shuddering from head to toe, the man clawed at the floor. Boards pulled loose, and his fingers gushed blood.
“Talk.”
The man capitulated.
“It was the duke we were out to get. We knew he’d be coming. So we’d been keeping watch from the top of a nearby pass all along. See, if he gave us an opening, we were gonna close in and nail him with some stake launchers. Problem is, he left right after he got here. So we decided to take a shot at you, since you were still here.”
“Did Vulcan authorize this?”
The man looked at D with the light of life failing in his eyes. “Hell no. But it was just too good to let slip by. He’d have stopped us for sure. You . . . you’re a dhampir?”
“That’s right.”
“Figured as much . . . The way you use that sword . . . like nothing human . . . Hell, even an android couldn’t do that . . . Just wish . . . the boss . . . had said . . . something . . .”
“Where’s Vulcan?”
“Damned if I know . . . Seriously . . . The boss . . . he always stays somewhere different from us . . . That monster horse of his . . . brings a note . . . with his orders.”
“When does he show up?”
“Just before . . . we put the orders he wrote . . . into action.”
“Then he ain’t coming this time, eh?” the hoarse voice said, the sudden sound of it freezing everyone there. “No point hanging around here. We moving out or what?”
D stood up. “He’s dead,” he said. Something gold flew like an arrow from his right hand, landing on the counter. “Sorry about the mess. I’d appreciate it if you’d take care of it.”
And saying that, D headed for the door.
“Hey, wait a sec.”
D didn’t turn around. His business was concluded. And there was no hostility in that voice.
The speaker was a giant of a man seated at the counter.
“This here’s a hundred dalas coin. Everybody here could drink themselves to death and you’d still have change coming. Plus, the damned thing’s standing.”
The patrons’ eyes focused on the small golden disk that stood on edge on the counter.
“Somebody take care of the stiff. Buddy, you care to try your luck against me?”
Rolling the right sleeve of his shirt all the way up to his shoulder with his left hand, the giant flexed his bicep for all he was worth. It was almost perfectly round. And it looked to be about a foot in diameter.
“Blade on blade I ain’t a match for you. Let’s go with arm wrestling, something I’d have a chance at. C’mon. I’ve always wanted to see how strong you dhampirs are. Hey, new guy, you try asking him!”
“Well, I don’t know,” the bartender said, scratching his head.
The giant put his right elbow on the counter and bent five fingers as thick as sausages, just raring to go. However, there was no way D would accommodate him—and yet, the Hunter shifted his feet and began walking toward the other man. Still standing, he took the same posture as the giant.
“All right! Best out of ten. And every time you lose, you gotta take a shot of Kalchiki. We clear?”
Kalchiki was a local expression that meant “would surprise even a dead man.” It was a kind of liquor with powerful poison herbs mixed in it, and even the strongest of men would be flat on his back after three shots, and probably be left an alcoholic as well.
The bartender set his hand on top of the pair of fists and their interlocked fingers. “All set? One, two—”
With “three,” the match was decided. One twist of D’s arm sent the giant flying, sailing over the heads of other patrons to strike the reinforced glass of one of the windows. The bar shook.
Forgetting all about the bottles and glass falling from the shelves, the bartender stared at the giant spread-eagled on a table by the wall. His expression was terribly sad.
“Who’d have thought it—the brute strength of Bedmansch, mightiest man in the village, bested with a single twist. It’s like something out of a nightmare.”
The other patrons could only nod.
“Not too shabby,” said the first to speak, which happened to be the very man spread-eagled there. “That’s a hell of a thing. Actually, it’s kinda refreshing, being beaten so easily for a change!”
The giant got up from the table to stand on the floor—and then slumped back again.
“Don’t move. I’ll run you over to Doc Heggins right away,” the bartender called over from behind the counter.
Bedmansch clung to the table for support as he stood up and started after D, who was headed for the door.
“Hold on, would you? You can’t manage it on your own,” the bartender told him, wiping hands still wet from washing dishes, then slipping out from behind the counter.
“Just leave me be,” said the giant. “I just wanna go see off that fella who whipped me so easily.”
The three of them went outside.
“Mister, I’m—” Bedmansch began, but his voice was suddenly cut short.
Just below the solar plexus he had a silvery sword blade running through him. A cry of pain rang out behind Bedmansch. D had drawn and made a backward thrust along his left flank, his blade piercing not only Bedmansch but also going right through one of the bartender’s lungs.
It was unclear which was more surprising, the Hunter’s skill or the wooden stake that dropped from the right hand the bartender had raised to strike. The stake itself was the kind that could be found in any house in the village. But why was a bartender who’d just met D trying to put it into his back?
“How . . . did you know . . . I was out to get you?”
“All the patrons were afraid of me. You were the only one who wasn’t,” D said, extracting his blade.
The two men collapsed under an overhanging roof. The bartender had given up the ghost. He’d taken the job in the bar ahead of time so he could gather intelligence about the next spot that would be hit. Undoubtedly he was a spy for the Pitch Black Gang. It was probably someone else who’d informed the gang the villagers of Melmecky would be gathered in the public hall, but this must’ve been one of his colleagues.
As D got on his cyborg horse, behind him Bedmansch said, “It’s the damnedest thing, but it don’t hurt a bit, and I ain’t even bleeding.”
The giant was a captive of his own astonishment. With ungodly skill, D had managed to avoid striking any nerves or cutting any arteries.
“Hey, do me a favor and remember my name. It’s Bedmansch. Bedmansch of Apico Village!”
By the time the giant had hollered that, D and his cyborg horse had already been swallowed up by the darkness of the road.
Gilshark’s Proposal
Chapter 6
It was just after sunset that the man and his strange steed began circling the castle. Though there were guards posted, they didn’t challenge him because he was outside the defensive perimeter. He passed some other soldiers and they were going to check his identity, but seemingly sensing something from the way he was dazedly taking in the castle and its sights made them not say anything and just keep going.
After a while, the man and his steed appeared in Machitez. That was at about the same time the duke and D were calling on the village of Melmecky. From the village, the rider headed out to the site of the dig. Three of the tents had just come into view when he sensed a heated conflict up ahead.
Valerie had never questioned the character of her colleagues so much as she did when she came out of the hole. Underground, she’d been attacked by a swarm of giant spiders, and with t
he help of the new guy she’d barely managed to make it out alive, but that wasn’t anything they showed much interest in. However, the moment they heard the pair had later found a side tunnel and followed it to discover a small stone chamber, from which they’d brought back two or three items, the others’ expressions changed, and they demanded to see what the pair had found. Anyone but Valerie might’ve tremblingly acceded to their demands, but she firmly refused, informing them she’d hand the items over once she was finished examining them. The looks on her colleagues’ faces and in their eyes had truly deteriorated to an almost lethal degree.
Three centuries earlier, the worldwide anti-Nobility movement had begun, and in those days, ruins and discoveries long forgotten by the Nobles were destroyed without a second thought. Later, their artistic merit would be appreciated once more and the revolutionary movement itself viewed as outrageous, with the consensus being that such items would be treated as treasures in the future. In the Capital, museums of both fine arts and science as well as research institutes bought everything regardless of the cost, with faux evaluators putting prices of thousands of dalas on a single page of crumpled notes in an act of economic blasphemy against the art world that continued even now and soiled the hearts and souls of her fellow researchers.
Valerie regretted giving them an honest account of the results. What the pair had discovered was the head from a golden statue of the Sacred Ancestor, a solid gold bracelet, and one other item—or so she thought, but she couldn’t be sure of the details.
Feeling herself in danger all the while, Valerie headed into Machitez nonetheless. She went to see Izumo in the hospital.
He was awake.
“Burning the midnight oil, eh?” she said.
“I’ve spent too long digging holes at night.”
“I’m sorry. It’s all my fault you’re laid up like this.”
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