Vampire Hunter D 16: Tyrant's Stars

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  Fifth was an incident involving the army of a certain Noble. In a bizarre turn of events, roughly a thousand soldiers had committed suicide. That day, a certain singer from the Capital had paid them a visit, performing a dozen songs before leaving. According to the one soldier who miraculously survived—a man who’d lost his hearing in battle—nothing had been out of the ordinary during the singer’s performance, but that night everyone else decided to die. On the word of this lone soldier, a search was made for the singer, but her whereabouts were never discovered. The army’s commander was one of the Nobles who’d opposed Valcua.

  “As for the other two—I don’t know anything,” Count Braujou said. “Of course, the aforementioned examples are things Valcua’s seven are assumed to have done. At any rate, they’re sure to be a troublesome bunch. My shoulder still hurts.”

  While he’d described Valcua’s seven warriors as “troublesome,” his remark would’ve made Speeny, the spider man, turn pale—for the giant remained fine after dropping out of the stratosphere. But the expression of the handsome young man in black riding beside him had not changed at all as he listened to the tale.

  No matter what lay ahead, when they met the Ultimate Noble’s assassins, clouds of blood were sure to fly. Whether this was something to be desired or mourned was no matter; the darkness ahead only grew denser, and an eerie breeze buffeted the two vehicles and the men that might be described as their dark guardians.

  CHAPTER 6

  I

  Over the next three days, Matthew and Sue learned a number of things about the Nobility. First, don’t let them drive your wagon. By day, Count Braujou went into his vehicle to sleep, and it became Matthew’s job to take the reins. The problem was the nights. Worried that they weren’t moving quickly enough, the giant would settle his ten-foot-tall frame into the driver’s seat and whip the horses’ haunches. Realizing the strangeness of this nightly visitor, the horses galloped madly, chased by a fear they couldn’t outrun. They certainly went fast. Over rough terrain or cobblestone streets they galloped at full speed. They even took corners at the same breakneck pace. The back end of the covered wagon would swing off the road from the centrifugal force and the sides would slam against rocks and trees. That alone was enough to put a man’s heart in his mouth. One time, while they were driving along the side of a cliff, half the wagon was hanging over the edge. It was bad enough for Matthew, but Sue shrieked bloody murder, nearly fainting numerous times. She spent all of the next day sleeping.

  “Take it easy, will you?” Matthew protested.

  “You’ve seen the kind of people who’re after us. Every second is as precious as gold,” the other man replied, and the fact that the

  boy fell silent didn’t have anything to do with the speaker being ten feet tall and weighing six hundred fifty pounds.

  It was also for this reason that D remained quiet—even more than was his habit.

  Second, they learned that the Nobility had no regard for any other form of life. If they found a shortcut, the count would have them gallop through a forest or up a rocky mountain without pause. Of course, such places were crawling with dangerous creatures. There were three-headed hydras that attacked from the treetops and the tribe of twisted mole men who lived in burrows underground, thrusting out giant spears to impale their foes. The bat people were just like humans with wings, except their emotional torment drove them to tear others to shreds. They had human voices that pleaded for mercy or cried out in pain, forcing the siblings to cover their ears.

  D was just as ruthless in putting his sword to use, only colder, and while his aloofness as he hacked through everything didn’t inspire anger in the human pair, the way the count seemed to enjoy the slaughter was more than they could stand. As the agonized cries of an impaled bat person showed no signs of ending, Sue pleaded with the count to put it out of its misery.

  “It’s serving as an example. The two of you might not know this, but they frighten twice as easily as any human. When they hear one of their own screaming like this, they won’t come out of their lairs for three whole days. Our plan is to use that time to get somewhere safe.”

  That was a reason, and an extremely good one. As Matthew and Sue knew of the bat people’s cruelty and how they would tear living humans to pieces, they thought it best to keep their silence. Nevertheless, on considering the hundreds of monsters that had been dispatched by D and the count over the course of three days, the pair was tormented by lurid visions of all the corpses that lay in the tire ruts behind their wagon.

  Every time such thoughts troubled their spirits, the brother and sister seemed to seek salvation in the young man in black who raced alongside them—and his sternly handsome features. In a situation so ghastly it left them reeling, the Hunter’s exquisite looks remained unwavering. Life and death were both far removed from this young man. All they found there was the kind of beautiful visage that rarely graced the world. Was that what it meant to be a Noble? The siblings would stare in rapture, but then they’d find a danger there that snapped them back to their senses.

  The third thing they learned was the Nobility were immortal. This fact was the stuff of legend, and the siblings accepted it naturally enough. However, on seeing it with their own eyes, they couldn’t help but be thoroughly chilled and horrified.

  As they were racing along a road carved into the side of a cliff, they turned a corner and suddenly slammed into what was known as an “old man of the mountain.” A mass of fur so thick it was impossible to tell whether it had arms and legs (let alone eyes, a nose, or a mouth), it was thirty feet in diameter. More than half its body hung over the edge of the cliff. Though the horses slammed into it head on, it sent them flying back. The car’s control system proved useful in this situation, and the horses and wagon came through undamaged—but the count fell over the cliff.

  The children jumped down from the vehicle and peered over the edge, only to find the Nobleman spread-eagled on the rocky surface fifty yards below. They didn’t know whether they should be saddened or relieved. An armlike mechanism swung out from the bottom of the car and lowered a cable with a strap on the end. When it pulled the count up a few minutes later, there wasn’t a mark on his body or his apparel. At some point, the old man of the mountain had disappeared.

  And they’d learned one last thing—the feelings the Nobility had toward human beings might be described as paradoxical. While the count was there to help them, when he sat around the fire at night with the siblings, the look he gave them was icy cold. It wasn’t scorn. In the same way that humans didn’t despise beasts, he merely viewed human beings as a lower form of life.

  But there was a moment when this disappeared. One night, while they huddled around the fire, Sue sang a song. Popular in the Capital quite a while ago, it had a soft melody and frivolous lyrics, but Sue’s voice transformed it into a gem. On overhearing her singing in the kitchen, more than a few merchants and travelers staying the night at the farm had declared that if they took her to the Capital, she could be a first-rate singer; and, setting a bag of coins on the table, they’d asked to be allowed to manage her. Her singing was that good.

  The count had been going to his vehicle, but then he walked back and requested, “Would you be good enough to sing another?”

  It was little wonder that Matthew was astonished. All Sue could do was look up at the count with a face as blank as a doll’s. They’d never heard of a Noble having any interest in a human song.

  Matthew looked at D. D was gazing at Sue. And Sue couldn’t take her eyes off the count. From his tone, she could tell his request was completely earnest.

  However, she wasn’t able to sing. The overcast sky suddenly called in a downpour.

  As their legendary inability to cross rivers suggested, water was one of the vampires’ weaknesses. The count hastily returned to his car. Since that night, he hadn’t asked the siblings for anything. But Sue’s mind kept returning to the expression on the count’s face that time. It was like the one th
ose travelers had worn when they put the bags of coins down on the table. When it came to the face of one pining for something beautiful, there was no difference between humans and Nobles.

  In the wee hours of the morning of the fourth day, the two vehicles and the rider came to the road that led to what remained of the central Frontier.

  D explained it had been a long time since men and horses had traveled the road. “There are other roads that lead there, but this is the most direct and least populated way.”

  The brother and sister had nodded at what D said, but when they realized what he’d meant by that, they got chills. He didn’t want to run into anyone else—because he was expecting a fight.

  “How long will it take to reach this ‘fortress’?”

  “Ordinarily, it’d be a month. At this pace, ten days.”

  Matthew couldn’t help but grin wryly. By day, he took the reins, while at night he left them to the count, allowing the group to be constantly on the move. But the ride was so rough they couldn’t get a good night’s sleep in the wagon, and both he and Sue were positively exhausted. From what D had just said, deadly conflict lay ahead, and while the thought had filled them with terror, deep inside it had also come as something of a relief.

  “Although it’s been two thousand years since people stopped using this highway, there are three villages along it: Marthias, Janos, and Razin. Along the way, there’ll be plenty of danger. It would be best to inspect our weapons.”

  “Right you are,” the count said, his voice coming from his car. It was daytime. Undoubtedly he was speaking through a microphone installed in his vehicle. “Take a little break. We’ll set off again in an hour. But you have to stay where we can see you.”

  As Matthew and Sue climbed out of the wagon, the count said in a quieter tone, “I wonder if Miranda’s not coming.” He seemed to whisper the words.

  Saying nothing, D kept his eyes trained far back down the road they’d sped along.

  “Appearances to the contrary, that woman’s got a strong sense of duty. She’s not the kind to forget a debt, even if it’s one owed to a human being. I feel certain she’ll catch up with us.”

  “If the enemy hasn’t gotten to her first, that is,” D remarked. “The residents of those three villages aren’t a threat, are they?” “Not really,” said D. “But Janos and Razin—well, the village of Janos produces poisonous herbs, while Razin subsists by crafting weapons.” “Do you mean to suggest the people there could be trouble? Good enough. If not for things like that, there’d be no point in having us along.”

  “That hardly sounds like the words of an antisocial old geezer who locked himself in his room for five thousand years.”

  “Did you say something?” the count inquired. Apparently his microphone had caught the mosquito-like buzz of the hoarse voice. Not replying to this, D said, “The enemy is close.”

  “You’re right,” the count responded. As they’d been riding hard night and day, the brother and sister were surprised, but the one pushing them so hard apparently found it self-evident.

  Just then, D raised his eyes.

  The road stretched like a slender ribbon for ten miles, and then ran into a gorge. Dark clouds had quickly begun forming over it, and a shadow fell across the valley—a declaration of ownership, so to speak. The black clouds spread even further, and shadows fell on the faces of the human pair when they looked up. There was a flash. Light and darkness colored the world in rapid succession. Even when the black clouds formed a gigantic human face—easily a few miles long and wide—there was no change in D’s handsome visage.

  Sculpted from those black clouds was the face of a dignified young man. Thick eyebrows, nose and lips with lines so elegant a master painter could spend his entire life trying to get them right—all of them brimmed with dignity, while his eyes tapered to slits at the outer corners and were flooded with such coldness and pitilessness they filled those who saw them with a soul-devouring terror.

  “I am Grand Duke Valcua,” the cloud said. “Anyone who sets foot on this road will never reach his destination, nor will he be able to turn back. While the conspirators who drove me off among the stars have no choice but to continue on, you may leave, young man in black. I shall give you three seconds to do so. There’s nothing more to be discussed. One.”

  At some point, Matthew and Sue had gone over to D, and now they were looking up at him.

  The count’s microphone kept its silence.

  “Two.”

  The lightning gave D’s face a pale blue glow. Like a gorgeous statue, he stood there, not making a single move.

  “Three,” the voice from the sky told him. Leaving no break at all, it continued, “Most unwise. So, you choose an agonizing death? With such an exquisite countenance, you’re probably a fellow child of the darkness. Proceed, then. My soldiers are waiting at the end of the road.”

  There was a thundering sound that rocked the heavens: derisive laughter.

  Suddenly the dark clouds sailed away, and the trio felt the morning sun.

  “Are you feeling more rested?” D asked.

  “Yeah. But this is no time to be worrying about rest,” Matthew replied, and Sue nodded her agreement.

  The count’s voice said, “I’m surprised Valcua appeared out here. And even more surprised that he’d ask you to leave us. D, who in the world are you?”

  As the gaze of the human pair and another set of unseen eyes fell on the Hunter, he merely replied in a cool tone, “Let’s go.”

  II

  That morning the chapel bell rang out in the sky over the village of Marthias. Among the villagers lived a huntsman with incredibly keen senses who was used to dealing with the supernatural creatures that lurked around their community, but the peals ringing across the empyrean vault gave him a feeling of dread, and probably made him want to spread an alarm. Most of the populace—which numbered under a hundred—were so surprised they ran outside, jogging toward the chapel before the huntsman (who’d been in bed with a fever the last three days) could make his appearance.

  The population of Marthias had been about five hundred until, twenty years before, a traveling pestilence had invaded. The chapel had fallen into ruin when their priest succumbed to the illness.

  Though they’d made repeated requests to the Capital and to the parish committee, no one was willing to relocate to the central Frontier (as was also often the case with physicians), so the people were forced to live out their cruel days without heaven’s aid. They couldn’t complain about someone going into the unsecured chapel— especially not when candles burned in the decaying sconces, an icon of a goddess they’d never seen before rocked against one wall, and a tall figure in ash-gray vestments stood behind the freshly dusted altar.

  The people froze in the doorway. An unfamiliar priest turned to them with arms spread wide and said, “Welcome, everyone! Please, be seated.”

  His low voice was even clearer than the bell. While reserved, his tone carried a strength that would brook no insubordination.

  Exchanging glances, the villagers seated themselves. The solid pews creaked but supported their weight.

  “I am a traveling missionary. My name is Courbet,” the priest said with a bow, and then he began flipping through the pages of a hidebound tome on the altar. It was probably a book of sermons. Everyone on the Frontier knew that the traveling missionaries who moved from area to area, teaching people about the gods they worshiped, carried books of sermons that explained the basic tenets of their faith.

  One of the villagers sheepishly raised his hand. It was the mayor.

  “Yes?”

  Coughing to clear his throat, the mayor asked, “When did you clean the chapel? I’ve been awake since there were still stars in the sky, and I didn’t notice your arrival. When on earth did you get here?”

  Courbet smiled. For the first time the people noticed he had a long, horsey face and beady eyes. “Before you got up. The cleanup took quite some time.”

  “So, ju
st what kind of gods do you believe in, sir?” asked a farmer’s wife.

  Living as they did, elbow to elbow with danger, the people of the Frontier were more inclined to embrace faiths as individuals than as groups. A missionary spreading the word of another god was something of a threat. In this very village people had killed each other on more than one occasion over religious differences.

  “Stern but peaceful gods,” Courbet replied. “But I can promise you this: My gods have nothing against whatever gods all of you may hold dear. You’re under no pressure. Once you’ve heard what

  I have to say, if you all decide you don’t like the sound of it, I’m willing to leave at any time.”

  A wave of relief spread over the people.

  Flipping through more pages, Courbet halted at a certain section and began to address the group in a soft tone.

  “My gods are called Braujou, Miranda—and D. However, you’re not to mention this to anyone.”

  In the afternoon light, the sound of nails hammering home rang out like echoes.

  D hadn’t intended on halting the vehicles. They had sufficient food and water. Any place that might be used by their foes for an ambush was to be avoided or passed through as quickly as possible. Matthew and Sue had been told as much. Yet just as they were approaching the village, a young girl suddenly jumped in front of them. Letting loose a cry that was closer to a shriek, Matthew stepped on the brake, but she was too close. The girl fell under the animals’ hooves.

  “Whoa!” Matthew ordered the horses, and then he leaped down from the driver’s seat. Some cyborg horses underwent operations on their brains that slightly increased their intelligence, and speaking was often the best way to communicate with them.

  The girl who lay between the horses’ hooves looked to be about the same age as Sue. Her simple dress was tom in places, and her exposed shoulder was bruised.