Mercenary Road

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  “You’re right,” D replied. “Except the girl came here to protect you. And that wouldn’t have done any good.”

  Zenon’s features twisted with madness, and he took the blade he had pointed straight at D and swung it toward the Hunter’s neck. But there was still fifteen feet between them.

  D’s blade parried the blow. Unconsciously, Zenon laughed in his heart. His unseen blade wasn’t a physical attack: it was literally deadly intent that he unleashed. It would shatter even the best-forged sword.

  No sooner did Zenon feel the blow being stopped than he saw D flying through the air, wearing the face of a Noble with his own blood on his lips. The horrifying face of a vampire. Forgetting to even counter, he stood there like a scarecrow as D’s sword sliced cleanly through him from the top of his head all the way down to his crotch.

  As the Hunter fell to one knee between the halves of the bisected body, he heard a voice say, “Thank you . . . I go to my rest . . . as myself.”

  It was Zenon’s voice. But which Zenon, no one could say.

  “Am I too late?” the hoarse voice said in a vexed tone from D’s feet. It was pointing toward Irene’s corpse. “All of a sudden, that bastard Zenon nailed me to the floor with a dagger, and it was a pain in the ass getting free again. I told the girl not to go, you know.”

  Saying nothing, D took Irene’s hands and folded them across her chest.

  “While I was patching up Zenon, she was busy as a beaver helping me. Zenon was pretty brusque—but I think there was some empathy there, eh?”

  Not replying, D turned toward the door to the research center. Off to the left, there was a commotion and the sound of countless feet coming like a mudslide.

  Now reattached to the stump, D’s left hand said, “Did those clowns get the underground passageway open? Look out!”

  Something was rolling from the same direction as the footsteps. A silver cylinder—and the instant D saw it, he dashed for the door. The blast and flames slammed him against the door. Though both the explosion and its flames still continued to spread, a heartbeat later they immediately shrank into a tight funnel, streaming into a tiny mouth.

  “When I was taking care of Zenon, I drank the water in the storeroom,” said the hoarse voice. “Just now I got a belly full of fire and air. Fire, water, earth, and air—I guess I’ll have to do without the earth.”

  D reached for the door. Though it weighed several tons, it glided open. Beneath that black raiment was a body imbued with inhuman strength.

  Once the Hunter entered the room, his eyes gave off blood light as they focused on a certain point. The blue light that indicated activity in the machinery was flickering. That was the work of the button Dorleac had pressed as his final act.

  “Here we go,” said the Hunter.

  “Sure.”

  D dashed over to the control panel, pressing his left hand to it above the light. A pale blue glow formed around his hand, and then flames spouted from the control panel.

  “That takes care of that!”

  As the hoarse voice spoke, D spun around. Figures were pouring through the doorway like smoke. There was a roar like thunder and gunshots, and crimson beams pierced D’s body.

  The Hunter carved his way through the shadowy figures. Flesh was sliced, and bone was split. Blood sprayed without end. But no matter what it touched, the blade’s speed never changed. One after another the soldiers fell, and as they did, D steadily made his way back to the corridor that’d brought him there.

  On reaching the door, the hoarse voice groaned, “What the hell?”

  The vast corridor was packed with green and gray. Even for D, getting through them would be impossible—nearly. It would still take an extremely long time.

  “Why haven’t they died? Was that Dorleac’s command?”

  “Maybe we were mistaken. This could take a while,” the Hunter said, the icy sweetness of his voice not the least bit shaken.

  “That machine was a lousy piece of junk!” D’s left hand groused, and as if stirred by its anger, the soldiers charged forward.

  —

  IV

  —

  “Are we in danger? When our ship was coming down, I could see from up there that some weird characters had the whole castle surrounded. What in the blue blazes is going on here?” the pilot asked, his voice quavering.

  Finally turning both his attention and his gaze in the man’s direction, Beatrice said, “Stop your yammering. Act like a man and quit blubbering, or I swear I’ll slit your throat long before those clowns get a chance to. Look at that kid. He’s holding together about a thousand times better than you are.”

  This was the same Hunter of Nobility who’d once left Stanza in awe. There was an intensity about him that cowed the pilot into silence.

  Beatrice returned his gaze to the boy—Franco Gilbey. The boy was looking after the younger children, cheering them up and giving them someone to talk to. He was the ideal head of the group—both a leader and a friend. Their childish instincts picked up on the disquieting atmosphere, and though the children had been reassured time and again, they kept asking if they were going to be okay and if they’d make it back. But Franco never got cross, always telling them they’d be going soon and that they should just trust him. He even turned in Beatrice’s direction, saying, “I mean, doesn’t that guy look really tough? We’ll be fine, because we’ve got him on our side.”

  That really struck a nerve with Beatrice, making him rather sheepish.

  “Kid, how old are you?” Beatrice asked as he cautiously gazed out the window. About thirty minutes had passed since D had left.

  “Thirteen,” the boy said, his reply as brisk as his movements.

  “Is that a fact? You sure are a handsome cuss. I bet the girls go crazy over you, don’t they?”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. So, what about you girls? Who’d like to be married to him?”

  “Me! Me!” all four girls chanted, causing Beatrice to bug his eyes, then clutch his belly as he laughed.

  “See, you’re gonna be a regular home wrecker when you grow up.”

  “Huh?”

  Beatrice hurriedly amended that, saying, “I mean, a real lady-killer. At any rate, be sure to give ’em hell.”

  “Yes, sir,” the boy replied, with a look that said, Just who is this guy?

  Coughing, Beatrice asked, “So, er, do you remember what kind of guy your father was?”

  “Not at all,” the boy replied flatly.

  “Really? How about your mother?”

  Looking down, the boy quickly said, “I don’t remember anything about her, either.”

  “Oh, sorry I brought it up. I bet your mother was a real beauty. But your father was probably scum.”

  “How do you know that?” Franco asked with sudden indignation. “How do you know my father was scum? You don’t even know him.”

  “No, son—er, I mean, kid. But we’re talking about a guy who abandoned a great kid like you.”

  “How do you know it was my father that gave me up? Maybe it was someone else.”

  “Yeah, you have a point there,” Beatrice said, backpedaling. He couldn’t help but smile a little. “Well, then, what kind of guy do you think your father was?”

  “A great one.”

  “Really?”

  “A man who was strong and kind. That’s all that matters. I don’t know anything about my father, but I think he must have been like that.”

  “I see,” Beatrice said, folding his arms and shutting his eyes as he nodded pensively. Turning his back to the boy, he continued, “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. Your father must’ve been a man among men.”

  “Franco, I gotta pee!” one of the boys called out, and Franco ran over to him.

  It was just then that a strange presence moved beyond the window. A great swarm of mercenaries was surging over the wall at the far end of the garden.

  “Everybody, outside! Just stick with Uncle Beatrice!” the warrior shouted, g
iving the pilot, who was about to faint dead away, a kick in the ass before taking two children by the hand, putting one on his back and having the other cling to his neck.

  When they got into the corridor, there were a pair of figures running toward them from the far end. It was D—carrying the lifeless Irene—and Strider.

  On seeing the girl, the giant let out a sigh, then glared at Strider and asked, “What the hell took you so long?”

  “Got stuck in a maze the grand duke set up to foil intruders. It wasn’t easy getting out again.”

  “Sheesh, you’re a complete idiot, aren’t you?” he spat.

  “It was thanks to him we were able to get away,” D told the giant.

  “Really?”

  D didn’t bother to explain that a single roar from Strider while in the thick of the enemy army had allowed them to make their escape. Like Stanza, the warrior had an unearthly air about him that’d left hundreds of soldiers paralyzed.

  Beatrice could only take the Hunter at his word, saying, “You don’t say. What about that passage down there?”

  “It’s no good,” D replied.

  “Then I guess we’re out of options. Follow me,” Beatrice said with resolve, spinning around.

  —

  The iron door was shut. D put his shoulder up against it. The iron panel had to weigh several tons. When they saw it glide back, Beatrice and the children could only stare in wonder.

  Inside, an egg-shaped craft rested on a launch pad.

  “What’s your status?” Beatrice inquired.

  “All systems normal,” an electronically synthesized voice replied. Stiffening at the sound of it, the children began to cry en masse. It sounded to them like some sort of hobgoblin.

  “What are you, an idiot?” the hoarse voice spat at Beatrice.

  Though Beatrice glared at D, he quickly turned toward the robotic voice and said in a surly tone, “You got the power to open the launch bay, don’t you?”

  “That will be no problem.”

  “Look, this thing seats five adults. For kids, it’ll fit twice that many. So in addition to the little ones, there’s room for one adult. We’ve gotta decide who that’ll be.”

  “M—me! I’m a pilot, after all!”

  Staring coolly at the sputtering man, Beatrice posed a question—not to the pilot, but rather to the flying machine.

  “If someone gives you a destination, can you go there without a pilot at the controls?”

  “That poses no problem.”

  Laughing, the bearded warrior said, “Well, we’re all equal, then. How are we gonna decide?”

  Beyond the door, there was the sound of countless people moving around. The soldiers had arrived.

  “Better make this fast. First off, who’s staying? Me!” Beatrice said, raising one hand and taking a step back. “The rest of you, settle it between yourselves.”

  Franco’s eyes fairly bored through Beatrice as he gazed at the gigantic warrior. If he stayed there, there was no way he could survive.

  “Well, what are we gonna do?” Strider said, shrugging his shoulders and staring at D. “You know, I’d like to save everybody. How about we draw straws?”

  “Shut the hell up!” the pilot shouted. He was aiming an automatic pistol he’d had stashed in his clothes. He probably carried it for self-defense. “You’re all combat professionals, right? In that case, you stay. I’ll take the brats out of here!”

  The pilot’s bloodshot eyes had narrowed sharply and spittle collected at the corners of his lips, making him the very picture of a maniac.

  “Okay, okay,” Strider said, nodding. “You know, buddy, that makes one less person we have to worry about.”

  There was a thud against the body of the aircraft.

  As the pilot was momentarily distracted, a silvery flash zipped to his throat.

  “Don’t let the kids see!” Beatrice cried out.

  “Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” replied Strider, who’d banged on the aircraft. Stepping closer to the paralyzed pilot, he grabbed him from behind, pressing down just above the Adam’s apple. The warrior quickly brought the man back behind a row of storage tanks, but returned alone.

  “Which one of you is it gonna be? You’ve gotta decide,” Beatrice said, but his words were drowned in the children’s screams. Turning to see what they were looking at, he did a double take.

  The door was red hot. Heat rays were being blasted against it from outside.

  “That won’t last another five minutes—open the launch bay. Okay, all aboard now!” As Franco stood by the door, helping to get the children into their seats, the giant urged him, “Hurry it up!”

  “Mister?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re really great!” the boy said, looking directly at the former Hunter. There wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t want to be looked at that way.

  “How so?” Beatrice said, forcing a frown. He was trying to mask his embarrassment.

  “I wanna be like you when I grow up, sir. I’m sure my father was like you, too.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure he was,” Beatrice said, slapping a meaty hand down on the boy’s shoulder. He was still skin and bones. But in another five years, he’d have a build to rival that of his father. “I bet your dad was a great man, too. After all, he had a part in bringing you into this world. You know, if I ever had a kid of my own, there was something I always wanted to tell him. But I never have gotten that chance.”

  “What is it? Tell me,” Franco said, his eyes glistening.

  “No, that’s okay. You don’t need to hear it. It’s like someone already said it to you a long, long time ago.”

  “Tell me.”

  Saying nothing, Beatrice rubbed the boy’s head. Finally, he told the boy, “Grow up to be a strong, kind man, okay?”

  “Yes, sir,” the boy said, his face glowing. For that was how he’d lived. And that was how he’d continue to live.

  “Mister?” Franco said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Mister, you wouldn’t happen to be—”

  “You can’t be serious!” the giant exclaimed, his mouth stretched wide. “Someone like me, being your—? That’s ridiculous, isn’t it, D?”

  “That’s right,” D said, gazing at the pair. He was like a gorgeous ice sculpture. And his voice was equally cold. “He’s got a thing for loose women. He’s a gold digger. He can’t see a woman without trying to chat her up—he’s the lowest of the low.”

  “Now, that’s just plain uncalled for!” the wide-eyed Beatrice protested.

  Ignoring him, D continued, “But now he’s going to stay here with me and fight an army. That’s all you need to remember.”

  “Hey!” Beatrice said, eyes wide.

  The boy was staring at D. It was the same look he’d given Beatrice.

  And then the giant noticed something. As tears streamed down the boy’s face, it glowed.

  A smile graced D’s lips. Through all the hardships the boy would endure in the ensuing years, he would think back, and the memory of how he’d put that smile there would keep him on course. It was just such a smile.

  “That settles it,” D said to Strider.

  “Come on! I can’t let you two have all the glory. I’m staying, too.”

  “Are you serious?” D asked.

  “Well, on second thought, I wouldn’t feel right sending those kids out all alone. So I guess I’ll be taking you up on that kind offer!”

  “That’s for the best,” Beatrice said, reaching for the door. “Okay, get going. See you around, everybody!”

  —

  Strider got on board, and Franco took a seat.

  “To the Capital,” the boy told the machine. The last thing he saw was the two men looking up at him and smiling.

  Franco never heard from them again. While he was studying the history of the Nobility at the Capital, he heard that an investigative unit sent by the government to research the highway had entered the castle and found countless withered corpses there, but it was
unclear if they’d died in battle or if their time had merely run out.

  —

  At the age of seventeen, Franco graduated from a specialized high school with highest honors and was accepted to a university of history on a full scholarship. That day, his homeroom teacher called him aside and handed him a bank book. The teacher explained that ever since the boy had come to the school, deposits had continually been made in his name.

  “But you didn’t need it. You traveled the path to higher learning all on your own. So, what’ll you do with this?”

  The boy replied that the school should use it to help the underclassmen.

  As white petals rained down on graduation day, Franco stepped through the school’s gates and was instantly congratulated by teachers and friends who’d come to see him from the orphanage. In the midst of the throng, the boy suddenly turned his eyes toward the school building. At the north end of the grounds there stood a beech tree. Beneath it, he saw something. A man in black astride a white steed, and a hirsute man leaning against a black horse. The boy remembered them. He hadn’t forgotten the pair for a single moment. Taking a deep breath, he was about to walk toward them when the two riders wheeled their respective mounts and galloped off into the white petals.

  —

  END

  POSTSCRIPT

  —

  The Vampire Hunter D series is based on gothic horror, science fiction, and westerns. Since I was a child, I’ve always been more in tune with movies than novels. Unlike the present, when special-effects-laden films are released nearly every week, it was westerns both old and new that I consistently found most pleasing.

  Based on my writing, one might think I watch mainly horror and science fiction films, but I’ve actually seen far more westerns. And unlike horror or science fiction, quite a lot has been written about westerns, with their basis in historical fact. Through my reading, I’ve learned about not only westerns, but also the history of the westward expansion and various related phenomena. These films include Stagecoach, My Darling Clementine, Shane, The Law and Jack Wade, The Alamo, The Magnificent Seven, Rio Bravo, Winchester ’73, Warlock, and many, many more. I was just a child when I first saw them, but the protagonists of these films showed me how severe life could be for those living on the harsh frontier, and how firm their resolve was. Of course, that did little more than make me strap on a toy holster and six-shooter and practice my quick draw. (laughs)