—
A few minutes later, the hogtied baron had been put back in the tent.
“If you’re a Noble, you should find the place we’ll be taking you shortly pretty interesting. And behave yourself if you don’t want a stake through the heart.”
A few minutes after that, Leda was tossed in, also tied up.
“What happened to you? Did you try to rip them off?” the baron asked nonchalantly.
“They’re the ones running a scam,” Leda spat. “They say they’re Desert Hunters, but what they do is find people who’ve run into monsters out in the desert and sell them off in a nearby town!”
“Sell them off? You mean they trade in humans?”
“Bingo!”
“So, the only reason they saved you was so they could sell you?”
“That’s not all, though. When they rescued me, they really were concerned about me.”
“Then at some point after rescuing you, they no longer cared what happened to you?”
“I guess so.”
“I don’t understand that at all,” the baron said, and then he fell silent, blue veins bulging in his temples. “If you’re simply going to sell the person you save, you shouldn’t even save them in the first place. Or do they save them so they can sell them? But then there’s the chance some of them will get killed, so, as you said, they must’ve truly intended to help you. This just gets more and more confusing. What are humans, anyway?”
“How should I know? But that’s a fine question to be asking at your age.”
In a strangely childish turn, Leda was in the process of sticking her tongue out at him when the tent moved.
“We’re on the move. Where are we headed?”
“To the slave market. It’s near the town of Toro.”
“The hell, you say! I’m a Noble!”
“That’s why they’re gonna sell you. A Noble goes on the block maybe once in a hundred years. Now, a Noble who can walk around in broad daylight—that’s a real curiosity!”
“A curiosity? I’ll show you who’s a curiosity! I’m going to escape. I couldn’t bear the humiliation of being sold into slavery.”
“You know your leather bag? They’ve got it. What can you do empty handed? The sun will be going down in a little while, and when it does, the desert outside will be crawling with monsters. The days are too hot for them, too, so they prowl by night.”
“Damnation!”
“Just settle down. This is how life goes. Something will turn up—in one form or another.”
“Don’t presume to lecture me, you slip of a girl!”
“Slip of a girl? You’ve been asleep for five thousand years and don’t have a clue how the world works! In my fourteen years, I’ve gotten to taste all the good and bad this world has to offer. When I was six, my mother and father ran off, and my brother and me were picked up by a thief. We’ve been living that way ever since. You know, a vigilance committee cut off my left tit. My little brother doesn’t have any toes on his right foot. See, he made a grab for a gangster’s bankroll. Still, life goes on. And the next time you start that ‘What are humans?’ trash, I’ll kick your nuts in.”
The baron bared his teeth. Everything she’d said contradicted what Piron had told them when they first met. And no matter how he looked at it, the older sister had to be telling the truth. “You—you—you pair of insufferable liars. If I make it out of here alive, I’ll tear you to pieces!”
“Shut up, you half-assed Noble. You’re good for nothing outside your precious castle walls, so don’t go threatening children!”
The tent shook violently as they continued squabbling, on the way across the twilit desert toward the town of Toro.
—
With the coming of dawn, the tent stopped and the beanpole came in.
“We’re there. We’ll take a little break, then off to the auction house before noontime.”
“Why there?”
“For the auction. They deal in everything from daily essentials to weapons and supernatural creatures. The folks from town set the prices, with the goods going to the highest bidder. Nobles are rare. You’re going to make us a damned fortune!”
The baron went mad with rage. “Wh-why, you miserable human bastard, you intend to sell off a Noble? You’ll face heaven’s wrath for that!”
“Fool,” the beanpole sneered. “If ever we felt heaven’s wrath, it was when your kind came into the world. At any rate, there’s a shower stall in back of the tent. Can’t show our customers grubby merchandise, after all. You two had better clean yourselves up real good.”
“Ah, that’s great,” said the girl. “I’ll be able to freshen up. Who’ll go first?”
“You’re so vulgar, you’d have to use it until it drowned you. I shall pass.”
“Gross! You’re filthy. Why not?”
“Running water is a no-no for the Nobility. Didn’t you know that?”
“Ah, yes, now that you mention it. They say that’s why there are no castles near rivers. Why, I even heard that a long, long time ago, there were plans to fill in every river on Earth.”
“That’s right. However, as that would’ve conflicted with the accurate re-creation of the world of the Middle Ages the Nobility so idolized, the plan was abandoned.”
“Wow, so there were some people who were still thinking clearly. Okay, I’m hitting the showers, then.”
Lifting the flaps to the back of the tent, Leda disappeared, and before long the sound of the small shower rang out, drawing a grimace from the baron.
—
The town of Toro was located approximately in the center of the northern Frontier. Since there was a mine in the area that produced an antimatter catalyst, the town had grown extremely prosperous despite its inconvenient location, with a population of around seven thousand and a reputation as one of the five most successful communities in the northern Frontier. The suburbs were equipped with an airport for shipping ore, and the train tracks into the industrial zone were always humming, with fifty cars a day of cargo coming and going. Consisting of the usual bars and casinos, the entertainment district was as busy as could be, with many of the places lit up with neon and open for business even by day. The effect was enhanced by an artificial night that covered the entertainment district alone—a bit of scientific trickery made possible by particle-tinting technology.
Beneath the clear blue sky, that part of town was sealed in darkness, from which spilled singing and gunshots and the glow of lights in the quarter that never slept. Its habitués were drifters, gamblers, bartenders, dancing girls, outlaws, warriors, killers, bodyguards, prostitutes, monster peddlers, arms dealers, and so on, and so on. Any form of vice that could be conceived of in a Frontier town was put into action in this area that was dark even by day.
That included the slave trade. And today’s auction was a little different from usual. First to be led out before the ranks of monster dealers, bordello owners, and rich folks were a girl who seemed to be about thirteen or fourteen and a short, fat, bald man. After the girl—Leda—was pulled up onto the auction block, the crowd that pressed forward was then left surprised, dumbfounded, and snickering the moment they laid eyes on the bald man who followed—Baron Macula. On hearing his introduction as a Noble—and one who could walk in the light of day, at that—their reactions became peals of laughter.
“Who’s a Noble? You mean that uncouth midget?”
“He has the face of an imbecile, a real moron.”
“He’s just some Nobility-obsessed old guy. Get down from there right now, you damned fool!”
Though the baron met that hail of jeers and insults with protests that he was a genuine Noble, he only fueled the mocking laughter.
Leda went up for auction first, and she was won by the madam of a bordello called Pastoral.
“Yes!” the girl exclaimed, pumping her fist triumphantly. It was unclear whether she was excited because she’d finally found a steady means of employment, or because she was confident s
he could run off at some point in the future.
It didn’t appear to anyone that the baron would fetch more than a thousand dalas when he went up next, but a cry of “Ten thousand dalas!” came from a potential buyer, so the matter was decided without any further commotion or even any counterbids.
—
II
—
“The self-proclaimed Baron Alpulup Macula is sold to Madame Belle Kamiskly!”
After the auctioneer’s pronouncement, the baron gazed out at the audience from his place on the block with an inquisitive look, but he only saw someone who looked like the steward of a well-heeled family. As he came down off the block, the Nobleman asked the auctioneer, “Hey, just who is this person you mentioned?”
“The lady is one of the most famous people in town. She’s quite renowned for her various collections. It may well be that you’ll be going into one of her collections, too. As Noble #1.”
Surrounded by armed personnel, the baron was loaded into a sumptuous carriage and driven straight to a residential area to the south of town. No one dared to carry the commotion of the entertainment district all the way out here. That was the rule in town—one that need not be put in writing. The carriage passed through the gates of an estate so vast it took another thirty minutes from that point to reach the house. The house was like a veritable castle or church from the Middle Ages, and on entering it, the baron was greeted by android servants and ushered into a hall of sorts.
“What is this place?” the baron muttered, since the room was bound by a faint gloom. “Is this what entertains the lowly human curiosity seekers? Hmph! Mark my words: I’ll escape from here, and then there’ll be a reckoning, I swear!”
And having laid his curse, the baron twitched his nose. A certain odor hung in the house.
“That’s the smell of blood. Hmm . . .”
Any other Noble would’ve been licking their lips, their eyes agleam, but the baron looked rather hopeless as he buttoned the neck of his jacket.
“There’s something unsettling about all this. I’m a sensitive Noble. I desire well-lit interiors.”
As if waiting for him to say precisely that, a single beam of light shone down on the floor in front of the baron. A figure came into view. The baron gasped aloud.
—
Leda arrived at Pastoral about an hour before the baron reached his destination. She was promptly escorted to the dressing room, where she was told, “Change into whatever outfit you like. Then you can start learning the basics.”
The woman who’d escorted her left, and when she’d finished getting changed, a different middle-aged woman in garish makeup appeared, saying, “You have a customer. I’m surprised. He says he heard about the auction.”
“But I still don’t know anything.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. A woman’s born knowing right off the bat how to please a man. Now, get out there and make some money.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Leda replied with the aplomb of a seasoned professional, following the woman to a waiting room.
On seeing her customer, Leda froze in her tracks.
—
“Lord Begley, what are you doing here?” the baron cried out. He stopped, shocked. “Your expression—it’s one unique to those who’ve undergone brain surgery. What in the world happened to you?”
Perhaps overwhelmed by the sight of an acquaintance from five thousand years ago in such a pitiful state, the baron stepped closer without thinking and grabbed the other man by the shoulder. The man’s clothes were in tatters, he had a long beard, and there was a hard clanking down at his feet. His limbs were secured to the floor by long chains.
“Who could do such a thing to a Nobleman famed for his unrivaled courage? You’ll pay for this, you human scum!”
Once again, his words acted as a trigger. The world filled with dazzling light. Shrill laughter echoed from somewhere in the lofty ceiling. Android servants—or servoids, as they were known—were clustered about an old woman who stood by the door. Her long gown had countless gemstones stitched to it.
“You have terrible taste, you old crone. Release the two of us immediately, wretch. Lord Begley needs a doctor—no, I shall see to his care personally!”
“Welcome to my mansion,” the old woman said in a frightfully hoarse voice. “I’ve collected so many things. However, at long last I have a second Noble. I’ll be able to vent my animosity on you for another century.”
“A century?” the baron said, his eyes narrowing, and then they opened preposterously wide as he jumped up. “You’ve kept Lord Begley like this . . . for a century? A miserable human like you? What ill will . . . do you bear him?”
He was so angry, he had trouble even speaking, and steam rose from his bald head. But a cool voice chilled him off.
“He receives such treatment because he’s a Noble. Ah, leave it to the Nobility! You can do things to them that would kill a human being a thousand times over, yet they regenerate without a problem. How wonderful that is, and how horrible.”
The baron grew red as a boiled octopus. “Damn you, I’ll get you for that!” he cried, and he was just about to charge at the old woman when a thin arm wrapped around his neck from behind. “Lo-Lord Begley?” the baron stammered, and as his shocked face swiftly flushed, blood began to drip from his nostrils.
“That will do,” the old woman said, stopping Begley. “He’s going to take your place entertaining me for the next century. Step aside, now.”
The arm came away, and the baron, now free, put his hand to his throat and coughed. A pale blue light flashed around him. His nose was assailed by the smell of ions and air seared by a jolt of high voltage. The electrical discharge bays in the servoids’ chests were open. Lord Begley writhed in the flames and black smoke. Jolts of electricity continued to strike him.
“Please, don’t hold this against me,” the old woman said almost in a whisper. “I think it safe to say Lord Begley doesn’t hold it against me.”
“What did he do?” the baron shouted. “And next, it’s to be me? What did I ever do to you?”
“You do know what the Nobility did to human beings, don’t you?” the old woman asked in return.
She quickly got her answer.
“Because we treated you like slaves? What was wrong with that? That was our relationship, wasn’t it? Your kind didn’t complain about it. At least, not five thousand years ago.”
Beneath swollen eyelids, the old woman blinked almost imperceptible eyes. “Five thousand years?”
“That’s right. I’ve been asleep for the last five millennia. However, I can imagine what happened in the interim. But no matter what that was, isn’t five thousand years enough water under the bridge?”
The old woman laughed thinly. “Oh, five thousand years? For your answer, kindly watch this.”
Suddenly, the area around the baron was enveloped in flames. The gloom changed—to darkness! To the left and to the right, figures were fleeing. Humans. Some were alone, some were men holding their children by the hand, or women clutching babies close. The sound of heavy breathing rang in the baron’s ears, and the swirling night winds buffeted his cheeks. He wasn’t in the vast chamber. In the heavens, the nearly full moon shone, and when he focused his gaze, he could make out burning houses and the outline of a castle’s walls in the distance. The screams of the women and shouts of the men made the baron cringe.
A party of black riders and steeds cut in front of him.
What’s this?
As the baron stood frozen in place, just before him the tip of a lance reflected the moonlight. The shadowy figures landed amid the fleeing people. Skewering one after another like beef kebabs, they hoisted the impaled people into the air on their lances. The baron saw a crimson mist scattering in the darkness. Right in front of him a black steed halted, and a particularly large rider looked down at him. The rider took the shape he held with his left hand and brought it up to his mouth. Lifting his helm as if to allow the baron to see hi
m and then focusing his gaze, he quickly wheeled his horse around.
“Wait . . .”
The baron had taken a step forward when a small figure was thrown down at his feet. The corpse of a boy who looked to be three or four years old. His neck had been bitten halfway through.
Stillness returned.
He was back in the same room.
“Do you still believe five thousand years is long enough for our rancor to fade?” the old woman asked, her tone enough to make the baron stand bolt upright.
“I don’t know how the world is at present. But five millennia ago, that was normal. Who are you, anyway? You may be old, but I don’t think you’ve lived five thousand years.”
“I may not have lived five thousand years, but our hatred survives. I have inherited the task of making the Nobility taste that hatred.”
“You know, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Holding onto a petty curse and keeping it alive for five millennia—you humans are such dark creatures. Hell, we should’ve destroyed the lot of you!”
“Silence!” the old woman commanded, raising her right hand.
A number of points of light formed in the darkness. From them, streaks of light pierced the immobilized form of Lord Begley. Though they were fainter and weaker than the servoids’ electrical discharge, they hurt the lord a million times worse. His clothes burst into flames, and his flesh melted.
It was sunlight.
The baron threw himself on top of the writhing, melting Nobleman to shield him.
“Would you stop it already? When did you capture him? How many years must you torment him before you’re satisfied? Just think of it—he’s immortal. That means he’ll feel that pain for all eternity. Your kind were killed quickly, without having to suffer much at all. Give me a stake. Let me put him out of his misery once and for all.”
The old woman didn’t smile. The look she gave the baron was a strange one. “You’re right . . . Perhaps it has been too long.”
The baron’s eyes widened as he gazed at the old woman. A pale, three-foot-long stake had been dropped at his feet. As the baron was bending over to pick it up, the woman said, “Please, don’t.”
Record of the Blood Battle Page 14