“As you wish.”
Once the informant had left, the hoarse voice asked, “Who are they?”
“As the man just told you, people who heard rumors of me being here,” said D. His tone was just the same during the day as it was at night. When exactly did the young man sleep?
“Hoping to join you on the trip—or I suppose not, eh? Probably hoping to take your place.”
The voice gave a gloomy yet amused chuckle. But it broke off and muttered, “What’s all this?” It seemed to be listening rather intently. “A brawl’s breaking out down there! They’re turning on each other, jockeying for position, I suppose. Let’s go watch!”
There was no reply. D remained lying on the bed.
His left hand jittered. “Oh, man, we’re talking about complete strangers mixing it up! What could be more fun to watch than that? I wanna see it. I wanna hear ’em. The wilder it gets, the more fun it is. If someone gets killed, that’d be the best! C’mon! Let’s hurry up and get down there.”
D opened his eyes.
“Finally!”
“He said there were ten of them, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. No, wait a sec. Now that you mention it . . . We’ve got some late arrivals . . . Two of ’em. Probably more bounty hunters.”
Here the hoarse voice fell silent for a while, perhaps listening through the thick wooden door and floor for sounds from below.
“Oh, someone’s getting thanked. And the one doing the thanking . . . seems to be the hotel’s owner or something. And someone else says they’re welcome . . . A woman. That lady doctor from last night. Well, let’s go see ’em.”
Still, D didn’t move. This young man was absolutely indifferent toward other people.
Then the Hunter sat up.
“What is it?”
“The weather’s cleared. Time to climb.” His heavenly visage was peering out the window at Mount Shilla.
It was ten minutes later that D descended the grand staircase down to the lobby with a big backpack over one shoulder.
On the Frontier, they always cleaned up quickly after trouble, because it tended to hamper business. There was no sign of even a single wounded or dead person, and an old man who was apparently the janitor was busily mopping the blood from the floor. Judging from the fact that the great carpet had been pulled up, quite a lot of blood must’ve been spilled.
The man and woman seated on the sofa to one side of the lobby got to their feet and looked up at D on the stairs. It was the village doctor—Vera—and a bald giant of a man who stood nearly six feet eight. It wasn’t Baska. At the man’s feet was a pack that looked to be easily three times the size of D’s, and bearskin cold-weather gear. Other winter clothes were resting on the sofa. Vera wore black cold-weather gear, while the giant had on a wool shirt and thermal trousers. The shirt was made of the stitched-together hides of snow mice. In these parts, they were said to be the best protection you could have against the cold.
“Good morning,” said Vera.
D merely nodded slightly. Not that he was arrogant. Nor unsociable. That’s just the sort of young man he was.
Smiling, Vera continued, “Allow me to introduce you: this is Dust, a guard here in the village. He’s agreed to serve as my bodyguard, at the mayor’s behest. We’re to accompany you.”
Down in the vicinity of D’s hip, his left hand groaned.
“Why?” D inquired.
“Would you come down here? I don’t care to have you looking down at me from the stairs.”
Saying nothing, D came down the stairs. His next question wasn’t a reiteration of the last. “What happened to the ten people who were here?”
“Dust was kind enough to take care of them.”
One look at the man would be enough to convince anyone that he was probably up to such a task. It looked as though, if his massive form were hollowed out, D in his entirety would easily fit inside. Even through his heavy shirt, the bulging lines of his biceps and pectoral muscles were evident. Judging from the splashes of blood he wore in a variety of places, there must’ve been some fierce fighting, but he was sufficiently composed.
Not responding at all, D headed for the exit. Their request to accompany him up the mountain seemed lost in the depths of forgetfulness.
“It’s not known how many people were onboard the aircraft, but if there are any wounded—well, you know where this is going. Orders from the mayor. Here it is in writing.”
Dashing his eyes across the stark sheet of paper she produced from her cold-weather gear, D told her, “Good enough.” His tone carried not the tiniest fragment of interest. Nor did he ask her anything about the business with the Sacred Ancestor. “But I’ll be too busy to look after you. He alone will have to serve as your babysitter. One more thing—you’ll have to follow my instructions.”
“Understood.” The doctor nodded, turning her gaze to the giant.
His enormous bald pate slowly dropped and rose again.
“Quite a pair they make. They’ve got their act down pat,” a voice fairly whispered, but apparently it reached the ears of Vera and the giant, who furrowed their respective brows but ultimately didn’t understand where it’d come from. The hoarse voice asked, “What happened to that fella who ran amuck in the bar last night?”
“He’s in the hospital. It seems when you threw him, he broke his neck.”
There was an appreciative whistle. When the man had gotten up again so easily, he must’ve been hiding the pain he was in. He was possessed of a good deal of nerve.
“We’re off, then,” D said without turning, pushing his way through the doors.
“Just a minute!” the doctor cried after him in an agitated manner.
The beginning of the route up the mountain was to the west of the village. The entrance to the trail up the slope was blocked by thick concrete slabs and barbed wire. Next to the door waited a middle-aged man.
“Mr. D, isn’t it?” he called out, his words seeming to float into the air. That was on account of D’s good looks.
“That’s right.”
“The mayor told me to wait here. I’ll open ’er up for you straightaway.”
To the right side of the door was a little steel hatch for making inspections. Pushing his key into the heavy lock and opening it, the man stepped to one side.
“How long have you been here?” D inquired.
As if in a dream, the man replied, “Since daybreak.”
“Anyone come by besides me?”
“Not a one. Why would they?”
“Any other routes up the mountain?”
Shrugging his broad shoulders, the man said, “If you were of a mind to, you could climb it from anywhere. Only you’d be stranded before you’d climbed fifty yards, I kid you not. Every place but here the rock goes straight up more than a hundred yards. What’s more, you’ve got an overhang at the top. Oh, what have we here?” On seeing the lady doctor and the giant of a man racing closer, the middle-aged man furrowed his brow. “Those two climbing too? Well, good luck with that!”
When he turned to face D again, the young man in black was already through the doorway. As he listened to the snow crunching under the hasty footfalls of the approaching pair, the man looked up at the sky above.
The light had dimmed. Clouds had formed. And on seeing the white flecks dancing on the slope before him, the man shuddered.
“So, the second that young fella went through, maybe the only clear day we’ll see all winter goes to pot? And now we’ve got snow, to boot. This is gonna be a snowstorm. A hell of a time to be climbing Mount Shilla. Who in blazes is this guy?”
“Looks like they’re following us,” the hoarse voice remarked when the Hunter came to a sign marking two thousand yards above sea level.
It’d taken D less than an hour to climb that far. Mount Shilla reached 3,657 yards above sea level. It was a little less than twenty-five hundred yards from the village of Mungs to the top of the mountain.
“Another fifteen hundred
yards—compared to the Great Mountains of Madness in the southern Frontier, that’s child’s play . . . but they don’t have any Noble castles on ’em, I suppose. From here on out, there’s a route, but no path. The monsters out in the snow are probably limbering up their tentacles. If we reach the aircraft and there are wounded up there, we won’t be able to bring ’em down. We don’t even know if Duke Gilzen is still shut in his coffin or not.”
Through this gloomy commentary, D silently gazed at the mountain peak. His whole body had already been plastered in white. While it wasn’t exactly a blizzard, in another five minutes the wind-whipped snow would probably earn that name.
Setting down the pack that’d been over his shoulder, D opened it and pulled out a red paper bag. It was a heat pack intended for mountain climbing in winter. Sticking it inside his coat, D looked off to the right—and up at the snowy path that continued all the way to a rocky ridge. The path was lined on both sides with white rocks. Atop one of those to the right was a creature whose white hide was flecked with black spots, clearly poised to pounce. Had D caught its faint snarl? Or had he merely sensed its presence?
A stark flash of light shot from D’s right hand, searing through the cold air. Piercing the snow panther’s hide, it struck a rock a few yards distant.
“Oh, so it vanished, did it? Look for the black spots.”
Still in the act of reaching for the hilt of his longsword, D became a statue. His eyes squinted to a thread-thin line. At the focus of his gaze—an area of white snow about ten yards ahead—black dots came into view, and D moved forward with slow, almost gliding actions. The instant it was at his feet, D’s right hand flashed into action.
The unique snarl of a carnivore rang out, and bright blood scattered on the snow to D’s rear. Returning a sword devoid of even a drop of blood to its sheath, D turned around for a look.
The foe he’d slain with a single blow, guided not by sight but by instinct, was slowly taking shape on the white snow. Its form, semitransparent like a jellyfish, had been cleft in two in a manner that could only be described as exquisite, but the beast didn’t have a single black spot on it. The black dots still lay scattered in front of D, undisturbed. They were to draw the attention of the creature’s prey, allowing it an opportunity to strike them from behind. This was something only a creature able to blend in with the snow could do, but the trick hadn’t trumped D’s superhuman senses.
“By the way,” said the hoarse voice, “that snow panther wasn’t after us initially. Which means—”
The beast’s target had been off to D’s right. Where the strange rocks were lined up.
Silently, D began climbing the snowy trail.
“Hey, are you just gonna ignore ’em? From the sound of the breathing, it’s a human!”
D must’ve noticed that from the moment he first encountered the snow panther. But the young man was ready to ignore the person and move on.
Chortling, the hoarse voice said, “I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t just like you. Just make sure you won’t regret this later, you hear?”
“The doctor’s coming up behind us.”
D extended his right hand. The wooden needles he’d hurled at the snow panther had struck the strange rock beside him. Four needles were clustered within a half inch of each other. Grabbing the lot and pulling them out, D took one of the needles and threw it again. It was aimed at the same rock the snow panther had been facing.
There was a strident sound, and the needle split in two. That was followed by the clink of a sword returning to its sheath, and then a figure stepped out from behind the rock carrying something wrapped in a battered thermal cape.
“Is that how you always say hello?”
Taking her hand away from the sword on her back and using it to support the worn cape as she smiled at the young man was none other than the Huntress Lilia.
The watchman for this route up the mountain had said no one had been there since daybreak. Lilia had undoubtedly gone over the gate before that.
Before she could get another word out, D said, “The village doctor will be along shortly. Have her look at that kid.”
The fighting female made a surprised face. “You knew it was a child? He’s got some scratches, so was it the smell of his blood that tipped you off, I wonder? After all, you’re a dham—”
Lilia held her tongue. D had already turned his back to her. Flustered, she called after him, “You know, it’s great that you’re really focused on your job and all, but do you just intend to run off and leave the kid to the women? Huh?”
Lilia put her right ear against the bundle in the cape.
“And on top of everything, he seems to know you,” she said. “He keeps calling out, ‘Mr. D! Mr. D!’ ”
D didn’t halt. He’d already covered more than thirty yards.
“Give it up, sonny. I didn’t think he was as cold as all that. Though for a pro, that’s perfectly natural, I suppose.” Crinkling her brow, Lilia set the figure wrapped in the thermal cape down on the ground. “He threw that needle of his to mark your location, but I cut it down. If I leave you out here, they’ll be able to see you. Look! See those two down there? They’ll be here in another seven or eight minutes. If anything weird jumps you in the meantime, you’ll just have to chalk it up to piss-poor luck. I’m a pro, too.”
And then, making a looping cruciform gesture that those in the western Frontier believed warded against bad luck, she headed after D without a backward glance.
The wind and snow had begun to intensify.
New Life
chapter 3
I
At midday the snowstorm started in earnest. As the wildly dancing snow of the blizzard denied even D his sight, the hoarse voice groaned, “This ain’t good. I bet you can’t see three feet in front of us!” Its languid tones were torn away by the wind. “I’m getting sleepy, too. There’ll be trouble if we don’t find us someplace to sleep.”
“I slapped on a heat pack.”
“That little thing doesn’t count for squat. It’s the temperature outside that’ll decide if we live or die.”
It was most likely already five degrees below zero or worse. D’s form was dissolving into the blizzard, and the snow was now up to his knees. If a normal human didn’t find shelter under these conditions, they’d freeze to death inside of five minutes. Even for one descended from the ageless and undying Nobility, walking was becoming physically impossible, with his speed now less than ten yards an hour. While pressing on wouldn’t be impossible, it would be pointless.
D surveyed his surroundings. Turning toward the mountainside, he put out his left hand. Immediately a sleepy voice responded, “Walk along the side of the mountain about fifty yards. There’s a cave.”
He reached it soon enough. The cavern was elliptical, looking to be twenty feet high at its highest point and over six and a half at the lowest, though it was half-filled with snow. It was rather deep, and the snow no longer gusted in when he’d ventured five yards from the entrance. Before long the wind would probably change direction. At any rate, this was the best D could do until the blizzard had blown itself out.
D continued toward the rear. The cavern was quite deep. Though there was no trace of any creatures lurking there, it would be too dangerous not to check anyway. Once he’d been attacked, it would be too late.
About ten yards in, his progress was checked by a rock wall. He pressed the palm of his left hand against it, and the hoarse voice quickly responded, “It’s okay. It’s the real deal.”
The Hunter turned and was about to go back the way he’d come, but halted. A shadow stretched out before him. Only half as dark as an ordinary shadow, it was that of a dhampir born of both human and Noble lineage. And strangely, there was no light there to cast any shadows. D had already slipped into combat mode. His right hand came up naturally, no doubt ready to shoot for the hilt of his longsword in the shortest possible time. Yet two seconds passed without any tension or killing lust. D turned around.
Where the rock wall had been the cave now continued on, and five or six yards ahead of the Hunter flames blazed. A campfire. Sap bubbled to the surface of the roughly broken tree branches. There was no one there. The area behind it was blocked by the cavern walls.
“Seems we’ve fallen into a psychological attack.”
It was unclear what, if anything, D made of the hoarse voice’s words, for he was emotionless as he approached the little fire. He hadn’t needed the hoarse voice to tell him someone had launched a psychological attack. The question was—how had he fallen for it? Whatever lurked in that cave on the snowy mountain, it had gotten the better of D’s instincts and his superhuman senses. Was this why the place was called White Devil Mountain?
He held his left hand out over the flames. They were hot. Slowly he lowered it again. Though the hoarse voice didn’t cry out, the Hunter felt the heat all the way to his bones. It seemed to be a real fire. However, his left hand didn’t react to it.
D put out his left hand again—and at that instant the scene all around him distorted. The howl of an enormous beast shredded the snow and wind, and a gigantic white form filled the cave. The snow that whisked into the air from the thud of the fallen body mixed with fresh vermilion, and it fell like rain on a huge, twitching white carcass.
D gave a light shake of his head. He was throwing off the scant vestiges of the illusion beast’s glamour. Its titanic maw was still open, with more than ten feet separating its upper jaw from the lower one. Each of those bore a pair of huge, yard-long molars. The form on the whole resembled the mouth of a hippopotamus. Yet the head and body combined only reached a length of six and a half feet. D saw several dead branches at the back of its lower jaw. It must have used those branches to convince humans who entered the cave that they were seeing a fire. And that was how it invited them right into its mouth. Because it showed humans in the snowy mountains the first thing they desired, the beast probably also possessed a slight ability to read minds.
Vampire Hunter D Volume 22 Page 4