And people found that repulsive. It was this practice of feeding on themselves and their neighbors that caused humans to set fire to any community of victims they discovered without preamble. In highlands where the shadow of humanity rarely fell, at the ends of the earth, and on isolated islands, cries rang out from those who stalked the victims, and blood swirled in the winds.
Those victims who’d been relatively unaffected by the Nobility would use special makeup to cover the wounds on their throats and take full advantage of their ability to walk in the light of day by living close to human villages. Instead of shunning contact, they could associate with ordinary people. It was said that on the Frontier alone several hundred communities like this remained. Rosaria’s village had been one of them.
The victims swarming the valley hadn’t, in fact, gone out and attacked human beings. They didn’t seem to be luring travelers in, either. They’d merely stayed there peacefully, living off themselves. And D’s group had only been drawn there by chance.
“What do you intend to do, D?” the girl asked, thinking all the while that it was to no avail. Her tone was so calm she stunned herself.
“I’m going back to your village to get some dynamite,” D replied.
“What?”
“To block off the road into the valley.”
“Really?”
“They’ve been fine up to now,” D said. “But if they lure any travelers in, they’ll end up bringing a mob armed with stakes down on themselves. They should be able to survive with their own kind.”
Rosaria’s eyes quickly began to fill with sparkling tears. “Yes, you’re right about that,” she said, swiftly wiping them away.
Rosaria realized why the shriveled young woman who’d caught hold of her shoulder had then let her go. She’d recognized Rosaria was one of them. And Rosaria had known it, too.
“I’m sure they’ll do fine. They won’t cause the outside world any trouble, so I guess the best thing to do would be to isolate them. D, I’ll wait here. Hurry up and go already.”
The figure in black had gotten onto the cyborg horse standing beside the vehicle. Though Rosaria had been watching him all along, it’d happened with such speed she wasn’t sure exactly how he’d done it.
“Stay right here,” he said, leaving her with just those words on the dark road.
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Almost an hour later, D returned with the echoes of iron-shod hooves. Halting his steed, D surveyed his surroundings. The car was gone. Quiet had returned to the darkness. The only one who might’ve driven the car was Rosaria. What could’ve happened?
“They’re not here,” a hoarse voice remarked from the left hand balled around the reins. “And there’s no sign of those clowns who chased us. Does that mean they just took off on their own? No, I don’t think that girl’s one to go against your instructions. Ordinarily, I’d say someone coming down the highway had carried them away. Heh! It’s been a pretty boring trip up till now, but it’s finally getting interesting. But enough about that—you’ve already noticed, haven’t you?”
Before the hoarse voice had finished, D had wheeled his mount around toward the road into the valley where they’d been earlier, for his nose had caught a faint scent drifting from far down the road. The smell of blood.
“An ordinary person wouldn’t be able to tell, but that’s the mark of a wholesale slaughter. So, what are you gonna do?”
In lieu of a reply to the snide voice from his left hand, D drove his spurs into his horse’s flanks.
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†
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The valley was shrouded in the same stillness as the first time they’d entered it. The only difference was the rows of coffins on the ground. Lying black in the moonlight, they declared that this valley was the kingdom of the false dead. There was no sign of the car. From the back of his horse, D focused his gaze on the row of coffins. His beautiful eyes were filled with a gleam many would describe as ghastly.
It was a call to arms. There was something in the center of the valley. The ground suddenly rose in a mound, and a cloud of dust went up. Like water breaking in waves, the ground flew off to either side as the cloud zipped forward. Something was burrowing underground!
The figure in black flew out into moonlight—D had leapt down. Having been given a kick to the flanks, his horse raced on at a good pace. Now on the ground, D gripped his longsword in his right hand.
The cloud of dust changed direction. Its speed surpassed that of the cyborg horse.
D didn’t move—and a second later, his form was swallowed by the black cloud. A sharp wave passed through the air. Leaving D behind, the cloud of dust raced off toward the entrance to the valley. Soon, it’d been swallowed by the darkness. D sheathed his sword without saying a word.
“That sure was something!” the hoarse voice said. Whether it was referring to D’s display of skill or lauding the underground foe was unclear.
Bright blood gushed from D’s left thigh.
“A quarter inch to the right and it would’ve severed a major artery. But it let out a scream, too. Guess it bit off more than it could chew, eh?”
Not replying, D pressed his left hand to the wound. The bleeding stopped almost miraculously. Walking over to a nearby coffin, he reached for the lid and opened it. It wasn’t locked. In it lay a victim. Vermilion stained the upper body. He could quickly see where the blood, which had already begun to dry, had come from—someone had carved open the chest and cut off the head. Apparently it’d been done with prodigious force, as the head of the victim only had a thin flap of skin still linking it to the body. The next coffin was the same. As was the next, and the one after that. In no time at all, D had confirmed that every last victim was dead.
“There ain’t a single footprint left here. Doesn’t look like this was the work of any human,” the Hunter’s left hand said, its tone, not surprisingly, one of amazement. The foe they’d just faced had been underground. “It’d take twenty people to put down this many victims. But what I don’t get is—”
There the voice halted. D had turned around. His ears had caught a sound that wouldn’t have been perceptible to any ordinary person—the echoes of wagons approaching the entrance to the valley.
“There are five of them—cargo wagons. It’s okay—they rode on past,” the hoarse voice said. It sounded disappointed that nothing had happened. “Must be a late-night express hauling the essentials of life to villages along the highway. But the creaking of their wheels sounds pretty frantic. Wonder if they called on that girl’s village. At any rate, the next matter of business is where those two got off to in that steam-driven car, but that doesn’t interest you anymore, does it?”
“That’s right,” D said, his reply darker and colder than the tense blackness of night.
After the group of wagons had gone, D hit the highway.
“Steady there. If those two have gone on ahead, that group will find them. At least they’re not as heartless as you.”
Ignoring the mocking tone, D broke into a gallop. He quickly caught up to the group of cargo wagons. There were escorts on cyborg horses riding in front and behind them as well as to either side. Beside the drivers sat men armed with pneumatic guns.
Two of the riders broke off from the last wagon to block D’s path. With the old-fashioned rifle mounted on his horse’s neck trained on the new arrival all the while, one took a flashlight in his left hand and flashed it in D’s face. Both men tensed at the gorgeous countenance revealed by that circle of light. At that point, even a child could’ve cut them down.
Recovering his bearings somewhat, the one with a beard stammered, “Wh-who the hell are you?” D’s beauty was so great that the man’s voice was tinged with fright. He had to wonder if this wasn’t some supernatural beast—a creature of the night.
“How about you two?”
The two men looked at each other. The voice of the young man before them was so hoarse it didn’t seem to suit his beauty at all.
�
��If you’re gonna go around asking folks who they are and what they’re doing, it’s only common courtesy to introduce yourself first.”
“We’re a transport party for the Frontier Commerce and Industry Guild. It’s our job to deliver orders to every village in the region,” said the other man, who had a length of cloth wrapped around his head like a turban. There was the evidence to support the left hand’s inference.
“I’m a Vampire Hunter,” D said. Cold and exquisite as ice, his voice made the men exchange glances again.
The one with the turban said, “A Vampire Hunter? With a face like that . . . you wouldn’t happen to be—”
“—D?” the other groaned in a tone that seemed to dread the very night.
“That’s right,” the hoarse voice replied again, but the two men didn’t have enough presence of mind to find that curious. For those who lived on the Frontier, the name and deeds of the Vampire Hunter of unearthly beauty were nearly legendary.
The one with the beard lowered his light and took his right hand off his gun. “I’m Juke. I’ve heard of you. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.”
The hesitant man in the turban followed suit, saying, “I’m Gordo.”
“I’m D,” the dashing young man replied.
After some bewilderment, the two men pulled back the hands they’d extended. They didn’t seem to take offense at the lack of a handshake. They knew that on the Frontier, casually offering your sword hand to anyone besides an ordinary citizen was a good way to get killed.
“Didn’t happen to see a steam-driven car, did you?” D inquired.
“Nope.” The pair shook their heads.
“We haven’t run into anybody. The area up ahead’s been flooded and cut off from supplies. That’s why we’re in such a hurry. Maybe it took one of the byroads instead?” Juke replied.
Raising his left hand, D thanked them and said goodbye.
When the Hunter grabbed the reins again, the pair cleared the road for him. Turning back toward the wagons, Gordo shouted, “It’s okay. He’s a Hunter. Let him by!”
D started off at a gallop.
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III
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As the handsome rider in black passed the wagons, men carrying lights and weapons trained their gazes on him.
“Hold up,” someone called to the Hunter just as he was about to pull away.
Halting his steed, D turned and looked. A particularly powerfully built man was leaning out off a wooden footing that encircled one of the wagons. D’s eyes could pick out every single gray hair in his beard.
“I’m in charge of this transport party. Kyle’s the name,” the man called out with one hand cupped by the side of his mouth. “I knew the second I saw your face. You’re D, aren’t you? If so, I’ve a favor to ask of you. Could I hire you to guard us?”
D immediately turned away again.
“Hold up!” Kyle called out, his voice an octave higher. It had a ring of gravity to it. “I know you’re a Vampire Hunter and all. I’d take that into consideration on hiring you. Your pay would be the same as if you were taking on Nobles.”
“The area up ahead doesn’t belong to the Nobility,” D replied.
The mere sound of his words was enough to make the man’s expression stiffen. A human could tell in a flash the voice of a dhampir—someone with the blood of the Nobility.
“With the number of people you’ve got and how well armed they are, you won’t have any problem.”
“The fact of the matter is, before we came out here, I went to a fortuneteller and had a reading done. Three times, mind you, and all of them came out real bad. Not that I necessarily believe in that stuff, but I’d like to be prepared anyway. I could really do with some serious backup.”
Saying nothing, D kept his back to the man.
“You sure you won’t do it?”
“Godspeed to you,” the Hunter said, and then he galloped off into the night.
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After he’d sped along for about an hour, dawn began to sparkle like water in the eastern sky.
“Daybreak. Human time, eh? Still, I wonder what happened to that girl,” a voice from the vicinity of the Hunter’s left hand could be heard to say in the fading darkness. “If we go another three miles, there’s the village of Donellico, but that’s pretty low lying and gets flooded by the river all the time. Being of Noble blood and all, water’s not your element. Better rip through here as fast as we can or take another route.”
Their conversation took place while they raced along.
D didn’t slow down. Presently, the road began to dip. Chunks of rocks and stands of trees joined the scenery to either side, and an overall dense atmosphere swept over them. Up ahead, a silvery band could be seen. The roar that’d been audible for some time was the flow of a river. And it was fairly intense, at that—it bisected the road. The spray that went up some thirty feet away was impenetrable muddy water.
“This ain’t the river. It’s the wake of a flood. There won’t be a village left anywhere around here.”
“What about the stream itself?” D asked.
“It’s about a mile and a quarter from here and runs perpendicular to this flow. Given the force of this sucker, how about taking the long way around? It’s not like we’re in a hurry or anything.”
“Can’t you tell?”
“What?” the hoarse voice exclaimed. It would have knitted its eyebrows, if it’d had any.
Just then, the horse bounded right into the water and plowed straight ahead.
The voice actually sounded rather worshipful as it said, “What—did you sense something? I know sometimes your senses are even sharper than mine.”
For all its grumbling, D had entered the water. In no time at all the muddy water was up to his waist. His steed lurched—the flow was so fierce even a cyborg horse had difficulty keeping its footing. Any ordinary mount and rider would’ve been swept away in the blink of an eye.
“Hmm,” the voice said.
Pushed all the while by the overwhelming force of the water, the cyborg horse swayed its head from side to side to maintain stability and somehow began to ford the flow, partly due to the strength of the horse. However, what kept its gait strong and sure was none other than D’s handling of the reins from its back. When the steed tilted to one side he would slide over to the other, and when his mount was about to give up he gave a kick to its belly to keep it moving. In no time, they’d crossed the roaring torrent to within thirty feet of the opposite shore.
From one end of the muddy stream a black shape flowed along. A coffin.
“Maybe the running water dug that out of a cemetery? But it looks like its occupant is no ordinary character. Where’s the grave?”
To understand what the hoarse voice was talking about, one had only to watch the floating coffin. The muddy torrent flowed noisily past D from right to left, the water rushing downstream. Yet the black coffin was slapped by waves as it pushed its way slowly but most decidedly from left to right—moving upstream.
D halted his steed. Skillfully shifting his center of gravity on the back of a horse that seemed ready to lose its footing, the Hunter managed to maintain his balance as the bizarre coffin sailed right by him.
“What’s the deal with that? D, don’t you wanna have a look at what’s inside?”
“I’m not working for anyone now.”
“So you’d just let it go, then? That’s a crying shame, you know,” it chortled hoarsely. “If it were up to me, I’d make a thorough inspection of what’s inside, then drag whoever it is out into the sunlight and turn him into dust. Well, whatever. At any rate, hurry up and get us back on solid ground. Your horse can’t stand much more of this.”
Suddenly the horse began to move, and less than thirty seconds later it stood in the village. A desolate scene spread before D. The houses, earthen walls, roads, and stands of trees must’ve all been submerged for quite some time. Everything was coated with gray mud. Judging from the way both
homes and boles had been knocked flat, the floodwaters had apparently surged over them quickly.
“Don’t do anything stupid. What do you think you’re up to, cutting through this village?”
Paying no mind to the hoarse complaints, D slowly rode down the village’s main street. Due to the furniture and farm implements that were scattered everywhere, his horse was hard pressed to advance. Suddenly, his vista expanded. He’d come to the center of the village—to its square.
“Well, I’ll be!” the hoarse voice exclaimed, its tone conveying rare surprise and curiosity.
What should be sitting there in the middle of the muddy and debris-strewn square but the steam-powered car.
“Sure, it’s built like a tank, but I’m still surprised it could make it through that water. Actually . . .”
It was hard enough to picture that steam engine plowing through the water. Undoubtedly the vehicle had been under someone else’s control.
“Hey, don’t just ride by. Go on over and have a peek inside.”
The voice hadn’t forced him to do it, but D rode his horse over to the steam-powered vehicle and dismounted before grabbing the handle and opening the door.
Just as the shadowy figure that erupted from the car was about to hit him, D dodged with ungodly reflexes, and the figure hit the ground hard. Letting out a cry of pain, he then passed out.
“Well, if it ain’t Quinn! Any sign of the other one?”
The car’s interior was empty. There was no trace of Rosaria.
D crouched down by Quinn’s side and put his left palm against the man’s neck. Fierce spasms rocked Quinn’s body and he awoke. Sitting up quickly, he gasped on noticing D next to him, and then twisted around to scratch at the ground with his hands and feet.
Vampire Hunter D: Dark Road Parts One and Two Page 4