“The condition for that was that I take you with me, wasn’t it? Hurry up and give him the horse. I’m elated at the thought of not having to breathe your stench any longer.”
“Listen to you run your mouth, you tramp!”
“What did you just say?!” Annette snarled, baring her teeth.
“Now, now,” Granny Gerheit said, getting between them. “No need to fight about a little thing like a horse. Just consult ol’ Granny Gerheit, the ‘Traveling Armory.’ If it’s a horse you need, I can fix you right up. Only I don’t have any cheap ones.”
“Any cheap ones? I don’t see any horses at all,” Annette said, an unsettled look on her face. Her expression seemed to ask, Why am I constantly surrounded by nothing but lunatics?
“Oh, I have them. I’ll set one up now. Just a minute.”
Her disturbing grin growing deeper, the old woman circled around behind the covered wagon.
“Hey, mister,” Pikk called back over his shoulder to Hiryuu. “You serious about seeing the girl home? She has some major issues!”
“Oh, now that sounds interesting. I may not look it, but in the past I worked as a bouncer in a saloon, and as a sheriff. I’m used to the rough stuff.”
“You really don’t look it,” the hoarse voice said. Indeed, the man’s unusually thin frame didn’t seem at all suited to “the rough stuff.” The hoarse voice continued, “Seemed like too much trouble so I didn’t ask—but what are you?”
“Just an ordinary drifter,” Hiryuu replied curtly.
“With a build like yours, you’ll wind up a snack for some monster before you’ve drifted too far on the Frontier. What kind of power have you got?”
“Power? None to speak of,” Hiryuu said, shrugging his shoulders.
Of course, the man was actually “the flying demon” Hiki, one of the Hunters hired by the mayor of Krishken—Annette’s father.
III
Having passed over Calico four days before his earthbound compatriots, Hiki witnessed D’s encounter with the Nobles atop the pass—and was continuing his surveillance when he was forced to do battle with a bizarre flying object launched by one of the Nobles on the ground. Though he destroyed his opponent, the “wind suit” he needed to fly was damaged, forcing him to drop a highly efficient bomb and level the entire hill.
Desperately trying to maneuver his out-of-control wind suit, Hiki managed a crash landing at the spot where D and the others later encountered him. His whole body was battered by the emergency landing, leaving him unable to move at all for a full day, lending credence to the story he spun about being a drifter whose horse had run off and helping to fool D and the others, although D’s indifference to the new arrival also played a large part.
Having easily gained permission to travel with them, Hiki’s phenomenal luck made him arrogant enough to think it would be a simple matter to abduct Annette. However, he soon realized why D could be so indifferent, and the man’s terror couldn’t be denied. Instinct told him that if he tried anything funny, he’d be killed. And it would come without a second’s pause to explain himself the very instant D became wise to him.
He immediately abandoned any plans of abducting Annette. At the same time, Hiki maintained his ruse of being an upstanding traveling companion, deciding to entrust his own fate to D as well. There were two deeply rooted reasons for this. First, for someone like him who traveled the Frontier with no blade but the dagger on his belt, he could wish for no greater bodyguard than D. Next, if by some chance D were slain, making off with Annette would become easy enough. Toward that end he’d need to repair his wind suit and reclaim his weapon. It would take time, but he needed to do it quickly and in utmost secrecy. In other words, without D suspecting anything was amiss.
And then the problem of D’s dismissal and his own promotion to bodyguard had presented itself. Like a game bird so foolish it doesn’t even know it’s only for sport and never notices the importance of the protection the hawk has afforded it, she had flown right into the waiting arms of the huntsman, but Hiki was at a loss. The reason went without saying. He, too, was now bereft of D’s protection.
Nevertheless, he’d instantly reconsidered because two days would suffice to repair his wind suit, and he’d be able to make off with Annette without any interference from D. While D was around, there was precious little chance of abducting the girl, but if Annette sent him packing, there’d be no problem at all. Those two days would be a dangerous time to weather, but fortunately they’d run into the arms dealer. If Hiki could get weapons enough to hold them for two days, the rest of the trip could be done by air. A normal person like Annette was too heavy to carry home in one day, but two days seemed manageable. Though the Nobles’ flying object worried him, he didn’t think they’d have many of those. At any rate, as long as Annette was away from D, he’d manage something. Hiki was sure of that.
“Step forward,” D told him.
Ice water raced down his spine. “What for?” he asked, and it was all he could do to keep his voice from trembling.
There was no reply. D was gazing at him. Rather than fill him with fear, those impossibly deep eyes stirred an action more dangerous than Hiki realized, and the man walked forward.
Before he could stop, a stark gleam made a horizontal swipe at him. Hiki didn’t say a word, but leaped a good ten feet to the side to avoid the deadly blow.
“Oh, that’s an unusual way of dodging you’ve got,” said the hoarse voice.
D’s blade was already back in its sheath.
Hiki dropped weakly to his knees. Anyone could well imagine what the result of a second slash by the Hunter would’ve been, and the man breathed a sigh of relief.
D said, “Get him a horse.”
“Yessir.”
Granny Gerheit walked over to her wagon. Not only relieved, she seemed positively saved. The young man known as D had the power to freeze the blood of even those who weren’t directly involved.
In no time at all, the old woman had loaded a bizarre item onto a hand truck and wheeled it back. It was a metal cylinder a foot and a half in diameter and about three feet long. When she stopped the hand truck, all but D were watching suspiciously, but the old woman smiled back as if they were showering the item with admiration.
“Well, here’s your new horse,” she said, opening a cover near the top of the cylinder and pushing the button within. A single motor-like sound came from within the cylinder. A moment later legs that were folded inside appeared, forming joints as they straightened out, while the front of the cylinder rose at an angle. Apparently that was the head.
On seeing how the top of the cylinder—its body—subsided, Pikk bugged his eyes and said, “It’s even got a seat! What more could you ask for?”
“Not a cyborg horse, but a completely automated mecha horse,” Granny Gerheit said, proudly slapping the barrel of the beast. “No different in speed or performance from your average racehorse, but a thousand times easier to handle! What’s more, you just need to gas her up once a month, and no feed bills. Only needs maintenance once every ten years, too. All for the incredibly low price of a thousand dalas.”
“I’ll take it. And pay in cash,” Annette said, raising her right hand.
“Oh my.”
“That’s highway robbery.”
All eyes turned to the source of those words. It was D.
“Wh-wh-wh—” Granny Gerheit stammered guiltily. “What are you talking about? That’s more than I have to take even from you!”
“I saw the same horse last year in the village of Calva. It was five hundred dalas.”
“Hmph!” Granny Gerheit backed up, murder on her face. Sweat pouring from her brow, the old woman said, “The price of everything shoots through the roof this time of year.”
“You ol’ swindler,” Pikk snarled.
Ignoring him, the old woman said, “Nine hundred dalas.”
“Too high. Five-fifty,” Annette replied. Here she showed herself for a daughter of the Frontier. Those
brought up out there knew better than to waste money.
“Nine hundred dalas.”
“Six hundred.”
“Eight-fifty.”
“Six-thirty.”
“All right,” Hiki interrupted, sick of the whole business. “I’ll buy it. How does seven-fifty sound?”
Granny Gerheit folded her arms. For two or three seconds she maintained her scowl, then said, “Well, I guess I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“Oh, you had money on you?” Pikk said, staring at Hiki moodily.
“Yeah, I’m a reliable guy.”
“So, you’re a drifter hoping to open a dry goods store in the future or something? Oh, it’s so cold.”
“Nothing else matters so long as you can pay cash. Anyway, it’s sold. Anything else you might be wanting?” Granny Gerheit asked, her face breaking into a smile.
“Just one thing more.”
“Oh, just one, eh?” The old woman was visibly displeased.
“I want one of those personal-sized portable bunkers the Nobility used.”
Everyone’s eyes bulged. Except D’s. The old woman whistled, and Pikk made a disagreeable face. The man had crossed a line.
Sounding amazed, the hoarse voice said, “That’s a hell of a purchase—didn’t know he was so loaded. More to the point, does this wrinkly old bag even stock a portable bunker?”
“I don’t care what idiots say, you lousy parasite,” the old woman sneered. “Unlike you, I’m not so worthless I need someone else’s legs to get around. In there are weapons I’ve collected traveling all across the Frontier under my own power. All of them top-notch goods even a Noble would be glad to have.”
And five minutes later, a gleaming silver sleeping bag was tossed on the ground in front of the group. Quickly checking the circuitry and energy plate, Hiki gave a satisfied nod.
“It’s a nice one. I’ll give you three hundred thousand dalas.”
“Whaaaat?” Granny Gerheit’s jaw dropped. She’d just been ready to ask for two hundred thousand dalas. “Don’t kid me. Half a million dalas.”
“Three hundred thirty thousand.”
“Four hundred eighty thousand.”
Thinking, Here we go again with the pointless haggling, Pikk looked up at the sky. His expression changed. It grew tense.
“Something’s flying this way!”
Hinting at evening, the sky was heavy with a deep blue. To the east, a black spot was definitely visible. It was drawing closer.
Hiki was the first to recognize it. However, he couldn’t very well say that, nor did he have any intention of telling them.
“I’m not sure what it is,” said the man, “but I think we’d best haul ass out of here. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gone!”
“Nope,” said the old woman.
“Not gonna make it in time,” the hoarse voice said.
Hiki grabbed Annette’s hand and dashed toward the personal bunker. A clod of dirt that sprang up right in front of him halted his run.
“Your money first!” shouted the old woman, standing there like some angry temple guardian with a pair of revolvers she’d had hidden on her somewhere.
Even as he opened the saddlebag over his shoulder and pulled out a wad of bills, Hiki kept his glare trained on the sky above. The black flying object sort of looked like a toy that was no more than three wings strung together.
“D, what are you going to do?” the old woman asked as she moved toward her wagon.
“Take care of him,” he replied, pushing Pikk toward her, and then with a light kick off the ground D sailed out beyond the barricade of corpses.
Perhaps noting D as he jogged toward the center of the square, the flying object changed direction slightly.
Not even going for his blade, D halted at his destination—the center of the square.
“Here it comes!” the left hand that’d hung limply by his side said with apparent amusement. What was it finding so enjoyable?
The instant the black object passed overhead, a gleam of light shot from D’s back. And it definitely passed right through the flying object. However, instead of being cut in two as it should’ve been, the flying object went into a steep climb that swiftly reached the stratosphere.
Assassin from the Sky
chapter 5
I
The body of the flying object was constructed of a wooden frame covered by metal foil. The tens of thousands of control nerves spread across the frame and foil skin were endowed with miraculous regenerative abilities. This was accomplished by a combination of magic and engineering skill. That was what allowed it to continue flying after a blow from D’s blade.
From the ground all the way up to the stratosphere, a single thread stretched the entire one hundred and sixty thousand feet. This thread, like the control nerves, was the dark fruit of millennia of repeated collaborations between sorcery and technology.
Down on the surface—out in the middle of a plain about sixty miles east of the valley where D and his compatriots were—one of the galloping steeds suddenly halted.
Perhaps sensing something, from the back of another cyborg horse came the question, “What’s wrong, Gorshin?”
It didn’t come from a person. Rather, it issued from a black coffin secured with thick chains. The voice belonged to the person who lay inside it.
And the other horses that’d halted each bore an identical load.
“It’s odd,” the black coffin he’d called Gorshin responded. “It found D and moved in to attack. But his sword got a lick in first. I know this because my Flying Predator Unit has replay capabilities. However, according to communications down the command thread, a malfunction is affecting the FPU.”
“What kind of malfunction?” inquired the first coffin. It belonged to the man calling himself Benelli.
“I don’t know. That’s why I find it odd. Now that I think of it, when it suffered his attack, I felt a chill run down my spine.”
Another coffin said irritably, “Attack him, and be quick about it. No matter how unassailable he may fancy himself being on the ground, he won’t be able to fend off an attack from the air. Or are you buffeted by the winds of cowardice?”
“Someday I shall make you eat those words. And it will be too late after I’ve dropped a mini nuke on your head of curls!”
“Stop it, Gorshin and Benelli,” a third coffin interjected. From the tenor and gravity of the voice, it was immediately clear it belonged to their leader.
“As you wish, Lord Gillian,” Gorshin’s coffin said, the tone changed. There was fright in it.
“Have the FPU continue its assault. I should like to learn more about the skills of this man called D—firsthand.” This voice, too, came from a coffin.
Gorshin’s coffin fell silent. That was the work of suspicion and fear.
“But Lord Gillian . . . The FPU will only—”
“I know. Attach the control thread to me.”
Gorshin was at a loss. The air around the four coffin-bearing horses froze. The chill was generated by the reluctance of the other three.
“Gorshin.”
The soft voice shattered the ice. Still glittering, it vanished like steam.
“I understand. I shall come out now.”
The tail of Gorshin’s words overlapped with a creaking sound. Other sounds joined it, and when the fourth and final creak had ended, four figures stood beside the steeds. A hazy moon glowed in the still-deepening blue of the sky. But the moon threw no shadows at their feet.
One of them—Xeno Gillian—held out his right hand. His sleeve had been rolled up nearly to his shoulder, exposing an arm that looked terribly thin and weak.
“Gorshin.”
The figure he indicated stepped to the fore.
The man wore apparel that was dazzling even in this fragile glasswork of moonlight, and he stood before Gillian and took the man’s wrist. Beneath skin as fair as any beauty’s, blue veins could be seen. The man with the aquiline nose—Gorshin—hesit
ated. All eyes were focused on the wrist he held. He pressed his lips to it. An almost blinding line of vermilion streaked across the white skin.
“And now your power is mine as well,” Gillian said in a voice like stone. “Now, give me the thread.”
Gorshin pulled his mouth away. Licking his vermilion-stained lips once, he then grasped the index finger of his right hand with his left and tore it clean off. His complexion unchanged, he held out the finger, and, surprisingly enough, Gillian too twisted a finger off his right hand. They exchanged the digits. Then Gillian pressed Gorshin’s finger against his bloody wound. That alone was enough to attach it. Not only that, but he could bend and straighten it at will. After testing that several times, Gillian gave a satisfied nod.
“The thread has been connected. Now to take the true measure of the man called D with this finger.”
And saying that, he curled the finger like a claw, with not so much as a scar left at the base of it.
“It’s coming back down!” the hoarse voice reported in full tension mode. D had his left hand raised up over his head. “Coming back from the stratosphere. This ain’t good.”
“Why go all the way up to the stratosphere?”
“Because the Nobility had bases up there. Actually, they’re still around. We’d best assume it snagged something there.”
“Something?”
“A bomb or missile, for starters. Oh, it’s fired on us!”
D’s eyes reflected the stars adorning the evening sky. Two of them were rapidly growing larger.
“It’s the aura-sensing type—the oldest model, but still, once they lock on, there’s no escaping ’em.”
Without a sound, D kicked off the ground. Though the jump barely took him off the surface, it carried him more than thirty feet. After he’d made four such bounds, the black missiles dropping from the sky fixed their sights on the enemy’s back and immediately kicked in their boosters. Sensors set in their noses detected D’s aura even as they read something massive behind him.
D was standing with his back against a rockface. His left hand reached out to his side and touched the rock. When it came away, the missiles read an aura there identical to D’s own. Without the slightest hesitation the missiles went for the false D, but a split second before they could strike the rockface, D’s right hand flashed into action. As one of the projectiles gouged a fiery crater in the rockface, the other one shot straight up, booster still going full throttle, and scored a direct hit on the FPU where it hovered in the stratosphere.
Throng of Heretics Page 8