“The rebel army’s here,” the hoarse voice noted. “But what the hell’s wrong with the defensive forces? How did an army that big get so close without anybody noticing?”
“It’s his power.”
“It can’t be. Then those footprints we saw?”
“Gilshark’s, apparently,” the Hunter replied.
“Wow,” the left hand groaned, a fresh arrow grazing the back of it.
More arrows flew in through other windows, sticking in the wall and ruthlessly laying waste to the furniture.
Suddenly, bursts of flame went up in scattered parts of the horde of humanity. Blobs of black and vermilion shot skyward. For the defenders had begun their counterattack. The bursts of flame spread with breathtaking speed, and where one patch met another the flames grew enormous, swallowing up people and weapons alike.
The hoarse voice said gravely, “When a Noble sets his mind to it, he can end a battle in seconds. So, what’s the rebel army’s next move?”
The rebel army called off its offensive. They’d lost half their number in this most recent counterattack.
Unexpectedly, several crane-like mechanical arms went up. At the end of each was a bucket the size of a small house. And in those buckets were tiny figures with weapons held at the ready.
“They’re freaking kids,” the left hand groaned. “That’s a hell of a thing. Has ol’ Gilshark finally lost even his soul to the bastard and his power?”
D was silent.
“So, what’ll the duke’s next move be?” the left hand murmured.
Just then, a loudspeaker called out, “Your grace, most merciful lord of our domain!” It was Gilshark. “Knowing it may bring an eternal curse upon us, we have come to light the fires of resistance on your castle this very day. The children presently raised high in the sky are all valiant warriors prepared to give their lives, the equal of any normal soldier. Shoot them down. If for some reason you are unable to do so, then I request that you, O lord, come out of your castle alone to face me, the leader of the rebel army.”
His tone was bitingly polite. The deluded challenge came from his certainty that the duke couldn’t refuse. However, using children as a shield while he issued his challenge, or even making warriors of children who were human like him, showed that Gilshark was no longer himself.
D headed to the duke’s chambers. He wasn’t there.
The Hunter went back down to the hall. He caught sight of the old man’s back as he was trudging toward the foyer.
“You intend to go?” D asked.
Halting, the duke turned and said, “He’s asking for a battle of champions. Naturally, I don’t care that he’s sent children out onto the field. In the old days, I would’ve burned them alive, and laughed while I did it.”
“Think you can win? He’s—”
“I know. But long ago, they called me the Tiger! I intend to take him down with me, at the very least. D, swear to me you won’t interfere.”
“My job is to slay you before anyone else has the privilege. And I won’t have anyone getting in the way of that. Leave him to me.”
“I’m old, D. I don’t mean my flesh, but rather my spirit. Perhaps it’s what the humans would call a soul. But old as I am, I don’t believe I’m decrepit. You’re to remain on the sidelines.”
“You’re supposed to meet a glorious death in battle against me. I can’t let you go out there.”
“I thought you’d say that. Lord Greylancer was right! That’s why I’ve taken precautions.”
Regardless of what D might’ve sensed, he couldn’t move faster than light. And it was moonlight that poured down on him. Beneath it, the young man of unearthly beauty was driven down on one magnificent knee. All the power had left his body.
“That beam reverses the flow of the moonlight energy,” the Nobleman told him. “I’ll hold on to your strength for the time being. And on my return, I shall give it back to you.”
And then, with a gait that didn’t seem at all that of a man burning with an urge to fight, the aged duke exited through the foyer. There was no one there to stop him, nor was there anyone to rally behind him.
A black carriage was waiting. It was drawn by a team of six horses. Once the duke had climbed in, the android coachman cracked his whip, and the old-fashioned vehicle raced toward the main gates, its wooden wheels creaking all the while.
In about ten minutes, it reached the square before the main gates to the castle. The castle grounds were that vast. There wasn’t a single member of his defensive force out there.
Looking up at the dark sky, the duke murmured, “That will never do.”
His was a life meant to be spent battling in moonlight, but would he risk it by the light of the sun, gloomy though the day was?
He thrust the staff he held in his right hand toward the sun.
It was about ten minutes later that the Nobleman sensed someone bearing down on him in waves from three directions. The rebel army had arrived.
A terrific amount of murderous intent was focused on the duke. It was enough that it would’ve physically damaged the mind of the average human. If true isolation was having the whole world turned against you, then that was what Duke Van Doren now experienced.
The edges of the square were packed with people. Behind them, scattered tanks and mobile thermal ray cannons, old-fashioned trebuchets and siege towers were visible, while even further in the distance, flames and black smoke rose to the heavens. Scars left by the bombardment.
With all of that in his field of view, the duke was shrouded in a sort of nothingness. Having been in battle thousands of times and witnessed tens of millions of deaths, the Noble, who’d died himself and returned to life, may have found it quite pointless the way these humans, teeming with vitality, waged war. Mountains of corpses would rot away, rivers of blood would run to the sea, and there they would combine with bacteria, giving rise to trillions of new forms of life. From them, only a few chosen by the hand of fate would advance on the path of evolution, and after receiving light from the goodness of the sun, they would leave the sea by the glow of the moon to walk the land. A long, long time—perhaps longer than even a Noble could wait.
As if plowing through the front rank of soldiers, a siege tower that looked at least ten stories tall appeared. Three sides of its long, trapezoidal shape were covered with boards, with the back alone still open. From behind, it was plain that it’d been divided with boards into ten floors or so of small rooms, which housed heavy machine guns, fiery arrow launchers, ballistae, and soldiers. Gilshark was standing atop it.
“Leave it to a Noble to know how to save face. How nice of you to come out here alone. As stated, I am the commander of our army—Gilshark, at your service.”
Shooting an emotionless look upward, the duke said, “You said ‘I’—but that hardly suits you!”
For some reason Gilshark’s pale face was distorted by anger, and he sprang into action. When he landed about fifteen feet in front of the duke, he did so with movements that were captivatingly sharp and beyond human ability.
“You know how I’ve changed now, don’t you?” the rebel leader said, his tone of voice, his expression, and even his bearing triumphant.
Perhaps the people packed in behind Gilshark saw it in the eyes of the giant who dominated the square.
“I know. And I know that you are a fool who’s been given an expensive toy and mistakenly believes he makes it do his bidding, not realizing that it is toying with him.”
Gilshark alone knew how terribly accurate that assessment was. Baring his teeth, he switched on his gravity field controller.
The black globe that’d suddenly appeared between the two of them stretched toward the duke like taffy. The instant any object touched the outer edge of it, it would sink into the Dirac sea created by hydrogen atoms.
When the deadly black sphere had closed to a distance of three feet, the duke brought his black staff down on it. The end of the staff touched the edge of the gravity field, and b
oth forces shot off in the direction they were meant to go. Even as half the duke’s staff disappeared, Gilshark was thrown back thirty feet, slamming against the trunk of a colossal tree.
The rebel leader spat up blood. And he would again—but he choked it down before it could come out, opened his mouth as wide as it would go, and howled. Stark white teeth lined his crimson maw. Two of them were tapered like a beast’s.
A roar like an explosion erupted right in front of Gilshark, spreading to either side of him like waves. As far as the people there were concerned, what they were witnessing had suddenly become a battle of Noble versus Noble.
“How does it look?” D asked softly in a hall without another single person.
“All we’ve got is wind,” his left hand responded.
The voices of both were so weak and hoarse, they wouldn’t have reached the ears of anything but an ant. D’s vitality had been drained to the very limit.
The blue light seemed to carry a spell with it as it descended, but something quietly slipped into the light. A pale female hand. It touched D’s left hand.
D looked up. That was proof he brimmed with power from head to toe.
“Just as I thought. This power suits you better than it does me.” Valerie smiled feebly, showing her stark fangs. “You’ll be back to normal soon,” she said. “I’m going on ahead.”
“Going where?”
“To where the duke and Gilshark are doing battle.”
“Did he order you to?”
“I don’t know. I get the feeling that’s it, but also that it’s not. My blood—thanks to his power, I seem to have remembered something. If I don’t make it, you have to help the duke.”
As the woman spun around swiftly, D fired a question at her back.
As soon as Valerie had answered him, soldiers came down through the ceiling. Undoubtedly they’d been watching the two of them via monitors.
“Leave this to me,” Valerie said, running for the door.
A particle beam struck her back, making a vibrantly colored flower bloom there. There was a second, and a third—and then she was gone, like a drop of paint dissolving in water.
Those who’d shot her didn’t notice that the vision of beauty in black had been set free and that he was closing on them. A flash of his silvery blade sent the heads of all five sailing through the air.
IV
Noble.
Vampire.
Every voice to be heard in the square was saying one of those two words. Everyone could tell. Their bubble had been burst. They wouldn’t see as excellent a leader as Gilshark for another five hundred years. Having him now meant, in a sense, that this was humanity’s last chance to triumph over the Nobility. However, the person before them wasn’t Gilshark, but rather a Noble who could walk in the light of day and who wore Gilshark’s form.
At that moment, the people were no longer concerned with the outcome of the battle, crying, falling silent, or even vomiting the instant they realized their laudable efforts had turned to despair. The gunshots that occasionally rang out were from people committing suicide.
“Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!” Gilshark repeated over and over again. He didn’t really understand that he’d been turned into something else.
I’m human—the leader of the proud rebel army. I can wipe that decrepit old vampire away with one hand! And once I do, the fame of being a slayer of Nobility and the vast fortune that lies somewhere in his castle will be mine. No, that’s not right. I have to leave the money to finance our anti-Nobility movement in the future. I’ve already thought that far ahead. And yet, something’s wrong. Why is everybody looking at me that way? Do they hold me to blame for some crime?
Power and an overwhelming self-confidence welled up in him. There was nothing here to fear.
Bellowing all the while, he charged the duke. The duke countered with his staff. What remained of the staff pierced Gilshark’s face, and thanks to the impetus of the rebel leader’s charge, it broke through the back of his head.
Gilshark didn’t slow down at all. The staff sank even further into his face, his brain, only stopping when Gilshark seized the duke by both shoulders. Locked together, the two twisted to the right once or twice before Gilshark lifted the duke up, then kicked off the ground with the Nobleman still in his grip. The Noble’s struggles meant nothing to his upgraded flesh.
A colossal tree towered about a hundred yards away. The rebel leader had spotted a sharp branch that jutted from it in a spot about three feet from the ground. A hundred yards wouldn’t even take five seconds.
The duke had noticed it, too. Though he tried to plant his feet, they just skidded over the ground.
About ten yards shy of his goal, Gilshark halted. His lips, nearly split in two, almost seemed to tremble, yet they formed words clearly enough.
“I may no longer need it, but tell me the truth about this ultimate weapon they say you built—one that means death for any and all Nobles. I’ll put it back into service, and eradicate the Nobility.”
He stopped there. The duke had gouged his face with the staff he still gripped.
“Damn you, old man!”
Once more Gilshark zipped in a straight line without hesitation, but ahead of the pair, a figure came from the left at a seventy-degree angle to intercept them. No one watching would’ve noticed, but even if they had, the figure’s speed was so insane no one could’ve stopped them. Their straight line swerved wildly, and the two of them went off in different directions.
“Val . . . erie . . . ?” Gilshark said, both his voice and his physical form shaky. A rough wooden stake was planted deep in his chest.
“I’m the only one who can kill you,” Valerie groaned, and she, too, was unsteady on her feet.
By that, did she mean that they were both being controlled by the same force?
Saving D and the blow against Gilshark had exhausted the archeologist’s power.
“But—I’m at the end of the line, too,” she continued. “It seems all my power is spent.”
Like perfectly matched dancing partners, the two of them fell to the ground simultaneously.
“I don’t understand,” Valerie murmured as her whole body began to break apart and scatter like dust. “He was told to dig it up, I was told to destroy it—in the end, humans and Nobles alike can only do his bidding . . . What’s the point of history . . . ?”
A gust of wind scattered the black dust, leaving behind something almost human in shape, but that, too, soon crumbled away.
There was nothing in the grass- and dirt-covered square but sunlight carrying an oppressive silence and wind bearing the stench of blood, filling the place with a languid air.
It’s all over. What should we do now? I don’t know. I don’t know anything at all. No, there’s one thing I do know—that humanity must ever wander.
The duke was about to say something. But he stopped, looking toward his castle.
The young man in black astride a cyborg horse stopped right beside him. Dismounting, he said, “Am I too late?”
“No, you’re just in time.”
The duke extended his right arm toward the carriage that’d carried him there. The coachman unfastened the fresh long spear that was secured on the vehicle’s roof before climbing down and running over.
The weapon whistled around in the Nobleman’s grip.
“Just in time to fight me, that is.”
“One thing you oughta know first,” the hoarse voice said. It actually put a rather nostalgic look on the duke’s face. “The rebel leader’s name was—gaaah!”
Staring at D’s left fist, the duke furrowed his brow.
D said nothing, heading toward the center of the square.
Just before Valerie had left the castle, her response to the Hunter’s question had been Gilshark’s last name. Gilshark Lanaway. Most likely the grandson of Sirene/Cecilia Lanaway. D had silenced his left hand out of concern that this knowledge might dampen the duke’s enthusiasm to fight.
Th
e two of them faced each other in the center of the square. There, with only the eyes of the dead focused on them, D drew his blade. Its gleam was reflected on a golden spearhead as the duke also held his long spear at the ready.
Would the Tiger King roar once more?
D’s form became a blur. There was fifteen feet between them, and then D was at the duke’s chest. The blade he swung was parried by the spear. The sharp clanging sounds pulled lengthy tails through the midday sun.
The instant blade locked with spearhead, both of them knew the next move would mean defeat. Any attempt to press forward or pull back would leave them open to a fatal blow. One shadowy form clung to another.
“This can’t be . . . ” the duke said, his voice quavering with shock. “I don’t believe it. It’s not possible. The source of your power—you had no need of the moonlight energy. Because this power comes from—”
A different force came into play. Before anyone could even shout Earthquake! fierce tremors created a great fissure in the ground. Enormous trees toppled, their far-reaching roots and all the soil they clutched pouring down into the crevasse like a great river. The duke and D were thrown apart. People and tanks, siege towers and trebuchets all followed suit.
On seeing that even the ramparts of his distant castle were tilting, the duke shouted, “To the excavation site!”
A moment later, a silvery aircraft appeared above the duke, drawing him up.
D had already broken into a run. The earth beneath his feet subsided. His cyborg horse galloped alongside him. D bounded, and the instant he settled in the saddle, the ground below gave way. Throwing his weight toward the falling ground, D tugged on the reins. The cyborg horse galloped up a piece of turf that was almost vertical now. Just when its power was nearly spent and it was about to be thrown off balance, the steed kicked off the sheer chunk of ground decisively. Horse and rider climbed the last five yards, leaping up to level ground.
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