Mysterious Journey to the North Sea, Part 1

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  A sweet scent tickled his nose almost instantly. The fragrance was a blend of perfume and aphrodisiacs. It was such a heavy aroma that one whiff would be enough to make any ordinary person’s head reel.

  Beyond the door lay a vast hall, and in the far wall there were a number of doors. Not approaching any of them, Gilligan spoke instead from the very center of the hall. His voice, which wasn’t particularly loud or intimidating, sounded almost mechanical. Perhaps it was meant to let everyone know the information he was about to divulge was of grave import. “It’s me—Gilligan. Are you there, Egbert? Gyohki? Samon? Shin? Twin?”

  After a short pause, replies came from the various doors.

  “You bet.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m here, all right.”

  “Sure.”

  “Urrrrr . . .”

  The first voice was heavy, the second was a woman’s, the third had a youthful vigor to it, and the one that followed it was hoarse. However, it was by no means certain that the order in which they’d replied matched that in which they’d been called. Each voice sounded as if it came from all of the doors, while conversely each had a mysterious ring to it that made the listener wonder if they’d heard it correctly. Particularly strange was the last of the replies. It was unmistakably the snarl of a beast.

  As if he hadn’t even noticed, Gilligan said, “A terrible situation has developed,” as he turned his face alone to each of the doors. “A little lady came to an antique shop that’s under my purview, and she had a certain bead doodad that she wished to have appraised. The item in question was absolutely unbelievable. Why, even the antique dealer himself didn’t know what he was really dealing with. But he’s quite a bookworm. As luck would have it, he’d looked through some incredibly old documents that helped him out. There was only a single line about it in there, and this is what it said—”

  Taking a breath, Gilligan told them what it was.

  No one spoke behind the closed doors, but the shock waves certainly echoed back.

  “Now, this doesn’t mean anything to you,” Gilligan said, his words charged with a certain vehemence. “But it’ll prove useful to me. More than you could ever imagine.”

  Somewhere, one of them laughed. Mockingly. “Sure enough. That’d suit your tastes to a tee. But do me a favor and make sure I never have to see that look on your face again. It makes my stomach turn.”

  “So, what are you suggesting we do?” another voice asked. The voice was that of the woman, and was so seductive it could make people quiver.

  “The little lady came by the bead in the village of Florence, and you’re going to go up there and find me a new bead because some dirty thief stole the other bead from me. At the moment, I’ve sent someone to catch him as quickly as possible. But to be perfectly frank, I have my doubts about whether they’ll get it back.”

  It seemed that the human slug named Gilligan actually had an excellent grasp of the situation. For just a short time earlier, a quiet but deadly three-sided conflict had played out in the streets of the entertainment district.

  “Oh,” the hoarse voice said, his interjection carrying a lengthy tail. “So, the thief is a power to be dealt with, then?”

  “One of my bodyguards just happened to know him. Apparently he has some strange trick he can do. He’s pretty famous in the northwest corner of the Frontier—a man by the name of Toto.”

  “I see,” the youthful voice said with admiration. “I’ve heard of him, too. He’s got a nickname, right? ‘Backwards Toto,’ if I recall. Apparently there’s never been anything he went after that he didn’t end up getting.”

  “One more thing—the reason I’ve gone to all the trouble of getting famed Frontier enforcers like yourselves instead of using my own people is because the Nobility are obviously involved in this. I assume you’re all familiar with the history of Florence.”

  “You mean the Florence Nobility?” the hoarse voice muttered. “Hell, that was a good thousand years ago.”

  Gilligan nodded. There was the sound of meshing gears from the loop of steel that restrained his jaw. “Precisely. Life there isn’t much different now from in any other northern fishing town. But from what the girl told me, the village elders seem to be in an uproar, and there’s talk about Nobles coming out of the sea again this summer.”

  “Nobles that come from the sea?” the woman said, her voice like the tinkling of a bell. “That’s patently absurd,” she laughed. “We don’t yet know the Nobility’s greatest weaknesses. However, any child could tell you water poses a serious threat to them.”

  “We can’t necessarily say that applies to every last one of them, you know,” said the owner of the grave voice. “If you’ll consider the history of the area for a moment, you’ll see what I mean. There are bizarre legends connected to the place. Perhaps the tales that have been handed down during the past millennia have finally come true.”

  “The little lady didn’t even know what the bead was worth. Why, she just took something lying around the house and came here to get a little money for it, never understanding what it really was. How unfortunate for her,” Gilligan chortled. “It would seem her grandfather back home might’ve known something, but apparently he never told the rest of the family about it. Perhaps the quickest way to find out where the bead came from or how to get another one would be to ask him.”

  “Fine. After all, locking horns with the Nobility sounds like fun. But what kind of compensation are we talking about for the danger we’ll be facing? We’re not all into the same twisted shit you are, you know.”

  To the youthful voice’s query, Gilligan calmly replied, “I’ll turn over all of my land and my entire fortune to whoever brings me back that bead. As you can see, I had the paperwork drawn up on my way back here. Whosoever brings back the bead should go see the lawyer named Fearing and he’ll do the rest for you.”

  “What happens if two of us bring it back?” the feminine voice asked. Her tone was forebodingly deep.

  “If there’re two of you, each gets half. Three, and you split it three ways,” Gilligan said, seeming to egg his guests on.

  Not only did the zeal in the voices of the other five rise a notch in response, but they also took on a cruel and calculating ring.

  “Who else knows about the bead?” a dignified voice inquired.

  “Just the girl’s older sister—a woman by the name of Su-In. There were two others, but one of them got taken out while he was chasing after the thing, and the other would seem to be a guest of mine, oddly enough. Come to mention it, he should be at ‘The Ox’ now.”

  “The Ox” was the name of a bar Gilligan owned.

  “Will he be getting involved in this matter?”

  “I can’t rightly say. I suppose that’ll be up to him. An old friend of mine introduced me to him, but he’s not exactly like normal folks. It’s Professor Krolock.”

  Every sound died out.

  “‘Backwards Toto’ and ‘Professor Krolock’? Man, that’s even more fun than the Nobility!” the youthful voice exclaimed in a tone laden with excitement and tension.

  Several seconds passed.

  “Actually, there’s someone else, too,” Gilligan said in a solemn tone as a troubled look swept over his barely human countenance.

  “So there’s another person after the bead. Why not come right out and say who it is? Are you afraid you’ll scare us or something?”

  “Pretty much,” Gilligan said with a nod. His whole body stiffened, and with a mechanical clanking he backed away a few steps—he’d just been subjected to emanations of powerful hatred.

  When you became a person of some stature in a community, you had to play host to famous warriors, bodyguards, and Hunters and see to it they weren’t left wanting where drinking, gambling, and whoring were concerned. The skill level of the enforcers said person could gather when he found himself in a jam not only reflected on his status, but could also mean the difference between life and death. However, the more renowned h
is visitors were for their abilities, the more intense their dispositions tended to be. Relying on such characters was like clinging to a ticking time bomb.

  The palpable sense of hatred rapidly faded. Chilling laughter then flowed from all of the doors.

  “My, you certainly had us going,” the female voice tittered.

  “You surely did. C’mon, Mr. Gilligan. Stop playing games and tell us who it is already.”

  “Very well,” Gilligan said, his whole body seeming to quiver with joy. “The Vampire Hunter D.”

  At that moment, he could sense nothing from any of the others. It was as if they’d all been struck dead.

  After a brief pause, Gilligan added, “Does that sound interesting or what?” His voice trembled as he put the question to them.

  “Intriguing,” said the fifth voice. But that was the door where only beastly growls had been heard earlier. Perhaps whoever was behind the door controlled demonic creatures.

  “Now, that’s what I like to hear,” Gilligan said, his tone returning to normal. “Rest assured, he only helped out the girl. As for the bead, he doesn’t even know it exists. What’s more, he’s a heartless type who doesn’t undertake anything unless he’s been employed, and even then he only works to dispose of the Nobility. There’s not a chance in a million of him sticking his nose into this, I tell you. So relax. You’ll set out tomorrow. I’ll arrange to cover your traveling expenses tonight, too.”

  “Do it now,” the youthful voice said. “You think any of us are gonna hang around until tomorrow? No one here’s thinking about anything except how to beat the rest to the punch. I’m leaving right away.”

  “So am I.”

  “Me, too,” said another man.

  “As am I,” the female voice added.

  “I’m going, too.”

  Gilligan’s features twisted, and his face collapsed into a grin. If there was ever a smile the world didn’t want to see, it was his.

  “You’re all I thought you’d be. Here’s your money,” Gilligan said, taking some golden cards from one of his pockets and dropping them on the floor. “In the Northern Frontier, you can use these cards at any store. Or if the conditions are less than optimal, you can turn them in for money at a bank somewhere. I’m counting on you.”

  And saying that, Gilligan turned his back to them. The instant he closed the front door to the building he sensed movements behind him, but he headed toward the main house without saying a word.

  The stillness of the wee hours had descended upon the lavish estate. The household staff was asleep. With a grating sound echoing behind him, Gilligan advanced to the end of the hall and climbed the staircase. His bedroom was on the second floor, thus he went up a second flight of stairs. None of his staff or his henchmen had permission to go up there. The top of the staircase was blocked by a steel door. Taking out a key, he unlocked it.

  Once inside, he switched on the lights and looked around at the room that surrounded him. Somehow, it was reminiscent of a factory. There was so much engineering equipment and material like plastic and steel that there wasn’t even room to walk around. And in the center of that mess rested a black lump. As Gilligan gazed at it, his eyes seemed to fill with a deep emotion.

  “Ah, at last,” the human slug said in a feverish tone. “Finally, my dreams will be realized. Then I can bid farewell to this squalid business and the lowly human company. And leave with you.”

  There was a table off to one side that had a bottle of liquor and some glasses. As Gilligan poured himself one drink after another, his eyes drifted back and forth between the black object and the ceiling. The room’s ceiling was dome-shaped. A single line curved all the way across the center of it.

  After completely emptying the bottle, Gilligan left his “factory.” Going down the first flight of stairs, he was about to keep walking, but instead stopped right where he was. A black shadow stood at the end of the corridor.

  The thought that it might be a burglar popped into Gilligan’s head, but the heavy man quickly froze with astonishment.

  The reason the intruder had looked like a shadow was because of his black raiment. And the face above that dark clothing was resplendent in its beauty.

  “You . . .” he mumbled, forgetting what he wanted to ask. “You’re D, I take it?”

  “And you’re the one who had the bug bite that girl Wu-Lin?” His voice, like his face, was gorgeous.

  And yet Gilligan couldn’t so much as lift a finger. Out of fear. Only his tongue could move.

  “How did you know . . . to look here? And right after I left the girl . . . And I had watchdogs in the garden . . .” the slug-like man babbled, blinking his eyes. He was trying to get the cold sweat out of them.

  A second later, D was right in front of him. Gilligan didn’t even know when the Hunter’d had time to move. It was almost as if the stillness of night was loath to trouble the gorgeous young man about minor matters such as distance.

  “Don’t tell me . . . You know, don’t you . . . about the bead?” Of course, he was basically admitting that he’d used poison to draw the information out of Wu-Lin.

  A flash of silver mowed right across the fat man’s chin. Sparks shot out.

  D pulled his sword away.

  “Too bad,” Gilligan said, stroking the bar by the base of his neck. “This baby is made of Zeramium steel. Had it custom built way back in the Capital. Shoot, it’d take a laser an hour to cut into it a fraction of an inch.”

  The wind brushed by his neck. There was a loud clang at his feet. It was the sound of the bar that’d shielded his chin falling to the floor.

  Gilligan felt his hair was rising on end.

  “Don’t think that it stopped me,” D said softly. “When someone gets bitten by a ‘chatterbug,’ they go through more than thirty minutes of agony before they die.”

  Once again the Hunter’s sword made a horizontal slash, and Gilligan followed it intently until it returned to its sheath. His field of view then shook. Head reeling wildly and crimson splashing into his eyes, he saw the figure in the black coat leaving again.

  Gilligan was rooted where he stood until the young man went down the staircase and disappeared. All the while, his head and torso were only connected by a single flap of skin—and blood was pumping from the wound like water from a fountain. Both arms clicked as they moved. Taking hold of the head as it drooped against the right side of his body, his arms lifted it clumsily. Even after the two pieces were lined up, bright blood continued to gush from the slice that remained between them.

  “Damn it . . . that hurts . . . ,” the head said. But it was turned toward the back. “Damn . . . That’s not right . . . Ow . . . Shit, that hurts . . .”

  His hands rotated his head a hundred and eighty degrees. This time it was a little left of being on center.

  “Well . . . Good enough, I guess . . . Ow . . . But it’ll take more than this . . . to kill me.”

  As he said that, his lips turned violet and his face went pale as paraffin.

  Now in a state that would’ve long since killed an ordinary human, Gilligan slowly changed direction and once again began climbing the stairs. Surely it was the work of the machinery amplifying his dying strength, but the fact that he even managed to open the door and get into the room bordered on miraculous.

  “Almost there . . . Just a little more . . . Shit . . . I’ll be damned if I’ll die here after coming this far . . . Damn, it hurts . . . Hurts like hell . . . I don’t ever want it to hurt like this again . . . Shit . . . D, you bastard . . . Just you wait . . .”

  And then, with his head held securely the whole time, the town’s kingpin rattled mechanically toward a black object, strange cries of pain ringing from him all the way.

  Several minutes later there was the unpleasant sputter of a motor, and the line across the ceiling began to grow thicker. The black line let in the pale glow of dawn, and before long the purple clouds of daybreak, and the whole heavens where they billowed lay revealed.

&nbs
p; TO THE NORTH SEA

  CHAPTER 3

  —

  I

  —

  There was nothing save a single lamp to light the wooden shack. Windows rimmed with the remains of shattered glass let the icy wind blow in mercilessly, sharp as a sword and cold as the breath of the frost demons that inhabited the northern sea. The dozen or more people seated inside on the wooden benches were left shivering. One side of the shack was wide open, and across from it lay sea and sky as dull and gray as lead. Coming across a limitless expanse of cold water, the wind was naturally freezing, and the old-fashioned oil heater set in the middle of the shack served little purpose. Impressive as its size was, its performance was pitiful.

  If you approached the entrance and looked far off into the distance—about seven miles across from the shack—the silhouette of land loomed blackly like the back of some behemoth. Hook-beaked sea birds swooped down, trying to smash through the crests of the mighty breakers. In order to pierce the armored exterior of the shellfish they relished, the birds were able to increase the molecular density of their beaks and teeth, but for that short time their mass also increased. Because of this, any birds that didn’t manage to burst through the waves at high speed and crack open the shellfish would soon find themselves unable to pull out of their dive.

  The shadowy form on the opposite shore stretched on forever to either side, and the water between them seemed like an ocean between two islands, but it was actually a canal, and the two pieces of land were siblings that came together again several hundred miles away. Both those who wished to cross over to the opposite side of this vast channel and those headed much further inland came to this little harbor and boarded the regularly scheduled ferry. It was a large ship that could accommodate two hundred passengers or more. For people seeking to avoid the decrepit overland routes and the various supernatural beasts and creatures that prowled them, this one modern convenience proved indispensable. Its only drawback was that weather and waves could stop service indefinitely, causing delays of days or weeks while they waited for the weather to clear again. But usually the captain’s skill and guts were enough to get them through. The ferry made the round trip six times a day.