White Devil Mountain (19 page)

“You dolt—we have a guest here!”

But even faster than Jeanne’s reproach was the hand that shot out to her right. It was unclear where her whip had been secreted, but it burned through the crystallized air like a tentacle for a single crack that rang out with earsplitting volume, and the man’s head sailed into the air. Its origin still a mystery, the whip returned to the beauty’s hand—and vanished.

With all the grace of a stage performer, Jeanne elegantly folded the five fingers she had spread like the ribs of a glamorous fan, then got to her feet again.

“Hey, Jeanne,” the voice of the formless knight called down from the ceiling in an agitated manner. “Has Gilzen returned yet?”

“I hope that was a jest. As the reactor has been breached, he has no choice but to return.”

Was that why the reactor was the first thing D had targeted? To make Gilzen step into the ring with him?

Having coolly answered that query, Jeanne grinned at D. Never letting the smile leave her face, she said, “Your punishment for damaging the reactor will be meted out eventually. Do keep that in mind.” It was a tone that would freeze any listener to the bottom of their heart. Though her words changed, the tone didn’t vary in the slightest as she continued, “Very well, let us be off, Sir D. Duke Gilzen awaits us.”

Her purple cape whipped around. The snowflakes danced.

Quietly D began following the female knight who’d walked off down the corridor.

–

Around that same time, the mayor of Mungs made a sour face as he greeted some very dangerous-looking guests. These men and a trio of military aircraft had landed on the outskirts of town, having been dispatched by the Northern Frontier Airborne Division of the Capital’s standing army stationed about a hundred and twenty miles to the north.

“An experimental reconnaissance balloon launched six months ago recorded the changes to Mount Shilla three hours ago,” their leader told them. “We understand that to be Duke Gilzen’s castle. We’ve come to destroy it.”

“That’s absurd!” the mayor protested vehemently. He had been pressed into service by Director Marquis, who was also in attendance.

He explained that an accomplished Hunter and several villagers were presently climbing to ascertain the condition of the crew and cargo of an aircraft that’d crash-landed near the castle. Until they made it back alive, an attack would be out of the question.

The military men neither laughed nor scowled. Expression still devoid of emotion like a machine, one of them said, in a mechanical tone lacking blood or tears, “Duke Gilzen lives again. Do you actually think the search party will come back in one piece?”

The mayor and the archaeologist fell silent.

“The two of you need not take any kind of responsibility. We haven’t come to request your permission. We came to inform you. The attack begins with the coming of dawn tomorrow. This is a holy act of destruction to save the entire world, Frontier and Capital alike.”

“But, at the risk of repeating what you yourself said, that’s Gilzen’s castle. With just three planes . . .”

“Numbers don’t make the battle. It’s the quality of the ordnance that counts. Our forces will be carrying new weapons that can wipe away a whole mountain chain with a single blast. My apologies, Mr. Mayor, but before the night is through, I need your villagers to evacuate a thirty-mile radius from the village.”

The mouths of the two old men dropped open at this new twist of fate, and five whole minutes were wasted before summoning the servants who would need to contact the other village officials.

III

D passed before a huge door.

Perhaps the castle had been completed, or was immeasurably close to being so, because the sounds of construction no longer reached him, and the towering marble pillars and the precious-metal reliefs that adorned them now had a composed look, for all their ostentation. The floor absorbed the sound of Jeanne’s footsteps, allowing even the stillness of antiquity to be felt. To get this far, they’d ridden on moving sidewalks and taken supersonic elevators, but they hadn’t met a single person. From time to time a figure might be glimpsed at the end of a corridor or lurking behind a row of columns, but when the Hunter’s gaze turned toward it, no one would be there.

The magnificent door was etched with weird dragons and strange flowers. Rather than giving a menacing impression, they all looked terribly forlorn.

“This is as far as I go.” Jeanne halted, stepping off to one side.

Giving her neither thanks nor a bow, D headed for the door.

“How can you be allowed to enter?” Jeanne asked him. “Not even we of the Sacred Protector Knights can hope to pass beyond this door. That you, from whom our master should be protected, should be allowed to pass—”

“Ask your master.” That was all he said. This young man cared not a whit for Jeanne’s beauty or the desolation that seemed to cling to her query. That was how he’d always lived. And it was how he would probably die.

Several yards ahead of him, the door began to open slowly. Its heavy, dull sound gave the impression that this was accomplished not by nuclear power but by a titanic lever.

It was a vast room. You might even call it a great hall. It was so large that if a human were ordered to make use of it, they wouldn’t be able to begin to imagine what to do. People could be gathered for a game—but they could have ten thousand people on each team and would need equipment the size of three-storied palaces. The ends of the room couldn’t actually be seen. Only a dim light fell from above. Looking up to the ceiling found it concealed in darkness.

What greeted D’s eyes was a colossal pyramid that loomed just fifty yards ahead. Blinding. A golden glitter was trying to burn itself into his retinas. The pyramid was made of gold. And in fact, it wasn’t a pyramid. There was a wide staircase up its front slope. Thirty feet up, at the summit, was a throne, also of gold, and on it sat a man in a dazzling golden cape. His face had stolid proportions that didn’t suggest Nobility. But perhaps that was on account of his stubbly beard. If he had shaved, every inch of him would’ve had an air of pure refinement.

“D, is it?” A solemn voice echoed across the sprawling plain—and yet there was an inescapable impression of softness and weariness to it.

“Duke Gilzen?”

“Correct. So good of you to come.”

“Let me ask you something first: what became of the crew that was on the aircraft with you?”

The man on the throne was silent for a while, and then he said, “That’s the reason you’ve come here? I’ll be happy to tell you. They’re right there.”

Suddenly there were evil presences to either side of D. Though it was unclear where they’d been, the two men stood there now. Both had their hands poised in front of their chests, as if to grab someone, and stark incisors peeked from spitefully red lips.

“I’m Del Rey, the pilot.”

“Geeson, an archaeologist.”

“I’m D,” the owner of the handsome visage replied. “I came to find you two. But I can’t bring you back now, can I?”

“Why not?” asked the master on his throne.

D didn’t reply. The answer was far too obvious.

The man on the throne gave him a sarcastic grin. “I see you don’t fathom the meaning of my question.”

There was a loud clap. He’d brought his thin, pale hands together.

From D’s right side the pilot attacked, wind churning in his wake. His evil visage, the speed with which he leapt, and the terrible claws that aimed for D’s face were all those of a vampire. And realizing that, who would’ve believed what happened next? That one who’d received the blood of the Nobility could be slain with a single blow?

Dropping straight down from midair, he landed at D’s feet. A tapered point protruded from his back in the vicinity of his heart. D hadn’t used his longsword on him. It’d been a long wooden needle.

The face of the instantly killed pilot quickly turned back to that of a normal person, and as soon as it did the archaeologist to the Hunter’s left exclaimed, “What have you done, you murderer! The pilot and I are both still human. Wasn’t your blasted hide sent up here to
save
us?”

D had already seen the truth to what the man said.

“That was a human being you killed,” said the man on the throne. “Which makes what you did murder, plain and simple. How does it feel to murder a man you came to rescue?”

D asked, “So, you can turn them into either human or Noble, Gilzen?”

“Precisely.” The pale face above the lavish cape smiled. “Now, if you’d be so good as to show me what you’ll do with the other one.”

D was going to have to make a terrible decision. If this person could instantaneously switch between human and Noble, his condition at the moment he was killed would either make D a Hunter or a deplorable killer.

“Murderer! Murderer! When I get back to the village, I’ll tell everyone. I just knew you dhampirs were all—”

Geeson’s voice stopped dead. Again there was the sound of hands clapping. The archaeologist’s looks changed. The figure that bounded for D was a hideous vampire.

What will you do, D?

A scream exploded. The archaeologist fell on top of the pilot and rocked with spasms. His chest had a rough wooden needle jutting from it. Once again, D’s single blow had been precise. Just as the man was about to fall, he’d reached out to D with one hand. He’d fairly sobbed the word, “Murder . . . er . . .” And then, as if fused to the pilot, he moved no more.