White Devil Mountain (30 page)

Lilia rubbed her eyes, saying, “We’re still alive, eh?”

Two shadows—or, to be completely accurate, three shadows—were cast blackly on the floor.

“The missiles scored a direct hit, right? And they didn’t misfire. So, how are we still okay? Did he have some sort of alien force field up?”

“Nope,” the hoarse voice replied. “The outside of the castle was toasted. Vaporized the instant they hit.”

“In that case, why are we—what’s the story here? Is this place made out of some special material?”

“No, but it’s the same as Gilzen. Even the stone has regenerative abilities, it seems.”

“Even the stone?”

“Probably thanks to alien technology or something. Otherwise they wouldn’t be able to travel across the universe from some distant star. The ship and its crew would’ve decayed before the forces of time, yet they conquered space. Oh, what’s this?”

From the bottoms of the helicopters on the screen missiles were once more closing, with white smoke trailing behind them.

“More nuclear warheads?”

“No, those are normal missiles. Do those idiots think conventional weapons are gonna work against someone who laughed off nuclear warheads?”

“Who are these clowns?” Lilia jeered.

“Clueless soldiers—sent by the Capital, I’m sure. They should get while the getting’s good. They won’t get off with just apologies—”

There was no need to say anything more. No missile impacts or flames were shown; instead, great black spears fired from the castle pierced the helicopters. Fireballs swelled from two of the aircraft and the remaining pair dropped listlessly, spouting flames.

“Iron against the assault from outside?”

Lilia nodded at the hoarse voice’s comment.

But D alone remained focused, asking, “Where’s Gilzen?”

His job wasn’t finished.

Lilia chuckled faintly. “This way.”

Tossing her chin in the direction of the ruins and starting to walk, she looked down at her feet and said, “Hey, where’s the shadow?”

D knew that Gilzen’s mother, Lady Carr, had left without a sign when the nuclear attack had occurred. Relegated to a life of creeping across the ground by her son, the woman undoubtedly still had things to do.

Saying nothing, D began walking in the direction Lilia had indicated.

–

Gilzen was satisfied. The attack by his foes without had been completely negated, and he’d seized a chance for victory over D. Though his mother remained a problem, that would eventually be resolved when he disposed of her. He assumed she wasn’t dead already. Mother or not, he wouldn’t allow anyone who’d crossed him to live.

Looking to the sky, he called out, “Jeanne!”

The figure of the warrior woman came into view. It was the same sort of three-dimensional image D had seen.

“I’m here,” she replied.

“Is Budges there as well?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone else?”

“Guhoro, Bayanjar, and Tovsk are safe, along with their subordinates. The rest—were slain,” she said, not sounding terribly sad.

“By D?”

“No, the aliens. The wounded have been flooding in, so, as you can see, we’re treating them at the moment.”

“Be done with them. They’re useless.”

Jeanne was at a loss for words.

“Did you hear me?”

“These are people who returned to life after ten thousand years of waiting. And the very day they came back, they were injured. More than two hundred of them have already been reduced to dust.”

“What of it? If a hundred are lost, I’ll simply bring back a thousand more. More than a hundred thousand are loyal to me!”

Again, Jeanne didn’t know what to say.

“I’m giving you an order now. Anyone who has lost so much as an arm or a leg is not to be treated; they’re to be disposed of!”

“. . . Understood.”

Once the floating image of Gilzen had vanished, Jeanne said, “Did you hear that?”

From the back, in a spot hidden from Gilzen’s view, came a reply: “I certainly did.”

“Even knowing that’s our liege Gilzen’s way of doing things, I can’t accept it.”

“Still, we can’t turn our back on him. We are servants who’ve sworn our allegiance to the duke.”

The last voice belonged to Budges. There wasn’t so much as a shadow to him. “What’s come over you, Jeanne?” he continued. “Never once have you gone against the duke’s way of doing things.”

The warrior woman looked down. “I—I was originally human,” she said in a voice that sounded like she was wringing blood from her throat.

Budges was speechless.

“Gilzen drank my blood, and valuing my skill in my human profession of warrior, he selected me for this. Budges, I have dedicated my new life to our liege, Gilzen.”

To be precise, it sounded like she was coughing up blood as she shouted.

“What’s wrong, then?”

Jeanne shook her head feebly. “Nothing. I am a faithful retainer.”

“That’s right,” said a threatening voice from the back, enveloping the other two. It came from a strapping man whose right arm hung limply from his shoulder. Set in his square face were equally square eyes that gleamed with a dauntless spark.

“Lord Bayanjar—oh, and General Tovsk as well.”

Although she bowed her head reverently, Jeanne’s tone carried thorns that suggested her deference toward the two armored warriors was sarcastic.

“Is it not our honor as fighting men to pledge our lives to Duke Gilzen, to the last bit of flesh and blood?” said a man covered in armor right up to and including his face—General Tovsk, apparently. Jabbing out a finger that seemed to be made of steel and pointing it in Jeanne’s direction, he continued, “It would appear to me from your every act that the two of you harbor defiance of and scorn toward the duke. Take care, lest you suffer for it later.”

Budges’s voice rained down on them, saying, “Yes, but if we comply with the duke’s wishes, Lord Bayanjar, we must also dispose of you, sir!”

His square face twisting with loathing, the man with the injured right arm looked up at the ceiling, but was unable to see the man who’d just spoken.

“My, but that human woman has done splendidly!” Jeanne said, her eyes turning toward the far end of the room.

The room appeared to be a kind of VIP lounge, and up by the ceiling floated an elliptical screen like the one that’d shown Gilzen. It depicted a scene that could only be described as ghastly. Blood-soaked soldiers stood in lines, slumped, or lay on the floor as they received medical attention. Their physician was Vera. Surprisingly, the rest of the doctoring was being done by less grievously wounded soldiers. As they weren’t doctors, it was only natural that their attempts at disinfecting their compatriots’ wounds, wrapping them in bandages, or stitching them closed were crude, but as they fervently attended their work, Vera watched over these quick studies, giving them pointers or reprimanding them, and the lone woman was an inspiring sight. For a while, Jeanne and the two military leaders could only watch her with fascination.

Before long, Jeanne said, “We were fortunate to have access to medicine and basic medical equipment.”

The two men nodded agreement reflexively.

This castle didn’t really have much in the way of drugs or medical devices for treating the gravely injured—in fact, it didn’t have any. As to why this was the case, Gilzen’s words minutes earlier had made that abundantly clear. Soldiers were completely disposable. When injured, their wounds would either heal eventually, or they’d be reduced to dust. It was a miracle they had the few medical supplies they did.

“This woman is only making matters worse,” General Tovsk said in a parched voice. “The duke has spoken. I shall go and dispose of the others.”

General Tovsk started walking toward the door. No one pursued him.

After several twists and turns of the corridor, General Tovsk halted just before the moving sidewalk.

“What do you want with me, Budges?”

From the stone ceiling a voice replied, “There’s just one thing I’d like to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Are you absolutely determined to deal with the wounded?”

“Those were the duke’s orders. Ordinarily you and she would’ve been tasked with it, but since I believe that might be painful for you, I shall do it in your stead. You should thank me for this.”

“They’re brave people injured in hard fighting against D and the aliens!”

“That is a grunt’s job.”

“They didn’t wait ten thousand years to be reborn just so they could die, sir.”

“You test my patience!”

A cylindrical device on General Tovsk’s right shoulder swiveled around, its end pointing up at the ceiling. There was a dull pop of compressed air, and an iron arrow pierced the source of the voice before jabbing into the ceiling.

“You think Tovsk needs advice from a formless wretch like you? Do you have any inkling how you’ve angered me? Begone. I shall discipline you for this later.”

As he walked forward without a glance back, above him the voice spoke again, saying, “I suppose there’s little point in asking you to reconsider, is there, sir?”

“Budges!” the general exclaimed, his right hand going for the gun on his hip. He made it look as if he were pointing it in the direction the voice had come from, and then with ungodly speed he spun around, letting off a crimson blast of light in the opposite direction—at the floor. As boiling steam rose from it, groans could definitely be heard.

So, the formless warrior could be injured by physical attacks?

“I can see you, thanks to the eyes in the special suit of armor developed for me using the alien technology. Of course, your psychic attacks are also the product of the aliens’ technology. Do you want to die by an alien weapon?”

“Not at all, sir.”

With that intrepid reply, General Tovsk’s body was tossed into the air. Shooting thirty feet down the corridor, he slammed into a stone staircase. His back arched across the edge of the steps. Just as he was about to slide down them, the general shot up to the ceiling, this time hammering flat against it. Comparisons to a pancake wouldn’t have been inappropriate.

From Tovsk’s insect-like mask, a solemn voice inquired, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“I have little choice in the matter. Unless I can get you to see reason.”

“That’s how it’s going to be? Then, I don’t suppose you intend to let me down from here, do you?”

“I do not, sir.”

“I shall have to let myself down, then.”

“
Oh!
”

Budges’s cry of surprise was pierced by a crimson light. It was a beam General Tovsk’s weapon had fired as he released himself. This time the flames that enveloped part of the ceiling were accompanied by a cry of intense pain.

Landing without a sound, the general hauled his head back and laughed. “This weapon responds to my will. Actually, it’s exactly like your psychic attacks. This is how the technology is meant to be applied, Budges. Well, there’s no point in letting you escape now. The murderous intentions you harbored toward me have earned you your death.”

It was not at the ceiling but rather at the base of a stone pillar to his right that he aimed the barrel of his beam pistol, but then the weapon spun in a wide arc to the left.