White Devil Mountain (31 page)

The tall figure coming down the moving sidewalk from the far end of the corridor was clearly an alien.

There were two flashes of light that looked like a single beam.

“
Oh?
”

The general looked down at his hand, and the alien did the same thing. Both held smoking pieces of melted metal in their hands. Miraculously, the deadly beams they’d fired off so quickly had each vaporized the workings of the other’s weapon.

“You lousy . . .”

Nothing from the alien.

The shoulder of each bore a crossbow that was aimed at the other. Iron arrows powered by compressed gas appeared to stab into the left side of each combatant’s chest—then ricocheted off.

“It surprises me not that the inspiration for my own armor should work so well. Is this what I need to finish this?”

The general’s right hand went for the sword on his hip, the blade singing as it slipped from its scabbard.

The enemy raised the long spear in its left hand into a fighting pose.

General Tovsk charged forward, making the ground tremble beneath him.

III

A long spear against a longsword—no matter how you looked at it, the sword seemed at a disadvantage. It was a matter of the difference in length between the weapons. The second the general stepped within range of the spear his sword would be next to useless while his body would be in range of a spear thrust.

It was unclear how General Tovsk could accept that, but his steps never faltered as he faced the long spear head-on. Without dodging the long spear when it stretched toward his chest like a gleam of light, the general hurled the sword he had in hand.

Two clangs overlapped. The long spear slipped across the general’s chest, and the longsword bounced off the enemy’s throat.

Grabbing the long spear with both hands, the general swung it to the right. Though he’d intended to wrest it from his foe, that didn’t go as planned. When he’d swung it, his opponent had gone with it. Paying no mind to that, Tovsk swung it again. The massive form of his foe slammed into a stone pillar, shattering it. The enemy fell to the floor.

“After an intensive study of your armor, I added strength-boosting technology to my own. It’s not surprising the original model doesn’t measure up to it in a test of strength. Before I take care of our own worthless lot, I shall do away with you. Here I eliminate one of the duke’s anxieties!” the general said, raising the long spear to strike with his right hand. “I can’t pierce your armor, but it would appear I can batter my way through it. I wonder if your next stop is a different afterlife from ours.”

The spear was flung. Just as it was about to pierce the enemy’s mask, it was cut in two, falling at the foe’s feet.

As the befuddled General Tovsk looked all around, a figure sailed down from where it had been clinging to the ceiling. Powerless to do anything, the general had his right arm taken off at the elbow. Staring at the fresh blood that spouted from it as if in disbelief, he then glared at the figure who’d landed before him. It was a man clad from head to toe in a lustrous black garment. An oddly shaped knife glittered in his right hand.

“This stealth suit doesn’t even trip your master’s sensors. And it seems like the power of my Deadman’s Blade has been boosted, too.”

“You . . . You’re human?”

“Nope. When I was human, I went by the name of Crey. It’s strange to meet like this—but hello, at any rate.”

“When you were human? You mean to tell me you were . . . by
this thing
?”

“Yep,” replied the man in black who’d identified himself as Crey, his voice carrying a mysterious hint of desolation. “I was bitten. All of their kind got bitten by ol’ Gilzen, as you probably know. So, this one should’ve been at Gilzen’s beck and call, but even though they’re bitten, seems these things are a lot more likely than humans to keep their own will. And my master, well, it’s one of ’em.”

The general still couldn’t believe it. More than Crey’s words, it was his own wound that shocked him. A horrible sense of humiliation burned in him worse than any pain.
One of my arms taken off by a damned knife?
The only way to lay that humiliation to rest would be to slay this opponent—an error in judgment caused by confidence in his own war record. Instead of calling on the crossbow on his shoulder, he rushed barehanded at the foe he was about to rend to pieces.

Though the general was still well out of range, Crey’s knife flashed out. It was unclear whether it was the material of the blade or Crey’s skill that did the trick.

The general’s body ran right by Crey after the outlaw had hastily stepped to one side. A now-headless body. Copious quantities of blood slapped against the floor once the general’s body had slammed into the moving sidewalk.

As the large body was slowly borne off into the depths of the darkness, Crey in his black suit watched it go for a while, but before long he turned to the still-prone alien and said, “Not too impressive of you, master. Just keep lying there. I’ll go get rid of Duke Gilzen and the rest!”

Perhaps the alien had recovered enough to understand the jibes, because its massive form rose like a swelling sea.

“Okay, we going now? Time to look for Gilzen!”

Crey led the way, with the gigantic alien following along behind him.

Once the two of them had gone from view, from the opposite end of the corridor the slightly impatient yet cool voice of a woman said, “I came out of concern for Budges, and what should I find but another troublesome foe. Not even I could move against him immediately. However, that one may yet prove useful. Budges, are you okay?”

Vera wanted to scream. There wasn’t enough medicine. It was something for which the Nobility, priding themselves on their ageless and immortal nature, normally had no use. What was stocked in the castle was probably kept there for the use of human servants, so it was in unavoidably short supply.

The wounded poured in one after another, some with arms or legs cut off, others with necks half-severed, some split open from the throat to the solar plexus so that their entrails hung out—all of them would’ve died on the spot if they were human, so it was incredible that Vera had maintained her sanity. Instead of simply passing out, she was able to treat their wounds out of a combination of fascination with the vitality of the Nobility that allowed them to survive in such a state and a sense of duty as a doctor. She treated not only true Nobles but also those they’d turned, and while there was some difference in healing ability between the two, even the latter exhibited regenerative powers no human possessed.

Wounds of that degree should’ve healed in seconds for the Nobility. However, this time they were left with horrible scars just as a human would be. When she asked one of the soldiers assisting her about it, Vera received a daunting reply that made her pursue the matter no further: “It must be some difference in the way they were cut.” Since she knew they’d faced either D or what were apparently aliens, she had no choice but to accept that. They could probably manage such a thing.

After about three hours, they were out of medicine. Cries of pain still filled the room, and the scent of blood eddied as if conducting a ghastly symphony.

“There’s nothing else we can do. Do any of you know someplace else there might be medicine?”

At the query from the sweat- and blood-soaked woman, her erstwhile assistants exchanged looks, and one of them replied, “We don’t know of any. But I’ve heard there are still some things packed away belowground that haven’t been opened yet.”

“Could you go down there and get them?”

He shook an anxious face from side to side. The aliens that’d defeated them still prowled the castle.

“I see. I’ll go, then,” Vera said, standing up. Her eyes were ablaze with determination.

“Why would you go to that much trouble?” asked a female soldier acting as a nurse, unable to conceal the surprise on her face.

Another soldier said uncertainly, “You’re a human, and we’re Nobility!”

“You’re patients, and I’m a doctor!” Vera replied flatly, and the soldiers gazed at her with an oddly placid look in their eyes.

“Please, stay here. I’ll go,” one of them told her, grabbing a laser rifle that was propped up against the wall.

“I’ll go, too.”

“Me, too,” said the female soldier. “It’ll be nice to get in on the glory for a change.”

Now it was Vera’s turn to stare at the Nobles. She was witnessing a quality scholars in the Capital unequivocally stated their kind did not possess—self-sacrifice.

“Stupid Nobility,” Vera heard herself say in a low but emotionally charged voice.

The bloodstained soldiers grinned thinly. They seemed to be mocking themselves. That was all they intended to leave as a parting gift when they stepped out on the road to death.

“See you later.”

“Hold the fort.”

“We’ll be right back.”

Turning their backs to her, the soldiers headed for the door.

The wounded were waiting in the adjacent room. At the moment, treatment had been put on hold. Leaning back against the iron door she’d just shut, Vera heaved a deep sigh. She didn’t feel like accepting any more wounded. Taking a seat in a steel chair, she found herself assailed hard and fast by sleepiness.

She awoke to the sound of an iron door creaking.

The soldiers are back
, she thought.

The iron door was half-open. A glowing figure entered. She immediately realized who it was.