Pilgrimage of the Sacred and the Profane (17 page)

From the depths of the earth there spilled a pale light. It was alive.

At the edge of the earth, D gazed in silence at the crystalline mountain. Whatever
sort of thoughts D had as he looked out at the scene couldn’t be read in his elegant
features.

“Is that it?” Bingo called out from ten feet behind the Hunter.

“You said you saw it in a dream—was this it?”

“Yep.” His reply was gummy with sleep and fatigue. “It had some crazy idea about combining
humans and Nobility, of all things. Even after the research center here fell into
ruin, the machines kept going, and they let the things they made run loose in the
desert. Can’t say I blame the thing for wanting to get smarter.”

Almost as if in response to Bingo’s explanation, the light in the depths of the earth
grew stronger.

Long before, forbidden experiments had been conducted in the vast region guarded by
the sandstorm. Regardless of what the results might’ve been, time marched on cruelly,
and unbeknownst to anyone the abandoned machinery produced a child beyond anything
they could have intended.

What did D think of the desert having a will, or the reason it sought to evolve even
further? His gorgeous visage clouded darkly from the incessantly blowing sand and
glowed mysteriously with the light rising from deep in the earth.

“What now?” asked Bingo.

Saying nothing, D got off his horse. In his left hand he carried a rolled-up blanket.
The wind echoed through the heavens. Taking a knife from his pocket, he bent over
and began digging up the ground.

The actions that followed were most likely beyond the com-prehension of Bingo, who
watched the Hunter from behind. But then, in this condition there was really no telling
whether Bingo was awake or asleep, and perhaps the daydreaming warrior never had any
intention of watching D at all.

Once he’d dug up enough earth to fill both arms, D opened the blanket. A bundle of
thick, twisted branches spilled out—no doubt procured back in the moving forest. Taking
two of the logs in hand, D rubbed them together lightly until they produced flames.
Throwing them down on the dirt and adding the remaining wood, D then held his left
hand up to the flames. The knife in his right hand flashed across the opposite wrist.
Fresh blood gushed out like a torrent, falling on the flames and the dark earth so
that a strange black smoke billowed from them.

“Is that enough?” D asked.

“I suppose that will do,” a hoarse voice somewhere around D’s left wrist replied.

That same hand rose high into the air. And as soon as it did, a howling wind twisted
all around the young man in black. Sand and dust dancing wildly, the smoke and flames
stretched long and thin and perilously close to snapping. Then, finally, they did
snap right off. The flames flowed into a single stream of a color that defied description.
The palm of D’s outstretched left hand swallowed the stream—not only the flames, but
the earth that’d tasted his blood, as well.

Earth, wind, fire, and water—all four elements had been assembled. In less than three
seconds the strange suction ended. It seemed to have some significance to D, as he
then walked over to the rim of the crack in the earth. His horse whinnied and backed
away. Arriving at the edge of the precipitous drop, D pulled out a knife with his
left hand.

In his mind, something spoke to him and asked:
Are you going to do it?

The Hunter drew his left hand back behind his head.

A gleaming sphere poked halfway out of Bingo’s mouth.

How I’ve waited for this day so very long. The whole reason I attacked you was because
I thought you might put me to rest.

D stopped moving. The prismatic sphere leisurely approached his head.

“Why don’t you put yourself at rest?” the Hunter asked.

I tried, but I could not, even though it was what I wished. The temptation to rise
again was simply too great. You must tell me, am I the only one who finds it so?

D bent back at the waist. The globe burst without a trace.

Tell me. Everyone wishes to be something else, don’t they? Even when they know that
it would involve incredible pain and weariness.

D’s knife became a flash of light flying through the air.

Don’t they?

The flash of light disappeared, swallowed up by part of the crystal forest.

Without pause, D mounted his horse.

“Is that the end of it?” Bingo inquired in a vague tone.

Giving no reply, D began to slowly ride away. After his mount had taken three steps,
what sounded like a sigh could be heard from the hole at his back. Seven steps and
one part of the crystals gave off a pale glow. Ten steps and the glow became points
of light that collapsed into the crystal with a serene sound. After this, nothing
more could be heard. Perhaps that’s how ruin was. Thousands and then tens of thousands
of cracks raced through the glittering mass. Countless fragments formed, and then
collapsed.

The two figures slowly riding away didn’t flinch. Needless to say, they didn’t look
back, either.

.

Two hours after Granny and Clay looked around in amazement at the suddenly abating
sandstorm, D and Bingo returned.

“It’s finished, isn’t it?” Granny asked. “If it’s a regular desert now, we should
have no problem. Another two days and we’ll be across it. It looks like we’ll somehow
make our arrival date after all. Well, then, let’s get a move on!” the old woman cried,
pulling on her reins. Her team of four cyborg horses began tearing up the ground.

“Somebody up there must like that guy,” Clay grumbled as he climbed on the horse behind
his older brother. “Of course, since he had you with him, bro, there was never any
question he’d be okay.” Only after he’d said it did he seem to realize the contradiction
in that logic; he could do no more than don an odd expression.

D rode by the brothers and asked, “Why did you stop what you were doing back there?”

His question dwindled in the distance, but in the end, Bingo never replied.

.

Three days later, in the early morning, the party entered the town of Barnabas.

“Well, this is where we say our goodbyes. Really, the only reason we made it this
far was thanks to all of you. I could thank you a million times. Hey, you come out
here, too,” the absurdly jubilant Granny called back to Tae from the driver’s seat.

D rode on without saying a word. Right behind him was Bingo on his horse, and Clay—who,
not surprisingly, had climbed down to the ground.

“What, you boys going already?” asked the old woman. “I was just about to go deliver
the girl to her home. Say, before I do, why don’t we have ourselves a drink?”

Clay alone looked back at her. When he saw the figure that lingered by Granny’s side
like a white bloom, his ferocious face was suffused by a wondrous peace.

Perhaps noticing him, Tae lowered her head a bit.

Cupping his hand by his mouth, Clay coarsely shouted, “Hey, missy! I’ll be seeing
you! It was a fun trip. Oh, and Granny—I’ll be sure to pay you back for making him
go rescue me that time.”

“Okay, but I’m not gonna hold my breath waiting on it,” Granny said, both her voice
and form dwindling in the distance, as did the form of the girl by her side. No one
noticed that the girl watched the back of that black long coat for ages, her eyes
hinting that it was the most dazzling thing she’d ever seen.

Wasting no time, D rode down one of the main streets and dismounted in front of a
three-story building five blocks away. There was no sign of the Bullow Brothers; the
town of Barnabas had a population of twenty-five hundred. As far as the buildings
went, most were made of wood. Only after D had disappeared through a doorway did the
first hopeless sighs escape from the dazed women who stood paralyzed in various parts
of the street.

Just inside the door was a staircase, and to the right of the stairs hung a brass
plaque engraved with the names of tenants.

Room 202: Thornton Law Offices. A black-gloved hand rapped on the door in question,
and it opened right away. A young lady—apparently the secretary—froze there with her
lipstick-rimmed mouth agape.

“Oh, don’t mind her—c’mon in!” a voice the Hunter had heard before called from beyond
the entryway.

Gently pushing the woman aside, D slipped through the waiting room and opened the
door.

The room was of moderate size. Behind the desk by the window sat Thornton, a sullen
look on his face. “Welcome. Right on time. But what else should I expect from Vampire
Hunter D?” The lawyer offered his hand, but then reconsidered and withdrew it. Many
Hunters avoided shaking hands. It was a precaution against being caught off-guard.

“Tell me what I want to hear,” D said softly.

Thornton’s condition had been that he cross the desert and reach this location by
a designated time—which was this morning. Now it was time to collect on the other
half of the bargain.

“You aren’t going to ask how I was able to get here before you?” asked Thornton.

“No,” the Hunter replied, “Although there aren’t many who can operate a flyer.”

The lawyer nodded, saying, “I happen to be one of them, though. So, how was your trip?”

“Where did you meet him?” asked D.

“You should ask him that yourself.”

For the first time a hue of emotion surfaced on D’s face. “Where is he?”

“He’s in a certain run-down house on the southern edge of town. A long time ago, it
was a Noble’s mansion. It’s all overgrown with weeds, but it seems he chooses his
lodging based less on present appearances, and more on past glories. He should be
sleeping at this hour.”

D turned around.

“Wait. I was merely conveying a message for him. Nobility or not, he is my client,
you know. Why did he have you cross the desert?” Thornton asked, but his words merely
crumbled as they met D’s back.

As the secretary watched him go, her mouth dropped open once more.

Thirty minutes later, the Vampire Hunter showed up at the dilapidated mansion. Across
from the entrance, where even the bronze had crumbled with age, lay a hall as vast
as the sea.

“Watch yourself,” his left hand said. “He’s here. I can feel him.”

And, almost as if to overshadow that remark, a solemn voice said,
So glad you could make it.

The source of that comment was clear. Halfway up the grand staircase that curved into
the feeble darkness from the far end of the hall there stood a ghostly figure.

Crossing that desert was to be a trial for you. Not one of combat. What you witnessed
was the end of something.

There was a flash from D’s left hand, and three streaks of white light zipped through
the black figure. As the rough wooden needles were swallowed by the darkness behind
him, the figure smiled silently.

What did you see? What did you think? What of your own future? Do you still intend
to subject yourself to day after merciless day of this? Do you not yearn for a life
of peace?

D ran without making a sound. The rotten boards couldn’t take the impact of a pebble,
but as D dashed across them he didn’t leave a single footprint. The Hunter cleared
the first twenty stairs in just two bounds. He sprang—then slashed.

As the blade came straight down from above, the figure made no attempt to dodge it,
but simply let it come. The blow passed through him without meeting any resistance.