Tyrant's Stars: Parts Three and Four (24 page)

“O
magical sword, Glencalibur! You must send a truly fitting opponent into another world now without first getting to spill his blood. Make that
portal
for me, my blade!” he murmured as if in prayer, and then he swung the sword in his right hand down with a sharp whistle.

“Uh-oh—fall back!” the hoarse voice exclaimed, its cry streaming forward like water. And D’s body did the same. A second later, as if ensnared in the snarls of the howling wind, the figure in black was sucked into empty space—into a dimension slashed open by Glencalibur.

As he listened to the jagged wind whistling into the gap like a lullaby, Valcua raised his longsword once more.

“If left unchecked, it would suck all the air out of the world. D, keep yourself alive until we meet again.”

He made a cut in precisely the same spot. The first slash had cut it open, while the second sealed it—and the wind died out immediately.

The Ultimate Noble, Lawrence Valcua, wore a daunting smile as the wind that whipped across the steely world howled at the top of its lungs about how the living dead had proved victorious.

Sue left Matthew’s room after about ten minutes. But what had transpired in the room, and what had she seen? Sue had screamed. And though tinges of exhaustion and terror remained on her face, she also seemed to have a bit of a rapturous glow.

“Do you see now, Sue? You understand what kind of place I went?” Matthew said, and although his tone was calm, his eyes blazed mysteriously—with flames of expectation. They were fueled by a dangerous self-confidence.

Sue shook her head. The indecent flush had faded from her.

“But that’s . . . not right. Letting them give you the power of a Noble ... Whispering honeyed words ... It’s no good, Matt... It’s just not right.”

“That’s not what your head’s saying, Sue,” Matthew said, laughing weirdly. His tone never got rough. Its calmness only made his words that much stranger.

“It’s no good . .. Matt... Don’t show me that again.”

“No, you’ll see it again tomorrow. You’ve gotta understand. Accept the fate Lord Valcua has chosen for us.”

Taking his sister by the chin, he made her look up. Sue didn’t fight him. The way her pink lips trembled was rather cute. Matthew sucked them up. It was a long, strange kiss.

As Sue shut her eyes and her breath grew ragged, he told her, “See you tomorrow, Sue.”

And with that, he went back into his own room and closed the door.

It was then that the surveillance cameras inside the car began recording the scene properly.

Sue went back to her room, too.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, eh?” Count Braujou murmured, never taking his eyes off the image of Sue that was projected in midair.

And then he asked that electron image, “Anything wrong?” “Nothing, sir,” a female voice responded from thin air. It was the synthesized voice of the computer, of course.

“Hmm,” the count said, folding his arms on his huge bed.

“Do you suspect something, sir?” the voice inquired.

“From what I’ve seen, the two of them have made up. Sue and Matthew were chatting about old times in his room, holding hands and forgiving each other for everything that happened. Isn’t that right?”

“Indeed it is.” Before the computer gave this response, it had run a check of those events.

“After that, Sue left the room, and Matthew gave her a kiss on the cheek as he saw her off. There’s no mistake about that, is there?” “No, there is not.”

“What happened then?” the Nobleman asked.

“Matthew returned to his room, and Sue immediately retired to her own accommodations.”

“Anything wrong with that?”

“No, sir. All these events played out just as described.”

“Any chance you’ve been deceived?”

“No, sir.”

“Not even an infinitesimally small one?”

“When taken to that degree, anything is possible.”

“Then there is a chance—thank you,” Braujou said appreciatively, unfolding his arms before he began rubbing his chin.

Sue’s face filled his brain. The girl was given to strong emotions, so when her brother kissed her on the cheek, she got a look akin to embarrassment. But the kiss had come just as she was walking out the door. Her expression at that instant—it wasn’t the same one she wore once outside.

Was it the time that was off, or was it the space?

“Her brother’s brain was full of ether for a while. And he spoke with Valcua’s voice. Though her brother’s brain may be back, that doesn’t mean Valcua’s psyche doesn’t still linger,” the Nobleman mused. “Hey!”

“You called, sir?” the female voice responded.

“I’m not entirely sure about this. Are you able to run checks on yourself?”

So long as my power isn’t cut, I do so constantly. The process never ends.”

“Raise the level of your check,” Braujou told the computer.

“I shall have to reconfigure myself.”

“Will that take long?”

“No, it’ll be completed nearly instantaneously.”

“In that case, do it.”

“Understood.” After saying that, the female voice continued, “Very well, then—this is farewell.”

“Excuse me?” the count said, furrowing his brow. “Ah, that’s right—how long have we known each other now?”

“A little over seven thousand years.”

“I shall miss you a bit.”

“Thank you.”

“You have a name, don’t you?”

“Long ago, you dubbed me Eve.”

Closing his eyes, the count nodded. It’d been so long ago, he’d forgotten.

“And now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Silence settled over the vehicle. But only for a moment.

“Pleased to meet you,” a female voice said. It hadn’t changed in the least. “From this day forward, I will be in your service. I believe it might be convenient for you to give me a name.”

“Eve.”

“Thank you. That’s a lovely name.”

“Follow the last instruction I gave you.”

“Understood,” Eve responded. “Some change can be detected in Sue’s expression. Her physical and mental reactions to her brother’s kiss differ from the data we have.”

“I thought as much,” the count said, a thin grin surfacing on his lips. “Good work,” he told the computer. “He’s a danger after all, is he? A viper in our bosom—but we can’t very well kill him. I wonder how to set him right again ...”

A figure in a golden robe was walking down a long, long corridor. The floor, walls, and ceiling were covered with intricate carvings— unicorns sporting graceful horns and other creatures with far more than one, sprites wearing shawls that were like smoke, sphinxes with human faces and beastly bodies. And all of them were gazing at Valcua.

Presently, he halted before a black door. The portal was so lustrous, it didn’t seem that it could be ordinary metal. On its surface danced flames from candles set in the wall to either side of it. He muttered something, and the door slid to the right to welcome him. Behind him, the door closed again. Fifteen feet ahead loomed another door just like it. After making his way through it, he came to a third.

Having passed through the triple doors, he finally reached a vast chamber. The path traced a gentle curve down to the floor about ten feet below. The room was filled with blue light. Thick stone slabs were arranged there, some rectangular, others triangular, square, or trapezoidal. As if in complete disregard of geometrical order, on the edge of one rectangular slab an isosceles triangle was delicately balanced on just one of its points, while a square stone slab set in a circle was supported by nothing save a single rhombus.

Halting on the floor, Valcua turned to the right. A young man in black stood there, basking in the blue light. And as he stood with his elegant longsword in hand, he emanated such murderous intent that anyone hut Valcua would’ve been forced to turn away.

“D!” the Ultimate Noble called out.

Glencalibur whistled from its sheath.

Charging forward, D was black and beautiful death incarnate.

The grand duke couldn’t parry the blow. He felt the impact all the way up to his elbow. Keeping his weight behind the blade, he sliced down at his opponent’s shoulder.

Limning an arc that deflected that blow, D made a thrust. Even as he felt something cold on the nape of his neck, Valcua trapped D’s blade under his left arm—only the Ultimate Noble’s reflexes made that possible. Without a second’s pause, Valcua’s body spun around like a top. And with no time to let go, D was also whipped around in a circle. After spinning one hundred eighty degrees, Valcua relaxed his arm.

Even the immovable swordsman couldn’t weather this. Sent flying, D was completely off balance. And when Glencalibur’s blade zipped at his heart, it pierced him to the hilt, poking out through his back. D’s body went flying in the same direction as the longsword, slamming into a stone slab behind him. Pale blue light engulfed his body, and once it had vanished, there was no sign of the vision of beauty.

The look of disappointment never leaving his face, Valcua walked over, grabbed his beloved sword where it was stuck in the stone slab, and pulled it free.

“Kima!” he called out.

“I am here, milord,” the figure in the long crimson robe replied.

Not bothering to turn and face him, Valcua said, “Was that the same D I fought earlier?”

The Nobleman was clearly choking back his rage.

“Surely you jest,” Kima responded with a respectful bow. “I suppose that might be about a third of his true power. But then—” “Yes,” Valcua said with an appreciative nod, anticipating what the other man would say next.

“No one in the world knows for sure just how powerful D is— probably not even that splendid man himself. Thus, there’s no way to judge the strength of that
impostor."

“I shall soon learn how strong he is. And when I do, I will triumph over him. He, left in this world as the Sacred Ancestor’s own—” “Lord Valcua!”

“I know,” the Ultimate Noble said gravely. “To speak of that would invite terrible misfortune. Is that damnable Sacred Ancestor monitoring me from somewhere even now? But enough about that. What are those humans doing?”

“They are waiting, milord, just as you instructed.”

“I told them to wait, but I never said they should do nothing at all. Tell Seurat and Callas they’re to get the two descendants and bring them to me forthwith.”

Bowing deeply, Kima disappeared.

“And now,” Valcua said, looking up into the air.

D appeared. A bizarre pathway spread in front of him.

The screen projected in midair became a three-dimensional computer model of the building. It vanished immediately. When the words
Impossible to display
appeared, Valcua’s expression became a grin befitting the devil himself.

“Nevertheless, you must go on. Whether you return or not, your true nature will be laid bare, and I will triumph over you.”

He laughed aloud. After a while, Valcua wondered how many years it’d been since he’d laughed like this. How long since he’d guffawed hollowly over nothing at all?