Tyrant's Stars: Parts Three and Four (34 page)

“Prepare my carriage!”

“If you like, I could bring you there immediately.”

Donning a grin that seemed to make the darkness freeze solid, Valcua replied, “The
mood
must be just right. Never forget that, Kima.” And then he left the room.

Ten minutes later, a carriage drawn by six steeds galloped out into the sunlight. Anyone who saw them racing along would’ve noticed how the carriage and horses were shrouded in an elliptical darkness that moved with them, leaving the wind swirling in its wake.

Half a day later, a dozen hooves kicked up sparks as the animals reared to a halt on the plain.

Up ahead, a lone figure was staggering forward. Though most of her face was bloodied and her white dress was charred and stained with gore, there was no mistaking Callas the Diva. Struck by the full force of the shock waves generated by the asteroid missile, the temptress had barely survived, and she was literally half-dead when she reached the vehicle.

The carriage door opened and a figure swathed in darkness stepped down to the ground. The longsword he gripped in his right hand was none other than Glencalibur.

“Oh, it’s you, Callas? What of the other six?” he inquired in a tone utterly devoid of compassion.

Going down on one knee, Callas bowed low. “With the exception of Seurat and myself, all the rest are gone.”

“Seurat has also met his end. And you’re not long for this world. Having failed in your task, you know what fate awaits you, don’t you, Callas?”

“Will you not give me one last chance, milord?”

“No.”

The diva toppled as the wind buffeted her. Her master’s callous reply had robbed her of the last glowing urge to live.

“Rot here if you like, or make your own way to someplace no one will ever find and meet your end. Choose a way to die that will not bring dishonor to the name of Valcua.”

And then the grand duke turned around, got back in his carriage, and raced past Callas in that unnatural darkness.

The wind played across her motionless body. Evening came and went, and darkness laid claim to the world. Cradling a single dying figure in its arms, the world kept its silence.

And then a voice called down to her, “Can you hear me, Callas?” As her body didn’t move a muscle, Kima bent down and touched her gently.

“The fate of an assassin who doesn’t fulfill her orders is death— so it goes, but that punishment seems too cruel for such a woman.”

Taking what looked like a syringe out of his long robe, Kima drove its point into the nape of Callas’s neck. Ten seconds later, tremors ran through the lifeless body, and the faint sound of breathing flowed out into the silent world.

“Stay still. I’ve extended your life a bit, but it will soon be over. However, before it ends I’d like you to do something. I imagine you hate the grand duke.”

Although he hadn’t really required an answer, Callas moved her head to signal her agreement.

“Good enough. Come with me. Let the last of your energy be expended in a truly important act. It might just save the world.” Before Kima had finished speaking, he put his hand on the diva’s shoulder.

The sound of the wind blowing was so faint in the area the two of them had occupied, it wouldn’t have reached anyone’s ears, and as darkness fell on the steel plain, there was no longer anyone there to hear it.

Somewhere in the distance a tune that sounded like electronic music could be heard. Matthew’s face grew pale and he put all his strength into his legs, intent on getting as far away as he could.

When a sudden gale had knocked the car on its side, the boy had managed to escape from it while Valcua’s will within his brain distracted the computer. Actually, Count Braujou had been about to perform a dangerous operation on Matthew’s brain to rid the boy of this influence. In order to power that procedure, the count had needed energy from more than just the car’s nuclear reactor— he required an outside source. That was the torrent D and Sue had encountered. It appeared when Braujou and Miranda had used their powers to locate an aquifer and stimulate it.

The boy had succeeded in convincing Sue of Valcua’s greatness. They were supposed to escape together, but things didn’t always go smoothly in the real world. Now that he’d finally been given the

chance, it was only natural that Matthew was hurrying forward for all he was worth.

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by darkness. Occasionally, there were blue flashes of lightning in the distance— but Matthew couldn’t see them.

“What the hell?”

As he looked around once more, his eyes found black peaks towering grandly in the darkness. Without even knowing it, he’d apparently wandered into a valley, and the realization gave Matthew a very odd feeling. He shouldn’t have been so lost. Valcua was supposed to be in his brain, telling him the proper direction to proceed, guiding the boy as surely as the earth’s magnetism guided birds. With that to aid him, he never should’ve strayed into the valley.

“What’s going on? Did someone else lead me here?”

Though he said these questions aloud, there was no one there to answer them.

Matthew kept on walking. Suddenly he noticed something.

I shouldn’t be going this way,
he thought.
Gotta get out of the valley.

But he kept right on walking. Even now he could feel himself moving
down
the sloping terrain.

The answer came to him in a flash. He was under the influence of what they called a
tailer
—a variety of monster Grand Duke Valcua had scattered throughout his domain to “welcome” intruders. Once this creature got behind someone, it could make them go wherever it liked; the person would either keep walking until they died of exhaustion or march back to its lair to be devoured.

“I don’t care for either of those options,” Matthew declared as he wildly dug through Valcua’s knowledge.

What was the tailer’s weakness? For some reason, he couldn’t retrieve that information. The shock wave had caused him to hit his head against the car, but he didn’t know if that had anything to do with it. He needed to do something.

Ignoring Matthew’s misgivings, his legs continued working diligently, guiding him into the deep valley.

There was now a blue moon in the sky. A shadow fell at Matthew’s feet. In no time his body was level with the road. Massive boulders surrounded him—but then, this was a world of steel. The boulders were all triangles, cubes, rhomboids, or other geometric figures. Matthew slipped in between them.

In a world of steel, a cave didn’t just occur naturally. Everything was purposely constructed. The tailer’s lair had probably been designed back when this domain was first established. The entrance to the steel cavern was in the shape of an oblong. About thirty feet in, it widened sharply on either side.

Matthew gasped.

He saw countless human bodies piled in the cave. Those on the very bottom were crumbling, bleached bones. About six feet up, they became shriveled mummies, which went on for another thirty feet. There must’ve been easily a thousand of them.

It
doesn’t eat the flesh. It just walks them until they’re worn out, and then
—

—and then it waited for the exhausted humans to rot here.

The boy felt a terrible fatigue rising in him from the soles of his feet. He was tired. All he wanted to do was rest.

Walking over to the mountain of corpses on unsteady legs, Matthew planted a foot on one of the mummies. In a mindless manner he climbed. He couldn’t control his arms or legs anymore. All he could do was climb. He put more power into his legs. One mummy’s sternum snapped audibly.

Something like a scream rang out behind him. At that instant, strength flooded back into every inch of Matthew’s body. Pulling his foot free, he turned around.

Behind him, a black figure contorted its body. It was a twodimensional creature that looked just like a human being—but its chest was pierced by the tip of a long spear with a three-dimensional thickness and mass.

The shadow vanished in an instant. Only the spear remained. From its lengthy head down to its end was a good twenty feet. The gigantic figure who gripped it in one hand was nearly fifteen feet tall.

“You’re nothing like your sister, you dolt!”

This heap of scorn was spat by none other than Count Braujou.

“Wh—what are you doing here?”

The first words to sputter from the boy’s mouth were a perfectly natural reaction. Just as he was about to be fed to the wolves, a man-eating tiger had saved him.

“You were under the impression you’d escaped, but just to be safe, I’d sprayed a radioactive substance over you that would allow me to track you. The whole time you were walking I was following along less than five hundred yards behind. And I was well aware you’d fallen under the tailer’s control. Now, get going!”

And saying this, the count thrust his spear into the mountain of mummies and skeletons. Matthew staggered and covered his ears, for although there was nothing alive there, a scream had rung out that no earthly creature could’ve made.

About halfway up the head of the spear, a life form with unusual limbs appeared as a kind of smoke that looked for a moment like it would leap at Braujou but quickly vanished.

“I’ve taken care of the tailer. Now go!”

As the despondent Matthew exited the cavern, the count said nothing, merely pointing to his car with his long spear. Heaving a sigh, the boy reached for the handle—and then the count looked up into space.

Flames of joy burned in Matthew’s body. The night air had been blanketed with an incredible aura of the supernatural.

“Valcua?” the count murmured, gazing ahead—into the depths of the valley.

An unearthly air was coming—a demon. Even Matthew went pale.

At the end of the road, a human figure coalesced. Like fate, the voices of the count and the boy combined, calling out a single name.

“D?”

“No, it’s not him,” the count said, shaking his head.

Matthew realized that, too. D didn’t wear silver tights. Nor did he carry an iron rod.

“So, he’s got D’s face and Valcua’s aura, does he? This should be an interesting topic to research,” the count said with a smirk, his fangs poking from his lips. “The question is ... would fighting him be wise? Well, let's see!”

Suddenly catching Matthew by the collar, the count made an easy swing of his arm that hurled the boy at the man with D’s face. His aim was perfect, and the boy landed on his rump at the man’s feet.

The count’s intent was clear. If this man were D—or rather, if he were an ally—he wouldn’t lay a hand on Matthew. On the other hand, if he were someone loyal to Valcua, he’d most likely abduct the boy or kill him. Something seemed to have come over the count. Having sworn to defend Matthew at all costs, why did he then use him in an experiment like this?