Vampire Hunter D: Dark Road Part Three (6 page)

“I'm surprised you had the nerve to follow me, especially wounded like that. And without your left hand to cover for those wounds, you think you can defeat me—Roland, the Duke of Xenon? On top of all that, aren't you still blind, D?”

D had both eyes shut firmly.

“Don't do it . . . D . . . You mustn't . . . fight Father . . .” Lady Ann groaned, her words creeping across the ground like the speech of the dead.

The figure of D, covered in blood after having been run through with three of the Duke of Xenon's long spears, was reflected in her eyes. Tears glistened in those eyes, which could only be described as large and round. It wasn't that she was moved by the ferocious spirit he displayed in pursuing his foe in his condition, and now preparing to cross swords again; she wept at the sight of the man she loved covered in blood. She didn't care about her father, or the cargo wagon, or the great General Gaskell. Her tears were an unvoiced plea, from her to him, to not do battle in this condition but to flee from this place as soon as possible.

But the man she loved didn't demonstrate so much as a mote of understanding of her feelings. D drew his sword. His body went into motion.

Astonished, the Duke of Xenon backed away. Neither the speed of the Hunter's leap nor the aura that crashed down on him like the angry sea seemed that of a dying man. The Duke of Xenon parried the sword the young man brought down with his long spear, which broke in two. Tendrils of blue electromagnetism reached out from the right shoulder of his armor like spidery limbs. Another fraction of an inch and D's blade probably would've reached the duke's body within.

Groaning, the Duke of Xenon watched D land, and then circled his armored form around behind the Hunter. His speed was in excess of Mach 3. The Duke of Xenon had plenty of time to take aim at D's back.

Was this to be a replay of the battle in front of the main gate?

A flash of light came from D. He'd reversed his grip on his sword and made a thrust behind him. The blade penetrated the armor like it was paper, piercing the Duke of Xenon through the heart.

“Aaaah!”

Scattering howls of pain and curses, the Duke of Xenon once again raised a long spear, and then brought it down. It was easily deflected.

There was another flash from D.

The massive exoskeleton became thin shreds of paper dancing in the wind. All that remained on the ground was an imposing man struggling to retain his footing. He took a step toward Lady Ann, who was now sitting up. His body started to separate just above the hip. When he fell, a startling amount of black blood spurted out, shrouding the two halves of his body like a fog.

“Ann . . . Lady Ann . . .” the Duke of Xenon called out to his daughter, the thread-thin voice dribbling out of him with the black blood.

Lady Ann crawled over to him.

“I am destroyed. Stay with me . . . Ann.”

“Very well, Father.”

After a desperate effort to pull herself up, Lady Ann laid her father's head on her lap and gently stroked his hair.

“Ann . . . My Ann.”

“Father,” the girl whispered. There was a hint of loneliness in her blue eyes.

“What is it, Ann?”

“It's not good to die with a lie on your lips. Call me by the name of the one you really love—Mother's name,” the girl whispered. Now there was a hint of hatred in her blue eyes.

“What are you . . . talking about? Ann . . . I loved . . . only you.”

“Liar.”

Ann opened her mouth. And then a crimson flower blossomed on the Duke of Xenon's forehead.

“A-Ann?”

“This is your punishment for lying.”

A horrible look of pain hung on the duke's face. The deadly blossom was sucking the last bit of life from him. In the darkened region devoid of light, the flower began to take on a mysterious red glow.

“Your hour is at hand, Father—speak the truth. Say the name you called me when you violated me.”

The Duke of Xenon's lips pulled up at the corners. One last spasm assailed his flesh. His last breath escaped, accompanied by a hoarse voice. “Ann . . .”

Taking her gaze from her father, who was turning to dust, Lady Ann rose unsteadily to her feet. Fixing her eyes on an empty spot in space, she said, “A liar to the very end . . . You may be at peace now, but I won't know salvation for all eternity.”

A single tear fell from her eye. Did she fail to wipe it away because she wanted D to see it?

Turning to the young man in black, she asked, “Could you see when you stabbed behind you at Father?”

D's eyes were open, reflecting the darkness. Three days had passed since Madame Laurencin had taken his vision with her poison. And the moment Lady Ann asked about it was exactly when it had returned.

“Hey! Sergei!” they heard Juke cry, his footsteps audible in the distance. Before long his form came into view.

“Oh, is this where you've been?” he said, and as he watched his fellow transporter cling to D's shoulder to get to his feet, a look of relief crossed his face for a moment. Then, with a flash of realization, he said, “You should probably take this.”

Taking the left hand out of his coat pocket, he gave it back to D. When D placed it against the wound on his left wrist, the seam vanished, and D was once again in possession of two hands.

After Sergei finished explaining the situation to Juke, the group's attention inevitably shifted to Lady Ann.

“Why are you here? What about Gordo?” asked Juke.

“He's asleep down in that cavern.”

“You did something to him, didn't you?”

“Aren't you the suspicious one! Although in this case, you're correct.”

“You were trying to escape, eh?”

“I intended to go to D. When I got to the top of the cliff, Father emerged from the ground.”

“He said something funny,” Sergei said, his tongue still numb. “Something about his compatriot already going behind the waterfall. Wait! There was something else . . . He mentioned Schuma being the lucky one.”

The figure in black walked past the rest of the group.

“D?”

“Get ready to set off,” D said as he moved toward the edge of the cliff.

“I'm going, too!”

The instant Lady Ann started to run toward him, his black raiment became one with the darkness. And just shortly thereafter, so did the blond girl.

After seeing the two of them throw themselves from the precipice, Sergei and Juke looked at each other, then headed back the way they'd come.

—

When D entered the cavern behind the waterfall, Baron Schuma was sitting cross-legged near where Gordo and Rosaria lay.

“Long time no see, D,” he called out without turning.

D had made no attempt to muffle his footsteps or hide his presence.

“I'm fortunate. Imagine running into you without making any effort at all! Just so you know, I hold the lives of these two in my hand. Not even your sword could finish me fast enough.”

“What have you come here for?” D inquired.

There were no bite marks on Gordo's or Rosaria's necks. But a Noble who could have two sleeping humans before him and do nothing was to be feared all the more.

“A look around this cave. It used to house the remains of a human religious center, but my uncle got rid of them. In fact, he did such a thorough job that I'm frightened in spite of myself.”

“Get up.”

“Have a seat,” the baron said, slapping the ground to his left. “There's actually something that interests me. Until I get it squared away, I won't feel much like fighting you.”

“And what would that be?” asked a voice that wasn't D's.

The baron turned, startled, and stared at D's left hand. “Oh, I see. So that's it,” he said with a nod. “Well, you seem more urbane than your owner. What I'd like to discuss is this: Why were we summoned?”

“Wasn't it to be assassins for General Gaskell?” the hoarse voice responded. Its tone seemed to question the need to state the obvious.

“I understand that. But there's something strange about him, too.”

“You don't say. What would that be?”

“The fact that he doesn't know why he selected us,” the baron said quite plainly. But there was a clear ring of distress to his voice. “What's more, I'd like to know why we were brought back to life. No—there's another question behind that one. To wit, for what purpose was General Gaskell resurrected?”

“To slay D, probably.”

“Why?”

“That's what we'd like to know,” the left hand remarked in disgust.

Baron Schuma fell silent. The only noise was that of the waterfall. The electronic light Gordo had set up made the group's long shadows dance on the distant rock walls. The light of dawn hadn't reached into the cavern yet.

Before long, the baron spoke again, saying, “General Gaskell and the rest of us entered a lengthy sleep. That's the problem—none of us was destroyed. As punishment, all of us were condemned to sleep for all eternity, by command of the Sacred Ancestor. In other words, some might say we were put to sleep to await this day.”

“Hmm.”

“D!” the baron called out, his tone changing. It echoed off the rocky walls in all its awful gravity. “You must tell me. Why are we after you?”

There was no reply.

“Why would anyone send us after you?”

Still no reply.

“And something else, D. I have been forced to come to a chilling conclusion. This is why I really must have you make one thing clear for me: Who are you, D?”

The electronic flames played intermittent shadows and light across handsome features that didn't seem to be of this world.

—

III

—

“You're not going to answer me, are you?” the baron said, extending both arms and stretching his back. “To be honest, I'm afraid to hear the reply. I've never felt this way before. The stench of blood wafts from your body—the Duke of Xenon's been destroyed, hasn't he?”

The figure in vermilion stood up.

“In which case, it's my turn next. But before we do that, there's something I'd like to look into.”

Rapping his walking stick against his shoulder, the baron proceeded into the depths of the cavern. Looking back, he turned his gaze to Gordo and Rosaria and said, “Though I've moved away, the two of them remain in just as much danger. Wait until I've attended to my business.”

Though there seemed to be something placid about the man, D knew the power that lay within him.

Halting before the furthest rock wall, where the light didn't even reach, the baron rapped on it with his stick.

“Ah! There's an
X
mark. Uncle always was a philistine. If he had to leave a mark, he could've made it something a little more difficult for people to recognize. Apparently, he buried something here.”

“What's that?” D's left hand inquired.

“According to family legends, a certain weapon.”

“A weapon?”

“Uncle oversaw the training of elite combat personnel and the development of weapons at the Sacred Ancestor's palace. He was a man blessed with a great sense of humor. Thanks to this, it suddenly occurred to him as he was working under the Sacred Ancestor that he should create something utterly preposterous. In other words, he invented a weapon to destroy the Sacred Ancestor.”

For a moment, another sound dominated the cavern, where the roar of the cataract alone had held sway: a sound known as silence.

Then, the hoarse voice said with appreciable amusement, “You've got a twisted family.”

“Had he shown it to his acquaintances, I suppose he would've been considered an impressive man, but he was actually rather timid. After creating it, my uncle grew afraid. However, he didn't have the courage to destroy his creation. He thought about a place to hide it but quickly grew uneasy, having the feeling that wherever he concealed it, he couldn't keep it safe from the eyes of the Sacred Ancestor. Then, after giving up drinking even the blood wine from Efferis, he came up with the perfect hiding place. After melting the ancient human ruins, he used the very same location to conceal the proof of his treachery born of an outlandish joke—quite an inspiration, wouldn't you say?”

His walking stick came down on the little mark. Cracks raced out in all directions, and a hole the size of a grown man's head opened.

“Don't move, D. Stay right where you are,” the baron said in a friendly tone as he shifted his stick to his left hand and thrust his right into the hole.

“Eh?” he exclaimed, tilting his head to one side and knitting his brow at a strange sound on the other side of the hole—that of something being caught and torn.

“Ow!” he groaned, pulling his arm back out. But the limb he extracted was cut off at the elbow.

“It should've been enough to simply bury the weapon. He really was quite perverse,” the baron cursed, roughly thrusting the stick he held in his left hand into the hole. A scream rang out, but it was quickly silenced.

The baron stuck his right arm in and pulled it out again. From the elbow down it was back to normal. But then, that's why he was an immortal Noble.

Inserting his hand into the hole once again, he strained to twist his face in D's direction as he said, “It's in there. Now, what do you think I intend to do with it?”

The Nobleman broke into a grin.

“I'll use it on you, of course. My uncle left papers detailing its power and usage. It should be more than enough to slay the likes of you. So, how about it? Are you willing to sacrifice the lives of those two humans to resist me?”

“He's probably bluffing,” said the hoarse voice.

“Do you have the nerve to try me?” the baron sneered, looking at the Hunter's left hand. “No, the man they call D probably has courage enough to fill the seven seas. But I see that one of those humans has hired you as a guard. Would you stoop so low as to sacrifice your employer?”