Vampire Hunter D Volume 18- Fortress of the Elder God (16 page)

“What’s he doing?” Bierce couldn’t help but ask.

“You’ll see soon enough. Mind your surroundings.”

Not the least bit angered by D’s curt reply, Bierce looked around. At least this was better than being treated like dead weight. It was at that instant that he sensed a cold presence to his rear. As Bierce turned, an iron arrow flew from his right hand like a red shooting star.

What it penetrated was a pale shadow. The shadow shook just a little, and the arrow jabbed into the wall behind it. The pale shadow had a face and a form. Clad in gleaming black armor, he bared white fangs.

It’s a Noble!

Bierce’s body stiffened with terror. Although he’d lived as a warrior for nearly forty years, this was his first time encountering an actual Noble.

Throwing arrows won’t do any good. The thought filled him with panic and rendered him immobile.

Drawing a longsword from his hip, the pale Noble glided closer. Bierce was certain the blade was genuine. When it swung at the left side of his neck, he closed his eyes and imagined the pain of it slicing clean through the bone.

He heard a chiiiing!

The warrior’s eyes opened. Not only had the blade been parried, it’d positively been batted away, and the pale ghost was reeling backward. The attacker didn’t even have a chance to straighten himself up before D drove his sword straight through his heart.

The Noble grinned.

“That’s a ghost!” Bierce shouted.

“We know,” a hoarse voice replied, making Bierce’s eyes widen.

The Noble came in for another strike. Never before had Bierce witnessed such swordplay. There was no comparing the average warrior to the strength and speed of this opponent. He couldn’t help but think that even the Hunter was outclassed. However, when their blades clanged together for a second time and the combatants switched positions, D made a great leap. Even Bierce could see that the Noble was too slow. As D passed, his weapon poised for a new blow straight to his foe’s heart, the Noble was still frozen in place. Pale blood gushed first not from his chest but from his solar plexus, and then the ghostly Noble was reduced to a collapsing mass of pale blue light.

“You couldn’t cut it at first, so why’d it work this time?”

In reply to Bierce’s query, the same hoarse voice said, “We got into a different frame of mind.”

There were indications of ghosts coming up behind the warrior. When Bierce turned his head, two more were charging toward him. One of them had a sword, but the other carried a great ax with a blade almost three feet long.

“Head to the top,” D said. “That machine is what’s attacking the fortress. Take it out.”

Behind D an iron staircase climbed upward.

Slipping past the warrior, D was ready to meet the approaching enemies.

Bierce ran for the stairs. To his rear, he heard the echoes of blade meeting blade. Grabbing the handrail and taking the steps four or five at a time, he still snuck a look back.

D was squaring off against the one carrying the great ax. A pale blue stain spread at the Hunter’s feet.

Bierce swallowed hard, thinking, He’s already slain one of those Nobles?

The great ax came at D. Moving with ungodly speed, the heavy blade was little more than a gleaming blur in Bierce’s eyes. The single ax appeared to streak for both the opponent’s neck and legs at the same time. Bierce was horrified.

D blocked all of the attacks—it was a battle between gleaming streaks and arcs. D’s blade repelled each of the blows that seemed to be coming simultaneously, the Hunter towering like a black wall, his feet never moving an inch from where he’d first planted them.

For a second, the enemy’s onslaught slackened.

Has he gotten sick of this? Bierce wondered.

The great ax was pulled back. When the expected attack didn’t come, D used the opening to strike with his sword. The second Bierce saw the Hunter’s blade bursting from the back of the ghost, the pale figure collapsed.

D looked at the warrior. Feeling a dread greater than anything the ghosts could inspire, Bierce raced up the stairs.

-

The warrior reached the top of the device.

The man reclining in the chair sat up and looked at the warrior. He had the same pale face as a Noble, the lifeless eyes, sunken cheeks, and fangs poking from his lips—he was indeed a ghost.

Gripping an arrow in his right hand, Bierce grew stiff. A stunning power struck every inch of him. Thrown ten feet, he managed to shield his head as he rolled across the floor, and by then he knew what it’d been.

“A force field, eh?”

“That’s right,” the hoarse voice said overhead.

D moved forward, stopping just shy of where Bierce had been thrown back and striking the unseen wall with his sword. It was knocked back with just as much speed.

“The Nobility’s force fields draw on the power that moves the Milky Way. Only the Sacred Ancestor can break through them!” Bierce blurted out, repeating the information he’d been told by an aged Hunter long ago, but then he realized this young man would already know that. At the same time, a thought occurred to him that filled him with both fear and denial: D will manage something, won’t he?

Up ahead of them, the man in the chair moved. With the metallic rods he held, he delivered a series of blows to the construct before him. Each time he hit it, the construct shook and its shape changed. He was altering the positions of the cylinders that defined its form. What had resembled a child’s jungle gym transformed into a shape reminiscent of a model of a molecule, then into a geometrical pattern that called to mind a spider’s web. All the while, the man kept moving both hands without a moment’s rest. He seemed possessed, like an impassioned conductor.

“The Mysterious Symphony—Movement of Destruction,” the hoarse voice murmured. “This is no good. You’ve gotta stop him before he finishes his directions. If you don’t, the fortress will be—”

The voice never got to finish what it was saying. D held up his left hand.

Bierce felt the air start to flow toward it. The flow became a rustle, which became a breeze, which turned into a gale.

“Grab hold of something.”

Even before D said this, the warrior had run over to the stairway and latched onto the railing with both hands. His body rose into the air. With terrific force he was being drawn toward D—and the left hand he’d extended. His shoulders, his elbows, and his wrists all cried out in unison. Muscle and tendon were stretched to the limit.

What, does he plan on sucking up the force field?

The warrior began to slide. His fingers were slipping. Without even a chance to cry out, Bierce sailed through the air . . . and fell to the ground. His eyes were open.

The Noble in the chair raised both his batons. The deadly music was headed toward its climax. But he was challenged by a streak of black lightning. The batons swung down.

A silvery flash swept out horizontally. Something flew through the air. Hands gripping batons—and a head!

Bierce saw the construct falling to pieces.

“That’s all there was?”

“Just the one,” the hoarse voice replied.

D headed for the stairs. Without halting, he asked Bierce, “Can you stand?”

“I’ll manage,” he replied, but by that point D had already started down the stairs. Bierce didn’t complain. He hadn’t been of any use at all, and they had to hurry up and get out of there before the enemy came. But despite that thought, Bierce couldn’t get to his feet for a long time.

On exiting the dome, the warrior was surprised. Astride a cyborg horse, D handed him the reins to another steed, and then galloped off.

The power of the god opened a path through the defenses and the main gates with ease as the two riders approached.

The group had taken refuge in the third subbasement. On seeing the pair who now returned, they all cheered.

“Where’d you two meet up?” Jan asked. The others were wondering the same thing. “By the way—did you take care of that god thing?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

The members of the group let out a collective sigh of despair.

“What the hell? Then you mean we can’t get outta here yet? Well, I don’t care; I might just take off on my own. Floating down that underground river should do the trick.”

D turned and looked at Jan, who was grinning like a fool.

Jan threw out his chest with a hearty laugh. “What’s that look for? You think all you’ve gotta do is glare at me and I’ll get all scared, stud?”

But his haughty laughter quickly faded. D was still staring at him.

A little hoarse voice said, “He’s possessed.”

Though the people there looked dubious, the next thing D said would change their expressions.

“The suckling’s dead. Did the old man come back?”

“Yeah,” Maria said with a nod.

“Where is he?”

“Over there—in the bed in the back.”

Just then, the old woman called out, “Dear.” Sitting up in bed, Mrs. Stow clung to her husband’s arm as he got to his feet.

The old man was staring at the group with gleaming eyes. The light that came from them was crimson.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” D said in a low voice, taking a step toward the elderly couple like death in black.

THE CHANGED

CHAPTER 7

-

I

-

For every step forward D took, Mr. Stow backed away one. The old man pulled free of his wife’s hand. Once the Hunter considered someone his foe, the unlucky one’s age or sex no longer mattered—such was the young man called D.

“The suckling said he’d made arrangements to change everyone, to make them more like him. Are you what he had in mind?”

From the vicinity of D’s left hand, an unconscious chuckle arose, but no one else noticed.

“Dear,” Mrs. Stow called out sadly from her place on the bed. There was nothing the woman could do.

The old man and D both ignored her.

“Have you got it in you?” Mr. Stow asked, coughing. “Can you cut me down? Could you destroy a poor old man? Sure, I got the god’s power through the suckling.”

Behind D, the rest of the group exchanged glances.

“I should thank you, Mr. Hunter. For bringing me here—to the great god. You know what I’m going to do next? Once I make it out of this fortress, I’m going to the Capital. Then I’m going to kill my sons for living without a care in the world, instead of looking after their mother and father. These same ingrates have forgotten all about how hard my wife and I worked to bring them up, and they don’t even try to hide how inconvenienced they feel when we make our yearly call on them.”

The old man chortled. Coming from such an upstanding face, a laugh so malicious and despicable seemed unimaginable.

It was countered by a cry some would describe as heart wrenching.

“Please, dear! Don’t ruin everything we’ve made,” his wife said, climbing down from the bed. Her face still pale, her gait unsteady, she walked toward her husband, speaking in a hoarse voice.

“Our children have their own lives. Anything that tries to intrude on that is a disturbance. They’ve all settled into their own place in life, and there’s no room for their parents to fit in. We didn’t raise our children just so that they could repay our kindness, did we?”

Suddenly, the old man flew back. Because he hadn’t given any hint that he’d do so, D was a heartbeat too slow in drawing and striking with his blade. Dragged through a pale mist, the old man was swallowed by a distant wall.

“Franz! My dear . . .” Mrs. Stow sobbed, reaching out with both arms. “Where . . . where is this supposed god? Where can I find the god who did this to my husband? What kind of god would do something like that?”

Halting, the old woman turned and looked.

D was right there.

“This god the Nobles worshiped—what’s it like? I’ll kill it—just tell me!”

Mrs. Stow pounded D’s chest with both hands. Over and over she hit him, as hard as she could, with every ounce of rage and hate her body held. D’s chest shook only the tiniest bit. That was all she accomplished.

“Tell me! You brought us here—you led us to this god, didn’t you? Well, bring me to it. I’ll kill it!”

The sound of the fists striking began to fade. The old woman’s knees buckled, and she sank to the floor. But as she did, she continued to pound D’s stomach, then his thighs.

When the old woman’s hands finally fell by her sides, D turned to the group and asked, “When did her husband get back?”

“About three hours after we heard that voice.”

“Three hours ago.”

All that time, the god’s pawn had been with the group. Or rather, it might’ve been more accurate to say the group had been left with him.

“The suckling told me something. He said you were all going to become like him. That he’d made arrangements.”

“Just what are you trying to say?” asked Bierce.