Tyrant's Stars: Parts Three and Four (40 page)

“This will be kinda hairy, D,” the left hand said. The fact that it called its host by name revealed its nervousness. “Combining protons and antiprotons is the toughest kind of work, even for a computer. One tiny little leak, and the delicate balance gets upset. After that, the reactor goes out of control. Once out of the reactor, the antiprotons could find endless particles to hook up with in the air, burning them all up. Not only Valcua’s domain would be wiped out, but the whole planet and maybe even the whole universe if antiproton production continued long enough.”

“Is there any other way?” D inquired softly.

“No,” the left hand replied, the tiny eyes that had formed in its palm staring at D’s feet.

Bright blood formed a trail across the glistening floor. It wouldn’t have been strange for someone in this situation to pass out or die from losing so much blood.

“I guess we’ll give it a shot, then. But we’ve got another problem.”

“Earth?”

“Right you are. Out of earth, fire, water, and wind, we don’t have the earth,” the left hand said in a tone dripping with distress. “Of the four elements, the main two are earth and water. No matter how much air or fire I take in, I can’t get pure energy without the other two. Normally, having just the other three would get the job done, but this wound is different. You got it from Valcua—the Ultimate Noble. There’ll be no fixing it completely without the element of earth.”

“Try,” D said flatly. Life and death didn’t matter to him, but his tone represented an iron will that absolutely would not give up.

D put his left hand against the wall of the reactor.

“Sure. Here goes nothing!” the hoarse voice responded.

D’s right hand went for his scabbard—and then he reversed his grip on the sword, driving it through the back of his left hand and deep into the reactor wall.

His sword was then returned to its scabbard.

The boiling-hot form of ultraenergy had already begun to spill through the crack his blade had made. However, the warning klaxons didn’t ring out, nor did the emergency lamps light up. And the Hunter’s left hand remained pressed to the crack.

A minute passed. Two minutes.

“Good enough,” the hoarse voice told him.

The fateful moment had come. D had to close the hole he’d opened.

“You know what you’re doing, right?” the hoarse voice inquired, wanting to be sure.

Making no reply, D merely stared at the split back of his left hand. But only for a moment. His steel flashed out, piercing the back of his hand once more, in precisely the same location.

“Good.”

At the same time the hoarse voice spoke, D pulled his sword back out. The first thrust had started the flow, and the second sealed it off—but what kind of trick had the Hunter called on? Even after his left hand came away, the burning heat remained contained. The wall of the reactor didn’t have a scratch on it as it continued to give off the same dull glow.

“Fire is all set. Now for water.”

D pressed his left hand against his shoulder. It went without saying what became of the blood spilling from the Hunter. Pulling his left hand away after it gave him the signal, he then raised the same hand high in the air. There was a whistling sound as it sucked air into its tiny mouth. The wind hissed in the otherwise -tranquil atmosphere. Deep in that tiny maw, a blue flame sparked to life.

“How’s that?” the mouth asked.

“No change,” D replied.

“Then it’s just as I thought. Without the element of earth, your wound can’t be closed. What to do, what to do ..

D went outside.

The others were waiting.

“I told you to go,” D said to the soldiers.

“This breach has been detected,” one of them said.

“We know that,” the hoarse voice replied.

D looked at the soldiers without saying a word. Once the intrusion into the reactor had been noticed, they would ward off Valcua’s attacks while D accomplished his ends. That was why the men had waited.

A number of footsteps could be heard closing on them from either end of the corridor.

“They’ve got us cornered,” the left hand said, sounding disgusted. “Given their numbers, escaping will be tricky—especially in your condition. If only we could find a clod of dirt somewhere, we’d have no trouble at all.”

Exchanging glances, the men looked at D.

“Did you say dirt, sir?”

“Yes,” D replied.

“In that case, why didn’t you say so earlier?”

The men nodded in unison, and then one of them drew the saber from his hip and plunged it through his own heart before anyone could stop him. His body thudded to the floor, instantly becoming a pile of dirt that filled his clothes.

“Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.
We’re homunculi fashioned from clay,” one of them declared proudly. “Now we can finally be of some use to you. Thank the gods. Best of luck to you, sir.”

And with that, the rest of them stabbed their chests in unison, returning to their true form as they fell at D’s feet.

D gazed intently at the remains of the brave warriors.

The hoarse voice said, “We didn’t even know their names.”

“Their sacrifice won’t be forgotten.”

D planted one knee on the floor and held his left hand out over the dirt. It was such a solemn scene it would’ve made anyone who saw it stop and pause in reflection.

“The guardroids sent to Antiproton Reactor A have been annihilated. All one hundred were destroyed.”

Valcua listened to the electronic voice’s updates from inside his coffin. His Noble senses told him that outside his castle, dawn was spreading like water. His body was cooling rapidly.

The stench of blood filled the coffin’s interior. Valcua could feel the unpleasant warmth of it soaking through his clothes. More than an inch of blood had pooled in the bottom of his coffin. His blood. Not even the medicenter installed in his coffin could do anything about the wound D had dealt him, and even now he continued to bleed.

“If not for you, I would’ve met with defeat, Glencalibur,” he said to his beloved sword, which lay by his left side. “But all you’re good for is cutting. I shall need to find some other way to close my wound. Are you listening, child?”

The grand duke turned to the right. Sue’s pale face was there. When D and Valcua’s battle ended in a draw, she’d been spirited away by the Ultimate Noble’s underlings.

“The irony of this is, there’s only one person in the whole world who can heal me,” he said, stroking Sue’s face with his hand. It was softer and more sensitive than she expected. “And no one but you can make him do it. Child, you must say exactly what I tell you now. Tell your revered D, ‘Please get the other man with your face and bring him to the grand duke.’ ”

Can you hear me, Braujou?

Can you hear me, Miranda?

They both already had entered the sleep of the Nobility, but the words rang out in their brains.

This is Grand Duke Valcua.
I
shall make this brief.
At
present, I’m wounded. The injury is so grave that even I might succumb. So I’ve undergone treatment. However, I’m powerless to do anything about it. Therefore, I’ve decided to call upon the services of the very best physician, the only one who can help me. Though he isn’t a resident of my lands, he
was
only too happy to accept this task. His name is
—

In the darkness, Count Braujou’s eyes opened. They were burning red.

“You heard that, didn’t you, Miranda?” he said.

They were both in his bedroom, he in his own coffin and Miranda in another for guests.

“Indeed, I did.”

Miranda’s response sounded lethargic, and Braujou knew better than anyone that it wasn’t due to a lack of sleep. It was an enfeeblement brought about by her massive blood loss.

“I can’t believe he’d do it. But even if he’s the greatest Hunter, he’s still up against the Ultimate Noble. I suppose an offer of part of that fortune and power would be enough to bend even his iron will. It’s not inconceivable.”

“That’s preposterous!” Miranda snapped before donning a grin. “It’s surprising how little a man can know about men. Don’t you understand what kind of man he is? He’s pure steel, body and soul. He’d sooner die than go over to Valcua’s side. He absolutely wouldn’t do it. I can tell. I’m a woman.”

“What would a woman know about men?” Braujou spat. “At any rate, as soon as the sun goes down, I’m going to go find D and get to the bottom of this. And don’t try to stop me, Miranda.”

Their conversation died.

Naturally, telling the two of them that D had agreed to treat him was part of Valcua’s plot. Hoping to stack the odds against D, he wanted the Hunter and Braujou to fight each other, and if one of them were slain, the grand duke could then deal personally with the one who remained. Though it was a simple plan, it should prove effective against a warrior at heart like Braujou.

What would happen next?

As the players kept their various thoughts and schemes to themselves, the sun rose, then set.

An enormous horse and rider barreled through the darkness like a storm cloud, the man suddenly halting his steed with a masterful handling of the reins. Iron horseshoes scraped against the ground, shooting off sparks. And what a horse it was! Measuring ten feet from the ground to its shoulder, it was a good twenty feet from the base of the neck to the tail.

Astride this steed, a man who needed no introduction growled in a voice like thunder, “D, you son of a bitch, where are you?”

A long spear whistled in his right hand—but the Nobleman’s posture, his voice, and even his handling of the weapon were all clearly lacking compared to how they once had been. Concealed by his cape, his abdomen dripped blood that stained his saddle and dampened the back of his horse.

Count Braujou’s aim was to find D. That alone. While he was the very picture of bravery and frankness, the Nobleman doubted that D, of all people, would have agreed to treat Valcua, but the grand duke’s words had seared themselves into his consciousness and he couldn’t shake them. Not knowing D’s location, it was madness to ride into the middle of his foe’s domain. The Nobleman was that impulsive, and his anger ran that deep.

Three hours had already passed since he’d left his car, galloping on and on. The next thing he knew, his surroundings were lost behind a whiteness that resembled a mist.

“What’s all this? It doesn’t seem to be fog.”

Braujou went on. He’d made up his mind to do so, and no one could stop this Greater Noble.

Suddenly, what looked to be a collapsed building appeared on the other side of the fog. Focusing his night-piercing eyes on it from the saddle, he found that the foglike substance seemed to issue from the depths of the rubble.

“Even the Ultimate Noble’s buildings can come to ruin, can they?” the count couldn’t help but murmur wistfully, and when he turned his gaze to the right, a figure who’d come startlingly close appeared from the mistlike veil that shrouded him.

The face was none other than D’s. At first the count suspected it was someone or something imitating him, but on further consideration he decided only D could possibly possess those looks.

“D, what are you doing here?” he asked, thrusting his long spear forward. He made it seem like nothing short of an interrogation.