Tyrant's Stars: Parts Three and Four (42 page)

“The other ones?” the count asked, his features twisting with confusion as he looked at the man in question. “You mean to say he has other faces?”

“Yep,” said the hoarse voice.

Braujou stared strangely at D’s left hand.

“Two more. Valcua’s and—”

Sue gasped. The second the Ultimate Noble’s name had been mentioned, D’s face had been transformed into Valcua’s, as if the man had just noticed the other personality that slumbered within him.

As Braujou leveled his long spear, the expression he wore was colored more with shock than alarm. Suddenly there were two of the villain. His reaction was understandable.

“What’s all this?”

“I’m Val... cua,” the man responded sleepily. “Just a moment... I’ll fix you up ... right away.”

Naturally, this remark was directed to the real Valcua, but in an inhospitable turn of events, the grand duke had the same look in his eyes as Count Braujou as he stared at the man who wore his face.

“Who—who are you?”

Though it wouldn’t have been strange for D, Braujou, the hoarse voice, or even Sue to pose this question, it had actually come from Valcua.

Apparently the man couldn’t comprehend the query, because he stood there rather stupidly, tilting his head a little to one side and then the other before he said, “I’m Valcua.” This time his voice was steady. “I’m you. And as a result, I can’t let your wound go untreated. Let me see it.”

And having said this, the man was just about to step forward when the head of the long spear zipped through his back and jutted from his chest.

A commotion like tall grass rustling in the breeze went through Valcua’s retainers and Sue, while the man who’d been stabbed, D, and Valcua didn’t say a word. It made for an eerie scene.

“Nothing could be more trouble than having another Ultimate Noble,” Braujou said as he twisted the head of his spear from side to side.

The strange creature who could’ve been dubbed Valcua Two didn’t bleed a drop, showed no signs of pain, and didn’t seem the least bit interested in this turn of events.

“I knew all along there’d be no point in doing this. But how about
thisV’

Pulling the spear free with a twist of his arm, the count made a horizontal swipe at the new Valcua. The ten-foot-long head of the spear became a serpent, heavy and sharp. The decapitation made a satisfying sound.

“I’ll be damned!” Braujou exclaimed with admiration, adjusting his stance with the long spear.

Valcua Two’s head hadn’t gone flying. The instant it’d been severed, his hand had pressed it down from above—the same way Braujou had saved himself from Glencalibur’s attack. The mark from his decapitation vanished in the blink of an eye.

“This is bothersome. I could probably cut him to pieces and not fare any better. Hmm, I bet I could boil or fry him, and he still wouldn’t die,” Braujou mused, scratching the side of his nose with the butt of his spear. “D, this bastard has your face, too. Do something about him!”

While this request to “do something” probably put D in a difficult position, it would also be accurate to say he wasn’t entirely unconnected to the matter.

“There are two Valcuas. There are two of me. Does that mean Valcua is me, and I am Valcua?”

When the cryptic youth made that equally cryptic remark, Sue suddenly looked up, and her cheeks immediately flushed.

“That’s not all there are,” the Ultimate Noble said in a voice that seemed to rumble from the depths of the earth. “There’s one other. D, are you sure you don’t know why the Sacred Ancestor would give me this character?”

“Why do you think I would?”

“Didn’t you just say it yourself? That I am you. And isn’t there something else that you
didn’t
say? That I am the Sacred Ancestor.”

Sue was reeling. Valcua’s words had a great impact on her; her head was swimming so badly she had to shut her eyes.
I am the Sacred Ancestor.
Who was that
I
supposed to be? Was it Valcua, or was it...

“See to his wound,” D said.

“Hey!” Braujou shouted, making his objection known.

“We get Sue and Matthew. That’s the price.”

“Come here. Heal me.”

Seemingly guided by Valcua’s request, the stranger with his face went over to the genuine article and put his hand against the grand duke’s chest. Valcua treating Valcua—the sight was both strange and disturbing, but no one there was amused or frightened.

And then everyone heard an unexpected remark: “I can’t fix this.”

“What?” Valcua exclaimed, raising an eyebrow, while Count Braujou’s lips twisted into a grin.

“This wound was dealt by someone with skill equal to my own. He cut through not only flesh and bone, but through the fount of life. No one, god or demon, can help you now.”

The count laughed. One Valcua had declared that the other Valcua was untreatable. Undeniably, there was a strange kind of humor to that.

“So, what are we supposed to do? Could D heal it?” Valcua asked, his voice charged with pain. It sounded like he was cross-examining his other self.

“He’s the same as me. He can’t heal you.”

“What then?”

“The other me
—he
might be able to.”

Though that answer was perfectly ordinary, it turned Sue’s spine to ice.

“Then bring him out!"

“I’m not in control of him. There’s no telling what he might do.”

“What’s all this talk about another you and not being in control of someone?” the count said. “D, I can’t wait any longer. Valcua’s lying right there. This is the perfect opportunity. I’m going to dispose of him.” “Hey, don’t do that!” the hoarse voice called out to stop Braujou, but its request wasn’t heeded.

The Nobleman swung his great spear around and made a lightning-swift thrust at Valcua. When a silvery flash from below sent the head of the spear flying, the count growled, “What are you doing?” Flames fairly shot from his eyes as he glared at D.

“He’ll pay his way,” D answered.

“You son of a bitch—”

Rage filled his face and his weapon. The count swung his spear at D.

Holding his sword upright to parry the blow, D felt the terrific impact all the way up to his shoulder. As the Hunter leaped, his blade limned a blue arc.

Barely managing to parry a blow that looked like it was going to split both his head and his spear, Braujou raised his weapon directly overhead and whipped it toward the floor.

The hall shook. Sue let out a scream.

When D landed, along with a section of the falling ceiling, a fat crack opened at his feet. The marble floor he stepped on to avoid it crumbled, throwing D badly off balance. The long spear moved in a merciless streak toward his chest, and though D barely managed to knock it away, he couldn’t assume a posture that would allow him to attack. Braujou continued his jabs, determined to keep the Hunter from having any breathing room. Dodging and parrying, D slid across the floor, his feet tormented with brief snatches of stability. The second he was on stable footing, the long spear would probably pierce his chest.

D’s feet stopped moving. Braujou hauled back his spear. The moment of truth seared itself into Sue’s retinas in slow motion.

The dance of life and death came to a sudden halt. Both men turned in the same direction simultaneously. And Sue followed their eyes as well.

Dressed in silvery raiment, a man she’d never seen before stood before them. A man whose mere presence was enough to put an end to D and Count Braujou’s deadly battle.

“O Sacred Ancestor!”

Sue didn’t know who said this, but she gave herself over to the feelings the ring of the words stirred in her. Scalding heat scorched her heart, and bitter cold froze her organs. A million thoughts crowded her mind, and every time she managed to focus it again, chaos ensued, just from those words.

“So, the other one—that was the
great
one?” Count Braujou said, his tone one of piety. “In that case, he can do anything. Even save Valcua.”

“It’s you .. . milord.” Valcua’s tone was also stuporous. He’d said
milord.
His nemesis had banished him to outer space, but the grand duke couldn’t help but address him with respect. Out in the universe, colossal nebulae were born, absorbing whole constellations—and this was akin to that.

From nowhere in particular, something like fog began to flood the room.

“It’s a fragment of the akashic record,” the Sacred Ancestor said. “Someone has managed to get a peek at it, though its contents are difficult to decipher even for me. But that which isn’t meant to be seen truly shouldn’t be seen. Having broken that taboo, the person’s existence is erased from history. And now look! The akashic record seeps from the vault, and the universe as we know it may end. The history carved into that space-time is vanishing. Because history is made of time.”

By this point, the existence of the man called Kima had been wiped from Valcua’s brain, and also from the memories of every living creature that knew him.

“How horrible!” Count Braujou said, his expression growing pale.

“That can’t happen,” Valcua said, squeezing his hand into a fist.

“What can I do, Sacred Ancestor?” Braujou asked.

“You can’t do anything.”

“Excuse me?”

“For that matter, it’s probably beyond Valcua too. The only one here who might be able to help is the man called D. Even I can’t tell how great his power might be. Valcua, do you wish to possess the same power as D?”

The grand duke was at a loss for words.

“D fought you, and he was able to heal the wound you dealt him. However, nothing save destruction awaits you now. And when that comes, you will have lost to D.”

A voice that seemed to drag the psyches of any who heard it into a pit of darkness—was
this
the voice of the Sacred Ancestor?

However, Valcua laughed in a low voice, “Me lose? My defeat will come when someone reduces me to dust and scatters that dust in the wind. This isn’t finished yet. D and I both still draw breath.” The Sacred Ancestor’s right hand made a movement that looked like he was snatching something out of the air: a piece of the fog. Running his eyes over it, the Sacred Ancestor said, “It’s recorded right here. It says quite clearly that you lose.”

“Ridiculous!” Valcua boomed. Still, the Ultimate Noble’s confidence seemed shaken. “I don’t believe that. Not as long as I can still stand on my own two feet.”

“The pronouncements of the akashic record are fate itself,” said the Sacred Ancestor. “No one can escape his fate . . . With the exception of one method, that is.”

For a second, Valcua’s eyes gave off a fierce gleam.

“Ah .. . and what’s that?” the hoarse voice asked.

“Rewriting the akashic record,” the Sacred Ancestor replied without hesitation.

“Rewrite it? Something already written in the akashic record?”

The cries of the hoarse voice, Braujou, and Valcua all sounded as one. “But... who could do that?”

Their gazes focused on the face of the Sacred Ancestor.

“I alone. However, you
could
do it as we 11, Valcua—if I were to do this.”