Tyrant's Stars: Parts Three and Four (19 page)

“That’s right. But that Otto guy, he’s not too bad, for a human. It’d be a shame for him to die for nothing, that’s—gaaah!” Clenching his fist tightly, D began walking back to the car that sat blackly in the darkness.

Fortunately, the glowing points’ approach was slow and meandering. Five minutes after spotting them, the survey party had finished setting up triple barricades of reinforced plastic and lightweight alloy shields across the front of the camp, and they were positioned for defensive action.

“Two hundred yards to contact,” a survey member peering through an infrared scope called out.

“At one hundred yards, open fire. And take real good aim.”

Not even waiting for Otto’s instructions, the men had already put the enemy in their rifle sights, and pale blue flames licked from nozzles of flamethrowers already filthy from oily smoke.

The glowing points had given way to their true shape. They were steadily approaching. Advancing smoothly, as if caution had been thrown to the wind, they sent unsettling ripples through the hearts of the defenders.

“One hundred yards!” the man with the scope called out, and simultaneously fiery streaks stained the twilight with red. Sparks flew where the men’s rounds hit the cylindrical bodies. The enemy’s advance was unaffected—each and every bullet slid right off its target.

“Fifty yards! Forty!”

The instant the lookout informed them the enemy had reached the thirty-yard mark, two plumes of fire assailed their foes. The flamethrowers had been biding their time. Right on target, the flames spread around the points they struck, but then quickly slid off. The outer skin of these cylindrical foes had been specially treated to shed oil just as easily as water.

The men heard the announcement for twenty yards. A massive explosion staggered the cylinders. Blasts in rapid succession enveloped their foes in smoke and flames. It was their final weapon— grenade launchers.

From the depths of that black smoke, silvery bodies came into view. They quickly peeled through the barricades, using their tentacles to tear them to pieces. At first appearing only a dozen feet long, they’d stretched to over sixty feet in length.

“Fall back. Make a run for it!”

Without even waiting for Otto to give his command, the men began to flee. One of the cylinders that had dismantled the barricade sent tentacles wriggling after them like serpents. Two men were captured. Their cries were like the gasps of dying men. Swiftly raising the men thirty feet off the ground, the cylinder used another tentacle to drive a needle into the base of each man’s neck.

“Son of a bitch!” Otto shouted when the pair of corpses had been discarded at his feet, and he drew the saber from his hip. Standing still, he landed a blow on the body of the approaching cylinder. All

the force he’d put behind it was reflected right back at him, numbing him from the wrist to the shoulder.

A tentacle coiled around the leader’s torso. In agony and suffocating, like he was caught in a steel ring, Otto started to black out. His face instantly turned deep purple, and tremors raced through every inch of him. As he struggled, another tentacle approached the nape of his neck. The needle at the end of it glowed mysteriously in the fire of the flamethrowers.

The cylinder that held Otto began to slide off at an angle. Severed electrical systems gave off pale-blue waves of electromagnetism.

Grabbed by the collar and pulled free, Otto revived. A young man of unearthly beauty was looking down at him. Forgetting his fear, forgetting even the pain in his waist, all he could do was stare in amazement.

“Can you move?” D asked him.

Returning to his senses, he replied, “Yeah, I’ll manage.” He still hadn’t worked free of that feeling of intoxication.

“Go.”

Thrown back with tremendous force, Otto hit the back of his head against the ground. Madly scrambling to his feet, he turned and looked.

Apparently the cylinders recognized D as their new opponent. Aside from a few that continued to pursue the men, the rest charged in unison at the black-garbed vision of beauty.

Otto stared, shocked. The things had been cut apart! Every time the blade in D’s right hand flashed out, the cylinders that were impervious to bullets and flames were bisected with laughable ease, sending up fountains of blue sparks from where they fell on the ground. Each and every tentacle that stretched out to capture D was left severed.

“Behind you!” someone shouted.

The cylinders pursuing the men had circled around behind D. Before the figure in black could leap with lightning speed, the tip of an enormous spear skewered two of the enemy, which were sent flying into the air. The cylinders disappeared into the sky, and a pair of blue flashes a good hundred yards off to the right vanished.

No cheers rang out. The men had seen something they were never meant to see: a Nobleman more than twelve feet tall.

“I suppose I needn’t have done that,” Count Braujou said. He’d seen D execute a backflip that took him clear of the cylinders even before the Nobleman’s long spear had pierced them.

The spear in the count’s right hand whistled through the wind as he swung it. The men around him cried out and cowered. The Noble hadn’t just been flexing his muscles. His actions had clearly been a threat.

“It . . . it’s a Noble!” someone stammered, and that was like a signal to open the floodgates.

“He’s fucking huge!”

“He’s a freak . . .”

The voices of all were faint, weak, tremulous.

A basic fear of the Nobility had been branded into the human subconscious. Some said this was a result of an “education” the Nobility had given the human race at a genetic level more than ten thousand years earlier, but all records from that time had been destroyed, leaving no way to confirm this. Despite the scientific edge the Nobility possessed, the fact that in ten long millennia the human race had showed no hint of rebellion could conceivably be linked to that fear. And since the Nobility also knew this, it stood to reason they would become rather arrogant. As he peered down at the humans from a height of twelve feet, Count Braujou’s eyes held a distinct gleam of scorn. But since the survey party would’ve been annihilated if he and D hadn’t been there, that was understandable.

“Have you heard all they have to say, D?” Braujou said, his voice making the people cringe again as it rained down from on high. It was like the angry peals of a thunder god.

“I’m done,” D replied, sheathing his sword.

“Do we have any reason to remain here?”

“No.”

“Then let’s go. Valcua has already taken the boy hostage and laid plans to annihilate us. It makes no difference when we set off, but we don’t have time to dawdle here.”

The count broke off there, and he wore an expression of mild surprise as he surveyed his surroundings.

A thirst for blood hung in the air. Every member of the survey party had a weapon trained on the count. The men were quaking audibly, and the barrels of their weapons seemed to release a dense lust for killing that would turn into an inferno. The humans had suddenly exhibited the other reaction Nobles inspired in them—the urge to destroy them.

D stepped between them. “He saved your crew,” the Hunter said to Otto.

Otto had a four-barreled firearm pointed at the count. “Yeah. And we thank him for that,” he replied, giving D a sideward glance. Hatred burned in his eyes. And even when those same eyes were emblazoned with the youth’s beauty, this abhorrence never waned. “We’re grateful to you, too. But there ain’t a man among us who hasn’t lost kin on account of the Nobility. The battle to clean out the Capital went on for twenty damned years.”

“So, hating others is one of life’s little pleasures?” a hoarse voice commented.

For a moment, Otto’s eyes were riveted to D’s left hip. Returning his gaze to the Hunter, he said, “You—you’re a dhampir, right? That being the case, do you understand how the feelings run on both sides? Or maybe you don’t know how either side feels? Well, if you intend to intervene here, I’m afraid we can’t let you do whatever suits you at the moment. Back off. Otherwise, you’ll have to call on your skill with that sword to kill us.”

“You can’t slay him. Do you intend to die before you can even do your job?”

“That don’t bother us none.”

The men to either side of Otto turned the barrels of their firearms and rivet guns on D.

“My kid died after my wife ripped his head off. She’d been bitten by a Noble the night before.”

“My family was used as game when the Nobles had a human hunt. My dad, my wife, and both my daughters were run down by a Noble’s carriage and squashed flat. I had to go claim the bodies. Each of ’em had been run over
twice.”

“You’re a dhampir, right? Then get that sword of yours out. And put it to use against one side or the other. If possible, we’d like it to be against us. Because we’d just love to blow away a bastard with Noble blood in him.”

As madness eddied in their gazes, they reflected a pair of dark eyes that were cold and deep.

“D, don’t move,” the count said. “You don’t have to do a thing here. But I don’t want you to hold this against me later. The human in you, that is.”

Stillness descended. Every sight and sound had been absorbed by the madness of these two species. And it was all a million miles from D—both the human loathing and the Noble ire. He belonged to neither group. Would his sword be drawn, or would it remain in its scabbard? And if it did flash out . . . whom would it be used against?

In the early evening, the lust for blood congealed, seeking death.

“Please, wait!” an unexpected voice called out, pushing back the darkness and the will to kill.

The eyes of the men and the count—and even D—turned in unison toward the Nobleman’s car to behold the lithe figure that stood by its door. Sue ran forward, coming close enough that the men could make out her features. Unable to stand this volatile situation, the courageous girl had left the car. But how had she managed that? The vehicle’s main computer had been ordered not to let her leave under any circumstances.

Taking a long look at D, the count grinned wryly. The Hunter’s left hand was missing—that explained how Sue had managed to leave the car.

“Please, stop this fighting. These people are here to protect me.” First, a wind of bewilderment seemed to blow through the ranks of the men, but it soon became one of surprise.

“Protect you? A Noble protecting a human being?”

“Where are you from, girl?”

“Forget that—are you even human? Show us some proof.”

“Yeah, good point!”

Shock and doubt and anger became a rumble that crashed down on every inch of Sue. The storm of voices was almost like a physical blow, but Sue stood still and took it without moving a muscle. From the moment she’d left the car, she was prepared for whatever might come.

Their grumbling died down. Otto had stepped to the fore. Looking first up at the count, then down at Sue, he asked in a hard tone, “Girl—are you human?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s your village? And what’s your name?”

After Sue had answered him, he continued, “It’s hard to believe you’re traveling with a Noble and remain unharmed. He hasn’t done anything to you, you say?”

“That’s right.” Sue puffed up her chest. This was where she had to do her best. “The count hasn’t done anything. He’s merely come here to keep me safe, and to rescue my brother.”

“You got any way of proving nothing’s happened to you?” one of the men shouted out in a quavering voice.