Noble Front Page 2

  The wireless operator was expressionless as he read it, and expressionless as he sent it.

  Once he’d finished, he turned to the customer and asked, “What happened?”

  Jacos just nodded at him from the floor, slowly getting back into his chair. His relief had been so great, he’d fallen right out of it.

  “Well, can’t say as I’m surprised,” the operator remarked knowingly. “Not after reading this. Could it be the grand duke’s up to something?” the man asked, his face full of dark curiosity.

  “Thank you kindly. Be seeing you,” was all Jacos told him, paying him before he went back outside.

  As the operator watched him go from his window, he couldn’t stop trembling.

  Poor bastards. Just because they happened to be near the castle, they were gonna end up with a village full of dead folks. But who’d have ever thought it? Who’d believe they’d send for him, of all people?

  Though frozen to the core, the operator’s body felt strangely feverish. Gotta be coming down with something, he thought.

  All that just from seeing one name.

  The seventeenth, 12:38 AM Eastern Frontier Time

  The operator was just bringing his sandwich to his mouth when the door suddenly opened.

  “Mmm, that looks tasty,” said the person who’d come in, a giant so obese the man nearly spat his food out in surprise. The floorboards creaked as he approached.

  “The secretary from the next village over came in here, right? No need to try and hide it. There ain’t any reason he’d come all the way over to your town unless it was to use the wireless office. Everything else they’ve got back in Schwartzen. Let’s have a look at that message.”

  “No can do, mister. I ain’t allowed to show other folks’ personal communication records to anyone. They’d have my head for that.”

  “Wouldn’t that be better than having it cut off for real?”

  The operator had decided he had no choice but to put up a fight. Even if he tried to cover it up, he’d wind up in the hangman’s noose or the guillotine for violating the privacy of their customers. For weapons, he had the sidearm on his hip or the knife strapped to his calf. Judging from his opponent’s physical condition, he’d have time enough to use either, but the fact that the giant was talking so tough while unarmed made the operator think he must’ve been pretty powerful. At a nearby village, for example, there was a school that taught martial arts for use against the Nobility. Most amazing of all was the fact that they also taught the Nobility’s martial arts—that is, the fighting techniques the Nobles had used. Such places took the good with the bad, training friend and foe alike.

  “Okay, I’ll let you see it. Hold on a minute.”

  The operator was just about to pull out the previous month’s list of messages when he noticed something strange about the obese giant.

  “You sure are sweating up a storm. Came by horse, did you?”

  “No.”

  “You walked, then?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You’re breathing hard, too. But if you walked here—did that fella who was in here earlier outrun you or something?”

  “Nope. And enough of the idle chitchat. Hurry up and show it to me.”

  “All righty,” the operator replied easily enough, tossing the list to the intruder.

  Catching it less than elegantly, the obese giant glared over at the operator, then began flipping through the pages. The look in his eye quickly changed, and he snarled, “Son of a bitch, you trying to pull a fast one on me?!”

  But by the time he slammed the list down on the floor, the operator had the barrel of his pistol pointed at the obese giant. Loudly cocking the hammer, he triumphantly declared, “Okay, what say you and me pay a call on the sheriff’s office?”

  Not seeming the least bit frightened, the obese giant replied, “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” and leaned way back.

  Apparently, the move wasn’t out of surprise. The proof of that was the way the giant’s stomach suddenly popped out. Over three hundred pounds to start, his body had just swollen to two or three times its former size.

  The operator pulled the trigger.

  A tiny hole opened in the wall of flesh that’d closed to within a foot and a half of the man. That was all.

  The flabby, pink wall jiggled closer.

  Early the next morning, the operator’s corpse would be discovered in the splintered remains of the building, a look of terror etched on his face. Examination by a doctor would reveal that he hadn’t suffocated, but rather that his heart and lungs were punctured by his ribs, all of which were broken, in addition to him succumbing to excessive fear.

  The seventeenth, 1:18 AM Eastern Frontier Time

  On hearing the obese giant’s news, the Professor leapt up.

  “It can’t be . . . Not him . . . Is he in the vicinity?”

  “The message should be posted at every sheriff’s office on the Frontier by now.”

  “So, it’s too late, then? You think he’ll see it?”

  “He’ll see it, all right,” Lascaux assured the old man.

  “If that’s the case, we’ll have to get rid of him . . .”

  “A hundred thousand dalas.”

  “Whaaat?!” the Professor exclaimed, giving the giant a look that could kill.

  “That much, and I’ll do it.”

  “But we’re talking about—”

  “If he stands on two legs, that’s all that matters,” Lascaux replied. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to fight him. Got a plan and everything.”

  “Really?”

  The obese giant gave him a grave nod. His multiple chins jiggled.

  “I see. We’ll have to put in to the Capital for it as a special expense. So you’ll have to wait until later to get paid. Our current funds are for negotiations with Grand Duke Bergenzy.”

  “Sure,” Lascaux replied with a nod. Though from where the Professor was, he couldn’t see that because of the man’s enormous belly.

  “Is that okay with you?” the old man asked, needing to know for certain. Having a lackey whose face he couldn’t see presented its own problems.

  “It’ll be fine,” said the voice from the other side of the belly.

  “This is an urgent matter! I’ll check on his location immediately. Get rid of him before he makes it here.”

  “Just leave it to me,” the giant replied, slapping his belly with an arm as pale as a woman’s. Although the sound was normal, the Professor got the feeling he’d heard the striking of a big drum.

  The eighteenth, 10:15 AM Eastern Frontier Time

  After coming down from the Yogami Pass, the traveler in black halted his cyborg horse. He wore a wide-brimmed traveler’s hat, and a scarf as black as his coat covered his face from the nose down. Now all that remained was the road across the plains that would lead him to his destination. Beyond the flat expanses that spread to either side of him, chains of green mountains sat in solemn splendor. And beyond those were towering blue mountain peaks that averaged more than thirty thousand feet above sea level. Their summits were hidden by clouds. It was said that if only they could be knocked flat, life in the eastern Frontier would be ten times easier.

  Having been out in strong sunlight since dawn, the traveler seemed somewhat enervated. That was also partly due to the fact that the entire previous day had been spent in deadly battle with a formidable Noble.

  What brought him to a standstill was the rest area that stood to the right of the road. There was a post for hitching cyborg horses, as well as parking spots for wagons or light vans. Apparently the shop had opened recently, as it looked brand new.

  Tying the reins to the hitching post, the traveler passed through the doorway. Air-conditioning did nothing for the establishment, which looked large enough to accommodate around twenty, leaving the place even hotter than outside. There were three customers at the counter and another one at a table, and all were wiping at their sweat. Naturally, they were all enjoying
some cold beer.

  “Welcome, stranger.”

  The traveler was greeted by an awfully fat shopkeeper and a slender but incredibly busty young lady, both behind the counter.

  “How about a nice, cold beer?” the shopkeeper asked the new customer, who’d just taken a seat on a stool.

  The answer was cold and steely. “Give me a big mug full of ice,” he said. “After that, anything will be fine.”

  “Beer?”

  “Whiskey.”

  The buxom young lady was even more surprised than the shopkeeper, her eyes going wide. Because the hoarse voice just now had sounded like a completely different person.

  Giving the traveler an indescribable look, the shopkeeper then told the young lady, who was giving him the very same look, “Get him that ice and some whiskey.”

  Even the other patrons were looking in that direction, dumbfounded.

  “What’s everyone gawking at? I ain’t on exhibit here!” the hoarse voice barked, and everyone faced forward again.

  His order came. Taking a fistful of ice from the mug, the traveler put it against his brow. After about five seconds, he moved it around to the back of his head. And that was without removing his scarf.

  “Got a little heatstroke, do you?” the shopkeeper asked somewhat dubiously.

  “Close enough,” the hoarse voice replied. “That, plus I’m wounded. You can see all the way down to the bone!”

  “Sounds serious. Jessica, go get the first-aid kit.”

  “No need,” the traveler told the rattled shopkeeper in the first voice he’d used, pulling down his scarf.

  There was a dull thud over by the door that led to the back room. The young lady—Jessica—had fallen flat on her ass. Her face was melting with rapture.

  “What a . . . what a gorgeous man,” she managed to say, the words escaping like a moan, and no one there would contradict her. “You . . . you wouldn’t happen to be . . .”

  “He’s D,” one of the patrons said in a quiet tone that carried a touch of fear.

  III

  It seemed as if all sound had been lost from the world. They had gazed upon a being that carried the weight of both the sacred and the profane.

  “You’ll have to excuse him for that,” the shopkeeper said, unconsciously wiping his brow.

  The patrons all got up at the same time.

  “See you later.”

  “Nice place you’ve got here. Be seeing you,” they told the shopkeeper, leaving payment and a tip on the table as they left.

  “Whoa, you’re driving me outta business,” the shopkeeper said with a wry grin, looking over at D and then averting his eyes time and again.

  D’s left hand took hold of the whiskey glass, seeming to press it against his palm. On seeing the amber-hued liquid disappear completely, the young lady bugged her eyes.

  Grabbing another fistful of ice with the same hand, D got off his stool and said, “I’ll get out of your hair.”

  A coin rattled against the counter.

  “Hold up, there. We’ve precious little chance of any more customers coming by at this time of day. Instead of rushing off, sure you won’t stick around and have another drink?”

  “In that case, I’ll take three more whiskeys.”

  The hoarse voice nearly made the eyes pop out of the heads of both the shopkeeper and the young lady. And the same thing happened again when the palm of D’s hand downed the contents of those three glasses in rapid succession.

  “Sure can handle your liquor,” the shopkeeper said with a satisfied grunt. “How about it? Have another? Does my heart good to see somebody belting ’em back like that. Next one’s on the house!”

  “Only if this one doesn’t have any paralytic drugs in it,” said a voice of steel.

  Huh? the young lady seemed to say, her eyes wide as she looked at D—and then at the awfully fat shopkeeper.

  “Stuff’s supposed to be colorless and odorless, but I guess that doesn’t hold for the man known as D, eh?” the obese giant said in a voice that sounded like someone else’s.

  “No, it’d work. If you weren’t wiping away nonexistent sweat, I wouldn’t have been on my guard.”

  “Kinda overdid it with my performance, then?” the obese giant said, leaning way back.

  The buttons popped from his shirt. His stomach spilled out. Rolling over the counter, it began to fill the establishment like a flesh-colored wave.

  “Wh-what the hell’s this?! H-he’s—” the waitress Jessica stammered, frozen in her tracks.

  “He’s a freak,” the hoarse voice said.

  “Get out.”

  As if driven by that steely voice, the young lady dashed for the door. But as soon as she caught hold of the doorknob, she cried, “Ah! It won’t open!”

  “Sorry about this, Jessica. Here you’d just found a job, and now you’re outta work already!” the obese giant said, his existence now limited to simply his voice.

  The counter splintered. The blob of flesh already reached the ceiling, and was crushing tables and chairs as it pressed forward.

  “That’s one hell of a fatty,” the hoarse voice said, tension in its tone. “So, you threw this place together? Let’s have your name and your game.”

  “Lascaux’s the name, and you’d do well to remember it,” the approaching wall of flesh told the traveler. The whole shop seemed to be speaking. “As for my game—you’ve gotta know what I’m here for, right?”

  “To keep us from getting to Schwartzen? What are you, anyway?”

  “You mean it didn’t say in that message from the mayor? Then you’ll die not knowing. There’s no way you can cut me. It ain’t like you can let the air outta me like a big balloon. This might hurt a little, but hell, you’ll be at peace soon enough.”

  A wall of flesh stood blocking the girl—and D.

  “Goddamned fatty,” the hoarse voice groaned.

  “Wh-wh-what are we gonna do?” the young lady—Jessica—asked, her face the very picture of insanity.

  “Leave it to us,” said a hoarse voice brimming with confidence.

  The instant its words filled Jessica with surprise and relief, she saw a glint out of the corner of her eye. There was the sound of flesh being cleaved. Crimson stained her whole world.

  The shop around them screamed, “Gaaaaah! You cut me?! You lousy freak!”

  An incredible force swept Jessica to the rear. She knew she was about to hit something, but she broke through it with only the slightest resistance and fell down on the ground outside.

  The shop was collapsing before her very eyes. The roof and walls spread across the ground, reduced to dust that was then swept away by the wind. The place had been built from material that was supposed to do exactly that.

  And beyond the dust, a strange—although “monstrous” might’ve been more appropriate—thing was writhing. It was the obese giant, his belly spread around his feet like a flesh-colored mountain. The enormous belly was split by a massive gash, and a waterfall of blood spilled out to soak the ground.

  “I’ll get you for this!” Lascaux cried, grinding his teeth. Bloody foam ran from the corners of his mouth.

  “Hmm, didn’t hit anything vital, eh? Being a fatty has its advantages,” the hoarse voice laughed.

  “Shut up!”

  Suddenly, the fleshy carpet took to the air. It happened with such ungodly speed it drew a cry of surprise from the hoarse voice. Quickly rising a hundred and fifty or two hundred feet, it sprinkled fresh blood like a crimson rain as the obese giant flew off to the east. But as the traveler watched, the giant plunged suddenly, then sprang up again. Repeating that over and over again, he vanished.

  “Sure is good at making his escape. Weird freaking fatty. Think he’s gone back to Schwartzen to report in?”

  D went over to his cyborg horse, stroked its neck once, then eased into the saddle. As he got back on the road, Jessica followed after him.

  “Hold on there,” the young lady said. “Give me a lift back to my house.
My horse seems to have bolted.”

  “A lot of people pass this way,” said the steely voice.

  The cyborg horse had already begun to walk away.

  “Hey, wait. So, you just intend to leave a woman alone out here? Give me a ride.”

  Although Jessica ran after him, D didn’t even look back. His business there was finished. His only interest lay in his next destination.

  The air had begun to take on a bluish tinge when the cyborg horse arrived. When the Hunter asked a gawking boy where the mayor might be found, the answer he got was, “In the graveyard.”

  The old man had collapsed at noon the previous day and breathed his last then and there.

  “We’re too late,” the hoarse voice said with regret. “Our employer’s gone and kicked the bucket. The enemy’s really using their head.”

  “He didn’t die; he was killed,” a boy of twelve or thirteen said, looking D square in the face. His innocent young countenance was ablaze with fury.

  They were at the mayor’s home. D had waited out in front of it for the family’s return, having previously learned the house’s location from the boy, who hadn’t gone to the funeral. The graying widow and her son were accompanied by a man who identified himself as the mayor’s secretary.

  “I read about the situation in the message,” D said.

  “We received your reply from the town hall in the neighboring village,” the widow replied softly. The impression she made was just as tranquil as her tone, having supported her husband for five terms over the last decade. “My husband looked like he was in heaven when he got it. He couldn’t believe that you—D—had taken the job. He said now the village and the human sacrifices would be spared.”

  “And now he got sent off to heaven, so there’s nothing we can do,” the boy spat.

  “Don’t say that, Puma,” the widow said, glaring at her son, and the boy fell silent. “Your father had a heart condition, and Dr. Chavez told us that, didn’t he? So stop bringing up those baseless accusations.”