The Tiger in Winter Read online

  “That’s a relief,” she said with a smile that faded as soon as she looked at D. She was worried about a rift between the Hunter and the duke.

  “Be at ease. This man is here because he’s supposed to slay me. Should I decide to fight him, it would be exactly what he desires. For he would no longer need to waste time tarrying here. And I am in no particular hurry to be destroyed, for that matter.”

  “Again, that’s a relief to me,” the woman said, surveying her surroundings. “Pardon my asking, but are there any ladies in this castle?”

  “If you wish to meet some, I’ll summon a hundred.”

  “No, it’s just that in the Capital, there were rumors that Duke Van Doren was well served by a human lady-in-waiting. That the brave and decisive Nobleman known as the Tiger should have such a person in his employ comes as a true revelation.”

  “She died,” said the duke. Because he said it so matter-of-factly, as if it were something that’d happened long ago, Valerie couldn’t really assess his reaction.

  “And there you have it.”

  The woman was stunned. She looked at D’s left hand while still trying not to see the Hunter. “I heard that hoarse voice,” she said. “But does that mean—you’re responsible for her death, too?”

  “Nope. It was suicide,” the hoarse voice replied.

  “That’s enough,” D said, and Valerie’s expression softened at the sound of his voice.

  “I’ll be going, then,” she said. “Our survey will begin early tomorrow morning, as scheduled.” Looking out the window, she added, “Oh, it’s dark out already. D, would you be so kind as to accompany me? Please?”

  It was a rash request.

  “I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Valerie said to D, who galloped alongside her on the left.

  The light truck made of heavy paper had pulled out of the castle grounds and was driving back toward the village of Machitez. The resilient cardboard varied in thickness from a fraction of an inch to more than an inch thick, and it was so tough and, more importantly, weighed so little that it was often used for collapsible trucks or aircraft. And this one had a gasoline engine.

  Valerie was quite an accomplished driver.

  “I owed you,” D replied from atop his saddle.

  “Oh, that? I just saw a guy pointing a rifle at you and shouted to you. Even if you’d taken that lead slug, it wouldn’t have done much to you.”

  “A debt is a debt.”

  “That was like ten years ago. I’m just happy that you remembered me.”

  The moon was halfway across the sky. It was a waxing crescent.

  Little shapes frightened by the wheels and hooves scurried off to either side of them. The horse and the truck raced across a barren landscape of nothing but dirt. But the fact that they could still see lights in farmhouses was a testimony to how safe the night was. Humans who feared the Nobility were in fact being protected by a Noble.

  “A spot like this is a treasure trove to us,” Valerie remarked, letting her eyes speed across the ground to either side. “Dig down a thousand yards and you’ll find all the Noble ruins you could ever want. And there’d be the kind of Noble tech and sorcery that humans still don’t understand, though we know if we get some of the stuff from their early days we can basically manage to figure it out.”

  “So, you ain’t after proof of the wisdom of the antiquity, just some doo-dads that’ll make you stinkin’ rich?”

  “Where are you hiding, you bastard?” Valerie snarled with a glare in the direction of D’s left hand, but she quickly gave up. “So I heard you were here to slay the duke,” she said. “Is that true?”

  “Yeah,” D replied in his own voice.

  “I feel like I just got let into Heaven. In that case, you’d be willing to take on another job, wouldn’t you? Would you hire on with us as a guard?”

  “I’m a Hunter,” the hoarse voice replied.

  “And there I go, straight down to Hell!” Drawing a pistol from her belt, Valerie pointed it at the Hunter’s left hand.

  “Shoot me and you’ll have all the little beasties down on you.”

  “I don’t know who you are or where you’re hiding, but that’d be better than having to hear your voice again after D’s.”

  “The hell it would, you wannabe scholar.”

  “What’d you just call me?!”

  “The fact that you’d come out here to a Noble’s domain without any real protection just proves you’re soft in the head. You’re supposed to be a scholar, lady? Surveying ruins? Oh, don’t make me laughUGHH—?!”

  “I’d tell you not to let it bother you, but it’s probably no use, so fire if it’ll make you feel better,” D said, taking his left hand off the reins, spreading the fingers, and turning the palm toward Valerie.

  “Not a chance. Truth be told, I regret even having a gun pointed at you. It scares me.”

  Nothing from the Hunter.

  “Long ago, there was a massive war between Nobles in these parts, you know?”

  “Hmph, any idiot knows that,” the hoarse voice snorted.

  “I’ll shoot you.”

  “What of it?” asked D.

  “Well, this time we didn’t get permission for the site, but the duke had a battle out in this wasteland with some other Nobles who didn’t like the way he was running things. The duke prevailed despite an inferior force. They didn’t have the numbers. Now, if he’d been up against humans or weak Nobility, that would be one thing, but his foes were all formidable opponents. The duke used a certain weapon, though, and met them head-on, eliminating all of them. After deciding that the weapon should never be used again, he’s said to have either burned it or buried it deep in the earth.”

  “A weapon a Noble used, but that should never be used? Ain’t that a strange thing to bring up.”

  “You again?” Valerie said, cocking her pistol’s hammer.

  “Plus, I could see them saying he burned it, but why bury it deep in the earth? If you’re getting rid of a weapon as bad as all that, why would you choose a way that took so much time and effort?”

  “Some say the Sacred Ancestor was involved in it.”

  “That he gave the weapon to the duke?”

  “That remains a mystery, D. However, according to data at the Capital’s Bureau of Record Storage, there are indeed records of the Sacred Ancestor stepping in to end a dispute between rival Nobles. The part about rival Nobles more or less fits events, but it somehow seems off when it comes to the Sacred Ancestor coming out here. You know, I sometimes wonder if he wasn’t all that concerned about the Nobility.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  “We’ll be in Machitez soon,” D said. He said it curtly, as if none of the previous conversation had taken place.

  “I know, I know. Thank you for seeing me this far.”

  In less than a minute, they came to the curve in the road that led to the village.

  “See you.”

  She slowed down so she could say thank you, but the black horse and rider raced right by her and down the road. The speed of his departure and the utter rejection projected by his back as he dwindled in the moonlight let Valerie know that she’d been completely forgotten.

  III

  No one had any idea what the young man was thinking or feeling when he went into action like this. There was, in fact, only one thing on which everyone could agree. It was because he was too beautiful.

  Now, as D galloped along, white fog assailed him from behind, becoming monstrosities with long nails and sharp fangs that pulled up alongside him. Yet for some reason, they were surprised. Why did they fall into a stupor and pull back? And why did they leave again?

  From the road leading to Machitez, he galloped nearly sixty miles nonstop. Up ahead, there was the thunder of approaching hooves. And not just ten or twenty mounts. There had to be a hundred or even a thousand riders headed his way. When the forefront of that shadowy horde came into view, D
pulled off to the left side of the road and halted his cyborg steed. A strange, unearthly miasma flowed down the night highway. It was a host of knights. Not only were there cyborg horses, but some of them also rode android steeds, and all of the riders were garbed in Noble armor or combat uniforms. As evidence that the battle was over, the spears they held upright were broken, their armor dented and warped, and both their chainmail and the bodies beneath it had been rent wide. The thorns sticking out of their necks and backs were actually iron arrows. By the look of it, it’d been a losing battle, as all of them were now headless. Nevertheless, they sat high in the saddle as if this were a triumphal parade, reins gripped back by their chests as they proceeded in perfect unison.

  Before long the tail end of that lengthy, lengthy ghost procession had vanished into the darkness, at which point the hoarse voice flowed out over the plain, saying, “That looked like General Kiniski riding in the vanguard. Doesn’t have a head, but you can tell by the outfit. What the hell were those guys doing out here at a time like this, though?”

  “They finished a battle.”

  “Against who?”

  “Bandits, probably.”

  “Impossible—they beat Kiniski?”

  “If he’d won, he’d still have a head.”

  It was rare for D to make a joke, even a black one.

  “Well, I suppose you’ve got something there.”

  “That type of android isn’t just a machine serving in place of a person. The mind of a Noble is housed in its artificial brain, determining its actions. And now that they’ve lost their heads—”

  “The real Kiniski’s destroyed, too?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “Where are they going, then?” asked the hoarse voice.

  “Home.”

  “Van Doren’s castle? Why?”

  “We’d have to ask the one who sent them there.”

  For a moment, the source of the hoarse voice seemed taken aback. However, it soon said in a strangely forceful tone, “I suppose so. You’ve come all this way, after all.”

  It wasn’t speaking to D.

  The Hunter returned to the road. About ten yards ahead, a figure astride a bizarre horse was bathed in moonlight. He was completely shrouded by a gray hooded cape. And his face couldn’t be seen. He hadn’t just arrived. After the parade of the dead had gone, he’d waited there all this time for D.

  “You one of the former Evil Slayers?” D asked.

  “Leave it to the man known as D. I’m surprised you figured that out,” a voice responded from the darkness.

  “You know me, do you?”

  “A face as handsome as that I can see even with my eyes shut.”

  “You’re a Noble, aren’t you?” said D. And then he added, “You part of Sebastian Van Doren’s clan?”

  “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” the hooded figure said with a faint laugh. “My name’s Vulcan Lura. I’m in charge of the Pitch Black Gang.”

  “Why did you let the duke’s soldiers return?”

  “So that he’d know what we’re capable of. The damned duke will be trembling tomorrow.”

  “He’s the Tiger King,” D said, his voice carrying a rare bit of emotion.

  “I come out this way hoping to see the look of surprise on his face, but run into someone incredible. That’s perfect. I know you’re staying in his castle. I’d like you to walk away from the job.”

  “I’m not guarding the duke.”

  “Then what’s your reason for being in the castle?”

  “To slay the duke.”

  The hooded figure didn’t know what to say.

  “After the duke has disposed of the lot of you, that is.”

  Vulcan’s body seemed to pull taut. “I’m not the one who’s going to be disposed of.”

  Suddenly, Vulcan’s horse started to walk. His horse? No, though equine in shape, its entire body was covered with black hair, and the arrow-like spiraling horn that grew a good six feet from its brow would’ve made anyone think of a legendary beast. It was a unicorn. Actually, a black unicorn. As it walked, the horn jutting from its head at a forty-five-degree angle made a strange grinding noise and took aim at D’s heart.

  “White unicorns may be the embodiment of peace, but black unicorns are battle personified. And nobody it aims for can escape its horn.”

  D wheeled his horse around to the right. The horn followed suit. He turned left—and the same thing happened. Not wavering in the slightest, the tip of it remained aimed straight at D’s heart.

  “You’ll never escape now. And a death from a unicorn’s horn prevents any kind of resurrection. D, if you value your life at all, leave now.”

  “Stab me, then.” The Hunter’s soft reply seemed to come from the very moonlight.

  There was just over twenty feet remaining.

  “What?!”

  “There’s murderous intent radiating from every inch of you. Yet you don’t stab me, because you know the same thing I do. That is, if it stabs anyone, the unicorn’s horn falls off on the spot, and it takes a year to grow another one. Can you wait that long to attack the duke?”

  There was no reply from the hooded rider.

  “Quite a ghastly aura you’ve got there. But that alone won’t be enough to slay the duke—the Tiger. Or me, for that matter.”

  The wind groaned. It was D who charged forward, kicking off the ground. Pale blue sparks flew as iron-shod hooves struck stones. Having pointed a weapon at the Hunter, that made him the enemy. That was the way it was with D. If you drew on him, he’d cut you down. That was also D’s way.

  Closing five yards in no time, he swept by Vulcan’s right flank, and in his hand he gripped his blade.

  “Oh my,” the hoarse voice groaned.

  The blade definitely should’ve decapitated Vulcan. However, his head didn’t fall off, nor was his hood even cut, and the bandit leader swayed impassively on the back of his unicorn.

  “A unicorn rider is guaranteed immortality,” said the hoarse voice.

  Vulcan bent over. He’d pulled a rifle from a leather case attached to his saddle. Four barrels turned their black muzzles at D and belched fire. Paths of light seemed to link the weapon to D’s head and eyes.

  Estimating Vulcan’s timing in pulling the trigger off the tension of his arm and the average trigger pull weight, as well as inferring the highest possible velocity for a range of projectiles, the Hunter had bent his upper half over a split second before the flash of light. The bullets singed his hair.

  D was just about to pounce when a blistering pain made him groan. The four bullets that’d whizzed by had changed direction and buried themselves in the Hunter’s back. Two of them went clean through him, while the other two remained in his body. Upper body shaking, D spat blood onto the back of his horse.

  “You simply cannot evade an attack by a unicorn rider,” Vulcan laughed loudly. He’d undoubtedly laughed like this many times before. As he sat high in the saddle, he seemed brimming with confidence.

  What would each of them do next?

  There was no answer to that. The air rang with the metallic buzz of something in flight. It was a compact missile with a conventional warhead that exploded.

  Vulcan and his horse had taken a direct hit. The impact and flames tore them limb from limb and roasted their innards, respectively. To anyone, they would’ve looked like nothing but mangled corpses.

  However, the hoarse voice said in an almost crushed tone, “Look.”

  By the light of the moon, something was moving on the ground. A finger. Part of his head. His right arm from the elbow down. His heart and lungs. In unison, the parts began moving in the same direction as if drawn on strings.

  “They—they’re coming back!”

  Fingers rejoined hands, legs fused to torso, entrails were pulled back into the body, chunks of head stuck to other chunks, and eyes returned to sockets. And looming from the flames—a horn. The unicorn seemed to twist its pelvis as it got to its feet, on its back
a saddle—and Vulcan. Flames burned in spots on the man’s chest and shoulders like will-o-the-wisps, making Vulcan look ghostly.

  “They’re both immortal,” said the hoarse voice. “So long as they’re touching.”

  A pair of glowing eyes were coming down the road toward them. The headlights of the light truck. Most likely the missile had been fired by its driver—Valerie.

  “Stupid scholar. Well, the honeymoon’s over now.”

  Groaning that, Vulcan wheeled his unicorn around completely.

  “Let’s get together again when you’ve come up with a plan for killing me,” Vulcan spat. “And give the duke a message for me. Tell him I’m going to take everything from him.”

  And then he galloped off down the road.

  It was about two minutes later that Valerie raced over. “He got you pretty bad. Who was it?” she asked on seeing D’s condition, but her pained expression was soon to become a look of resentment.

  “You’re more cut out for being a warrior than a bookworm!” the hoarse voice remarked.

  “Shut up!” she shouted, her mouth going wide. But then she said, “There are medical facilities in Machitez. Hurry up and get in the truck.”

  “No need,” the Hunter replied, his voice like chill night air.

  “Huh?”

  Raising his right hand, D brought his thumb and forefinger to a gash near his solar plexus and pressed their tips into the bloody opening.

  “Hold it right there!” Valerie exclaimed, her eyes open wide.

  As she watched, the Hunter’s fingers sank into his wound up to the knuckles, and from the way his arm moved she could tell he was looking for something. Inside of two seconds, he pulled his fingers out again. Between them he held a pair of bloody slugs.

  “I think I might faint,” Valerie said, staggering. Her head really was spinning. Through a hazy world, she saw D turning his horse around. “What the hell are you dhampirs, anyway?”

  There was no reply.

  “Another debt I’ll repay,” the young man told her, but that was his way of saying thanks. Giving a kick to his cyborg steed, he disappeared down the road.