Iriya the Berserker (6 page)

He ended in a cry of pain. A needle of stark wood, hurled by D, had pierced the white smoke—and Nogia.

“You—you son of a bitch—I can’t believe you . . .”

As he groaned in a tone of astonishment and despair, the pale pink ground rose up.

Leaping more than fifteen feet away from the thing bearing down on him like a tsunami, D went for the dagger on his hip with his right hand.

The white smoke suddenly pulled back. As it was sucked into the theater seats with surprising speed, it called to mind a deflating balloon.

There was no sign of Nogia.

“You threw a second needle at him, but it missed all his vitals? He’s not too shabby, either.” Sniffing loudly, the hoarse voice continued, “From the scent of blood, I think you might’ve nailed him in an artery. He won’t be moving for a while. But if Mitterhaus of all people is gunning for her, that girl sure must have a hell of a secre—gaaah!”

Jamming his left hand against the brim of his traveler’s hat, D charged toward where Nogia had been. His running speed was so great it seemed as if he flew there.

Blood had spilled on the floor, and D’s eyes followed a trail of splotches to a narrow exit. He headed for it without hesitation.

The Hunter’s left hand shifted from the hat to the hem of his coat, where it coughed and sputtered as it said, “As always, you’re a hard master for your left hand! You’re gonna make me get rid of all this strong acid, too?” It quickly continued, “What’s wrong? Snap out of it!”

One hand still braced against the stone wall, D was slowly sinking toward the floor. His back quaked, and the mass of blood he spat on the floor spread like a crimson blossom.

“Poisoned blood?” the hoarse voice said in a stuffy tone, holding its breath.

Less than a second later the next gob of blood flew, bringing a gory flower into bloom on one of the seats.

The sound of singing reached their ears less than five minutes after D had gone into town. Both of them looked around, but of course there was no sign of anyone. It was a phantasmal voice, seeming to come both from the heavens on high and the bowels of the earth—a woman’s voice that would hardly be described as beautiful, yet at some point both the idea of searching for the source of the song and that of fleeing to somewhere where they’d no longer hear it vanished from Iriya’s mind. The voice was like the threads of a mysterious spider’s web, snagging Iriya’s and Meeker’s brains, digging into them, restricting the movements of the most critical faculties.

Turning to Meeker, Iriya said, “Let’s go.”

“Okay.” Meeker nodded. His eyes, like hers, were strangely unfocused.

Taking the reins, the Huntress turned her cyborg horse around, and the two of them began riding back the way they’d come.

Before they’d gone five hundred yards, a desolate rocky place appeared to their right. A short time earlier, they’d passed this spot without any trouble. Here and there the rocks were punctuated with dashes of green in the form of such plants as rough bloom and water-free grass in patches of varying size but similar shape. In keeping with rumors that this had been one of the Nobility’s quarries in ancient times, chunks and slabs of cut stone were lying all around.

It soon became apparent that the pair’s destination was about a hundred feet ahead: a slab of rock that lay at an angle with its right end sticking up.

Who would’ve thought to cut such a piece of stone, how had they managed it, and why had they abandoned it? Though the end was only about thirty feet in the air, the slab seemed to stretch through the entire quarry, easily surpassing six hundred feet in length. It was about thirty feet wide, and more than ten feet thick. The apparent foolishness of whoever had cut it was overridden by the sense of grandeur the slab inspired, with its mass probably in excess of three hundred tons.

Even on seeing the beautiful woman seated at the upper end of the slab brushing her hair, the two travelers didn’t reveal so much as a wisp of emotion on their faces.

Before long they’d crunched across the rocks to reach the base of the stone slab, at which point the singing seemed to cut off.

If a student or a scholar who’d heard the ancient legends had been there, they probably would’ve been able to recall the name of the siren who sat atop an enormous stone, possessed of a rare singing voice that bewitched those steering their boats up and down the great river below and led them to reduce their craft to flotsam on the jagged rocks.

Dressed in a gossamer robe of silver, the woman had hair so golden the light of the sun paled by comparison. After standing up and bounding from the stone, she landed lightly in front of the pair. Her robe seemed to go on forever, its folds swaying elegantly in the breeze.

“Welcome. My name is Lorelei. I’m so pleased you seemed to enjoy my song.”

Iriya knew instinctively that this woman was evil. Her alluring singing voice, the spectacularly acrobatic entrance she’d made, and more than anything, the sensuousness and air of the supernatural that billowed from her captivating form were proof of that. She had to get Meeker to a safe place so she could counterattack. However, that notion dissolved in the powerful acids of her brain, changing, keeping Iriya from fighting.

Still, on seeing the Huntress’s hand beginning to creep toward the scabbard on her hip, the woman—Lorelei—smiled alluringly.

“Even a full-fledged warrior can’t move a muscle when he hears my song. You’re really something special. It’s no use, though. Hear it once, and you’re my slave. Now, come with me.”

The woman took Iriya’s horse by the bridle and was about to walk away when she halted. Looking behind Iriya, she said, “Can’t have any unnecessary baggage. I have no use for you, so I’ll do away with you here.”

Gesturing with one arm to the end of the stone slab she’d occupied, she said, “There’s something interesting just over there. See it—and die.”

Though her tone was businesslike, there was enough seductiveness in Lorelei’s voice to make up for it. Even a grown man would do whatever she said without being under her spell, and no other man would blame him for it.

Nodding, Meeker got down off the horse.

Watching the diminutive figure skillfully scramble up a rock shelf, the beauty who called herself Lorelei twisted her lips into an evil grin and then started down the road Iriya had come by. And as she did, the terrible siren song once again began to issue from her vermilion lips.

The same song reverberated in Meeker’s brain. And as it did, the suggestion he’d just received—to see what was over there and die—became a powerful compulsion. He didn’t have strength enough left to fight it.

Reaching Lorelei’s slab of stone, the boy climbed to the top and looked over the other side. And there he stood, rooted. A scene spread before him. Though interesting, it could hardly be called fascinating. In his present state of mind, nothing Meeker saw would move him, but even if he’d been in his right mind, he probably wouldn’t have comprehended what he was seeing. Or not so much
what
as
where
.

The rock had been cleanly cut away to a depth of three feet in an area almost thirty feet square. On the midpoint of each side just beyond the edge of the nearly square depression were holes for what must once have been pillars, and judging by the face that remained on a ten-foot-tall religious icon that stood before the hole on the northern side, this had been, if not a temple, then at least a place for some sort of religious rituals. However, it was undoubtedly something other than this that Lorelei had described as interesting.

In the carved-out section were steep stone steps, a huge stone altar, some sort of washing area, and rust-covered machines whose purpose was unknown, and bizarre creatures were wriggling on or around all of these things. A human adult might barely be able to get their arms around the thick, ten-foot-long body of one of these creatures. In form they resembled colossal leeches, while their supple movements called to mind a smaller version of the great worms. There seemed to be dozens of them, and the way they writhed in the sunlight, twitching and twisting, was so horrible it would’ve caused the boy to run away screaming had his will been his own. In fact, Meeker’s feet became rooted for an instant, Lorelei’s suggestion forgotten. However, it was only for an instant, and erasing the vision of terror that filled his eyes, the boy walked toward the awful workroom of death without further hesitation.

The creatures infesting the work area were carnivores. While most similar species usually inhabited dark, swampy areas, this kind could also operate in daylight, which aided them in gathering food. The secret of their vitality was pressurized water reserves stored beneath their skin, which allowed them to remain aboveground for nearly twelve hours. Their nest was under this area, and they would periodically surface and crawl around, feeding on spiders and birds—and travelers.

And now the sort of delectable morsel they hadn’t tasted for decades was headed into their midst. Their olfactory senses caught the odor of their prey, sensors in their skin cells felt the vibrations of feet making contact with the ground, their hearing made out the footsteps—they could even catch the sound of the blood pumping through the prey’s veins. They lacked sight. The writhing denizens of the earth’s depths had no use for eyes. The remaining senses conveyed everything.

Big. Soft. Tasty.

That was how the information would’ve looked in human language, and their primitive senses transformed the hunger that pervaded them into adrenaline. Moving their long bodies just like inchworms, the invertebrates raced toward their prey.

Two forces tormented Meeker. One was Lorelei’s command to die, the other a primal wish for self-preservation—and though the two urges clashed, he backed away only a single step before halting.

One of the insects before him had closed to within ten feet. It had a blunt head split in a cross shape. Its crimson maw had rows of stark fangs like glassy thorns.

A streak of light fell from the sky. Over Meeker’s head, the small gleam became dozens of arrows of light that lanced through the insects’ bodies. Surprisingly enough, the projectiles pierced the very rock. Most of them had found their mark, but the few that hadn’t were jutting from the stone of the quarry.

Perhaps those strays had been intended for the creature that ignored its shuddering compatriots and launched itself at Meeker. However, just as its pernicious fangs were about to close on the boy’s head, a horizontal streak of silver pierced the loathsome insect.

On landing, D hurled three more needles that impaled the remaining creatures, then coughed violently. The left hand he used to cover his mouth was stained with blood.

“You haven’t fully recovered yet—and I ain’t so hot, either.”

Even when Meeker heard the hoarse voice say that, his color didn’t return, and he looked impassively at D and his ghastly state.

“He’s mesmerized, I’d say,” the hoarse voice remarked, sounding somewhat pained.

D put his bloodstained hand to Meeker’s head.

“Well, I’ll be—he’s been captivated by the Lorelei’s song. Not good. He’ll stay this way until the one who bound him is slain or the spell is broken!”

“You could do it, couldn’t you?” D said. His lips and mouth were both covered with fresh blood. Even racked by deadly poison, he had a voice as cold as ice and steel.

“Yeah. It’s pretty painful, though!”

“For which of you?”

“Me, actually.”

The Hunter’s hand went flat against Meeker’s brow. A faint groan could be heard, but D paid it no mind, surveying his surroundings as he held the pose.

A cloud rolled across the heavens. The shadow it cast on the earth casually crept from east to west, and when it reached the young man and the boy in the quarry, D had already taken his left handaway.

Scooping up the reeling Meeker, he went over to the impaled insects. Piercing them at an angle and sticking into the rock below were silver arrows over two feet long.

“Silver,” the hoarse voice murmured, sounding impressed.

“Silver, as a protection against evil?” D said, evaluating the balance of one of the arrows as he looked up at the sky.

“Could it be . . .” With those hoarse words, a human face began to rise from the palm of D’s left hand. Astonishingly enough, it was grinning. “Was it
that girl
, D?”

D clenched his fist. With a squeal, the human face faded. Its appearance had been fleeting.

Shaking his head a bit, Meeker asked, “Did someone scream just now?” He was staring at the Hunter’s left hand.

“You must’ve imagined it.”

“Okay . . .”

The stupefied boy still didn’t quite comprehend either this situation or the one before it, yet his ears caught a voice not entirely angry or cold, saying, “What, are you trying to weasel out of this? If we’re talking silver arrows here, it can only be
her
. Gianne—gaaaah!”

D gave his hand a violent shake, as if to deal it the coup de grâce, and then asked, “Can you walk?”

Nodding, the boy stiffened. He’d just remembered the business with the demonic invertebrates. Wrapping his arms around himself, he was starting to collapse when D said to him, “Iriya was taken.”

The Hunter’s words ran a stiff wire through the boy’s sagging frame.

“
Taken?
Where is she?”

“You were the last one to see her.”

Stunned, Meeker shrank back. The little blue eyes in his tiny face blinked repeatedly, then unexpectedly focused on a point in space. “Oh, that’s right! There was this woman named Lorelei—and she went that way!”

He pointed in the direction of the road that’d brought D there.

“How long ago was this?”

After thinking for a moment, the boy replied, “I don’t really know. Ten minutes, maybe twenty—”

“I’m going after them. You wait here.”

“No! No way am I doing that!”

“I’ll bring her back. You’ll just be in the way.”

The boy fell silent. “I—I could help . . . somehow.”

“No one’s after you. Just stay here a while.”

Without waiting for Meeker’s reply, D leapt from the stone lip and sailed through the air.