Vampire Hunter D: Dark Road Part Three Page B

hoarse voice asked.
    â€œYou see, the great General Gaskell . . .” the voice began, going on to disclose the bizarre three-for-one exchange and the names of all those involved. “Well, I have my own reasons for taking the girl. It’s my intent that the two of us flee together. Before I went, I thought I might take your life, but that won’t be so easy after all. Thanks to that sword, I can’t attack you from behind.”
    At D’s feet, something suddenly rose like a fog, covering him all the way up to his head. Light flowed out—a gleam that shouldn’t have been visible in the pitch-dark night. Two streaks of light cut through the fog, and then sank into the figure in black that leapt from it just after that. The fog vanished, and the sword was in D’s hand.
    Somewhere in the darkness, a voice reminiscent of a cry of pain was heard to say, “Not even my surprise attack works on you? There’s more than just this in the Dark One’s book of tricks, but I’m finished with you here and now. I’ll thank you to pray for my happiness with the little lady.”
    The voice dwindled in the distance, disappearing before long.
    D turned his gaze to the blade in his right hand. In an unusual turn of events, there was still blood on it. One swipe threw the gore to the ground at his feet. The instant it struck the earth, it spread and vanished in no time. Apparently, it was the shadow’s blood.
    â€œLord Rocambole, of all people?” groaned a voice that wasn’t D’s, from near the Hunter’s hip. “There’s a fiend to make any Noble regret being born a member of the Nobility—a born mass murderer. Rumor has it he’s the crazy bastard son of the Sacred Ancestor. And they called in someone like that ?”
    Catching its breath, D’s left hand continued, “Things are gonna get a whole lot more complicated. This trip has been the worst.”
    â€”
    The treatment continued until early the next afternoon, and the transporters were left with only eight villagers who looked like they would pull through.
    â€œGiven four or five days’ rest, you should make a full recovery.”
    Everyone nodded at Juke’s words.
    â€œWhat should we do next?” one of the older villagers asked, and utter silence descended.
    The village was completely cut off. No matter how the transporters might assert that the villagers had been cured of the plague, there was no way they’d be believed. Those blockaders intended to see the entire village of Hardue eradicated.
    â€œSo if they go out looking for help, they’ll just get gunned down?” Juke mused, folding his arms. “In that case, there’s only one thing we can do. Eh, boys?”
    Gordo and Sergei both nodded.
    Turning to the villagers, who’d stiffened into lumps, he said, “Relax. We’ll bring you someplace safe soon enough. Are all of you ready to leave this village behind and make a new life?”
    They all looked at one another. The five men and women past middle age looked anxious, but the three children had a sparkle in their eyes as one of them said, “Sure!”
    Juke and D stepped outside.
    â€œWe’ve finally managed to save them,” Juke said, sounding quite emotional.
    â€œIt’s because they could see the future,” D told him.
    â€œAin’t that the truth. Children are the strength of tomorrow. I’m just trying to give them a hand.”
    â€œGet them in the wagon,” D said unexpectedly. “I smell oil. Gasoline.”
    â€œWhat?” Juke exclaimed. As he crinkled his brow, he turned his gaze in the same direction as D’s.
    In the distance stood the palisade that surrounded the village, and from beyond it flew a rapid succession of arrows. Streaks of white trailed after them—flaming arrows. The instant they sank into the ground or roofs, flames spread for dozens of feet in all directions. Arrows