Miria stood by the window, angling the page she was reading to catch the last of the sun. The room she was in was small. Like most of the former Organisation headquarters it had been carved out of a limestone ridge, and its furnishings were sparse. The main feature was a bed upon which rested an oversized longsword and a pile of reports she had brought up from the archives. She alone among the four half-human half-yoma who remained here had trouble making out fine lettering and needed the extra light.
This weakness in her vision had never caused problems when she was a warrior. The yoma and Awakened she fought back then were larger and further away than words on a page, and she had used yoki to change the shape of her eyes when necessary. These days, things were different. There were, as far as she knew, no more monsters left, and she was reluctant to tap her yoki even for the most trivial of reasons. The glasses she had had made helped, but it was still easier to read by daylight.
The page in her hand was a sixty year old summary of a hunt involving five warriors - an unusual number - who slew a former number two in the Holst Mountains. Most of the names in it were new to her. This was unusual. Ever since the end of the Great Hunt seven months ago, Miria had made it her work to write an account of every man and woman who had lived, and died, under the command of the Organization. It was slow work, the men in black had left a century's worth of detailed records behind when they fled, but fascinating and worthwhile.
A century before and an ocean away, two powers had risen from the fighting that ravaged their continent and gone to war with each other. One of these nations had drawn the non-human Asarakam, Descendants of Dragons, into an allegiance. The other, the Empire of Alba, responded to this threat by developing a means of transforming humans into powerful, unstable creatures that were at least as much of a threat to their own forces as they were to the enemy. Further research was needed, and so the Empire established a base on an island country to the west where they carried it out.
There 'the Organisation', as the islanders knew them, had created flesh-eating monsters called yoma and unleashed them on the public. They then created half-human half-yoma hybrids by grafting yoma flesh and blood into the bodies of young girls. To hide their true objectives, they trained these hybrids to fight and hired them out as yoma exterminators - funding their work out of the pockets of the very people they were destroying. These slayers called themselves 'warriors' but were popularly known as 'claymores' after the weapons they carried.
Miria had been one of them. Many years ago now, when she was a child, the Organisation's men in black had laid her open and carved a monster into her. Her eyes had turned silver, her hair had faded to the colour of sun-bleached grass, her body became blade-thin, and she had gained yoki - a strange, demonic energy that gave her speed, strength, senses, and healing capabilities far beyond those of a human. This power came at a price: warriors who drew on it too deeply 'Awakened', becoming fearsome monsters who craved human flesh. These were the creatures that had so vexed Alba and creating such beings which could control their hunger had been the ultimate objective of the Organisation's research.
Nearly two years ago, Miria and her fellow warriors had rebelled against their masters and driven them from their land. Afterwards, they had hunted down and killed most of the yoma and all of the Awakened that ravaged their country. These days, she spent her time reading records from the archives, the sword she had wielded idle beside her.
She finished the report and was watching the sunset when she sensed something unusual: a human approaching the complex. Raftela, whose Eye was keener than hers, had noticed this too, and was heading in that direction, presumably to see what they were about. Visitors weren't unknown. Many had come seeking their aid once word got out that the claymores were exterminating monsters for free, and, on one memorable occasion, Zem-san, father of Alicia and Beth, had come seeking his children. This person had most likely come about a yoma. The Hunt had purged their country of Awakened - Galatea, the keenest living Eye, believed so and thus far Miria had seen nothing in the records to disprove her - but they'd missed a few of the lesser monsters here and there.
Miria collected the sword from where it lay on the bed and made her way down to greet their guest. Their old uniforms were reserved for special occasions now that those who had made them were gone, and her current outfit was a decidedly civilian cream-colored, knee-length wool dress topped by a long, pale indigo coat. A red and white striped scarf hid the upper part of the wound that ran the length of her torso - a legacy of the operation that had robbed her of her human body - and soft leather slippers covered her feet. It was important to encourage humans (and her comrades, for that matter) to think of half-human half-yoma as more than just monster slayers, and wearing ordinary clothes helped. That said, it would not do to show up in the capacity of commander looking too much like a clerk. She took off her glasses and put them in a pocket as she walked.
She met Raftela and the newcomer at the entrance to the central complex. He was a young man, not more than twenty, with a rangy, furtive look. He had a pack on his back and wore a thick sheepskin cloak. On his head was a somewhat battered sealskin cap that he took off as Miria approached, causing his dark hair to stick up at odd angles.
"Captain," Raftela stepped forward to meet her "This is Garm. He's come from Debussy village in the islands to the east. They're having trouble with a monster."
"Welcome," said Miria, smiling "I'm Miria. It's a pleasure to meet you; I hope we get along well. Please, come in out of the cold." She gestured to the door behind her with her free hand.
"Thank you, sir," mumbled Garm bowing stiffly and over-deeply as he stepped inside. He looked decidedly ill at ease, as did most of those who came seeking their help. Since the fall of the Organization, half-human half-yoma had become far more accepted by the people of their land than Miria had dared hope, but a century of fear and suspicion could not be undone in a few months.
"Can we offer you refreshment? A bed for the night?" She asked as they moved deeper into the complex of tunnels.
"Yes, thank you," their guest replied, trying unsuccessfully to hide his apprehension at the prospect of their hospitality. Raftela went off to see to his accommodation and Miria turned to the task of putting him at ease.
"I'm sure Raftela explained to you that we do not require payment in coin or kind for our services. Let me, as captain of the team who will kill your monster, assure you that this is true. It was the men in black who took your money and they're gone. All we ask of you is gratitude." Garm bowed again, and murmured his thanks, but did not show the relief Miria had come to expect from those words. Puzzled, she put on her friendliest face and asked him to tell her about this monster. Garm rubbed his hand through his hair, and, without making eye contact, began:
"I, um, probably should've said earlier, but it's not exactly a yoma..." This was unexpected but not unprecedented. One village had approached the Hunt about a troll that lived under a bridge and another had issues with werewolf attacks. Miria felt it was best to act on such requests anyway – at the very least it did no harm to appear helpful – and besides, the werewolf had turned out to be an Awakened one.
"We might still be able to help. Tell me everything you can." That was what Garm needed to hear. He sighed with relief and seemed to grow a hand span before ruffling his hair again and continuing:
"Well, for as long as just about anyone can remember, we've been haunted by a Sea-Witch."
Miria nodded. "Go on."
"Every so often, a boat will go missing or someone will go gathering shellfish and not come back. People just… vanish. Sometimes months, even years, will pass and nothing will happen but something always does, in the end. She likes young women best, and young men. We've lost more of them than we have old folk and children, anyway. She's got a familiar, a kraken, which takes boats. My uncle saw it once and he's not one to tell stories. He's not the only one – there's plenty of folks who have heard singing out by Eastcliff. I saw her once, diving off a rock. Scared me half to death, it did." He laughed nervously and shuddered.
"We've talked of sending for one of your kind as long as I can remember but we've not got the money and she's no yoma. I don't know if you can help us or not, but once we heard how generous you've been of late, well, I figured I'd ask." He shrugged and looked down. They had paused outside the room where the others were working; Miria hadn't wanted to break up his story with introductions. This sea-witch certainly sounded like it could be an Awakened one, but there were a few more things she wanted to know.
"How often does she take people?"
"Once a month, I'd say. It depends." Once a month… that was consistent with an Awakened one that was trying hard to avoid detection.
"And what has she done this past year?"
"Well," Garm paused, brow furrowed, "Nothing happened for a long, long while but old Abe didn't come back from fishing six months ago and we lost two more boats this past autumn. It's coming up two years since anybody has seen her, though." Miria nodded. The 'kraken' Garm spoke of must be the Witch's' Awakened form. She had never heard of one adapted for water, but had no reason to believe it was not possible. Galatea's Eye could inspect an entire region, but if the Sea-Witch swam to sea, then she could easily have traveled far enough away to evade detection. The lack of sightings since the end of the Hunt suggested she was keeping to the water where she would have an advantage over any warriors who came to slay her. Even so, Miria's research had turned up nothing to suggest that any particularly powerful Awakened remained after the battle with Priscilla and she was confident they could handle this new challenge.
"Thank you. I believe we will be able to help you with your Sea-Witch; certainly we'll come have a look. Now, please have a bite to eat." They opened the door and entered the hall of field reports. Shelves stacked high with documents stretched away into the gloom to their right. Opposite the door, there was a medium sized window under which was a table with a bench. At it sat Raftela, Norma, Sylvia, and Clio - a historian from Mucha who had offered to help with the project in exchange for access to the largest, most complete archive in their entire country. Miria had mixed feelings about her presence: on the one hand her instinct was that the affairs of the Organisation and its warriors did not concern humans; on the other, Clio knew more of research than any of them and Miria thoroughly enjoyed their conversations. Right now, she was glad of her presence: another human would calm Garm more than they ever could.
"This is Garm, he's come from Debussy village to ask for our help with a monster. Garm, allow me to introduce Norma, Clio, and Sylvia. You've met Raftela." They all inclined their heads to Garm, who bowed back, replying "It's an honor."
Most of the table was covered in papers, but the end at which Clio sat had been cleared to make way for a tray of bread and cheese, a jug of beer, and a candle. "Garm-san," she said "I was about to take my supper. Would you care to join me?" The young man nodded, and sat down as the half-human half-yoma, who seldom ate, filed into the hall and out of human earshot.
"How much of that did you hear?" she wanted to know.
"Enough to know it's most likely an Awakened one," Raftela replied.
"Norma, you've been working with the Awakened files. Any thoughts as to who this Sea-Witch might be?" Norma shook her head.
"I've not heard of any that lives in water. Maybe check disappearances or deserters?" Miria and Sylvia had done the most work on those. They looked at each other.
"Any ideas?" Miria asked.
"No, but there aren't that many. Shall we go have a look?" Miria nodded, and they went to the hall of personnel records while Norma and Raftela returned to reviewing hunt reports.
The organization kept a careful eye on its pawns and had no tolerance for renegades. In a hundred years, only a score of warriors had managed to slip their net. Miria suspected most of these were untraceable deaths, drownings and such, but there was no way of knowing for sure. At least five were deserters: the story of Hesperia, the sailor warrior, who'd stolen a boat and sailed into the sunset was widely known; she'd interviewed Irene, a former number two, for her chronicle; Galatea was an important ally; and they'd encountered one more during the Hunt.
She'd come walking down the road to Lautrec towards them, unarmed and dressed in human clothes. When Miria stepped forward to greet her, the newcomer had bowed to her as you would to a Queen; down on one knee with her hand on her heart. She turned out to be the next best Eye after Galatea, and a fair, if rusty, fighter. Tabitha's death had left them lacking long-range sensing capacity, and this warrior, who called herself Ash and answered all questions about her past with shrugs and averted glances, had been a welcome addition to their team. It was she who had warned them to stay away when Galatea sensed a flicker from what might have been a warrior hidden in the caves that riddled the west coast of Lautrec. Later, when Miria read how Persephone – a former number eight – used her knowledge of the caverns to ambush those sent to take her head, she was glad of the advice.
As they walked down the hall to the personnel room, Sylvia asked if there was anything else she needed to know.
"We're most likely looking for someone who awakened threescore years ago. That's when the Sea-Witch first appeared."
That narrowed it down to three: a number five, a number twelve, and a number twenty-eight. Of these, the single digit's last known location was Eastcliff. Miria tapped the page.
"She's the one,"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Numbers twelve and twenty-eight both disappeared in the Holsts. That's half a continent away. Go back to the reports room and tell the others to look for everything they can find about Michelle, number five of the fortieth period. I want to know everything I can: fighting style, favoured tactics, anything you find." Sylvia nodded, leaving Miria to read about the former number five.
She'd been an exceptionally talented Eye, that much was clear. Beyond that, she had been a defensive type and the warrior assigned to investigate her disappearance had found her sword standing in the ground above Eastcliff as though it were a grave marker. Miria read the file through again, as well as those of the number twelve and the number twenty-eight before leaving to touch base with the others and retiring to her room.
Miria left early the next morning with Raftela as soon as it was light enough to do so. Garm took his leave at the same time. They parted at the gate, Miria promising him that she would come to Debussy in time though it might be several months until she did. He nodded, understanding, and they took their leave of each other.
The journey to Rabona was uneventful. It was early winter, and as they moved inland the weather grew colder. Many of the towns they passed through remembered the Hunt and showed them hospitality. Some even knew her; they called her 'Captain' and prepared their best rooms. Miria would have been more comfortable sleeping rough in the cold, but it was important to spend time around humans, to remind them that half-yoma were not to be feared. The anxious generosity of the villages they stayed in was not what she wished for, but it was far, far better than the shuttered windows and closed doors of before. Besides, the mulled wine was tasty, she was learning to enjoy soft beds, and Raftela was fond of dancing. It was important to appreciate the good things the new era had to offer.
On the way, they visited the twins the Organization had raised to replace the super-weapons Alicia and Beth. They had bonded with Zem-san when he came seeking his daughters and now lived with their new family in Ravel, a small town near the old headquarters. They were doing remarkably well, considering, and it gladdened her heart to see it.
Three weeks later they arrived in Rabona. Galatea met them at the gate along with Dietrich, formerly number eight, and their human friends Cid and Father Vincent. Galatea, once number three, had been an active-duty warrior at the same time as Miria but had deserted nine years before when she could no longer bear the Organisation's callous disregard for human life. Blinding herself to conceal her silver eyes, she had found a new way of life as a nun in the holy city of Rabona. She disliked leaving the city, but had joined the Hunt towards the end to help track down and subdue elusive Awakened. Miria hoped that she could be persuaded to take up the sword again.
The six of them went to the Sheaf and Grapes to share drinks and gossip. Miria told them how her chronicle was proceeding, and they filled her and Raftela in on the goings-on of Rabona. The main excitement was that the former trainees had taken to playing tag across the city rooftops – drawing the ire of those who did not appreciate the damage a careless foot could do to tiling. In addition to this, Miata had become very devout and spent slightly more time praying than Galatea would have liked; Yuma and Galk were off visiting his hometown; Cynthia was in Alphonse with Anastasia and her friends looking to find and climb the highest peak in their country; and Ash, who had remained in Rabona after the Hunt, spent most of her time meditating and staring into fires.
Dietrich, who made it her business to find yoma the Hunt had missed, had news of their more distant comrades: Clare and Raki were on their way to Alfonse with Irene to pay their respects to Jean and Flora, Audrey and Rachel had built a house by the seaside in south Lautrec, and Helen was still in Mucha working at her family's inn. Dietrich had last seen her snarling at a pack of brats, her younger cousins chief among them, who trailed after her begging 'Scary Helen' to make monster faces. Eventually Vincent and Cid took their leave, leaving the four women to discuss what brought them together.
"So," said Galatea, setting down her drink "What's up? I doubt you came all this way to ask Vincent for his thoughts on paper ageing."
"No. We missed one; an Awakened."
Dietrich stiffened, her yoki tensing with excitement. Miria was not surprised by this; her comrade had a warrior's heart and had not yet found her way of life in a world at peace. Galatea, however, was decidedly unimpressed.
"Oh really" she said testily, "what makes you say that?"
Miria told them Garm's story, emphasizing the eyewitness accounts of both the woman and the monster.
"People are suggestible, Miria, you know this as well as I do. I won't leave my home and work to chase after rumors. What else have you got?"
"A name: Michelle, 'The Eye of the Hurricane'. She vanished near Debussy when the Sea-Witch first appeared. She was an Eye, a good one. I believe her form is aquatic and that she evaded detection by swimming out to sea. That would be consistent with the rumors of a kraken and her long absence while we were active." Galatea picked up her drink again and sipped it, contemplative.
"Michelle… I know that name. I once overheard Ermita, my handler, and another of the men in black comparing my skills with what they knew of hers. They agreed I was the stronger fighter, but that was all. You're all but human to my Eye now, true, but anyone cunning enough to survive so long will have anticipated this. She'll never come back to land anywhere fit for an ambush, you'll have to fight her at sea."
"I know."
"How will you do this?" asked Dietrich.
"Yes," Galatea seconded "How do you intend to fight a sea monster in their element? You know how much we all hate getting wet."
"From a boat," Miria answered, resting her chin on her interlocked fingers "The one we sailed here from Staff in before the battle of Rabona is still sound, we'll use that. I'll ask Cid to find some sailors who can help us work it properly. As for team… None of us have fought on water before so I won't feel right about this without anything that can't handle a number two... Is Tesla still around?" The former number sixteen had found a new calling shortly after the Rebellion and had been apprenticed to a local blacksmith ever since.
"Tesla! She's learning a trade and hasn't killed so much as a yoma in nearly two years! I would not consider her fit for such a mission."
"The boat has an engine of some kind. It's how we managed to travel from the Organization, even though none of us knew how to sail. I barely know how it works, only that it uses steam pressure and needs a coal fire to boil the water for it. I was hoping that Tesla might be able to help figure it out. She'll be backup only, if that." This appeased Galatea, but not much.
"Well, I daresay she'll come if you ask her. Who else do you have in mind?"
"Ash."
"Ash?" Galatea and Dietrich spoke in unison. One quizzical, the other hostile. Dietrich, like many warriors, saw her as a coward who had betrayed her duty and her comrades. "Why do you want to bring her?" she demanded.
"She's our best Eye after Galatea, and a fair fighter. I trust her to pull her weight. Raftela and I are in, of course."
"And I!" said Dietrich.
Galatea sipped her drink, clearly displeased. Miria was slightly puzzled by this. The nun was more the type to speak up than sulk.
"Galatea, we need you. Your double act with Raftela is the single most devastating weapon we have. It will take me a few months to pull together a team that can face her without it. Please, lend me your strength." A moment passed before Galatea sighed and put her now empty cup down on the table.
"Fine. I'll come. She'd kill a fair few people in that time, and I don't want those deaths on my conscience."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet! I get seasick. Wait until I've thrown up all over you for the fifth time! You can thank me then!"
Ash was in the kitchens, huddled so close to one of the great cooking fires it was a wonder her long hair didn't catch, gazing intently into the flames. The former deserter had on the red travelling cloak she'd worn the day they'd met and two short swords lay on the hearth beside her. She'd lost her claymore at some point during her exile and made do with human weapons. Ash stood as Miria approached, flagging down a boy to take over the spit she'd been turning, and followed her out of the kitchens without either of them saying a word.
Tesla was working the bellows for her master who was forging a plowshare. She was surprised to be asked to join a hunt but agreed as soon as Miria explained the situation about the engine. It turned out that her mentor, a stocky, blonde young man named Nick, had a particular interest in mechanisms. When they approached him and told him about the engine he was immediately intrigued and asked if he could come along. Tesla retrieved her sword from a shelf where it lay wrapped in an oiled cloth and the three of them returned to Rabona.
In the end, eleven of them set out on the hunt. Miata, a very young and somewhat unstable former number four, could not stand the idea of Galatea going to fight a sea monster without her and insisted on coming. Miria had mixed feelings about this: on the one hand, Miata was second only to Clare when it came to raw power; on the other, she had not seen combat since the battle of Rabona two years back and Miria had a sense that fighting was bad for her. Stranger yet, to her at least, were the four human members of their company. In addition to Nick, Cid had found three sailors to help them work the ship: a man called Sef and his sons Gammet and Gorril. Humans had come with them once or twice during the Hunt to act as guides, but never this many. She hoped the seven warriors would be enough to keep them safe.
On the morning that they left, Ash and Galatea had a quick discussion about how best to hide their party. Yoki faded when unreleased and the hybrids who had been on the Hunt were now only slightly more visible to an Eye than the humans who accompanied them. Tesla and Miata, who had both been dormant for more than a year, did not register as warriors at all. Dietrich, however, who still tapped her yoki regularly, had to be given a Pieta goodnight kiss. This technique, which consisted of a taking half a suppressant pill followed by enough damage to induce unconsciousness, was the quickest way to hide a warrior's yoki without compromising their capacity to sense. It had formed the basis of many ambushes during the hunt.
The boat was where they had left it, tied up at a hidden dock. It took them a week to clean it, rig the sails, and become effective enough as a crew for Sef to decide they were ready to attempt a voyage. The ship required constant attention, so they divided into two watches: Dietrich, Gammet, Gorril, Raftela, and Tesla worked the ship during the day while Miria, Ash, Sef and Nick took over at night. Galatea and Miata were exempt from duty on the grounds of illness and youth.
At first, things were a little rough. Yoki could not counter seasickness and a good half of their party spent a day or two staring fixedly at the horizon. Being busy helped. Miria felt for Galatea, who huddled mutely in the stern by the railing, and for Miata who refused to so much as leave her cabin.
During the voyage, Nick and Tesla poured over the engine, doing everything they could to figure out how it worked short of tearing it apart. At one point, Nick came up to her and, rather nervously, asked how much she knew about this strange land over the sea where the men of the Organization had come from.
"Nothing," Miria told him, "save that they have many terrible wars."
"They've certainly got ways of making things that are far beyond us. The only other place I've heard of steam engines was in a book that's a century old and it was a simple thing used to pump water from mines..." His voice trailed off into an apprehension she well understood but this was not the time to dwell on such things.
When they were not working the ship the warriors practiced fighting. The motion of the deck proved to be less of an issue than Miria had expected, it was nothing their reflexes could not handle, but the lack of space was did not suit their long weapons. Nevertheless, Dietrich's already very aerial techniques adapted easily to jumping off masts, her own mirage technique did not require much room, and Ash's short swords and quick, aggressive style worked well at close quarters. On the other hand, Miata didn't really know how to fight in a team and Tesla was so rusty that she would scarcely have been a match for a warrior half her former rank. Even so, Miria was confident they had enough power to deal with an Awakened number five.
Galatea, in addition to being the best living Eye, was highly skilled at synchronising yoki and could use this gift to manipulate the motion of her enemies. The technique worked best when the target was uncertain in their movements, and Raftela, who used yoki synchronisation to alter sensory inputs, was outstanding at creating the right kind of confusion. They had brought these skills together during the Hunt and, on their first attempt, reduced a former number seven to a helpless ruin. This double-act was central to their current strategy: with it Michelle would be paralysed and vulnerable, without it they would be at her mercy.
It took them nine days to sail as far as the Organization where they stopped for food, water, fuel, supplies, and the chance to feel solid ground under their feet. In their absence, Norma, Sylvia, and Clio had assembled a wealth of reports involving Michelle. She'd been outwardly obedient and her fighting style was based around the information that she, as a keen Eye with a high sensitivity to yoki, could gather on her opponents. She was known to be close to Space Sword Blaster Amara, number four of their generation, and had disappeared shortly after she died. This was good news: Raftela could induce visions of lost loved ones and Miria knew well how distracting these could be. If grief over the death of her friend had been a factor in Michelle's Awakening, then she might be vulnerable to such manipulations.
There was something curious about the death of the Space Sword Blaster. She, like many warriors, had reached a point where she could no longer contain her yoki, and had requested execution. In such circumstances, it was usual for warriors to send their Card, the sign that they had reached their limit, to one dear to them so that they might make their final goodbyes. From what she'd read, Miria expected that Amara would ask for Michelle but instead she had sought the aid of the number nine, one Lightning Lita. This was very interesting. Miria briefly considered asking Ash for her thoughts on the matter but dismissed the notion as intrusive.
That night, she was woken by Galatea knocking on her door.
"I've picked up a heavily suppressed Awakened yoki maybe two days Eastward," she said when Miria opened it. "It's dim, I'd never have caught it at this range if I wasn't looking for it, but I thought you should know." Miria nodded.
"Thank you for telling me. Rest well."
"You too," Galatea replied and they both went back to sleep.
At sundown, two days after leaving headquarters, Miria was trimming the jib under Sef's supervision when she heard Galatea cry out: "She's seen us! A day's journey that way! She's running!"
"ALL HANDS ABOUT SHIP!" Sef bellowed "Miria! Go below and rouse the others! Ash! Let off the foresail there!" Dietrich burst out of the main hatch as Miria reached it, Gammet and Gorril mere seconds behind her. Once they were clear, Miria slung below decks and shouted in her best battlefield voice: "ENGINE ROOM! FULL STEAM AHEAD!"
"Aye aye Captain!" came the reply.
The ship was alive, rolling beneath her feet like a bounding beast. The thrum of the stiff easterly breeze in the rigging was its voice, the mineral tang of coal smoke its breath, and the shivers the engine sent through the deck the beating of its metal heart. It surged through the water as though caught up in thrill of the chase. Certainly the crew were: Galatea, who had joined Gammet at the wheel, was grinning like a wolf; Miata was at the top of the mast her face turned the wind like a dog casting for a scent; and Raftela and Ash, neither of whom was particularly expressive by warrior standards, sprang to their duty with predatory intensity. Dietrich was all but on fire; even a dousing she took when a lee-lurch caught her on the bowsprit reefing the jib could not break her focus. The humans, who perhaps had the most to fear from their quarry, cheered as heartily as the warriors when Galatea cried: "We're gaining on her. Not fast - she's running for it - but we're gaining!"
The wind strengthened as the night wore on; at one point they had to change to smaller sails. After a while, Miria began to feel as though this roaring, heaving darkness was the world; that firm ground and daylight had no meaning; and that time was measured out by Sef and Gorril's commands and Galatea's updates on their progress. Shortly before dawn, she caught Michelle's aura as well and was relieved to find it no greater than what she would expect from a number five.
The wind dropped as the gray sky lightened and Miria got her first clear look at the open sea. It felt oddly close when they were down between waves, but when the swell lifted the boat, all there was, as far as even her eyes could see, was restless, blue gray water. She found herself thinking of Priscilla, the overwhelmingly powerful monster they had fought after the fall of the Organization, and Teresa, the goddess that had delivered them from her hate. They too had been so vast they could crush her without registering they had done so. Before they set sail, Miria had imagined they could swim back if they had to. Now, looking out at the trackless, foam-streaked waste, she was not so sure. Perhaps this mission had been a mistake. It had sounded reasonable within sight of land, but out here, where Michelle had every advantage other than raw power, Miria wondered if she had miscalculated.
Suddenly, their quarry turned sharply windward.
"She's going for the eye of the wind, the tricky bitch!" cried Sef, "Reef the sails, we run on steam alone!" Miria, Ash, and Dietrich jumped to do as he commanded while Raftela went to stand beside Galatea. From the ripple in her yoki, she had already begun to mesh hers with that of their target.
When the sails were dealt with, Sef and Gorril went below to help Nick with the engine. As Miria and Dietrich were preparing the launch, Tesla joined them on deck. Her skin was grimy with coal dust, the blue kerchief that tied back her straw-colored hair was damp with sweat, and a large, shiny burn ran up her left arm. "I hope this doesn't take too long, Captain," she said, joining them where they stood next to the mainmast. "We're running low on tallow and I don't trust the engine without it." She turned to Galatea "How are we doing?"
"She's wary. She's picked up on Raftela and suspects that we're up to something. I wonder if she'll figure out what we're trying to… she's coming!" The Awakened one had dived and was curving back towards them below the surface.
"KEEP HER FROM HITTING THE SHIP!" roared Miria, suddenly overcome with a vision of the Awakened sinking their boat and picking them off one by one as they floundered in the wreckage. They'd practised fighting in the water on the voyage out, it was painful, difficult, and she wanted to avoid it at all costs.
The Awakened surged towards them but her angle was off and she broke the surface not half a boat length away. As she arced from the water, Miria got a clear look at the form of this creature they had come to fight. Her head and torso were human but for the ridge of gray-green fin that ran from the nape of her neck to her waist. Where a human would have hair, she had a teal mane that resembled seaweed. Miria could see that her greyish lower body was made up of long, powerful tentacles, like those of a kraken, before she dove again.
As she circled beneath their ship, Miria realized she meant to knock holes from a range too close to miss.
"Tesla! Ash! Miata! Get below and mend the hull if she breaches it! Stab her through the holes if she does, we don't want to make this easy for her!" They'd practised this on the way out. Those three would protect the body of the ship from within while Galatea and Raftela distracted Michelle to the point Miria and Dietrich could safely engage. Miria glanced towards Raftela and Galatea. They were both deep in the flow of yoki: Galatea's eyes were closed and Raftela's were a deep, feline gold. She wondered how they did, but felt it best not to disturb them. Besides, the Awakened was closing in.
Miria had expected that their adversary would remain under the water but instead, as the Sea-Witch drew near, her upper body rose from the sea. She had dark blue, fishlike eyes that were fixed intensely on the stern of the ship where they stood. Miria was puzzled by her behaviour - surely the best way to attack would be to keep below the water where they could not touch her - and grew yet more confused as the Awakened reached out and grasped the railing in her webbed hands. Miria, feeling Dietrich tense, reached out and placed a hand on her companion's shoulder. A witch above water, and close to the deck where they could stand and fight, was far less of a threat than a witch below. She looked at Galatea and Raftela to see what they made of this, only to find that Galatea had moved and now stood only a few short paces away with a strange, almost sad, look on her face.
"Do we strike?" hissed Dietrich,
"No, let's see what happens first." Miria was confident that at this range her speed would be enough to counter any move Michelle might make, and she hated attacking without understanding the situation.
Still holding the rail, the Awakened shifted back to her human form. Her hands shrunk, the webbing melting away; her hair softened to a sandy gold; her skin warmed; and the gray serpentine tentacles of her lower body resolved into legs. Her eyes were still blue, but unmistakably human and filled with tears.
"Amara…" she whispered, stepping onto the deck and reaching out towards Galatea "I knew you'd come." This sort of behaviour was not unknown - Miria well knew that Raftela's technique could induce visions of the loved and lost - but Galatea's response was completely unprecedented. She held out her hand as the Sea-Witch approached; their palms met, and their fingers entwined. She shifted her hands to Michelle's waist as the Awakened reached up and caressed her face.
"Amara…" She murmured again, eyes closed, tears running down her cheeks, "You're dead, you died an age ago." She and Galatea stood, foreheads touching, close enough to kiss. "I threw myself from the cliffs, searching for you, but you weren't there in that darkness I found in the depths." She laughed, sadly. "I should have known better: you were always of the sky, not the sea. We were right not to send each other our cards. I didn't have the strength to save myself from this, let alone you," she paused, and looked away, distraught.
"Amara, I," her voice caught, "I did a terrible thing. I hunted down the one you sent for, the one you named Lightning. I killed her. I'm sorry; I couldn't forgive her for being there for you when I could not." She gazed into the strong, handsome face of the tall warrior who held her, pleading. "Can you forgive me?"
The other woman held her gaze for a moment and then kissed her, once on the forehead, and again on the lips. They held that one, Michelle reaching up to run her fingers through her companion's short, windblown hair. Afterwards, she pressed her face into her shoulder and said:
"I know this is a trick, a trap set by those who would kill me, but I don't care. I don't want to live without you, I never did, but I couldn't die without seeing you again." She started to weep. "Please," she whispered. "Don't leave me behind… not this time…"
A sword slashed.
Galatea staggered back, blood pouring from a gash on her chest, left hand severed at the wrist, as Michelle's head and body fell sundered to the deck.
"That was for Lita!" Ash screamed as Dietrich tackled her. Miria retrieved Galatea's hand from where it had fallen and returned it to its owner.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
"Been worse. What just happened?"
"I was going to ask you that."
"Later. See to Ash."
The former deserter lay facedown, pinned by Dietrich, sobbing. Miria gave her a moment to collect herself before asking her why she had attacked a comrade.
"I didn't," Ash replied after a moment "I was going for Michelle. Someone had to and you were all caught up in the vision of Amara. Besides, Galatea-san is a defensive type. She's already fine." She shifted under Dietrich. "You can get off me now, I'm not going to go for anyone else." Dietrich looked to Miria, who nodded, and released the other warrior. Ash stood, bloodstained and rumpled but still more poised than Miria had ever seen her, and looked around at the others, meeting their eyes.
"Michelle was my comrade, though I did not know her well, and Lita, named Lightning, was my friend. I am a warrior of the forty-fifth period, once number twelve. I was called 'Crow's-Eye' but my name," she paused and took a breath, "is Raye."
In the calm after battle, Miria could no longer overlook the fact that she had been awake for more than twenty-four hours, and retired to her cabin. When she came back on deck, Galatea was there, at her usual place in the stern, staring sightlessly towards the horizon. Something in her demeanor made Miria reluctant to approach her. Raye, too, did not seem to want to talk and so she busied herself with working the ship. There was plenty to do; Tesla and Nick refused to run the engine without any tallow and they journeyed to Debussy on sail power alone.
The following afternoon they sailed into the small harbor around which the village was built. The entire town turned out to watch as they rowed ashore. They clearly did not know what to make of this strange ship and its stranger crew, but they thanked them profusely when she told them the Sea-Witch and her familiar were dead, and offered what hospitality they could. It was good to be back on solid ground, but Miria missed the rocking motion of the ship as she drifted off to sleep.
The next morning she woke, as was her custom, shortly before dawn. She went for a run along the cliffs where she happened upon Raye. The other warrior stood on a bluff facing out to sea, to where four stars shone in the lightening sky. By their place and brightness, Miria knew them to be wanderers – stars that did not stay fixed but moved about the heavens. There were five of them, one for each element, and she had followed their journey for many years. Wood, Metal, and Fire stood proud together before her now while dim Water danced shyly over the horizon opposite the near-full Moon which was setting in the west. Earth walked at dusk and was not visible.
She slowed as she drew near and, not sensing that she was unwelcome, joined her. They stood there, silent but for the timeless beat of the waves against the rocks below, and the rush of the wind.
Looking eastward brought to mind Alba, the far homeland of the men in black. Miria wondered what they had made of Louvre's report that nothing remained in their country save monsters and ruins. Everything she knew told her they had far, far better tools and weapons than her own people and there were almost certainly more of them, too. She wondered, not for the first time, when their curiosity, or greed, would exceed their fear, and if the fifty-odd warriors would be able to stand against them if they came in earnest. Perhaps she should send someone to see what they were up against. The ship that carried them during their mission came from Alba, so presumably it would be able to make the voyage back. She would have to send humans – their silver eyes made warriors too conspicuous – but agents would expose them to the risk of discovery…
Miria realized Rae was watching her.
"You're looking at that horizon like there's something over it," she said.
"There is."
"Is that where they came from?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"They wanted to protect their people, I guess."
"With our blood." Raye scowled. "Hmph. You did a great thing, driving them away." Miria shrugged. She couldn't deny that her rebellion, and Clare's subsequent victory over Priscilla, had fundamentally changed the world they lived in but found it uncomfortable to think in such terms.
"I just… couldn't take it anymore," she explained, "I didn't want anyone else to die." The other warrior laughed, but it caught in her throat like a sob. "That was why I ran," she murmured. There was an inward quality to her voice, as though she were talking to herself.
"I met them on the hunt for Beryl the Jaded: Lighting Lita, Crescent-Blade Mina, Quicksilver Amy, and Serena. Before then, I was alone. After, I wasn't. We were kindred spirits. It felt right. Being with them." Raye smiled, bittersweet, remembering. "When we parted, we crossed our swords and swore we'd meet again. I told myself that was enough, that as long as they were out there I'd have the strength to carry on."
"Then Lita died. So suddenly I didn't See it coming. Soon after, Amy was killed on a hunt, and then Mina reached her limit. She sent me her card."
Raye stopped and bowed her head, grief cutting like a knife. Miria wanted to reach out, to tell her things were different now, but Raye hadn't finished. She took a deep breath and kept talking.
"That broke me. I abandoned my post, my duty, and ran to the Holsts, to Serena. All I cared about was finding her and keeping her alive. I spent my life there, looking for her, for all of them, but all I found was you." She raised her head and looked out to sea, to where the wanderers faded in the blue-gold dawn.
"I'll never forgive them for breaking our oath like that, ever, but I know they did not wish to. That was the world we lived in. They couldn't help dying any more than I could help running after them. I thought it a weakness, my shame, but if I had not left I never would have lived to avenge Lita so perhaps I have walked the path of honour after all."
Another moment passed before Raye, still gazing skyward, spoke again.
"Lita once dreamt she was a wanderer, sailing through the sky in a boat of flowers. I thought she was right, and that like those stars, no matter how far apart we drifted, we were destined to meet again. Even now I don't think she was wrong." She paused, looked Miria in the eye and said, more forcefully than before, "But it won't happen in this world. You're my comrades here."
"Of course."
"It's only just started, you know, your work. Driving them away was the easy part, fixing what they broke will be much harder. I think you'll do it though, or at least get it started. I'll help you as much as I can."
"Thank you," Miria replied, smiling "I'm writing accounts of the lives of every warrior. It would be a great help to me if you would tell me of your friends and comrades. It's always better to hear from those who knew them."
"Hmph" Raye's answering grin was wry, almost knowing "I suppose that's a start."