=III=
Be strong
Clare could not sense any presence. She felt no youki and she heard no sound. Yet, they were being attacked by someone, or something. Suddenly, driven by conscienceless reflexes, she raised her harmed arm up and the sword connected, sparks bursting from the clash. Miria jumped and twisted mid-air, charging a powerful slash. She could spot for a moment a dark thin shadow, but she missed. She landed beside Clare and saw her bending on her knees and springing forward in a thrust.
Miria could not see their enemy clearly, it was blinking on the ground, as if disappearing and reappearing again in a different place. Clare too wasn't fast enough to hit it.
"Clare, we must stay close!"
Her friend noticed that she could not hit her target, and accepted to go back in position.
"What do we do, Miria?"
She had just finished to speak that the shadow was back on the move. Again in came in from above, but then it blinked again. Clare glimpsed a blurry movement to her left and raised her guard, and again sparks lighted the air for a short while. Miria was slower and Clare could tell that the shadow knew it and that it was aiming a stroke at her.
Miria turned and attempted to raise her guard, but she knew she was too slow and her wound were aching. She saw sharp claws of darkness going for her throat, but then, suddenly, she saw Clare's sword parrying them. Clare managed to shift fast enough to stand in front of Miria, but doing so she lost balance and could not recover well from the parry. The shadow decided to press on her: a first blow hit her on the left flank, easily cutting through her suit. She grunted and bent due to the pain. The shadow had her in the position it wanted and charged another blow, aiming straight to the head. Clare knew she could not raise the guard fast enough, so she decided to lean on her left side even more, raising the right shoulder and her armor's pauldron. As the claws hit the armor, she did not make any resistance and let them slip on the metal, allowing them to scratch it with a freezing sound but preventing them from passing through.
Clare then recovered full grip on the sword with both hands and ignoring the pain she moved to hit as if she were wielding a bat. Her attack was inelegant and raw, and was easily parried, but it was her goal. As the blade connected she pushed more, exhaling hard to release full strength, and shoved her target meters away. She knew they needed a break and maybe she could gain a few seconds.
The shadow landed graciously on the ground and studied the claymores for a while. Indeed, it had a thin silhouette and at first it seemed dark, but the blazes of the campfire were revealing a strange mirroring surface, resembling liquid metal. It was adapting to the sources of light, constantly shifting its patterns. It was like a camouflage: not perfect, but good enough to prevent anybody to have a precise perception of where the body and the claws were, stealing time to defend from its attacks. It was not emitting any sound, it did not even seem to breathe.
"Miria, stand on my back, you need to regenerate, I will try and keep it at bay as much as I can."
Miria reluctantly knew that she was of no use in her condition and nodded: "Be careful."
Clare readied herself.
Jean had dutifully groomed all horses except for the mother with the colt. They were not allowing her to come close and she was losing her patience.
"Stupid animals, I just want to clean them."
Galk was with her, playing sounds with a thick leaf on his lips.
"And you are not helping, with that stupid… whatever of yours."
Galk stopped, he wasn't very satisfied with his 'music', either.
"Well, it's not easy. Dad is better at it. You shouldn't call everything stupid, though."
She felt exasperated.
"I must finish here before practicing with daddy and those two are a waste of time!" - she protested, pointing especially at the colt which was running wildly back and forth, enjoying his recently achieved stability on the legs.
"Well sis… I can help you."
"Really?"
"Sure. Come here."
She reached him, and he raised his right arm toward the animals.
"See, sis… You want to groom them because it's a chore, not because you wish them to feel better. They know it. The other horses did not care, but the young one is too energetic and the mother is protective."
"Yeah, right, you know all this because you talk to them…"
"I just wish them to feel better. Sincerely. They understand it, and when they do, they calm down and come close. They trust me, I'm their friend."
As he was talking to Jean, the two horses were doing as he was saying, coming closer and closer.
"I am introducing you to them. They have seen you already, but they don't like you much…"
"Horses don't like me, bite me!"
"You are too… Mmh… Noisy? You always run and scream and…"
"Is this part of the help?"
"I am trying to explain… I know your feelings, they are agitated, always. You are always... too much, too happy, too angry..."
The colt was now rubbing the head on Galk's hand, puffing playful.
"Now sis, pat him on the neck, gently. I told him you are a friend too, but we must convince the mother as well, she still sees you as… a threat."
She looked at him exasperated, but she did as suggested. The colt let her pat him, then left Galk and started to rub his head on her chest. He was already strong, she felt almost raised from the ground, but it was good. She was smiling, and Galk could feel her happiness.
"I can help you grooming them too, dad will be done soon and I know you have something to do on your favorite rock."
"Thank you! Ehy…"
Jean giggled: the colt was licking her face and it was feeling funny.
Galk repeated to himself that he'd look after his sister, anyway he could, as his mother asked him.
Clare had fought her opponent for a while. Her eyes were cat-like and golden, she had to release more youki to withstand the speed of the fight, but she was feeling reasonably in control. The shadow had tried to reach Miria, but she had managed to keep it away from her and could tell that Miria's wounds were looking better, soon it would be the two of them together.
In any event, the shadow kept coming, without hesitation. Clare decided she could take it down alone and started to attack. The opponent's defense seemed weaker that its attack and as soon as she saw an opening, she released her quickblade. Most of her strokes went unmatched and she did hit multiple times. The quickblade motion and off-target blows raised a cloud of dust off the ground, she had indeed lost precision.
When the dust settled, it revealed that the shadow was unarmed. She could tell it by the feeling of the sword hitting its skin, but she had to see it to convince herself. Her attack had been for nothing.
She then tried again, focusing more on the precision and using more force, but with the same result. Just, this time the shadow did not even try to avoid any blow, but attacked on its own while being hit by Clare. She did not expect it and could not defend well afterwards. She felt the claws slashing her arms and legs: apparently, it wanted to slow her down and to go for the kill once she was crippled. Clare realized that she had to try something different. Its skin seemed impenetrable, she couldn't just try to hit with more force. She focused and thought of the sword as an extension of her arm. She let the youki flow in her body, then conjured it in the arm, driving the energy throughout it, then to the hand and to the tip of her fingers. She concentrated further to guide it through the blade. The shadow was back on the move, she gathered her strength and leaped forward. Her opponent was not expecting she could recover so fast and tried to stop its charge, sliding on the ground, but she was nimble and it was imbalanced.
Her thrust hit it straight in the chest, but the blade was inert and the tip just pushed the shadow further back, without a scratch. Clare fell to her knees, the last attack cost her much and she learned that she could not replicate what she had done against Priscilla. She should've practiced, it was a move she used just once and when she needed it again she could not pull it off.
The shadow dashed to the campfire and extinguished it, allowing the darkness to spread. Its skin adapted immediately, merging it with the landscape. Then it attacked again, springing back and forth from its position. Clare was still on her knees, she was trying to defend but it was very hard to see anything, she was just waiving her sword in the blind.
Suddenly, she felt a deep stab at her right arm, at shoulder's level, it was painful, first a cut and then a ripping pull with the sound of broken tendrils. She looked at her arm and realized it was gone, and her sword with it, idly dropped on the ground. She turned back to the point where the shadow was starting its attacks, trying to see it while reaching for her sword with the left arm, but she knew she couldn't make it on time. In a blur, the shadow sprang against her again.
It was then that Clare heard a 'woosh' sound coming from her back. She was reading herself for the impact, but none came. Miria appeared standing in front of her, lunging forward with her sword.
Jean was done with her chores and was waiting for Raki on the rock. She saw her father coming at her, but then he waved a hand as to say that he needed more time. She followed him with the eyes and noticed that he went by a beech tree nearby. With a knife, he cut a slender branch off, and cleaned it of the smaller branches, making it smooth. He then moved toward her, whipping the air with the flexible branch, appearing satisfied with it.
"Alright, now listen up Clare."
"Ehy daddy, it's Jean."
Raki had a sort of lapse, then he recovered.
"Sorry little scoundrel, I was thinking of your mom…"
She smiled: "Me too, no worries…"
"So, let's both concentrate on your special trick, shall we?"
She nodded, enthusiastic.
"I am going to use this today…" - he said, waving the beech stick "Can you imagine why?"
Jean turned thoughtful for a while, then smiled again and nodded.
"If you can, tell me…"
"I think that you want to show me something, and to do it you must hit me. And you're worried to use the big stick."
He felt proud of her: "Good girl. So, ready?"
She raised her stick, serious, and nodded.
"Left, high."
She raised her guard and the stroke indeed came high on her left, but at the last moment Raki let his arm drop and straighten. He easily passed under her guard, then raised the arm again and touched her between the shoulder and the neck. She took one step back and rubbed where she was hit. Raki was worried.
"Sorry, did I hurt you?"
"Nah, again."
"Right, high."
He performed the same move from the other side, again touching her.
"Again."
"Right, high."
This time she prepared differently, raising the guard slightly less, keeping her stick a bit sideways and keeping her hands tighter towards her body. He just performed a simple stroke without any variation, and hit her on the arm.
"But…"
"Tell me what happened now."
"Well… You did not do the special move."
"Exactly."
"I don't understand daddy, why?"
"Why do you think it's special?"
"Because you win with it!"
"You want it easy, eh? It's not like that, were there a winning move everybody would use it and everybody would be a winner and a loser."
"Mmh…"
"I think it's special if someone does not expect it. It is also special…"
"If someone expects it and does not prepare for anything else?"
"Exactly."
"So, what should I do?"
"What you did would've been right against this move, except you should've been softer on your knees and less stiff with your arms. The real thing is that you must learn how to tell what move is incoming."
He resumed, with a series of called strokes, without giving any further explanation. Spontaneously, she grew better at reading them until she managed to parry a 'special' one.
"See? You are getting better. What are you doing?"
"I concentrate on your shoulders. I think they give me hints…"
He narrowed his eyes: "Are you sure? Let's see… right, high!"
He started high on her right side, then he dropped his arm. She noticed it and got ready for a 'special' attack, but suddenly he rotated the wrist and hit her on her leg. She snorted, she did not like it.
"What went wrong, Jean?"
"You cheated."
"Yes, but what went wrong?"
"I was ready for the attack, I knew you would drop the arm by the shoulders, but you tricked me."
"I just wanted to show you that the shoulders can… cheat."
"What do you mean?"
"You can tell certain movements by the shoulders, but not all of them. It was a good hunch, but you cannot really rely on them."
"What should I look at, then?"
He pointed at his eyes: "The eyes, Jean."
"The eyes don't cheat?"
He knelt and hugged her, raising her up, and started walking toward the house. He thought for a few moments about fight scenes involving the claymores and he knew that it wasn't entirely true, they were not following normal rules of swordplay.
"Well… For now, the answer is no."
"For now?"
"Always curious, are you?" - he hesitated a bit. He should've just said 'no' but couldn't lie to her, and he needed to change the subject somehow: "Would you like to see a real sword?"
"Ooooh, sure, when? When?"
"I need to clean an old sword, perhaps you could give me a hand sometimes the next days?" - he did not need to await the answer, and she was all into the new thrill.
"Got you…"
Miria had impaled the shadow on her sword, glowing with a golden and pulsing light. The blade had gone through its target effortlessly. She exhaled and lashed upward, the blade cutting through the enemy until it freed up after having split the head in two. The creature collapsed, yet without a sound. She turned to Clare to check how she was.
"Clare, how bad is it?"
"I believe I can pull myself together… I haven't done this for long, but I can do it."
"I am sorry it took so long, I was cut pretty bad and it had been for a while for me too… It was hard to read its movements, too…"
"You did great, you managed to use that technique…"
"You didn't practice these years, did you?"
"And you?"
Miria grinned, then her face took a worried expression again.
"This was a trap… That… thing was strong."
"Yes, a trap by someone who knows us fairly well and who found the perfect excuse to drag me here."
"And flush me out, I laid low, didn't have many contacts with anybody, I liked to remain… quiet."
"Me too, I haven't seen any of the others in years. I always stayed with my… family…"
Sheer fear invaded her heart.
"Miria, I wasn't just dragged here, I was dragged away from my family, they are alone…"
"Is your horse ready?"
Clare released more youki to finish re-attaching her arm, then released further and patted her legs.
"I must be faster."
Miria seemed challenged, she wanted to help Clare but she felt like all of them were at risk and that she had to take care of it.
"I need to gather information... I need to reach our sisters in Sutafu. Something is going on, I need to understand."
Clare put her hands on Miria's shoulders, to reassure her that she understood.
"Let's meet in Rabona. When you get there, Galatea will know how to reach me."
"Godspeed, Clare."
Clare rushed home sparing no effort. She just took shot rests when she felt like she could no longer continue and the choice was to eat or to simply pass out. She was terribly worried, but at least the strain and the fatigue were preventing her from thinking too much. She reached the house in less than one third of the time she needed on horse, in the late afternoon, but she was exhausted.
Arriving by the pathway, she already knew something was wrong. Silence, everything was silence, but for the nervous neighing of the horses, cantering in circles without pause. She rushed toward the house, but stopped on the porch as she saw that the door had been smashed down. She smelled death coming from the inside, a smell too familiar, although she could not feel any youma stench.
She entered wearily, seeing everywhere signs of struggle. Broken forniture, scattered weapons, glass splinters everywhere off shattered windows. There were bodies everywhere bearing wounds of various sorts. She noticed a crossbow dart stuck in the wall. Then she saw that the door to Jean and Galk's room had been smashed down as well, and a trace of blood was leading in. It had dried out, but probably not since long. Raki's sword was standing on the entrance, unpolished and a bit dented and rusty. He didn't have the time to take care of it.
She was aware of what she'd see had she continued in the room, but she had to be sure. She entered and noticed one more body, a man with a broken jaw, by the window, whose glass had been shattered as well. Then she moved forward and saw three more, previously slightly concealed by the beds. A man with the skull smashed in was in a sitting position on the wall to the left of the entrance, past the window. Another was lying face down, with a thick wooden stick piercing through his right eye.
Raki was on his knees, with the head resting on his upper chest, slightly leaning right. A dart was stuck in his right shoulder, another in his back, just under the right shoulder blade. His right hand was pierced by a dagger, still stuck in it. A short sword was piercing through his chest, from the back, and a short-spear was pinning him to the floor, entering in his left shoulder and exiting from his left flank. She saw him last, as if she was trying to disregard his sight, to postpone the inevitable.
In front of Raki's body she noticed two more small pools of blood, one to the right and one to the left. She wanted to scream, but was feeling absent, as if the grief was too much to bear even to cry. Her mind was processing the details of the scenes. Every detail was giving away a glimpse of the fight, and together they were making her revive those moments in a series of flashes.
It was a late afternoon, Raki and his son were preparing food for dinner, while Jean was preparing the table. They could hear the horses neighing in the fields, probably more than usual, but did not pay attention.
Galk suddenly stopped, warning his father: "Dad, there's somebody at the door… I feel them... Evil thoughts..."
Raki was moving to go and check, when the main door was smashed down by two thugs ramming it with a tree stud. At the same time, two more shattered the window glass.
"Jean, Galk, in your room, now. Lock it!" - he screamed as he rushed to the two on the door, the closer ones, picking up a chair on his way. They were wielding short swords, whereas the ones behind the window were swinging bolas over their heads and aiming at his neck.
He met the first two, they swung their swords but he dodged and hit one in the head with the chair, breaking it. The leg of the chair he was gripping broke free and he started to use it as a club. One more entered the room, with another following behind.
The first of the two behind the window threw his bolas, Raki noticed him and sidestepped raising his left hand, catching the weapon mid-air and immediately following through hitting the enemy just entered with the balls on the left temple, so hard his left eye burst from orbit. The other shooter threw as well, but missed. Both of them reached for crossbows, as if they first had intended to use incapacitating weapons but were no longer confident about it.
Raki kept dodging the attacks of the ones on the door, then one attack went further off-target and he reacted hitting the armed wrist of the assailant, breaking it. The thug bent in pain holding his broken wrist and Raki kneed him under the jaw, splintering his teeth. One more replaced him, as if there were an endless stream.
A short sword slash just missed him, and he knew he could not dodge the next one so he just covered with the left arm. He had a cut from the wrist to the elbow, but it was light. He pushed the one that hit him away with the right arm, making him stumble on a corpse and falling outside. The other remaining hesitated a second, but Raki heard a 'thwang' coming from his right side, he realized it must have been one of the crossbows and he blindly raised his club. The dart hit his improvised weapon, snatching it from his hand. The other shooter seemed ready to shoot, Raki waited an instant then as he pulled the trigger he tumbled towards the bench by the dinner table, where he recovered his sword. He had shown it to Jean that afternoon and they were planning to work on it after dinner, before bedtime. He instantly unsheathed it.
Passing by the window he slashed through, decapitating one of the shooters, whilst the other managed to duck in time. He still had two assailants coming from the main door and turned to face them. His sword was in bad shape, but he was a way superior fighter and dispatched them in a few moves.
He noticed movements outside the house, there were still others, with short swords and short spears. He could tell they were starting to falter seeing their companions butchered like that, but were not quitting, yet. Suddenly, he heard a crashing sound from the kids' room.
"The room's window!" - he thought, and turned to get there, his attention completely on Jean and Galk.
As he turned, the former surviving shooter and another one that joined him had picked up the crossbows and re-cocked them. They aimed and shot. Raki heard the springing sounds and felt two stabs, one to the right shoulder, draining away his strength and making him drop the sword, the other lower on his back making him lose balance.
He grunted but managed to shift his weight to the left side and kept going. Ignoring the pain he crashed through the door leading with the good left shoulder, he recalled that he had told his kids to lock it. He made it through but the impact was heavy, he had built their house solid, and he felt.
"Get up!" - he screamed and went back on his feet in a heartbeat. He noticed that a thug was threatening the kids on the opposite side of the beds with a dagger. Jean was trying to keep her wooden stick raised to protect herself and Galk, who was in a fetal position, trembling. He rushed at him: the assailant turned and thrusted with the dagger. Raki raised his right arm and the blade pierced through the palm of his hand. Painfully, he twisted the hand to take the thug's arm off, then drew closer and headbutted him in the face, then again, and again. The third time he felt the nose dive into his brain. As the assailant was dropping on the floor, he prepared to turn but felt another stab on the back, this time heavier. He felt cold metal carving through his body and saw the tip of a short sword blade slowly emerging from his chest. He saw terror in his kids' eyes, which gave him the strength to whirl with his good hand wide, leading with the back. He turned so fast the thug lost grip on the sword. He then felt he hit something solid, and another thug fell holding his dislodged jaw and hitting the head on the floor violently.
Raki had whirled with too much impetus and could not stop as he wanted, ending again toward the kids. He also lost balance, and fell on a knee. He screamed and pushed to get back on his feet but he felt another stab, through his left shoulder. The force of the blow dragged him further down on his knees, and he felt steel through his chest and his back again. The tip of the short spear then got stuck into the wooden floor.
He could not move and felt his strength abandoning him. He was starting to see everything clouded, and raised the right hand to caress his kids, but could not, it was too heavy and it was too painful. His breathing was getting weaker and hissing.
He knew he was dying, and that there was nothing more he could do. He felt another presence behind him, but could not react. Jean did, she leaped forward with her stick, then he saw her getting back without it and a savage scream coming from behind, followed by a dropping sound. Jean was horrified, she had just killed a man, that Raki could tell. She had moved fast and well, but she was not ready to face the consequences.
Galk was shacking on the floor, more strongly now; he was begging: "Stop, Jean... Stop please... I cannot..."
Raki was dizzy, but he heard more steps getting into the room. They were slower, though, as if the fight was over. He could not hear well, but got a few words: "Need... Little bastards... Alive". They had come to take the children, not to kill them. There was still hope.
"Jean… Galk…"
There were so many things he'd want to say. That he loved them, that they were the best kids in the world. He then pictured Clare, from the first time she met her. He wouldn't see her anymore...
He closed his eyes: "You mother will… find you… Be… strong…"
Hello everybody, I hope you enjoyed the story so far. The setting is quite dark, but it is my attempt at dark fantasy and at abiding by the canon. Anyway, any feedback will be very much appreciated. The next chapter, "The long farewell", will be updated by the end of February and will be less bulky than this one. Afterwards, updates should come more or less fortnightly. Cheers! G.
