Osrik is a character from Emu777's story Guardian. I have his personal permission to use Osrik, and have his approval on the interpretation of the character.

Chapter Nine

Unfortunate Reunion

A few days later, and the group was making its way into Malamar. They had spent the past couple nights subsisting on wild game, including a rabbit, which Yura used to sate his occasional need for raw meat. He ate it away from the others, and Raki was thankful he did.

Yura and Raki also roasted a game hen, which was very tasty after they were done with it. The other meals were built upon the travel food that Yura and Raki carried with them.

Staying near a small river made water very accessible. Unfortunately it was too cold for comfortable bathing and didn't have a lot of fish in it to catch.

On the third day of their travels, the salt in the air told them they were nearing their destination. Malamar was large for a fishing town, but to small to be a major port city. The small bay that it was built in severely limited the travel of larger ships in and out of the port.

It was mostly constructed of wooden buildings, cheaply made but well crafted. The lighthouse at the water was stone. Using a large flame to generate the light, reflected by a set of mirrors, a wooden building would have meant that the tower could easily burn down, and would likely take the rest of the town with it. Some of the more luxurious buildings were also stone.

By noon the next day, they were passing through the city gate. Unlike most places, the people of Malamar never really took the myths of Clare's people being monsters seriously.

They were met by a large group of people, all cheering enthusiastically. "Alright. A Claymore," "We're going to be alright." The happy expletives continued as they got further into the town.

Yura gently elbowed Clare in the side and whispered "Could get use to this, huh Clare?" She ignored the comment and just kept on walking. They were heading for the mayor's house. As usual, he was the one who made the request.

The lord of Malamar was surprisingly young. Most of the lords Clare had met had been kindly old men. The man here was young. In his early thirties at the most. He also didn't look very kind. He had a wide spread reputation as a cold blooded businessman.

Which was why such a small town could afford to make a request to the organization. Most economies smaller than that of a city would be crippled by the cost of paying for a Yoma extermination.

The mayor dressed in elegant dark blue clothing. He wore his black hair long and loose. His icy blue eyes were colder than those of anyone Yura, or even Clare had ever seen, and they had both met some very heartless individuals.

Despite his eyes, the man managed to smile rather convincingly. "Welcome. I assume you're here about the request I put in?"

"Yes. That is the reason I came here. I would like the details of the request please." Clare did her best to match his cold gaze, but couldn't quite match the emotional void therein, not that she was intimidated.

"Good. With all of the boats returning to port with dead crew members lately, the town income has dropped dramatically. Looking at the corpses, we know that it's a Yoma doing it."

The mayor sighed with relief, as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "If you kill the Yoma, we'll get our investors back, and the fishermen will be willing to head back out."

Clare's eyes narrowed slightly, almost imperceptibly, with disgust. "So you are paying to have me stabilize your economy?"

"And to ensure my continued presence as head of the community. How would the people look upon a man who would allow such atrocities to continue?"

Clare glared again at the man, her gaze now more than matching his. She viewed him as being little better than a Yoma. He saw his own people as nothing more than tools for his own betterment. But she had to complete the request for him, so she might as well work with him. "You said that people were being killed on boats?"

"Yes. I've done my research, and that is rather uncharacteristic for them, but that is what's happening. None of the crew who survived really know how it happened. They just find gutted corpses."

"Though the Yoma is likely in the town, we will need a fishing boat available to us to be certain."

"Well, you're on your own for that. I'm tapped out as it is."

Clare glanced sideways at Yura, the only ship owner she knew. He smiled and shrugged gently, as if such were no great issue. The mayor interpreted that shrug as meaning that he could do nothing.

Clare understood that Yura would contribute, but he didn't want the money-grubbing leach across from him to know he had money. Openly announcing the ability to contribute a boat would most certainly do just that.

Clare bowed politely and left hastily. Yura slammed the heavy wooden door shut behind him.

Yura sighed loudly. "God, if any man ever deserved to be eaten by a Yoma…" Clare glared at him threateningly. "What? I was just saying. It's not like I'd actually do it."

Yura had no inhibitions of speech here. The area around the manor was like a small park, but no one frequented it for distaste for the mayor's company. As useful as his politics were economically, no one liked him.

They headed out of that region of the town. "I'm going to head for the market. This town has a great selection of fish to choose from. You have never tasted anything like my Red Snapper, fried over an open fire."

"We will not be accompanying you. I have other places to search, and I believe that your presence subtly disrupts my ability to sense Yoki, so searching in your presence might hamper my ability to find the Yoma."

Yura nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough. I'll meet you at the Bridge and Thorn Inn at sundown. It's near the fisheries. I'll have dinner ready."

Clare and Raki headed for the harbour, hopefully one of the busier places in the town, and Yura headed for the market.

Hours later, both groups had little luck. With the fish market declining, as the fishermen were unwilling to go out to sea, Yura only managed to purchase a small portion of Grouper and a chunk of Tuna. Clare and Raki found the harbour nearly deserted.

They encountered each other by chance at a crossroad between Market Street and Harbour Road. "Well, any luck? I've had virtually no good fortune at the market. Only some Tuna and Grouper. I hate Tuna."

"No, I haven't found a sign of the Yoma."

"That's rather unfortun…ate." Yura trailed off mid sentence and started staring off in the distance.

Raki looked at him with concern. "Is something wrong?"

"No. I think I saw someone I recognize over that way, though." Yura started moving through the sparse crowd. He only had to move around a few people and an ox cart, and he reached his target.

Yura reached over and grabbed the man by the shoulder, turning him around. "Ha! I knew I recognized you." The man was quite young, maybe in his early twenties. He dressed completely in black. The shirt and pants were a soft, loose fabric. Over this was a long trench coat with an open front, made of a harder fabric. The coat had a hood, but it was lowered at the moment.

"Yura! Good to see you. It's been a while."

The coat was decorated with silver buttons, and a chain around his throat. His boots were oiled leather, He had crossing bracers of hard leather on his calves and forearms. His eyes were bright, vibrant blue, and his hair was light brown and spiky. The spikes were more from lack of care rather than a fashion choice.

"Too long, my friend. I haven't seen you since we ran into each other outside of Benalia."

Clare also seemed to recognize the man, though she was not happy to see him. "You know him, Osrik?"

Osrik finally noticed Clare. "Clare. Good to see you. I'd been hoping to run into you before things really got started. "Yes I know him. This ding bat's an old friend of mine."

Yura feigned annoyance. "Who are you calling old?" Yura started snickering as Osrik smiled at him. "Alright. You caught me. I'm old."

Despite the good humour, Yura was a little bit confused. How on earth did Clare know Osrik? "So, you two know each other too?"

"Sort of. I'm the member in charge of Miria, who is a friend of Clare's, so I know of her."

Yura's eyes widened with surprise. "Wait a minute, you're with the organization? You never told me that."

Osrik laughed gently into his hand. "I thought it was pretty obvious. How many other people do you see walking around in black in the middle of the summer?"

Yura laughed too, shrugging gently. "Got me there. I don't think it matters all that much, though. I still like you."

Yura paused for a moment. "So this Miria is a warrior like Clare?" Yura wasn't really all that happy anymore, despite the smile. It was always a bit of a pain having to try to hide from these warriors, and it would be much worse if he was found out.

"Yes. She's the Number Six of the organization." Even worse. More well ranked warriors were harder to deceive.

"Now, out of curiosity, why is she here? I thought there was only one warrior per region."

"Well, that's what I wanted to discuss with Clare. Can I assume that you're a friend of hers?" Osrik looked at Clare for confirmation.

Clare nodded. "I do know him. We have been travelling the same road by coincidence since I started heading for Charrow. I would consider him a good acquaintance."

"Good." Osrik smiled brightly. "Then I don't have to exclude him. Where can we go to talk?"

Yura pointed to the harbour. "I know a lovely hotel over that way, the Bridge and Thorn Inn. It's only a short ways —"

Yura was interrupted by the ring of a sword slicing ferociously through the air. "Hello, Helen." Clare looked out the side of her eyes at the shining blade that rested an inch from her left ear.

"Damn. I hoped you'd at least twitch. I'll actually have to try and hit you next time." The new arrival, Helen, was dressed exactly like Clare, except for the black fabric on her arms and legs. Helen had a happier face than Clare, and wore her hair in a slightly more elaborate style. It was about as long as Clare's, but better tended, hanging in even locks.

She hoisted her sword on to her shoulder. "Yo, Deneve! Come say hi."

Deneve was yet another warrior in similar clothing to the others, though the white fabric of the suit extended to the wrists. The armour was slightly more elaborate than that of the others. The shoulder armour was heavier, but the bracers on the arms and legs were lighter.-

Deneve had very short hair, for a woman. It was like Osrik's but with a higher hair line, and pale blonde like all of her people.

"I'm glad to see that we've all lived long enough to meet again." Starting with Deneve, the three women pulled out their swords and locked them gently together.

Helen looked over at Osrik. "Yo Osrik. Didn't see you there. If you're here, Miria must be too. She couldn't come say hi or what?"

Frustration clouded Osrik's face for a moment. "She's here somewhere, but I've lost track of her. She decided to go on ahead and scout out the town. I guess I was slowing her down. But the least she could have done was come up with a meeting place or something."

"She must be pretty skilled, being well ranked. She'll be able to find us." Yura pointed down the street with his walking stick. "The inn is that way. We can talk privately there."

Yura was now feeling very tense. Hiding from one warrior was difficult enough. Having to hide from three would be a real pain, especially if one was a single-digit. If he was found out, events would get very unfortunate.

Clare, Deneve and Helen hung back of Yura, Raki and Osrik. Helen whispered in Clare's ear. "Who's the old guy? Picking up more strays Clare?"

"I met him on route to Charrow. He has agreed to help us on this hunt by lending us a boat."

Deneve looked thoughtful for a moment. "Needing a boat is a very odd requirement for any hunt."

Clare nodded. "So is needing four of us to complete a request. The only time that really happens is when…"

Helen looked nervous. "Yeah. We're all thinking the same thing."

Deneve stared at the ground as she walked. "Something doesn't feel right about all this." She looked up, her icy gaze coming to rest on Yura. "Or about him."


Meanwhile in Charrow, a shadow gathered across the horizon, though no clouds marred the daytime sky. From that shadow a two patches descended down the hillside.

The figures resolved into men on horses. The rider on the larger horse whore pitted but shiny armour, and no helmet. He had shoulder length black hair and his face was wide, with a squashed nose and a long scar from his left cheek to his chin.

"This place should be ashes" he scowled and looked over the city, seeing scaffolding and new wood structures rather than rubble and ashes.

"Why isn't it?" asked the smaller one. "Was he here?"

The grass shifted around the pair, but the wind was blowing the other way. It settled and the larger man calmed. "It may not have been him. Take another, and find a likely victim. Crack open his skull, feed on the contents. See what he knows."

"It will be done." Grinning maliciously, the smaller man returned to the distant shadow.


Author's Note:

I wanted to give my readers an explanation for why Osrik is in my story. The guy with username Emu777 is a personal friend of mine. He was the one who convinced me to turn my qwery as to why Yoma are never good into a story, and things evolved from there.

A few chapters later, and we came up with the idea of a collaboration between our two stories (in Calculus, no less), and this developed as a result. He has yet to put forth his end of the collaboration, but hopefully he can update while I'm on hiatus. I hope this clears that up a little bit.