The Last Amazons

By Dixxy

Chapter Eleven: Blood of Life

(Sam)

Ever since I was five years old and I watched my mother's death, I never actually thought I'd have a chance to inflict my own justice on him. Yet, here I was, staring him down with knowledge of powers I couldn't use and some powers that I could use darn well but might do jack squat against him.

Ella and I had tried out our new powers to get to where my father had taken Sage. It took some concentration, but little by little, some of our skills awakened. I found myself locking onto Sage's essence and began to follow it, visualizing my goal. Ella had caught on slightly quicker than I had- she was a full blood while I was only a half blood.

After we reached the factory that my father held Sage in, we split up. I was to confront my father. Ella was up in the rafters of the factory- she probably snuck up while my father and I talked each other down. Sage was looking hurt and weak in the small cage he'd been placed in. His eyes met mine briefly, looking scared and childlike.

As my father and I stared at each other, waiting for the first move, I thought back to the night of my mother's murder. The night that had changed me into what I had been for a brutal ten years. The night that had taken my life and twisted it into a sickening world of fear, distrust, and misery . .

~

"Mama!" I had said, running into my mother's waiting arms. My mother smiled, her fine and fair Japanese features smiling at mine. She hoisted me up. I played with the curly black tendrils of hair that always framed her delicate face, my naiveté showing through for what may have been the last time.

"What, my little butterfly?" she asked.

I grinned. "I drew a picture," I said. My mother cocked an eyebrow, grinning slyly. She put me down as I ran into the kitchen, hopping up on the chair and showing her the poorly crayoned image of a person with bright pink butterfly wings. A fairy of some sort.

My mother picked up the picture. "It's beautiful," she said. "A fairy?"

I nodded. "Fairy. They're like. . . butterfly people, because they have wings and they fly around big flowers," I said. "They're not like us. We don't have wings, do we, Mama?" My mother shook her head. "We have airplanes instead, but airplanes can't fly like fairies can fly. They're too big and bulky."

"You might make yourself into a wonderful artist someday, Sammy," she said. I giggled in delight at the comment, hugging my mother as she kissed my forehead. She smiled at me her, her eyes heavy with age and fatigue. She always worked so hard to keep me in line. . ."I'm so proud of you."

"Is Daddy proud of me?" I asked uncertainly. My mother sighed heavily.

"Your father. . . well, I'm sure that he's proud of you in his own way, but-"

"Why does Daddy hit you?" I asked. My mother looked at me from behind unsure eyes, trying to answer me. I had seen my father hit my mother a number of times, but I didn't understand it at the time. Yes, I got the occasional spanking across the rear for using "magic words" one of the neighborhood kids had taught me or for doing some other typical little kid crime, but my mother wasn't a little kid. She was a grown woman. "Why?"

"Well, there are-"

SLAM!

I jumped as my father suddenly stormed in. My mother hurried me upstairs, leaving me scared and confused. I went into my room and grabbed my favorite stuffed animal, a kangaroo I'd named Katie. Katie the Kangaroo. I held her tight, knowing that whenever my dad came home and my mother made me go into my room something bad was going to happen.

I could hear a muffled argument from downstairs. This was expected- they always fought before the bad thing happened. But then I heard a high pitched scream emit from my mother, shouts of "no" and my name. I thought I was being called, so I ran downstairs. It was a decision I'd live to regret.

My father had a baseball bat in hand, my mother on the carpet floor of our living room. Her shoulder looked like it was bent out of shape and she was crying. A bit of blood soaked through her shirt. A tiny bit of blood was on the baseball bat my father carried. "Please, stop!" she cried.

In response to my mother's desperate pleas for mercy, my father dealt another blow to my mother, this one to her chest. She screamed and so did I. My father sent me a sideways glance, a murderous, manic look I hope I can someday forget. He then smacked her again, somehow careful to not strike her head. I held Katie tightly as I helplessly watched my mother's blood soak our carpet and her clothing. The red life fluid splattered, getting me and my childhood toy in the process.

Click.

My father looked up and dropped the bat as the door closed. I screamed and he looked at me, panic-stricken, as Ella ran in. She screamed as my father bolted out of the window. I ran to my mother, dropping Katie on the stairs. I cradled my mother's head, sobbing hysterically as she continued to bleed.

"Cyan's . . . diary. . . has the truth. Find. . . it, Butt. . er. . fly. . ." said my mother as she gagged on the blood that began to come from her mouth. After that, her eyes closed, she made another choking sound, and she stopped breathing. I started to scream, crying for my mother.

"Mama! Mommy! MAMA!"

~

Now, ten years later, I stood face to face with her killer. My own father. "You're not going to get away with killing my mother, kidnapping Sage, or thinking about trying to use me to take over the world," I said. I took a fighting stance. "You may be my birth father, but you were NEVER my father."

My father smiled as his eyes became a blood red color and his body began to emit a black glow. He put his hands together as a dark mass of energy formed. My body reacted strangely to the energy, recognizing it. This was wild Amazon magic. This was a dark magic, much darker than the carefree Flitteree magic I'd seen Sage use dozens of times. I won't use that magic- if I do, I could become like HIM.

He was preparing his first strike.

I waited for it. "Go on, try and hit me," I said boldly.

BAM! KA-BOOM!

The ball of energy hit the machine behind me, causing it to explode. I had already jumped away, kneeling on the stone cold floor several yards away, bracing myself for another leap. I laughed, pleased with myself for how I was handling the situation. "You've got to do better than that," I said cockily.

"That was just a practice shot," said Damion.

I stood up and began to prepare a lightning bolt. I smacked my hands together, pointing my fingers at my father as a huge burst of electricity erupted from the ceiling. Ella screamed and Sage looked on, impressed. I smiled, thinking I'd won. That was the best bout of thunder I'd ever come up with. Trulpa had trouble taking my first try at that spell; no way my father could withstand it.

"You've got to do better than that," he said, standing up straight. He was mocking me as he laughed. I stared in disbelief at the man as he brushed his jeans off. He grinned, folding his arms. "I will admit it was a good shot- it'll work great against the humans. Let's quit messing around and fight already."

"Fine," I said, summoning my sword. My father picked up a long pole that had been leaning up against a wall. At first glance, it looked like it might've been a loose piece of piping. On a closer look, you could see it was a weapon. He clenched his hands around it and a long blade, half the length of the staff, popped out of one end. He twirled it around expertly in a way that I would compare to Kento or Keisha when they spar.

I held my no-datchi in front of me, taking deep, heavy breaths as I tried to concentrate. He let out a battle cry and ran for me. I yelped in surprise and used my sword to block the assault. While we exchanged pressure, I tried to do something I hadn't ever done in battle before.

I tried to observe what was going on to formulate a PLAN.

I took note of his weapon. It was well over eight feet long, and my father was five or six inches short of reaching seven feet in height. My no-datchi was only about an inch or so taller than me, so I had better control over my weapon. So, logically, I should be able to knock his weapon away from him, right?

I backed away, the blade grazing my subarmor as it hit the cement floor. I took a somewhat wild swing at my father, hitting his leg. He howled in pain as blood gushed from the deep wound I'd produced. I was sure he'd give up. There wasn't any way that he could stand on that leg! He'd have to surrender, then we'd bring him back to the others and we'd decide to do with the worthless bag of scum that had fathered me.

I forgot that he was an Amazon. He wasn't ready to give up. My father sucked in air and re-took his battle position. We started to circle each other, never letting our eyes leave the other fighter. I just had to wait for the right moment to strike him again and bring him down to a point where I could handle him.

Sadly, the circling was a bad idea for me, good for him.

See, my dad was hurt and bleeding badly, but somehow, he was able to stick it out. Most people would have panicked at the sight of the injury and given up, but he'd figured out a sneaky way to use it to his advantage. Yes, he was injured, but here, he could turn my attack into a double-edged sword.

Blood is a liquid, as I learned, it was slippery.

I fell to the floor, flat on my back. The force of the blow sent me out of subarmor, which also made my sword vanish. I watched as my armor orbe rolled away, then got up to try and retrieve it. But my opponent stepped on my stomach. I cried out. My father grinned at me, laughing as he looked at me.

"This seems familiar," he said. His foot was still planted firmly on my stomach, he took the blade of the staff and pointed it at my neck. I breathed heavily, thinking it was the end. I closed my eyes, afraid of what was next. He'd killed my mother. Now he was going to kill me, too.

Instead of meeting the cold kiss of death, I felt a breeze. My father had sliced my shirt open! But why? He had already cut through my bra, exposing my breasts. I began to get an idea on what was going on. He was either going to molest me or mutilate me. Maybe both.

"Stop it! It's me you want, leave her alone!" Sage screamed. He then winced in pain. As much as Sage might've cared about me, there wasn't a thing he could do to stop my father. He was too weak from his injuries. Sage, where did you even get those injuries? Did my father do this to you? Oh gee, that's an obvious question.

"You're much shapelier than your mother, Sam," said my father. "Much like my own mother. You inherited so much more from me than you did that from that woman." I tried to get away, but he increased the pressure on my stomach. I cried out in pain and defeat. Teary eyes looked at my father, but all I saw was the blurry image of him cackling evilly.

SLASH!

I cried out in pain as I felt him slice deep into my stomach. It hurt so much! Blood gushed out of my wound as he continued to behave like the maniac he was. I stared at him, tears flowing from my eyes. This was the end. My father had dealt a deadly blow. Dear God, I was going to die.

"Sam! NO!" Sage screamed.

"SAM!" Ella cried out. "Damion, stop!"

My aunt's cries didn't stop him. He drew a shallow cut down each of my breasts, making an extra slash on my left one. "We all know that 'x' marks the spot, right Sam?" he said. "Let's see how good my aim is." He raised his weapon high above me, ready to impale my heart and end my life.

That was when I saw Ella jump out of him from behind, obviously trying to get my father away from me- she'd been unable to save my mother, and now she wanted to save me. This took my father by surprise, giving me a chance to try and push myself away. But my stomach hurt too much. My chest hurt too much. I was going to die anyways, despite Ella's intervention

I heard a clinking sound and saw Sage had gotten out of his cage and was dragging himself over to where I laid. And at that, dragging himself with one arm. But I was beginning to loose consciousness. I was going to die, he couldn't possibly get to me in time. "Save your strength, Sage," I barely whispered (I doubt he heard me). "I'm not worth it."

I started to feel death take over me. I started to close my eyes, but I popped them open. "Good bye, world," I said softly, closing my eyes for what I thought would be the last time. I felt my life begin to slip slowly from my body. It was over. I'd given it my all, and I'd lost. I should be proud of that much.

Hmmmmmmm. . .

I opened my eyes again. Something was warm on my stomach, but it wasn't from the blood. I saw Sage had draped an arm over my stomach, a warm glow secreting from the appendage. His head was on my chest, his blonde hair streaked with blood. "You're going to be okay," he said. "I won't let anything bad happen to you again."

"Sage. . ." I said. "You just. . ."

"As the bearer of the Armor of the Halo, your partner in arms, and your friend, I'm supposed to protect you from harm, as you're supposed to protect me," he said, his breath getting short. He flashed me a weak smile. "Don't give up, Sam. We're going to live through this."

I looked up to see Ella and my father was wrestling on the ground. My father had pinned her arms to the ground, snarling at her. Ella wasn't going to win that fight. There wasn't any way she'd be able to do it. And even though Sage was healing me, I was too weak to fight. I'd still lost a lot of blood.

"Sage, how badly are you hurt?" I asked.

"A few broken limbs," he said.

"Energy?"
"Good, why?" Before he could say anymore, I put my hand on his forehead. I concentrated, throwing what remained of my energy into healing Sage. He had to fight my father. He was the only one who could do it. We couldn't sit around and hope that the others would find us. There just wasn't any time for that.

"Fight my father," I said. Sage stared at me. "You have to defeat him. Kill him if you have to, but just make sure he can't harm anyone ever again. I don't care what happens to him. He's a sick example of a person and he doesn't deserve to live. He killed my mother and his own parents- Ella's parents, my grandparents. Please. Do this. For me."

Sage slowly stood up, looked at me, and nodded dumbly. He pushed me over to the side. "Stay here," he said before transforming into subarmor and summoning his wings. The glossy green and yellow appendages flapped behind him, irately beating in time. "He's not going to get away from me."

~

Don't worry, loyal readers- only one chapter and the epilogue to go. Today, I have two people to answer questions to:

Winter: For now, Sam and Sage are not going to get together. If I do a prom story (IF being the key word there), Sage will probably take Sam as his date, but I think for now they're better off as good friends. Something Sage will have to face later on in life is whether or not he even decides to marry- he has to carry a pretty harsh secret on his shoulders in addition to being a Ronin Warrior. Does he want his offspring to share the same burden? It's really a Catch 22 situation for him as it stands. And no, Dixxy's loyal fan #1, I don't get tired of you reviewing as long as you ask questions and do more than just say "going to read the next chapter- good story!" like you used to do.

Musou Misora: I use a lot of ellipses, too. To me, they look better than just a "-" if you're trying to make someone pause and not just get cut off. As for Sam's father, well, I think it has to do with a lot of anger towards a lot of people. Anger towards his parents for keeping his heritage from him for so long, anger towards Talpa for killing his people, ect. Taking over the Mortal World is his way of channeling that anger. Would a yoga class have channeled the anger in a more positive way? Yes, but that story wouldn't be as interesting as this one, now would it?

~Dixxy