Warnings: Violence
A/N: Sorry for the delay but I've been a busy, busy person. I'll try to be better with the updates. :)
"Swarm him!"
The samurai went wide-eyed as three dark shapes loomed over him, slashing at him with steaming nails, ripping at any visible flesh. Jack drove his sword at the demons, creating a gap between them, but the instant he tried to run through the opening black ooze sealed it shut.
Sweat was dribbling down his skin as a scorching heat rose upon his cheeks. The forms were closing in on him, blowing their moist, putrid breath down his neck. Pain, white hot, coursed through his body as two sets of arms wrapped around his, squeezing them mercilessly until if felt as if the bones would snap. The sword was forced from his hands and gave a loud clank as it struck the floor. Death Weaver hovered to the samurai and ran her nail across the struggling man's cheek, leaving behind a trail of singed flesh.
"Aw, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" Death Weaver mocked. "Believe me, you'll endure far worse than that." She glared at his silent form. "Tell me, dear warrior, is there nothing you have to say?"
"You will be defeated," Jack muttered under his breath.
Death Weaver let out a ringing laugh. "How do you propose to do that?! Your sword couldn't even hurt me! What a frivolous concept!"
The demon picked the blade off the floor and gazed over it with interest. She placed the pointed tip on Jack's abdomen and slowly dragged the sharp edge, cutting open his gi, until it was applying pressure under his chin.
"I must admit, it's a beautiful blade," Death Weaver began, "but it's such a shame what it has been used for. Oh well. It'll serve its purpose soon enough." She drew her face close to Jack's ear, allowing the rough material of her mask to scrape his cheek. "I'm going to gut you alive with your own sword. I wonder what your precious ancestors will think when your blood stains this mystical blade."
Jack yelled and thrashed in his bonds. The other two demons leered at him, tightening their hold on the samurai's flesh until a popping noise was heard.
"You really shouldn't struggle for it's quite pointless," Death Weaver snickered. "Besides, my sisters have the tendency to increase their strength to crushing force. Keep moving and they'll break both your arms but what do I care? Go ahead, move all you want. Cause yourself more pain. It gives me more pleasure." Jack stilled and glared up at her. "Eh, I should have known. Now, be a good little samurai and still so I can impale you in the right area. I wouldn't want you to die so quickly. The fun would be over too soon."
Jack held his breath as the gleaming blade descended upon his exposed belly. The point gradually pressed into his flesh, creating a stinging pressure. Jack gritted his teeth as the tip broke through the first thin layer of skin, making a warm trickle flow down his gut.
A scream echoed in the cave and one of the demons released him, falling back to the floor. Jack swung his free arm into the other demon, forcing her to let go. Death Weaver was standing before him, trembling, red eyes wide with disbelief. She loosened her grip on the sword, letting it fall back to the floor. Eyes cocked with curiosity, Jack turned around and gasped in shock.
The demon called Darkness was floating in mid-air, suspended in an awkward pose. A shining blade had pierced through her face, while a bulky figure behind held it in place. After a few minutes, the figure yanked out the stained blade. Darkness' body broke apart into ash, crumpling into a heap on the ground, with the cracked mask falling in the middle.
"Well, that was certainly interestin' wasn't it laddie?" the Scotsman beamed.
A smile grew on Jack's face. "You're....you're alive."
"Impossible!" Death Weaver screeched. "I shoved you off the cliff and watched you plummet to the ground below! How could you have survived?!"
"Aye, you did watch me fall," the Scotsman replied. "But you never saw me make an impact on the ground did you? I suppose you shouldn't have wandered off, smug, thinkin' you won. It'll take more then a wee demon to exterminate me! On the plus side, I seemed to have done away with one your relations. Would you like to take a moment to mourn for her?"
The demon scowled at the mocking tone. "Carrion, take that red freak out while I deal with the samurai!"
"My pleasure sister," Darkness cooed.
The beast slammed into the Scotsman, sending him reeling into the other room, producing a loud crash as he collapsed. Carrion vanished into the through the opening with Jack trailing behind to aid the Scotsman, but Death Weaver leapt in front of him. Jack nervously glanced at the demon and back at his sword, lying a few feet away under the arch of the cave.
"What's the matter samurai?" Death Weaver taunted. "Are you afraid to die in a painful manner?"
Yes, of course he was. He had suffered so much in the past months and the thought of bearing more agony made him tremble.
"Two of my kin have been destroyed because of you," Death Weaver growled. "You'll suffer for that."
A confusing look spread over Jack face but he made no effort to question the matter. Death Weaver had lunged after him, bearing her dark figure upon his body, and she was impossibly fast. He was barely able to dodge her, scrambling to get a far distance so he raise his leg. His leg made hard contact with her hip as she flew past, knocking her sideways, but not off her feet. A hiss echoed streamed through his lips as the flesh on his leg sizzled, causing him to tumble to the ground, using the stone floor to rub off the black ooze that was sticking to him.
"Nice try," Death Weaver chided. "You might want to be a little more careful, dear warrior. My touch can be less than pleasant."
Jack snarled and rose back to his feet. She was circling him now, searching for an opening, any type of weakness. Two battling figures emerged in the corner of his eye. He was distracted at the sight, flicking his gaze to find the Scotsman bashing his way out of the Carrion's slithering form. It was enough for Death Weaver. She raised back her fist, clenching it as tight as possible, and slammed into the side of Jack's face. A grunt came from Jack as the fist clacked against his cheek, sending out a spurt of spit and blood. Death Weaver followed with an elbow to his belly, almost imbedding the jagged spike into his soft tissues, making it graze across his side. The samurai's features contorted with misery as he stood grasping at the bleeding wound.
"Poor little samurai," Death Weaver chuckled.
The warrior gazed up to see her hand descending, but he dived out of the way, rolled, and turned. However, he was no match for her speed. She struck him hard next to the ear and he went down roughly to the floor, dazed. Death Weaver was slowly heading over to him, bending her elbow until the spike was facing his chest, her features alight with a grim gleam of triumph. He if he didn't move she would surly kill him, but he was frozen to the spot.
A distant voice called to him, the same from his dream. It was beckoning him, telling him to rise up and fight. A new strength flooded into him and the fear swarming in his mind was driven out.
He came up, pivoting away from the demon's form, diving forward to grasp his sword. Spinning around, he held up the blade and hurdled his full weight at her form. She was taken off guard at the sudden change. All Death Weaver did was stand in shock as the samurai lowered from the air, driving his blade into the side of her face. A shrill scream came from the evil fiend as the sword pierced half the mask, causing the shard to fall to the floor.
The demon snarled, bent over, and snatched up the broken fragment while keeping the exposed area of her face hidden by the mass of crimson hair. Red eyes glared up at Jack.
"You bastard!" she venomously snapped. "How dare you! How dare you!!"
She sprinted off the ground and alluded the flashing sword of the samurai to draw her nails near his face. Five, long, bleeding, gash marks formed. Growling, Jack bolted after her but the demon took off into the air, hovering above him.
"Come down here and fight demon!" Jack called after her. "You were the one, who so anxiously fueled this feud, so come and finish it!"
"No, samurai, I have tired of fighting you," Death Weaver answered. "Perhaps another time, another place we'll finish this, but not now."
The demon became illuminated in a dark glow and vanished from the room. Jack frowned and sheathed his sword. A hand clapped his shoulder.
"Good job laddie," the Scotsman snickered. "Don't worry, though, I'm sure you'll get another shot at destroyin' her once and for all."
The samurai glanced up at the man, frowning at his tattered clothing and battered flesh. Then again, Jack realized, he wasn't appearing too great himself.
"The other one, what happened to her?" Jack inquired.
"Escaped, what else is new?" the Scotsman shrugged. "I'm afraid she was a tougher opponent then I thought. The only reason I was able to kill off the other one was because I got the drop on her."
Jack nodded and turned toward the numerous bodies, Rothchild mainly catching his eye. The Scotsman lowered his head, muttering an inaudible prayer.
Jack gazed around. "What of them?"
"I'll give them a proper burial," the Scotsman replied, scratching at his head. "It'll be difficult, considering their condition, but I think a can manage a different mound for each."
"You mean to burn them?" the Scotsman inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, normally, I would bury the deceased as well but since Aku is still around it would be unwise," Jack answered. "There would be a chance he'd dig up the graves and place the remains on show in villages all over the world, to give warning what happens to those who appose him."
"I suppose you're right," the Scotsman muttered. "But it won't be easy gathering the wood and building that many pyres."
"We'll manage," Jack sighed.
For hours the two men traveled from the cave to the woods with the painstaking task of recovering the bodies. Jack fought back the onslaught of tears as he gazed at the separate pyres in the end, disbelieving that such a thing could have happened. There were so many, so many he could have saved. He strode down the rows, barely able to gaze at the wrapped bundles on the piles of wood. The Scotsman was ahead, holding a torch in his hand. He stretched it out to Jack, who shuddered and refused.
"I....I cannot," Jack choked.
The Scotsman nodded. "I understand, I suppose." For a moment they were silent. "You're goin' to leave, aren't you?"
"I have no choice," Jack croaked. "I will not allow him to cause any more suffering or death upon this world. Aku must be destroyed." He stiffened. "And I'm going alone."
The Scotsman's eyes narrowed and he shook his head. Both had known this time would come. "I see you have your heart set, so there'll be no point in me arguin'."
Jack placed a warm hand on the man's shoulder. "Please, understand that it is a battle I must complete on my own. I mean you no disrespect and I know I am in eternal debt to you...."
The Scotsman interrupted. "Come, come, there is no point in sayin' that. You owe me nothin'. Just, be certain to make Aku pay for all he has done to this world and.....get out of the battle alive."
The samurai took a step back. "Good luck to you, wherever you may go in this world. I will never forget your friendship."
"The same to you laddie," the Scotsman solemnly returned. "Best of wishes on your journey. I hope you find what you seek in the end."
Jack nodded, eyes becoming glazed with oncoming tears, and ran into the forest, not daring to look back.
"Take care, my friend," the Scotsman whispered.
Once he had made it a far distance, Jack allowed the tears to flow freely down his cheeks. The salty droplets fell on his robe, which had not bothered to change from the previous battle, letting the liquid mingle with the ooze and blood still present. It stung horribly and the ache was spreading throughout his weary body, but he pressed on. He didn't care any more. He had only one purpose: destroy Aku by any means necessary.
The Scotsman glanced up at the ridge, shielding his eyes from the setting sun. A faint smile formed when he caught a disappearing figure rustling in the brush.
"His soul's healer, keep him at evening, keep him at morning, keep him at noon, on rough course faring, help and safeguard these next few nights. For he is tired, astray, and stumbling. Shield him from snare and sin."
The man turned and walked away from the blazing pyres. He was going home. It had been a long, hard six months.
A while later he caught the faint flickering of flames while traveling up the highland. He gazed down, noticing more of flames growing with each passing second. The pyres were burning. Unsheathing his sword, Jack knelt to the ground, resting his head on the butt end in silent prayer. He rose back up and placed his sword back.
"I will avenge your lives, my departed friends," Jack vowed. "Aku shall pay for the atrocities committed against you, and me as well."
In the back of his mind he could hear the voice pleading with him, telling him to turn around, telling him this was not the way. However, in his rage and sorrow reduced state, he made no effort to listen. Jack dashed deeper into the woods, heading toward the area where he could feel Aku's accursed presence. The final battle was drawing close.
To be continued....
(Prayer from a Gaelic excerpt.)