Fourteenth Stroke – Bloody Atmosphere

"So how do we do this?" Sylvia asked the others as they settled down to the deserted campsite once again. She wanted to avoid triggering any bad memories in this place, so it would be best to start discussion immediately.

"I don't know," Jessica spoke simply. "I have no ideas."

"Eighteen yoma left, and about seventy-five human soldiers," Racquel listed it off. "Assuming there have been no reinforcements. All that against three of us, and one human soldier; we need some kind of plan or everything will happen the same as last time."

"Do you have one then?" Jessica asked. Sylvia could tell the single-digit was out of her depth. We all are. None of us can plan large engagements. It's never been done before. She turned and looked at Tyrin, who appeared thoughtful. "You've led men into combat Tyrin, could you come up with a plan?"

"My experience tops out with hunting groups of bandits," the woman shook her head. "That's what I'm best at you know. I've never led a battle; really, I've never even been in one." She scowled briefly.

"Sylvia said you had been a soldier for almost ten years," Racquel questioned, confusion on her face. "How could you never have been in a battle?"

"Battles don't happen very often," Tyrin explained expression grim and level. "Coming down hard on a group of bandits and killing as many as you can before they break and all try to escape isn't a battle. Neither's patrolling for poachers, or standing guard duty at a border checkpoint, or even ambushing a caravan. Those are all one-sided things, little skirmishes involving small numbers, where the tactics and formations break down one the first blows are struck. Real battle is a lot scarier, and a lot less common. There just aren't enough soldiers for it."

"Humans do fight wars," Jessica prompted, though it was distant. They do, Sylvia realized, but we don't really understand why they do.

"That's true," Tyrin agreed. "But war isn't what most people think, until you go. I've been to 'war' once. One lord versus another lord, and we didn't form up into clean lines and charge across the fields or anything like that. No," she smiled wickedly, cruelly. "We had a whole lot more men, so we surrounded the town and they didn't come out, and then we just waited four months until they starved and gave up, and that was that. On that campaign I saw two men die of dysentery and four from consumption, and one man from something we couldn't name, but not a one from arrow, spear, or sword."

"So we have no plan," Jessica shook her head.

It did seem rather hopeless, but Sylvia did not think they should give up so easily. She thought Tyrin had greater skill than she was telling. Perhaps she doesn't want to embarrass a superior? That would be something both humans and Claymores had in common. But, we cannot go in without a plan. That would be suicide. "Surely you at least had some training in how to plan a battle," she suggested.

"A little," Tyrin admitted.

"Do you have any ideas then?" Racquel asked, picking up on this.

"The basic principle of attack is to strike weak points," Tyrin muttered. "But, isn't the whole idea of this human and yoma alliance to eliminate weak points?"

That much was true, and Sylvia knew it, having fought this foul union three times now. The yoma covered for human lack of speed and strength, as did their use of bow and crossbow, while the human presence eliminated the lack of maneuverability and coverage that was the principle weakness of most yoma. It was a deadly tandem. If only they were not allied, Sylvia thought bitterly. We could handle either group alone. She paused, and stared down at Tyrin, disbelieving how simple it suddenly seemed. "Separate them," she whispered, barely believing, sure there must be a flaw in the idea, something obvious she simply was not seeing.

"Separate them?" Jessica looked at Sylvia. "But how?"

"Pursuit," Tyrin said suddenly, and three pairs of silver eyes turned to stare at the human woman. She met them, suddenly confident. "It's simple, you all run faster than humans, right? And so do yoma. So if we cause a commotion, and then fade away at the right pace…"

"We can turn around and defeat the yoma before the human soldiers can do anything!" Racquel finished with a smile.

"But how do we cause a commotion?" Sylvia wondered. "We can't simply march in; the result will be as before."

"We'd have to sneak in," Tyrin admitted.

"Yoma will sense us though, so how can we sneak in?" Racquel wondered.

"Yoki can be suppressed," Jessica noted simply. "This seems workable. Details?" She looked expectantly at Tyrin.

"We'd go in at night, obviously," the warrior replied smoothly, and Sylvia could tell she was letting the plan build momentum within her. "It would mean discarding armor, to conceal sound, which is a risk, but we should be able to gain the advantage of surprise. The yoma will rely on their ability to sense you, at least in the dark, they're surely lazy about it, and the human guards will have less perception at night, and won't expect people to come in over the rooftops. We get in a few strikes and then fade, and draw the foe out. It should be easy, especially as they're all probably gathered in the center square like you said. It's not a plan without risks," Tyrin admitted, shaking her head. "But I like it, and besides, they just won a battle with you, we should take advantage and counter now. For their sake and ours." She said the last quietly, but Sylvia nodded, understanding. Her body itched with the urge to strike, to lash out in vengeful blows and make these treacherous men and yoma pay for the loss of Lynne.

"Objections?" Jessica asked in a tone making it clear she had none.

"It seems reasonable," Sylvia offered. She did not fully like the idea of taking this risk, but could think of nothing better.

"I think we should do this," Racquel spoke smoothly, ready and easy.

"Then we will rest now, and strike late at night," Jessica ordered, and proceeded to curl up promptly and dive into sleep. Sylvia suspected the single digit might not yet be a full strength, given her wounds, so rest was essential.

"You all fall asleep so easily," Tyrin shook her head as Sylvia lay down against a fallen log. "How do you do it?"

"We have greater control over our bodies than you," Sylvia explained delicately. "And we are used to forcing ourselves to do things."

"Oh, right," Tyrin nodded. "Well, I wish I could get to sleep so easily, I mean, I thought I was good at it, being a soldier and all, but you put me to shame. Anyway, no need to keep talking."

Silently Sylvia wondered if she should have explained that a half-human half-yoma could fall asleep under any circumstances in part because they were all forced to learn to sleep even while their bodies twisted in the pain of transformation. No, she decided. Tyrin need not know that, there's no reason to say it unless she asks. It would be a needless burden.

"How far?" Tyrin whispered in Sylvia's ear.

"One more jump, keep a hold," the Claymore whispered back, her voice as low as possible.

The human warrior tightened her grip on the Claymore's shoulder, preparing for another building-to-building leap. Tyrin could not make the jumps on her own, and needed Sylvia's help to drag her through the air.

Already the Claymore could here the low muttering of the soldier's voices. Some of them might even be the voices of yoma, as with her yoki suppressed all the way she could not properly tell. Some were close by, and others further, gathered around a few low fires left burning in the night.

"I'll attack first then," Tyrin reminded her, reconfirming what they had decided in the final planning. They'd hit a single group of men around the fire, and let the human warrior make the most of the surprise, since she was the only one allowed to take life.

Sylvia nodded, trying to maintain composure, but struggling. This was so unusual, she felt nervous. Not wearing armor didn't help. As impractical as their limited defenses might be, it provided a comforting solidity going into battle. Without it every sensation was slightly modified, it was taking some work to adjust to.

"Now," she heard Jessica whisper from her right side.

Sylvia gathered her strength, still maintaining the suppression of her yoki, and leapt.

They landed softly on the final thatch roof, causing only a slight rustle, barely audible.

Immediately Tyrin detached herself from Sylvia's grip and slid forward, diving to the ground as her sword came free.

The human warrior hit with an audible crunch, striking the hardened earth with force, but not wasting any time. Knees flexing she moved forward. "Die scum," she hissed as she plunged her blade into the first man, barely opening his eyes in time to realize what was going on.

"Wha-" some voice managed aimlessly, but Tyrin kept moving, smashing aside the arm of a man nervously trying to block, and slashing him open. She continued on, ruthless, ducking down under a desperate dagger slash and spinning to slam the man in the head with her shield, producing a hideous ringing sound. Another had found his sword and came on, but Tyrin blocked, sidestepped, and ran him through. Her white underclothes flashed in the flickering light, an angel of death moving among the panicked men.

Belatedly Sylvia recalled that she should join the effort, and drooped down into the chaos. Men were screaming and panicked shouts filled the air, coupled to the animal grunts of yoma awakened in confusion. Silver eyes fastened on a group of men and Sylvia advanced, whipping her blade from side to side, going for low attacks, crouching her body down and striking the knees, shattering joints to remove these men from the fighting while not endangering their lives. It was the only safe strike with a weapon the size of her sword. Attacking the shoulder could send bone shards into the lung, and death might result.

Racquel descended from above as well, spinning above in graceful motion, fluid silver in the light of flame and stars. The young Claymore moved fully in three dimensions, balancing on her hand to land brutal kicks as she swirled through those before her, never slowly her dance. Jessica, opposite the other warriors, opted for Sylvia's brutish approach, down low beneath the fists of powerful men, who nevertheless could not match this onslaught.

It all only lasted a few seconds.

"It's an attack! Form up! Form up you fools!" a powerful voice broke through the air, a voice familiar to Sylvia, the officer who had led the ambush on them before. "You stinking yoma, do your job!"

"Go!" Jessica intoned, shouting just as loud to be heard.

Sylvia stopped suppressing her yoki immediately, and she could suddenly feel the ocean of residue from the yoma, as well as the beasts themselves, charging forward in anger and hunger. She spun about, clearing the space around her, ready to jump back to the buildings before the humans could use their crossbows, already audible as they cranked into place.

Looking around she saw Tyrin struggling with another man, he had locked her sword away, and seemed to be pressing an advantage, but a second later and Sylvia noticed it was a trick, and the woman soldier twisted about and struck from the side, running him through from behind.

"Tyrin!" the Claymore called out to the other woman, knowing what had to happen.

"Right!" Tyrin sheathed her sword, ducking aside a hasty blow, and reached out to grab Sylvia's arm. The Claymore grasped just past the wrist, and Tyrin did likewise, gripping firmly.

Sylvia leapt only a second or so ahead of the first crossbow bolt. "Run!" she heard Racquel yell, partly for them, and partly for the benefit of the yoma. This would only work if the pursuit occurred; otherwise it was so much bloody waste.

Moments later, their success was clear. "They're coming," Sylvia said, but for Tyrin's benefit alone. The others could surely tell, for yoma, enraged, held nothing back.

"Good," Tyrin breathed, clearly tired, and struggling to keep her feet under her as Sylvia pulled her along, running as fast as half-human half-yoma legs could sprint.

A moment later though, thoughts glancing back to the yoma behind, Sylvia realized something was wrong. There aren't enough! Eighteen, there should be eighteen, but I sense less! "Jessica!" she shouted suddenly. "There's another-."

It was too late, even as she spoke yoki flared and Sylvia could see the quartet of yoma who appeared blocking the way, standing on the final boundary of the village, having hidden at the edge of the fields. It must have been a trap by the human commander, a surprising act of cunning by that man, for yoma would never chose this alone.

"Sylvia, Racquel," Jessica's voice was clear and strong. "Jump!"

It was a stern command, and out of habit, both Claymores obeyed, gathering yoki-enhanced power in their legs and hurling their bodies into the air.

At that moment, Jessica slid in behind the other two warriors, slamming out her hands, propelling them further upward and forward with her own immense power.

Is this how a bird feels? Sylvia wondered incredulously as she flew tumbling through the air, Tyrin clinging to her arm. Or a bat? No, it's not that, she realized in a slowly drawing mixture of fascination and horror. This is the feeling of an arrow shot from a bow.

Despite the height of the arc, which launched them both far beyond the reach of yoma claws, the ground came on startlingly fast. Tyrin! Sylvia realized. She can't sustain the impact. Twisting her hands Sylvia let go of her sword and grabbed the human woman by the shoulders, clenching her in close so her own body would take all the force of the fall.

It hurt.

They slammed into the ground, and slid, striking rough stones and grit. Sylvia felt pain everywhere on the side that hit, the scraping and smashing damage. It would have smashed many bones if she had not been a half-human half-yoma, and blessed with their extraordinary toughness. Even so, she was disoriented, and her head rang terribly.

"Ugh," Tyrin murmured, rolling slowly off Sylvia's body when they stopped moving. "I think I know how a goose feels at the end of a hunt." Her body shook roughly. "Shit!" the warrior gasped as she turned her head.

Sylvia, vision blurry, turned to look back, and saw what had so disturbed Tyrin.

Jessica stood in the road, surrounded by a complete ring of yoma, all eighteen of them.

"Hahahaha!" the yoma laughed in unison, predatory and wretched. "You think that helps you little Claymore?" they mocked. "We've got you now, there's no escape if we all attack at once!"

"Really?" Jessica grasped her sword with both hands, low to the right side, and shifted her left foot forward, her knee half bent in front of the other.

"We'll kill you!" the yoma charged.

The yoma closed, and the number eight warrior of the organization waited, and then, at the last possible moment, moved.

Her foot slid back, inward, and her sword came around, supported not just by the arms, but by the whole body.

The air rippled, and Jessica spun, the sound of steel on flesh and bone could be heard, and blood, the dark purple blood of yoma, spilled out from the mass. The yoma shifted, twisting, moving, but the blade came on, reaping through them as it moved onward, harvesting limbs like stalks of wheat.

"Whirling…Jessica," Sylvia breathed. "I wondered what the name meant," she whispered as her vision cleared, recalling the appellation she had heard for the number eight long ago. "So it was this, a technique that generates tremendous force by spinning, but uses incredible control over the legs to direct it in any direction. It's perfect for large groups of enemies."

The last two yoma tried to flee, only to have Jessica stop her whirlwind attack and streak behind them. Two quick strokes and it was done.

"Eighteen yoma in a matter of seconds," Racquel's voice was filled with awe. "So that's a single digit's power."

"Report," Jessica demanded as she turned back to the others, stained with remarkably little blood, her rapid motions having driven it all away from her body.

"Ready," Racquel answered.

"I'm alright," Sylvia managed, standing somewhat unsteadily. "Just bruised and dizzy."

"I had not realized what would happen beforehand," Jessica managed as a partial apology. "But we must keep going."

"Of course," Sylvia shook her head, clearing her vision slowly. "I'll manage."

"We must break these humans, make them run," Jessica announced. "Tyrin, I'm going to say you'll kill the wounded."

"But-"

"Just to make them panic," the single digit spoke levelly. "The more who run the better."

"We must capture one of the officers," Sylvia managed to recall through her still foggy mind. "So we can question him."

"You and Racquel, find an opening."

"Right," the young Claymore spoke for them both.

"Let's go," Jessica advanced.

The marched forward, strangely silent as none wore armor, but four swords shone naked in the night, ready to strike, and to finish to drive to flight those who had previously done the driving.

"Form up you fools, take your positions!" the officers shouted commands over the din, trying to organize things.

As the soldiers came into view, a group of men packed into tight lines, bristling with spears and crossbows, Jessica stood firm. "Flee now!" she ordered. "Stand against us and you side with yoma, and shall die! All those who are wounded shall be killed!"

"See, that one's human…they'll kill us…she already killed…how can we stop them…" the murmurs grew loudly in the dark.

"Stand fast!" the lead officer ordered. "We still have numbers, don't fear! We'll beat them!"

Jessica said nothing more, but simply surged into an attack.

Crossbow strings snapped, and the deadly bolts took flight.

Foolish, Sylvia noted, even still somewhat foggy and slowed it was easy to extend the flat of her sword and block all the incoming missiles. Without yoma claws to fear she could twist however was necessary to streak between and knock away. Even extending her defense to cover Tyrin was easy enough.

Jessica slammed into the line of spears, cracking and breaking weapons with ease, and hurling bodies aside. Racquel seemed to slide through the air, stepping lightly over the outer ring to drop in amongst the others and lay about her with the flat of her blade. Sylvia followed in, though her actions were different. She fought back-to-back with Tyrin, striking out to smash knees and knock bodies aside as the human soldier engaged in something far more lethal.

Thankfully, the requirements of combat kept Sylvia from dwelling on that.

The melee degenerated swiftly, as men, fearing for limbs and lives, first shuffled away from the reach of swords, and then, when it became clear that such half-hearted measures would not suffice, began to drop their weapons and run. A cacophony of noise filled the air, as some men shouted for order, and other screamed in pain, weapons screamed and howled, wood cracked and metal buckled.

Blood stink, metallic and oddly mixed with human and yoma together, filled the air, but the battle, if it deserved that name, was already over. No one truly stood against the women now, as men fled out into the darkness, or hauled wounded bodies into some dark corner, barely defending themselves.

Sylvia's eyes had never completely lost track of the officer, the man with his badge, so she knew when he tried to run. "Tyrin, cover yourself, I have to move," she shouted quickly to the soldier, and then burst through the remnant of the Black Wings' formation, blocking a few ineffectual attacks. Her vision partially tunneled in the storm of combat, her objective was clear.

A few long strides were sufficient to catch up with the man, who had been among the last to flee. He was no coward, drawing a sword and turning to face Sylvia, but he had no chance. The man was surely a good fighter, but his method was useless against a Claymore. He attacked straight-up, a simple down cut, solid, and backed by powerful strength. Sylvia met it with strength he could not match, and, lacking the speedy technique of Tyrin's method, he was trapped in the move as she smashed his sword free from his grasp.

Letting go of her swordhilt with one hand Sylvia grabbed the mercenary captain and flung him to the ground. "Don't struggle," Sylvia said evenly, surprisingly not angry anymore, but still disgusted at these people. "Cutting off a leg would be no trouble at all, and wouldn't mean killing you."

Slowly the screams died down, and the thud of booted footsteps was lost in the distance. Low moans could be heard from many places still, men crippled and maimed struggling to retain any focus. Jessica walked up beside Sylvia, and then Racquel, Tyrin coming last. The human warrior was drenched in the gore of battle, and appeared terribly fearsome, but Sylvia thought her eyes were sad. She didn't like this either, it heartened the Claymore to realize that. She too knows that this should never have happened.

"Racquel, treat the wounded, enough to let them live," Jessica ordered.

"I can as well if it is necessary," Sylvia offered.

"No, I want you to aid in the questioning," the single digit ordered.

Does she value my experience then? Sylvia wondered. With this crisis, or just because of my age? Tyrin's inclusion was obvious, the human soldier had greater insight into human affairs, and, much as she might resist the label, she was the only real commander among them. We are not trained in how to lead, and even the single digits have little skill in that area. Tyrin probably has more experience than anyone in the organization. It was yet another reason, Sylvia realized, that they were so threatened by this alliance. The human mercenary commanders were better planners than they were.

"Why should I tell you silver-eyed witches anything?" the mercenary's voice was laced with bitterness.

"Can't a mercenary be bought out?" Jessica asked, but she addressed the question to Tyrin.

The woman opened her mouth to answer, but the man on the ground interrupted.

"I may fight for money, but I won't turn coat on a contract!" his voice was laced with contempt.

"Even a contract with a yoma?" Sylvia blurted, before she could stop herself.

"Don't get high and mighty with me, demon spawn," he spat at Sylvia's feet. "I've taken contracts from men who'd feed their mother to dogs, what's so different about taking money from something that preys on men for food?"

"Maybe, but you'd still turn coat for the right price," Tyrin sneered. "We all would, there's no human who can't be bought for something."

"Your organization's gold won't buy me!" he shouted, strong in desperate conviction. "You and the yoma can all kill each other for all I care!"

The mercenary's hatred directed everywhere but still at them, struck Sylvia deep. Why must people despise us so? She could not really understand. We suffer too! She wanted to shout at him. This life is not pleasant, it is short, brutal, and void of friendship, or that unknowable thing you call love. She looked at Tyrin, unable to face this man's focused rage. There was no hate there, and Sylvia believed that she even sometimes had the human woman's sympathy, but why was it so different? Her sister? Or something else? Carefully, Sylvia dared to wonder if Tyrin's time with her had let her understand the half-human half-yoma better, if she had accepted them as real people. She did not think she'd ever be able to ask that question.

"I won't buy you with gold," Jessica's voice went ice cold.

"What?"

"I imagine your life is sufficient price, to tell us where the one who hired you resides," her voice never waved, staying its usual terse and even.

"You can't kill me," the mercenary scoffed. "That woman doesn't want to do it," he pointed at Tyrin. "You bluffed when you said you'd kill the wounded. I wasn't fooled."

Looking at Tyrin, Sylvia could tell the mercenary was right, her companion was not interested in spilling any more blood today, and as much as she might despise what this man had done, what all these mercenaries had done, after executing Lynne, she wasn't ready to do it again, might never be ready. Jessica must realize it, the Claymore knew, so why did she say that?

"I have little understanding of a soldier's rules," Jessica said, not timidly, but straightforward. "Yet I know that orders must be obeyed, and Tyrin is following my orders. So if I order her to kill you, she'll have to obey."

The mercenary's neck slowly twisted until he stared directly into Tyrin's gray eyes. What he saw there Sylvia didn't know, but it must have been convincing. Perhaps, she reasoned, one mercenary can understand another.

"So if I tell you, you'll let me walk out of here, and the rest of my men?" he demanded.

"Yes," Jessica replied simply. "Those who can walk."

"Disappear," Sylvia told him, half cruel and half kind. "We may spare you, but the organization will have its vengeance, or your mistress will, if we fail."

He glared, but didn't back down, a brave man, whatever his weakness in judgment. "Fine, you win silver-eyed witch, I'm not ready to die tonight."

"Where?" Jessica needed only the one word. All other questions were irrelevant. Sylvia silently agreed, their enemy was too cunning, nothing else would be revealed. Besides, we don't really need to know anything else; we'll discover the rest when we arrive.

"Argen Hill," he said slowly, bitterly.

"Sylvia, is he lying?" Jessica asked aloud, and her hand moved to the hilt of the sword.

"I don't know, where is Argen Hill?" she said, stupidly, realizing later that it was that fact that mattered the most. If she had not heard of it, it was a place far off, beyond the regions near her own ground.

"West," Tyrin explained. "A long way west," she shook her head slowly. "There's two mountain ranges in the way." When Jessica looked at her oddly she elaborated. "Three years ago, I worked up and down the Argen River, as a caravan guard."

"So far; impossible," Jessica said flatly.

"She wanted it that way," the mercenary answered. "So you'd never figure it out. It worked too, I guess." He almost dared to smile, before brutal silver eyes crushed him.

"It may be the truth," Sylvia had to admit. "Being based outside the regions they attack would confuse us, since we are generally localized. It would remain hidden until the men in black put it together."

"Tyrin?"

"I don't understand your organization," the human solider began. "But, with this kind of crazy alliance, I'd disperse everything far apart, so if bad things happened it couldn't snowball. That's what you do with questionable levies; keep them apart, so they don't all run."

"So it is possible," Jessica decided. "How long?" she asked Tyrin.

"You mean to get there?" the soldier wondered. At Jessica's curt nod she answered. "Well, a little more than a month probably, for me anyway, and so I wasn't worn down at the end. You could surely all get there faster."

"No, we must hold to your pace," Jessica returned. "You are critical to this, besides, it would exhaust us all to push past your ability extensively."

"A month then," Sylvia turned it over through her voice. "A long time, and a nasty task at the end."

"We'll begin right away," Jessica spoke flatly. "Racquel!" she called to the younger Claymore.

"What is it?" Racquel seemed remarkably clean, considering her task. Only her gloves blistered red with the stains of combat.

"Are you done?"

"Essentially," the answer was ready, collected, and Sylvia suspected had been anticipated.

"Then we're leaving, they can handle the rest themselves, incompetence is not our fault," Jessica began walking with those very words.

Sylvia couldn't shake a feeling on incompleteness in this village. Though the yoma were dead and the Black Wings dispersed, it somehow wasn't enough. The stain remains, she decided. It will for a long time. Luny was right, we have to stop this, before it spreads any further. As she kicked her feet into motion, following the single digit back to retrieve their armor and then to begin the long trek west, one thing was crystal clear. It is going to be a long month.

Chapter Notes: This took a while to do, because my time has been limited lately.