Sixteenth Stroke – Differing Glimpses
Three days passed and Tyrin taught Sylvia her strange and unusual sword maneuvers, the tricks and secrets passed down by master swordsmen, illogical and dangerous, but powerful in that way. She practiced the frightfully contorted motions again and again, until it seemed there was nothing else to be seen when she closed her eyes. Mastery of any still seemed far off, but so did their destination, as they moved from fertile farmlands to rougher hills used for timber and grazing, and left heavy settlement behind.
There was something comforting about this. Sylvia found the distance from human civilization pleasant given how disgusted she had recently become with humanity. Moreover, there was a stark, simple beauty to these hills; it was distracting and restorative, to her and to the others. All had been focused too deeply into themselves of late, there was some solace to be discovered looking away.
It was cold that first night, enough that Tyrin made her bed next to the glowing embers of the fire, catching that bit of extra warmth to prevent sore joints in the morning. Looking at her in the slowly deepening darkness as the light of those coals seeped away, Sylvia wondered if that was a change. What happens come winter? Can we still travel together? When snow fell human soldiers, and generally all humans, stopped moving about, traveling only as necessary and locally. Claymores did not have such luxuries. Indeed, the yoma seemed to find a certain wolfish hunger in the winter, and were often more active. Sylvia did not know why, perhaps it was the absence of travelers to prey upon, or simply the numbing feeling of cold, which wore one down even if it had no impact on the body, but they attacked villages more often in snow. So we go, and for us it makes no difference, but can Tyrin follow? Irritated by the thought, Sylvia discarded it for the moment, seeking sleep instead. That is far away, she recognized, something to worry about after this task is ended.
Sleep, when it came, did not last long before being ever-so-carefully disrupted.
The team did not bother to set a watch, they were too few, and the senses of a half-human half-yoma, combined with the brutal training to make them all into light sleepers, meant nothing was liable to get close without jerking them all from their troubled slumbers. Yet those senses could be fooled, if you were familiar with them, and if you had very good aim with a clod of dirt, a conveniently silent projectile when it landed on a cheek.
Sylvia's eyes jerked open with the impact, and her head spun, tracking the path backwards, finding, as she had eerily anticipated somewhere before becoming conscious, the cowled figure all in black who stood outlined against the moonlight. "Luny," she whispered, ever so lightly, making certain no one could here.
The man in black motioned for her to follow him, and descended with swift but silent steps down the hillside. He did not look back or say anything until they had achieved a sufficient distance that they could talk without any risk of waking the others.
"Why only me?" Sylvia asked immediately, seizing a hopeful opening, daring to try and pry an answer from the illusive man in black. Looking at him brought a surge of anger, but she kept it tightly wound up, clenching her fists as necessary. Exploding at Luny would not accomplish anything, she understood that well.
The man in black gave a slight shrug. "I prefer to keep this simple, besides, Jessica is a singularly uninformative warrior and poor Racquel is too inexperienced. I think I will accomplish more if you tell them the essentials for me."
Is that the truth? Sylvia wondered, her guard still up, as it always had been, but much sharper now after what had happened to Lynne. She was wary of any possible traps. Did he call me because he has more practice manipulating me? "Why did you follow us?" she asked carefully.
"I am working to monitor this situation," Luny answered, his voice easy, even, un-tinged by any of the concern or anger from the past. "It is very dangerous after all. I have news from the organization, and further instructions, and I needed to confirm why you were traveling this way."
"So you saw the village then?" Sylvia demanded swiftly.
"Yes," the man in black nodded carefully. "That at least seemed to work out. It is somewhat encouraging. It seems that human woman will prove useful." He shook his head slightly, a rare shred of emotion. "I would never have thought so, but the testimony was clear, she did some killing for you all. Strange to think of it, I cannot recall any other human ever taking up arms for the organization. It bespeaks a change in the times, one I am uncomfortable with."
"You said you had news," Sylvia probed. "Has the organization decided to change the rules?"
"Not quite yet," Luny answered, slowly, the words slithering from his mouth. "The proposal has been made official, so it is currently a matter of debate. It may take some time, for this is not a decision to be made lightly." Suddenly, without transition, Luny's hand shot out, and pointed straight in his odd three-fingered probe, at Sylvia's face. "You do understand that, correct?"
"Yes, I do," Sylvia believed she did, rightful and sickening as it might be, she had come to recognize just what that rule meant. Foul and callous it might seem much of the time, it drew a line, a powerful line, one that cut deep into the nature of the half-human half-yoma, not something to lightly breach. "When do you think there will be a decision?"
"I am uncertain," Luny replied, cautious, and deflected the conversation. "Where are you going?"
"Argen Hill, almost a month west," Sylvia explained. "They told us that was the base when we questioned them." Saying it aloud, the link seemed very tenuous, and the Claymore wondered if they should not have done much more to determine the truth. Walking a month out of their way could destroy their efforts.
"That matches what rumor indicates, and the direction the survivors seem to have slunk off too," Luny's confirmation was surprisingly supportive, and it made Sylvia feel calm, until she recalled her suspicion of the man in black. "With it being so far," he muttered thoughtfully. "A decision will likely be reached before you get there, but word may not make it to you in time. I rather hope it doesn't."
"That is doesn't? Why not?" Sylvia felt suspicion grow and coil deep within her, and anger simmered far above that depth. "Do you want to order our deaths?" she accused blatantly.
"No!" Luny snapped back immediately, and then added in more normal tones. "Think about this Sylvia, be reasonable, you are a reasonable being, I know this. Why would I want to order your deaths? Are you a risk to the organization? Do you have a history of pushing the lines, recklessness, a high chance of awakening? None of you are like that. Jessica is a talented single digit and has always served without question or complaint." Sylvia, hearing this, was not surprised, in many ways the taciturn and quiet warrior was probably close to the men in black's ideal warrior, almost drone-like at times, a yoma-killing machine. "Racquel is young, but she has great potential," Luny continued. "She's number twenty-six for the moment, but as her experience grows she might well rise to the mid-teens." This too the Claymore accepted; for Racquel's graceful acrobatics had the potential to carry her far, assuming she survived for a while. "She's got many good years ahead of her. Even you, Sylvia, though I doubt you can hold out much longer, have no real bad marks in your record. You might lack talent, but you've been methodical and effective. I've no desire to order your death."
He is being oddly open, Sylvia thought, confused slightly, trying to figure out why. Could it be, she dared to wonder for an instant. He actually feels something like grief over Lynne's death? Impossible, she thought immediately after that. "Lynne was much the same," Luny concluded. "She was a bit reckless, but a capable enough warrior, and no real problems. She had good years left, losing her was not something I desired, but the rules must be obeyed. They exist for a reason, and they maintain what we have made. That is more important than any one or any few, lives."
"So," Sylvia understood the overall point eventually. "You want us to render the decision moot. You want us to defeat this awakened one and destroy this alliance without having to kill any humans. Not to save human lives, but to save the organization's structure. I think I understand that." It makes me feel like a monster that I do, Sylvia told herself inside. I do not want to look at things the way he does, that is not right. Yet she could not escape Luny's strange logic, nor did she have the right to speak against it.
"See, you are reasonable," Luny put his hands back beneath his robes, seemingly calm again. "Your understanding of the situation may prove important. This long distance trek you are undertaking will be difficult. I won't be able to meet with you on it; I need to stay on this side. I'll send word on ahead. Hopefully someone from the organization can meet the four of you on the other side and provide additional information. However, if that doesn't work, I have instructions for how to proceed."
Sylvia nodded; she had partially expected something like this ever since Luny appeared. He would not have followed them for no reason.
"When you reach Argen Hill, only attack if you think you can win," it was an absolute statement, and clear in every word. "Judge the forces arrayed against you carefully as you can, and take no great risks. Other warriors will be dispatched to the area, if necessary, wait for reinforcements. Resolving this quickly is best, but resolving it completely is far more important. Everything has to be cleaned out in one fell swoop. If you scatter the humans and kill the yoma, but the awakened one escapes, we've accomplished nothing beyond sending a dangerous foe to ground. This must be wiped out completely and absolutely, do you understand?"
"I understand," Sylvia asserted, careful. She did, after a fashion, recognize Luny's reasons. It seemed horrible that they might have to stand by and watch others die if there were too many of the foe, but there was logic to the order. Luny plans for the long term, Sylvia recognized, and thinking back she could see it was something of a tendency. Are they all like this? She wondered. Certainly the other warriors were not, the yoma half made them impulsive, quick to act, relying on predatory instinct instead of analytical reason. Even she, a more cautious one, largely because her relative weakness had forced that tendency upon her, sized up a situation for mere moments before deciding on some method to attack. I am glad Tyrin is with us, Sylvia noted, recognizing how the human woman's different reasoning had aided them. Still, there was another, deeper and darker question lurking behind Luny's regular plans. Just how long-term does their thinking run, compared to our short lives? Not a pleasant topic, but somehow, intuitively, the Claymore knew it must link to something very important, though she could not understand what that might be in this shadowy evening.
"Good," the man in black nodded once. "That's all then, walk quickly." He turned and faded away into the darkness.
Sylvia waited for a moment after Luny was gone, pondering what he had revealed. He does not want us to be given permission to kill humans. I understand that, but I wonder if there was something else, some other reason I am missing. She was mulling over it carefully, with little success, when she walked back to the camp.
Jessica stood waiting silently in the darkness for her, silhouetted against the moonlight, only slight differences in her profile could differentiate her from Racquel, but Sylvia knew from the first glimpse that only the single digit would have awakened and waited.
"Well?" Jessica asked, many questions forcibly compressed into a single one, laying far too much force one word, giving it a tinge of menace Sylvia knew by now was not at all intentional.
"We are to proceed to Argen Hill," she explained. "Once we get there we strike only if certain of victory, otherwise we are to wait for reinforcements."
"I see," Sylvia wondered at Jessica's simple response. She was difficult to read, even for another warrior, deliberately taciturn, and so silent. In her experience, warriors often chattered amongst themselves with surprising frequency, understanding each other in a way only half-human half-yoma could, but Jessica was different. There seemed to be no idleness to her, only a careful, cool, deliberateness. Is she simply a very quiet person, or does she hide something? Sylvia had not been able to decide.
"And the humans?" another compressed question, but it was not difficult to guess the meaning.
"They are debating, but no decision has been made yet," Sylvia shook her head. "Luny seemed to think it best if we could finish it without one being made, to save their reputation."
"And our lives," it was staggeringly sudden, the offhand, terse comment, but it clicked immediately in Sylvia's mind. This was what she had missed! If three warriors, and three alone, crossed the line and killed humans, even when it was permitted, they would not likely live long afterwards.
Luny had made it clear that he wanted everything about this alliance of humans and yoma to vanish into the fog of history, to be forgotten by the whole world. Keeping their mouths shut after ending it would be one thing, but if they became the only Claymores who had killed humans, it was easy to figure out what would happen. The organization will probably find some quiet way to insure our careers end shortly. Sylvia, after Jessica's prompt, could recognize that much with ease. It was not that she believed the organization casually had warriors killed, though the penalty for most infractions against the rules, and desertion especially, was death, but it found ways to remove problems, and to do it without raising much suspicion. She'd served enough years and heard enough stories to suspect that much. That a single digit confirmed it was more than enough.
"I suppose you are right," Sylvia answered after a long, foolish silence. "Is there anything we can do?"
"No," Jessica's reply was terse as always, but absolute. "Not kill humans. That's all. Otherwise, orders are orders."
"Should we tell Racquel, or Tyrin?" Sylvia did not know the answer, and hoped the single digit might have a good idea.
"No need," Jessica shook her head. "Something to worry about later anyway."
It occurred to Sylvia then that Jessica, who seemed in many ways to be exactly what the men in black wanted her to be with her unquestioning and silent effectiveness, did not seem to plan for the future at all. She lives in the present, focusing on the needs of the single mission and nothing more. Is that what they want of us? No, she realized that wasn't the correct question. Is that really the way a half-human half-yoma should be? It was a question to haunt the long nights ahead, the Claymore recognized, for there would not be a swift answer.
"Rest," Jessica ordered, but without her usual harshness. "You have been improving," she said in a surprisingly open moment. "But not fast enough and we must hurry." She turned away after that.
It was a small thrill to hear the bit of praise, however couched in admonition it had been, from the single digit, from Whirling Jessica, a Claymore strong enough to have gained a title before her name, but the warning was real too. We're heading into something very dangerous; Sylvia could see it all the more now having recognized the differences in how they planned. The awakened being we face was not like most of them, she, and she knew it had to be a female warrior, a male would not have been familiar enough with the rules of the present day, is someone who plans, who looked ahead far enough to outwit the men in black. That means we are very, very far behind.
It was a cold, terrifying thought, and sleep did not come soon.
Author's Notes: I've had little time to work on this of late, so progress has been very irregular, unfortunately.