Twenty-First Stroke – Memory's Blade
I am going to have to watch Tyrin die. Something immeasurably cold and horrific unfolded inside Sylvia as this thought poured through her brain, this hideous, inescapable reality that slammed into her. Knowing this was somehow, impossible though it seemed in every way, many times worse than knowing that her own death would follow shortly thereafter.
It would take several minutes to heal the wounds in her knees. There was no getting around that, none. Sylvia had experience repairing damage to her body, a legacy of her lengthy career. She might well be better at it than most warriors, but there was no increasing the rate. Even if she had the strength of yoki to do so, pouring power into her legs would not solve the problem, it took a delicacy and focus she was barely maintaining as it was, given the terrible situation. Only because that focus helped to block out the horror around her, to give her something to do other than wallow in dread, could she manage to continue.
Tyrin stood facing Katherine's awakened form. The demonic creature was wounded, certainly, her extreme sickle-limbs sliced free in the sacrificial defense that had saved her and turned the tide of the engagement, but hardly weakened. Pain was nothing to yoma and awakened ones, and her arms and inhuman strength and speed would be more than enough to block Tyrin. Even if the human woman should land a blow, and Katherine's widespread arms gave her the ghost of a chance, what would it matter? She does not have the height to cut off her head, and the vitals are to deep in that ogre-body for her blade, Sylvia knew. She could bury the blade to the hilt in Katherine's chest, and still have her guts ripped open.
Sylvia, a Claymore who had seen almost ten years of service, who had observed countless horrors no woman should ever see, had never wanted to look away more than she did now, but she did not. Her eyes were held to the scene and nothing could possibly release them from that terrible tableau.
Slowly Tyrin walked up toward Katherine, her sword out. She did not thrust, or fall into a combat stance, or anything at all like that, she simply advanced holding her word. The woman's eyes moved up and down, taking in all of Katherine, but looking nowhere else.
Does she have a plan? Sylvia wondered. She could see no hope, but it was clear Tyrin intended to try something, anything, and was ignoring all distractions. Hopeless though it all was, the Claymore felt a surge of emotion and a great desire for Tyrin to strike a blow, to draw blood from the awakened one, even if it was ultimately meaningless. For it was not, she realized at last, meaningless for a human to stand forth before dying against a monster. There was something to that choice, though Sylvia could not have said what the meaning of it was.
"You really think you can harm me?" Katherine laughed, cruel and malevolent. "What idiocy, I'd almost rather you beg me for mercy. It would be more fun."
Tyrin kept walking, until she was very close to Katherine, between legs that stretched to a waist now above her head. Her sword moved, seemingly casually, but Sylvia, long experienced with the soldier's motions, knew that it was not. Tyrin's eyes were facing up at Katherine now, but for an instant she glanced down, facing Sylvia. The Claymore saw a reckless smile take those features then.
The reality of the moment burst upon Sylvia in a flash. She's inside Katherine's guard! The awakened being had made a critical error, she had been deceived by Tyrin's calm walk and perhaps her own dislike of her own form. Her body was too large, and with only her arms to fight with, a quick attack could strike her before those arms could close down.
Tyrin's sword moved back, and her left arm extended loosely forward. Watching this, Sylvia understood, and her teeth clenched down, hard, painful, so she would stay silent and ready. She must not betray this mad attempt.
Strike! Sylvia thought at the moment the attack came.
The soldier's sword faded back behind her shield, and the woman's whole body snapped forward.
Katherine reacted, moving her leg, but too late, for she had not seen the nature of the trick attack, and so moved into it, instead of safely away. Her limbs had an awakened being's quickness, but her eye was no faster than before, and it had been fooled.
Steel strung iron-hard muscle and bone with a wrenching noise, and blood spurted. Katherine howled, not in pain but in rage at this humiliation, and reached down to rip apart the nuisance she had let get too close.
There was nothing there, for Tyrin had not stopped, but let her motion carry her forward, running past her target by squeezing beneath her hulking legs.
Sylvia gasped with the success, but then realized with a start that Tyrin had positioned her attack so she was carried directly toward where the Claymore lay in pain.
"What?" Sylvia gasped in disbelief.
Katherine turned about, and she saw the human soldier sheath her sword in an instant and reach down to grasp the Claymore about the waist. She howled in anger and amusement, and spun about to leap forward and end this foolish rescue effort.
At least, she attempted to.
The awakened being pivoted on her right leg, but when her left leg came down in the packed soil there was a crack. The leg twisted, unbalanced, and then buckled. "Impossible!" Katherine shouted, but she could not stop her body from toppling over.
It was easy to understand for Sylvia, watching it happen. Tyrin had struck a below to muscle and tendon on that left leg. It was hardly a powerful blow, but Katherine's awakened form was like that of most yoma, ogrish and hulking. Massive shoulders and arms rode above small legs, leaving the body unbalanced. With the strain of a rapid spin the leg had been strained just enough that even a small wound proved too much.
A yoma might have howled and cursed for some time, but Katherine was adaptable, and she slammed her left arm down to prop her body up. "Die!" she screamed as the fingers from her right hand elongated to seeking spears and shot forward after Tyrin.
"Grab hold!" the human warrior hissed to Sylvia, and then lunged. She moved not to the side or to roll away, but forward, jumping off the edge of the river embankment to the thin strip of mud almost twice her height below. In shock Sylvia held to those armored shoulders and felt the unfamiliar sensation of uncontrolled falling for an instant before they hit.
"Damn!" Tyrin grunted in pain, driven to her knees from the burden of her armor and weight along with her own in the fall. Only the training that had been driven utterly down into Sylvia in the long years of indoctrination made certain she held onto her sword, clanging the massive blade of Tyrin's armored hip. She had not even remembered she was holding it still in her shock and astonishment.
"What?" Sylvia muttered in confusion.
"No time!" Tyrin hissed, surging to her feet and beginning a strange shambling run, with Sylvia hanging from her shoulders, upstream along the riverbank. "You can heal yourself right? Do it already!"
"I'm trying!" Sylvia managed in response, regaining awareness of herself in that moment, and with it, the severe pain of her wounds, now that the fog of hopelessness had somewhat cleared.
"Catch then and kill them you idiots!" Katherine's voice howled above, easily heard by human and Claymore. "I'll kill you myself if you fail!"
"She's ordered the yoma after us," Sylvia realized, heart sinking. "Tyrin, drop me and run, get yourself from here."
"Do…you…think…" the soldier's breath was labored, her exertion clear. "I'd…carry…something…this…heavy…if…that…had a…chance."
It was true, horrible though it might be, and Sylvia knew it. Tyrin needed her to heal, to fight, or they were both doomed. But how can I fight? My knees will not hold me, not yet. I need time! There is no time! It seemed absurd, and Sylvia felt the grasp of hopelessness clench into her again. "My knees are fractured," Sylvia explained, saying it because she knew not what else to say. "It cannot be repaired quickly. I can't stand."
Tyrin stopped running then, and her grip on Sylvia relaxed. "I'll try to buy you some time then," she began, and moved to drop the Claymore from her shoulders to the ground.
"No, don't," Sylvia was suddenly certain that was not the right choice. She knew it would fail, Tyrin could not last being swarmed over by yoma. There had to be something else. If only I could stand! Sylvia pleaded inside herself. Then there would be a chance! Aside from my knees I can fight!
Aside from my knees… in a flash it dawned on Sylvia that, she could not stand, but she was not presently lying on the ground either. She almost laughed then, feeling a mad idea take hold of her. "Don't," she repeated to Tyrin, and carefully she shifted her weight, pulling her body closer to the human woman, knowing there would be only seconds to explain before the yoma caught them. She pulled her right arm up, holding her sword out past Tyrin's shoulder. "We'll fight like this. You move, and I'll swing."
"That's crazy!" Tyrin snapped.
"We know each other well enough," Sylvia managed, just as the first pair of yoma dropped down into the muddy riverbank behind them. "Besides," she added hastily with utter seriousness. "I'm afraid I don't think you have enough time to put me down and draw."
"Very well," Tyrin's voice was low, almost inaudible as she husbanded her breath. "I trust you."
Sylvia poured yoki down her limbs as the pair of yoma charged, their smiles all but bursting from their faces at such seemingly vulnerable opponents. Her left hand and upper legs clamped down upon the ridges of Tyrin's armor, holding fast by strength alone.
The yoma attacked arms outstretched, slobbering and hungry. Tyrin did not attempt to direct or warn Sylvia, did not say anything, she simply moved.
The soldier's armored body bent in the middle, descending forward and turning at once, sweeping around. Sylvia seized the moment; lashing her blade under the right-hand yoma's attack and slicing upward to take its head clean off. Tyrin's motion did not continue, but instead pulled back, so as the yoma overcompensated and hurled its larger body toward them it stepped into Sylvia's thrust. The massive blade plunged deep into the chest, cleaving the heart.
Ogrish bodies plummeted to the muddy earth, but more yoma were coming on. Tyrin turned and moved, advancing sideways against the river's path, moving slowly upstream, sliding between the advancing enemies as if they were rocks blocking a boater. Sylvia's sword moved in contrast to her bearer, shifting with every motion, slicing, cleaving, and piercing demon flesh.
It should not have worked, not normally. Their position was awkward, vulnerable. Sylvia hard no proper way to defend herself, and that left the backside of the pair almost entirely open. Tyrin's own movements were limited. She could not make certain movements for lack of strength, or a certainly that she would lose balance and fall. Yet somehow, impossibly, the two of them were not stopped, and it was instead the yoma who fell, clutching lost limbs or killing wounds.
Why? Why is this happening? The thoughts flowed through Sylvia's mind as it seemed otherwise empty; her fighting had become fluid and instinctive, always a step ahead of the yoma. In a blurry flash of insight as blood sprayed over her wounded body, she realized why. All the training together, all those long hours, I know Tyrin's way, I anticipate her. It would never have happened with another warrior. They would learn to read each other's yoki, but that was a dissonant, sharpened thing, something that pushed away not bound together. Yet with Tyrin, with a human who bore no yoki, Sylvia had learned her motions, the flow of her body, had learned how she fought, had absorbed it deeply, to the point they could mimic her. Even now, she recalled that Tyrin had once warned her against it, had said they had practiced against each other too much, it created a danger of becoming accustomed to certain ways of fighting, opened vulnerabilities elsewhere.
Yet now, this is a blessing, a strange and unlooked for expansion of possibility. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, as the final yoma before them fell away clutching a bloody shoulder, Sylvia felt a feeling that had been distant, flicker back to her. Where before she had known for certain she would die, there was now a chance she might survive this day. Not win, but live. Once again Tyrin's strength, wisdom, and willingness to step into this madness had saved her, just as it had when they first met.
For perhaps one hundred heartbeats Tyrin ran on, armored boots fighting the mud, after the last yoma had given up or perished. Her breathing was ragged, gasping, and the Claymore knew it could not last. The human woman had reached the limits of her strength. "Put me down," she whispered, not wanting to shatter the sense that they might survive. "Before you fall."
Without wasting energy to speak, Tyrin rolled Sylvia off her shoulders, dumping her into the thick wetness of the riverbank soil. It was a sudden feeling of cold, but the warrior pushed it away, focusing all her energy, all her concentration on healing her damaged knees. She had to hurry, or there would be no escape.
"You…are…too…heavy," Tyrin muttered beneath great gulps of air. "For someone so thin." It might have been a joke, but the soldier did not smile. "How long?"
There was no need to ask for what to happen. Sylvia simply should her head, not willing to devote the mental energy to estimate it at this point. "There is only haste," she answered.
Under the caress of sick-sweet demon energy, bones knit, tendons bound, and muscles healed. It was a hideous feeling, it left Sylvia wanting to sick up, to expel the foul infusion, the foreign power, from her body, but she could not. It was necessary, so instead she made it obey, crushing it beneath her fear and despair and her hope, enslaving it to her will. Soon, but not soon enough, it was done.
The Claymore did not bend her leg gingerly, or test her knee carefully by standing slowly. There was not a second to waste. Besides, she had healed wounds before; she could read the point at which recovery had been achieved. Convalescence was a thing of exhaustion in half-human half-yoma, not of injury. She stood, and grabbed Tyrin by the shoulders, pulling her up as she had before when carrying the soldier across the river. "I apologize for the roughness, but we have to flee," she said, even as she sprang forward.
Sylvia did not run along the riverbank, but ascended upward into the timber stands just above the cut, knowing the solid ground there would give her better footing and more speed. She ran with all she had, pounding her legs as fast as she could, even though injuries remained to unimportant areas, and every step burned with fire. I have to get away. I have to get far enough, so Katherine gives up! The awakened one had surely healed herself by now, Sylvia knew, and must be pursuing. It would be them she pursued as well, for Racquel had shown prudence and suppressed her yoki. The youthful warrior could not be sensed anywhere nearby. Her escape, at least, had been a success. That was a small solace, if nothing else. Even if Katherine catches us, Racquel will live, she can tell whoever comes after about her form, her methods, it will make a difference. Not much to take from this engagement, but even a tiny sliver of accomplishment could inspire faster steps.
Tyrin, hanging on to the Claymore, said nothing, and out of the corner of her eye, Sylvia thought the warrior utterly terrified. She is not meant to move at this speed, she recognized.
She comes, Sylvia's thoughts were interrupted by a feeling, the presence of a massive force of yoki behind her that could only be Katherine's pursuit. The awakened being was being smart about it as well, projecting her energy in all directions, making it almost impossible to read. That would make it harder to for Katherine to attack, but it gave the Claymore and the human warrior no clear direction to run.
If it were just me I would make for the river, Sylvia considered, for that unbalanced top-heavy form with its extra blade-limbs seemed poorly suited for rapid swimming. But I cannot. I will not. Tyrin had already saved her today, had given her a chance to survive, so she could not abandon her, even though the demon voice inside screamed for it.
On they ran through the forest, weaving past tress young and old, vaulting boulders and fallen trunks, but making no progress. Katherine did not get closer, but neither did Sylvia outdistance her. It was a stalemate, and one that could not last. Sylvia was certain that the trees were difficult to navigate for the awakened being's hulking form, and that was the only thing allowing her to maintain a lead, but the trees could not endure. They would come to farms again very soon. I have to do something, she knew, and thought desperately. Do I put Tyrin down and have her run? Could I lure her to me using yoki? A human cannot be sensed, only smelled out, there might be a chance. She thought about it, but it seemed hopeless. Katherine had been wounded by a human, her vengeance for that would be total, and Tyrin, tired as she was, would not make it far. She would be tracked down and killed.
Suddenly they hit a clearing, split across by the massive trunk of the great tree that had formed it. That trunk, half again as wide as Sylvia was tall, formed a great obstacle, and she had not seen it in time. She could not make the jump in stride; it would only hurl her face into it. She had to slow down and adjust.
Such a seemingly tiny obstacle, but it proved tremendous.
Just as the Claymore could sense the yoki of the awakened one as she ran, so too did it work the other way, for in expending her efforts to run at full speed yoki leaked from Sylvia as well. Even as she stopped, Sylvia read the incredible burst of speed from her pursuer, as Katherine closed the distance impossibly quickly.
She came from the left, the opposite of the river, even as they were suspended in the bound over the great bole. Eyes filled with animal murder, Katherine raised an arm as she charged, and her clawed fingers burst forth like spears.
Unable to dodge, Sylvia desperately hauled forth her sword, but the motion of her flight worked against her, and she could not bring it around in time.
Those barbs impacted upon flesh, and bit deep.
Sylvia felt no pain, even as blood entered the air before her, and she realized in absolute horror that it had been Tyrin who'd been hit, not she.
Time slammed to a stop for one endless breath.
No! No! NO! Not like this, not this way! Sylvia raged, not at the wounding, not at her failure, but at the simple randomness of it. It had been a completely even chance, which way the attack came. Katherine had burst through the trees should could not have seen. A coin flip determinant on whether Sylvia or Tyrin would be hit. It was impossible, unfair, unacceptable: This is too cheap, it steals everything! Not like this!
Katherine was hardly done, and in endless suspension of time Sylvia observed one of the those deadly cleavers hanging from the shoulders, fully restored now as it they had never been cut, rise up into position, poised to extend into a spear to impale human and half-human half-yoma alike.
Before that slanted spear moved a dart of silver-white interposed itself in the frame of the moment. A long blade led it, and slammed past at phenomenal speed to slam directly into those extended claws.
Flesh gave, cleaved by the blade, but it had held for the briefest of moments, time enough for forces to shift. Sylvia gasped as she saw Racquel's thin and beautiful body pivot in midair, and powered by turning grace and vigorous yoki, detonate a merciless spinning kick against Katherine's flattened face.
The awakened being was hurled backwards, unfettered for she had been airborne as well. She slammed against a tree as wide around as a Claymore's sword, and it snapped. A great chorus of snapping followed, as branches bent, butted, and broke in the canopy above. Even as her feet touched the ground again, many tons of leaf, bough, and trunk slammed down upon Katherine's inert form.
"Tyrin!" Sylvia's first thought was to look at the woman. A glimpse revealed four punctures, one in the right shoulder and not serious, but the other three curled down from there toward the center of the chest, clean through the armor, having struck with more force than the strongest crossbow bolts.
"Run!" Racquel called, as the arc of motion carried her into another tree, but she put forward her left arm, bent it, and pushed off, pressing away even as the tree snapped back. The silver-haired warrior pirouetted in midair and landed in stride beside Sylvia. "Later! We must run!"
It was impossible to deny. Racquel's mad gambit had bought them moments at most, for Katherine would not stay buried beneath that pile of scattered wood for long. So they ran. Though every bounce and shake made Sylvia cringe and squirm beneath a horrid tangle of feelings, she knew, horrible truth that it was, that unless they escaped now, the state of Tyrin's injuries was completely irrelevant.
Soon they exited the trees, entering scrabbled pastures with idle rotting fences scattered about. In the distance, Sylvia saw another patch of trees, and angled towards it. "It we can make that copse," she gasped to Racquel. "We can suppress our yoki and hide, while in the open, we must run." It was a desperate race now, for if they could make the trees before the awakened one emerged from the woods behind, Katherine would not know were they had gone, and would have to search the hard way. They could elude her then.
They were not halfway across when Sylvia felt the burning beacon of yoki behind her, a bonfire racing after her heels. "We won't make it," she knew, and slowed almost to walking. "We'll have to stand and fight."
Racquel's expression was empty of hope, her lovely face drained and cold, but the younger warrior nodded, knowing it to be true.
"Put…me down," Tyrin whispered from beside Sylvia. Her voice was frightfully weak, but firm.
They stood atop a small circular rise, almost bereft of plants, seemingly cleared away by a grass fire not long past. Carefully Sylvia lowered Tyrin to the blackened earth, stilling a gasp when blood oozed from gaps in the warrior's armor as it shifted against the ground.
"Tyrin…I'm…I'm," she tried to speak, to apologize, to say something.
"Quiet," the soldier silenced her. "Not much time."
"Can't I help you?" Sylvia mumbled desperately. "Sew your wounds like Jessica did, I had her teach me."
Tyrin shook her head slowly. "I'm bleeding inside, I can feel it. Not even the best surgeon could do a thing," she grimaced, clearly fighting pain. "Kind of a shame, her aim could have been better. I'd have rather it taken my heart than bleed out like this."
Sylvia had to look away, she could say nothing. She felt numb, deadened.
"Look here," Tyrin commanded, and the human woman's hands moved. She reached down, trembling, and managed to slowly pull free her sword. Slowly she lifted it up before her, using both hands for steadiness, and pushed it to Sylvia.
Not knowing what else to do the Claymore wrapped her hands around those Tyrin's gauntleted hands, about the swordhilt.
"I want…" Tyrin coughed, and blood stained her mouth. "I want you to have this, and my shield too."
"What?" Sylvia felt disbelief burst in her, she did not understand. "I could not…"
"No!" Tyrin hissed, pained. "No," she went on with frightful control. "It's yours, I taught you, taught you all I knew of the sword, the only person I got to instruct. So take it, wield it, and let it help you kill yoma."
"I promise I will always remember your teachings," Sylvia could feel tears forming in her, a strange feeling, so rare, as the sadness buried her.
"I have one, selfish, favor to ask," Tyrin went on, her eyes barely open anymore. "Find my sister, find Celeca, be the sister to her that I…I wasn't able to be, please; and tell her this for me, even if I couldn't do it my self. Claymores are worth loving, even if they've forgotten how to love themselves. Even I, who couldn't remember to treasure her friends, can see that." When she was done, Tyrin coughed again, and left go the sword, her arms falling down to the earth, all strength gone.
Only one thing more would she say, in a whisper that could barely be heard. "Sylvia, you should keep living, that way, someone will remember us warriors."
Tyrin's breathing continued, but Sylvia, through her tears, knew she would say nothing more. Her life would simply ebb away in the slow red flow and be gone.
Kneeling on the ground, Sylvia did not know what to feel, shock rolled over and through her and she felt as if she was submerged at the bottom of the cold river again, everything so dark and far away. My friend, Tyrin thought of me as a friend, and now gone, gone so soon, so quickly, so much lost. She shivered and felt soaked in the absolutely wrongness of it. It should have been me, not you! Sylvia felt that to the core of her. A human life was worth so much more than that of a half-human half-yoma. That was a truth held deep in her, for there was no happiness in a life such as hers, and all of Tyrin's had now been snuffed out. She was not ready to face it, did not think she would ever be ready to face it. She wanted to curl up in the cold with her grief and squeeze it until it was embedded in her forever, slowly and understood.
The surged of approaching yoki left her no choice.
Sylvia felt it, and she had to stand, to turn, and to blink through tear-filled eyes at Katherine's approach, leisurely now, picking leaves and twigs off her and throwing them disdainfully to the ground. Covered in those verdant remnants it was impossible to hide her monstrous nature, the demonic animal thing she had awakened into.
"The human's sword?" Katherine gave a tooth-filled smirk, looking past to where Tyrin lay. "That's far too quick, I was going to make her suffer and scream and beg me for death for wrecking my plans. I guess I'll have to use you instead."
Racquel had slowly edged away from Sylvia as Katherine advanced, trying to move to the side, to widen the arc of attack, to provide some semblance of flanking. It was a desperate and perhaps useless move, and Sylvia no longer really cared, she was not paying attention to that.
Katherine laughed, and Racquel attacked. Sylvia moved with her comrade, doing her best to support, but it seemed ill-considered, doomed to failure.
The cleaver blades moved with Katherine, shifting even as Racquel spun low, bending her body till her legs were almost flat to the ground in an attempt to come under those defenses.
The attempt failed, as Racquel's blade clanged off the hanging and rising cleavers, no elongated to wrap about in a cross meeting, holding back the blow. Katherine's arm came down in a brutal counterstroke, slamming palm-first into the young warrior's side. Ribs cracked and Racquel grunted in pain, slamming to the ground with a hideous thud some distance away. She tried to rise, but could only muster the breath to leverage herself up halfway by holding herself against her sword.
Sylvia's attack was likewise stymied by those cleaver-limbs, but something odd happened. She was still holding Tyrin's sword, having not thought to let go of it. Reflexively she stabbed past those descending limbs with it as she attacked.
The attack went unblocked. This made no difference, ultimately, for Tyrin's sword was much shorter than a Claymore's blade, and with the much longer weapon blocked steel was halted over a handspan from flesh as Sylvia had to give up the attack and dodge away. She succeeded in this, for the counterstroke had not been focused upon her but Racquel. Odd, Sylvia noted, her mind latching on to anything at al distracting in the fog that held it now. Why didn't she block one blow with the upper cleaver and the other with the lower? It should have been easy. As Katherine turned to advance upon her, Sylvia observed the awakened being's motions again, and there she saw it. She can only move those blades in tandem! Both the upper and lower on the right side strike toward the same target.
It was immediately clear to the half-human half-yoma warrior that should the awakened one wish, that would not have been a limitation, but it would have taken training to develop the proper method, and she had not bothered. She had not learned the lesson Tyrin had taught her, that natural strength can be a lie, can create sloppiness, and lead to a weakness that might be exploited.
Sylvia had wanted to slowly, carefully, sort through her grief, to understand and reconcile herself to all that was happening, to find someplace deep inside to bury and accept. That was not to be, in that moment, in that realization everything burned into her, the memories of Tyrin, and of Jessica and Lynne, of all the disgusting alliance of humans and yoma, and the suffering and trouble it had brought, seared into her memory, flame hot and ever clear in their pain. Her sorrow burned away, transformed into a core of molten embers engraved deep down.
As Katherine approached leisurely, utterly confident of defeating this last weak warrior, Sylvia stood steady. She was still hopeless, but somehow, that there was nothing to hope for no longer mattered. Hope is for warriors and knights; a soldier, a hunter, just continues with the job.
"Why did you betray the organization?" Sylvia demanded of Katherine.
"Betray?" the awakened being stopped, her guttural distorted voice filled with actual surprise. "Betray them? Those vultures dressed in black? The men who prodded us, transformed us, used us like beasts, and then held us back from our potential while taking all the gains for themselves? How could I possibly betray them? They are rotten to the core! You call me a monster? Look at them!"
"Ah," Sylvia said, and it was all terribly clear to her in that moment. "All of that may be true, but it is meaningless."
"What?" Katherine appeared stunned.
"You think you're taking revenge upon the organization, don't you?" Sylvia was not asking a question, she did not need the look on Katherine's face for confirmation. "You think they did something to you, or treated you too badly, or sent you off to be killed, and for that they should die," she shook her head slowly. "They may have indeed done such things, done all sorts of horrible things to us, I don't trust them at all, but that doesn't matter." She continued, her voice growing louder without even realizing it. "It doesn't matter because our lives really belong to them. They took us orphans, who would have died otherwise, and gave us lives again; gave us lives, twisted though they might be, and a charge, a task to perform. You've betrayed that charge, and forsaken what you owe. You can't win here, because you have no cause, no grounds, no right to be fighting against us!"
"Really?" Katherine sneered. "And what cause do you have to oppose me? Your orders from those corrupt men?"
"No," Sylvia's voice was frozen. "I have the simplest and most reasonable of all causes: Vengeance for the death of my Friend!" Yoki burst forth from Sylvia with that invocation, a tremendous amount, surging and powering her muscles, her legs, making everything sharper, quicker, stronger. Her body distorted, bending and rippling as muscles grew, bones thickened, and the mouth broadened into a feral maw.
"Oh? So you'll awaken yourself just to kill me?" Katherine laughed again. "What was all that you said against betrayal then?"
"Awaken?" Sylvia snapped. "Fool, I have worn this uniform and carried this sword for almost ten years. You think I do not know exactly what my limits are?"
She did not wait for a response, but dashed to the side, running wide, circling around.
Katherine spun, and her fingers slashed out from both hands, clawing through the air.
Sylvia blocked, wielding Tyrin's blade like a shield, blocking close in, holding her guard tight as she had been taught, forcing Katherine to over-extend her motions, to make shifting her target impossible until the attack had already been blocked away, thereby evading what she could not have blocked on speed alone.
A moment later Sylvia dashed in, probing and seeking for a opening, but she could not find one, barely shifting back in time, blocking the downward slash of one of those cleaver blades only with crossed swords before her.
There must be a way, there must be a way, Sylvia searched her mind and senses as she circled about again. There has to be a way I can land a single attack, it must be there! Even as she flipped back, blocking in close again and sprinting aside as Katherine tried to pin her in reach of those cleaving extra limbs, she remembered earlier, remembered Tyrin.
Inside, inside is the key! Inside with a quick attack her arms are too long, and there is a window, Sylvia could see it, could plan it. She would have to dash in and then launch a powerful attack from a standstill, something strong enough to kill.
Hurled back again with enough for to make her arms shake from the block, even with all the yoki strength she could summon, Sylvia knew she could not wait, it would have to be soon. But how to I get inside those cleavers? There seemed to be no way.
Then she remembered. They can only block one attack. It would normally be meaningless, for how could she land an extra attack, but now, for the first time since experiments long ago in training, Sylvia found herself holding two swords. There is a way…I can get in close, make the attack from there, just as Tyrin did…just as she did?
Sylvia knew the technique of Mist Phantom, and now, with her yoki at her limits, she was sure she could perform it effectively, but she wore no shield, and she would not have both swords at the critical moment.
It seemed hopeless, as she barely sidestepped a flying cleaver limb from below that clipped her thigh, stinging and drawing a slow stream of blood. If only those cleavers were not there! It's impossible!
Hopelessness stretched on the edge of despair again, but Sylvia glanced over at Racquel's crumpled form and Tyrin's body, prone upon the ground, and she recalled the human woman's face, and that of Jessica, and Lynne, and knew that she was not allowed to despair, because they would not have accepted it. So, as she came about to Katherine, rotating as far to the side as the awakened being would allow her to go, delving into her memory, Sylvia attacked anyway.
She hurled Tyrin's sword with her left hand, spinning it through the air slightly off-angle to her, so when the cleave blade closed to block it above and below she slid past it.
Katherine's arms descended, but their arc was too wide, and they could not catch Sylvia in her burst of speed. The Claymore slammed her feet down, feeling the pain lance through her so recently smashed legs, and stopped, knowing she had one moment of movement.
Ever-so-carefully, suspended in the yellow world of yoki-saturation, Sylvia's sword came up and inside, passing beneath her arm and shoulder.
The Claymore's body snapped up and forward and the blade moved in that split second attack, quicker than the awakened one could follow to dodge or block.
Sylvia's great blade screamed forward, pressing momentarily with all its force against her own arm, and then ripping free to slash through Katherine above the hips, cutting the awakened being cleanly in two.
As she landed Sylvia threw her head back and raised the devastated, mangled stump of her left arm to the sky, and screamed with all her anguish and pain until she had no breath in her body and the yoki's wrathful embrace fell away, subsumed beneath feelings at last under control once more.
Sylvia never noticed Racquel's stumbling limp over to her as the younger warrior caught her up in one arm before her body collapsed in exhaustion.
Chapter Notes: I considered breaking this up into sections, but I feel it works better as one brutal formidable, unrelenting moment. Besides, climaxes should be big, right?