Authors Note: Hey everyone, sorry for the long delay. Well...here goes nothing, hope you enjoy it and I will try get the second half of this two part chapter up as soon as practical.
Clare
The cool breeze rustled the tall grass around her knees as Clare stood on the hill side observing the beautiful landscape around her. Her hair gently swayed to and fro mimicking the grass below her as she gazed up to a flock of birds making their way hundreds of feet in the skies above. grass hoppers jumped from branch to branch and life seemed to be in perfect balance. A peace that had escaped her for so many years wrapped around her very heart as she drew in a deep revitalizing breath. The pain had vanished and all the hate and evil that had destroyed every piece of joy that occupied her soul was gone. Her thoughts were no longer haunted with regrets and fears of tomorrow.
She didn't know what caused her to turn around, it might have been something she heard, but Clare couldn't be sure. Whether it was a sound or otherwise she immediately wished she hadn't. She remembered every crack and corner of the large boulders that rested around her. She had stood in this exact spot many years ago, she had stood there in that spot for many hours as her world came to a crashing halt. It was that day, that day she wished she had never been born, the day that all her pain and torment began.
Clare softly closed her eyes as they began to well up with tears. A small drop escaped and trickled down her warm cheek. As she reach up to wipe it away she opened her eyes to those two Claymores before her once again. She saw that God damn bitch on her back against the rock. Priscilla's half yoma self cowered in defeat below Teresa lowered and defenseless blade. It was here, right here, this was the moment, this was the event, the time and the place. This is where hate was born out of the rape of charity and love. Where life was unjustly choked away from existence, leaving evil and malice to dominate her.
Clare watched, just as she had before, Priscilla sever the hands of Teresa and then the eventual but quick decapitation of the one she loved. And just like the past, her soul sheared and tore as the low thud of the former number one's head bounced and roll against the fertile grounds of that hill side. Rage consumed her, nothing would give her rest, nothing would end her malevolence until she stole Priscilla's life.
A sharp pain spread throughout her body making Clare feel weak. She could hear those final words, that last wish that Teresa wanted for that child long ago. Normal life was no longer an option for her, there was no way it could have been possible. From the moment she decided to follow her out of that town the little girl she used to be had unknowingly bid farewell to hope.
As her eyes opened she saw Teresa's severed arms extending towards her, and like a puppet unable to control her own body Clare quickly rose to her feet with lightening speed. She could feel the warm blood splash against her cheek and each strand of Teresa's hair brush against her face as she and her sword passed through the person she cared so deeply for. She had murdered the only person she loved, she had become the monster that she hated with every fiber of her being. That day when she let her hate infest her soul Clare had become no different than Priscilla, she had given in to evil.
Clare awoke gasping for air and drenched in sweat. She cursed at her own existence under her breath before sitting upright. A sharp cold fell over her body as a small breeze flew in from the open window overlooking the main street. Clare quickly threw off the damp sheets that covered her body and rushed to the other bed in the room. Across from her was Yuma's unconscious and bandage wrapped body resting peacefully. It didn't take her long to piece together what had happened, she recalled walking out of the cathedral and then the pain in her chest. It was enough to convince her that the monster within had put Yuma in the state she was currently in.
Clare's guts began to twist and turn as she looked at the cut and broken girl lying on the bed. She stood their unable to understand why or how she could do something so hurtful and vile. Yuma's bandages and the sheets surrounding her side were stained crimson from the wound that she had painfully drilled into her. It was a perpetual and escalating disease that she had so naively accepted. She continued to look at the evil and destruction that she gruesomely inflicted upon the people she called her sisters. It was becoming more than she could stomach.
She could feel her heart begin to crack and deteriorate, her breathing became erratic, and control was beginning to slip away from within her. Clare's legs became weak forcing her to lean with both hands on the bed before her. Her breathing quickened in pace and shallowed in depth. The room began to spin as her vision tunneled on the weak and helpless girl in front of her. The silver-eyed warrior was about to lose consciousness just before she felt something.
A warm and calming wave began to travel up her arm, relaxing her muscles and slowing her heart. The shaking within her body ceased as strength returned to her legs. Peace and order rose within her as she stood to her feet once again. Clare slowly turned towards the sun bathed window pulling away from the bed, Yuma's hand still grasping her arm tightly, pulling Clare back to her. She couldn't believe it, after the pain that she put her through and yet still offering so much compassion was a humbling experience for Clare.
She carefully turned around to see the former number forty's eyes still closed and her body still sleeping. A small smile glowed across Clare's face, she was now armed with the strength of her sisters and the assurance that not one of them would give up on her no matter what the circumstances were. She promised herself at that moment that she would reciprocate that strength and hope ten fold. She would protect them all from any enemy, whether it was outside with blades or the monster within herself. She would never let herself or any others harm her sisters again.
The entrance to the city was a glamorous and daunting sight to behold. The walls were high enough to give even the birds a struggle to topple them. The gates were wide, able to have the largest of soldiers stand at least twenty abreast, allowing ample space for market traffic and the coming and going of visitors. Raki thought it hard to believe that the people of Rabona could even build such a mighty and imposing structure. And as he and his company made their way through the crowded streets he didn't find it so hard to believe anymore. He saw every able body moving about rebuilding and repairing the broken interior of the holy city.
Life was moving forward, unhindered by the destruction that had wrecked it only days before. Grieving and mourning had passed, and the love for those who had been lost would not hold back the spirit of this great city. Raki's mood lifted as he continued to dodge the busy townspeople rushing to cross the streets carrying tools and spare lumber. Despite their hardships and sorrows they decided not to quit, not to give into the evil that befell them. Raki was long convinced that anything good, or pure had been violently removed as God turned his back on this island long ago. But seeing the people of Rabona renewed his hope that maybe one day goodness would return to this lonely place, and he hoped that he could be a part of it.
It reminded him of his own journey to find Clare. He loved her, more than anything on this island, she was the only thing he held onto. And like these people, he would not be stopped, he was going to find her no matter how long it would take, no matter what the cost.
Isley was a friend and a teacher to Raki, he had made him strong not only physically but spiritually as well. He remembered what that strange man had told him many years ago. He recalled tirelessly training everyday with him, hour after hour of conditioning and discipline began to wear him down. One day Raki asked the wise old man who the strongest and most dangerous person he had ever come across was. His reply was unexpected and even harder to believe, but as Raki's gaze traced the streets observing all the determined villagers around him he spotted many of them, they were everywhere. Each one of these people were in fact the most dangerous and most violent.
The ronin, the outcast, they are the most dangerous people. Many of them are bandits and murders, they prey on the weak and kill without thought. They have nothing to lose so no one can force their hand or threaten them enough to stop them. Raki remembered Isley response very well, at first he completely disagreed with the grey haired fool, but now he couldn't agree with him more.
It is not the one who has nothing to lose that is the most dangerous, it is in fact the one with everything to lose. Yes, the person with nothing is unpredictable and violent, but the individual with everything to lose will fight not to lose it. Some of us have an "everything" that we hold onto with all that is within us. We will fight hard to keep it, we love it more than life itself because it is exactly that, it is life. If someone were to take that "everything" from an individual what measure would they go to to get it back. What would they not do to get back that wholeness that it provides for them.
The most powerful people in history have been those individuals with everything to lose. They have united vast peoples, discovered sciences not even known to exist prior to their exploration. But they have also been the tyrants and war mongers who seek out revenge or to conquer and destroy all in their path. Many of them grew up as common people, but they were determined not to let the world change them, but to change their world.
As Raki came reeling back to reality he found himself at an open street corner. To his left and right was the main highway that was dotted with taverns and lodging. His eyes settled on an inn tucked between two markets, and he remembered his stay there with Clare many years ago. His mind triggered a pain along his left shoulder as he recalled carrying that enormous statue around the city for three days. This place had many bad memories for him, almost losing Clare and nearly being killed himself was reason enough. But those were overshadowed by all that he gained from it, he counted it a blessing that he was here. It would have been disastrous if he had not insisted on coming, if he wasn't there to save Clare from herself.
Raki quickly moved those nightmarish thoughts aside as he spotted Raftela entering the inn at the corner of the two streets.
"Why here?" Raki questioned, looking down the street at the massive Cathedral.
"Well, this place has a good view of the area making it easy to find Clare or finding someone who might have seen her," Ermitia replied, keeping pace behind him. "Could you help Raftela secure our lodging for tonight, not all of the locals have warmed up to their presence here."
"Sure." Raki smiled as he began to make his way to old rustic doors leading inside.
Just as Raki had cleared Ermita's line of sight he let a low sigh spotting a blonde Claymore making her way across the street not even a block away from the cathedral, "I'm sorry to put you through this Raki..."
Helen was in disbelief, she knew that someone in the organization had seen Clare's Yoki erupt, but to be here this soon was surprising. She swore under her breath as she knew she had been spotted, her and the others game of hide and seek was over. No more running, it was time to fight, win or die. With incredible speed Helen fashioned her blade making a semi-circle sweep in front of her carving up the pavement as she lashed out bringing her arms to bear.
"ERMITA!" Helen roared across the distance between them grabbing everyone's attention. It didn't take much for all the villagers to figure out what was about to take place. All the people of Rabona dropped what the had and ran to safety, if there was such a thing for them anymore. Within seconds the highway was clear and void of life save the two who were locked into the death match about to unfold.
"Shit." Deneve breathed as her and Miria both snapped their heads towards the open window. Chills ran down Miria's arms as Helen's war cry reached her ears. In an instant they both grabbed their blades and leaped from the window onto the streets below.
It was surreal to see the vast and busy streets of Rabona now empty and silent. The three Claymores stood far enough away to keep well out of normal striking distance. all were poised to strike, ready to fight and defend each other and the city to their last.
A long pause held sway over the scene as each side examined the other closely. Ermita's pair of eyes scanned the other three sets very carefully, gauging them in strength and speed. The cloaked man shot a glance up to a window on the second floor of the inn adjacent to him. Rafetla stood back far enough not to reveal her position to the others as she nodded in acknowledgment to the old man.
A single bead of sweat trickled down the side of Miria's angry brow as she continued to remain ready for any move he made. "I don't know why you're here Ermita, but I swear I will not hold back," Miria gritted her teeth as she recalled the man he used to be. "That person I once knew is not before me now!"
Ermita slowly and calmly raised both of his hands to his head carefully grabbing the cloth turban which adorned his head. All three Claymores took a defensive flinch back as he pulled the turban down veiling his eyes. "I'm sorry it couldn't be any other way Miria... I didn't want to cause you any more harm."
Miria's heart began to beat erratically as Ermita started a slow and deliberate walk towards the three of them. he didn't speak any words or raise any weapons towards them. It was disarming at first, as if he wasn't trying to fight them at all. Deneve stood ready and tried to play out every technique he could possibly employ as he continued to close the gap between them.
Each step Helen blinked in fearful hesitation, unsure of what to do. Should she strike first and hope that Deneve and Miria could catch his counter. Or remain on the defensive and hope to react in time to his attack. All the possibilities played out before her in a blinding and nearly overwhelming flash. She was losing focus as she grew frustrated from tying to predict his movements.
"Fuck this." Helen bellowed angrily.
With all speed she shot forward placing all her force behind her blade hoping to end the fight before it started. She had calculated only a few paces between them but in a split second the Claymore knew that either she had misstepped or missed him entirely. She spun her right foot counter clockwise and leaned hard to the left, braking entirely against her heels. As the cloud of dust began to clear she could see Ermita right where she had left him but unharmed.
Helen squinted in disgust as Ermita raised his hand gesturing for her to try again. She tried again without thinking, this time she put all of her energy into reading his Yoki as she zipped by making the air hiss in her wake. She again sent dust and debris into the sky as she screeched to a halt. It was as if he wasn't there to begin with. Helen couldn't even track his draping cloak as he maneuvered around her.
"He's fast." Deneve regretfully admitted, Miria nodded in agreement knowing that this was going to be a challenging fight.
"Helen, don't waste your energy so quickly! This is going to be a battle of endurance, remain focused and calm and we can win." Doubt and fear was absent from Miria's barking commands but Deneve could see that it was riddled across her face.
With a single glance all three knew what to do. First, Deneve leaped skyward leaving only a sliver blur behind her. With all her strength she slung one of her blades towards the earth burying it just millimeters away from where Ermita was moving to. Just as she predicted he altered his course to the right towards the buildings restricting her avenue attack. It was a sound tactic but Deneve was already several steps ahead of him.
The short haired Claymore altered her skyward jump into a devastating overhead cleave bringing her blade in front of her edgewise. The smallest glimmer of a smile grew across her face as she accelerated downward ready to split the cloaked man in two. But before her sword got a taste of Ermita's blood he parried with a sidestep leaving it with nothing but gravel to sink its teeth into. The former number fifteen quickly shot her eyes over to Ermita still wearing her diabolical smile as she remained frozen in her posture, blade dug well into the earth.
In an instant Helen's elongated arm zipped right over Deneve's head searching for its target. Again It missed wide not even scratching the man it sought to kill. Deneve quickly released her grip from the first blade and in one fluid motion spun herself around grabbing the well placed blade she had thrown only seconds earlier. Sound barely had enough time to catch up with her sweeping low blade as she exited her spin swiping at Ermita's legs forcing him to leap to the air.
It had all played out perfectly, Miria had the perfect setup to strike him down. He had just started his ascent as Miria blinked with unparalleled speed right at his throat, she had him dead to rights. She knew the old man was good, he could easily dodge their first attacks and guess at their tactics, but his timing and luck had run its course and she would have to send another friend to hell.
Miria's claymore lead the charge dividing the air ahead of it as she rocketed forward. Everything around her faded into her subconscious, she was completely focused, making the slightest corrections to her flight, anticipating his parry. If anyone could slash him down it would surely be her phantom strike.
Another sudden burst of acceleration and a sharp pain erupted from her back side as the Phantom crashed into the building just behind Ermita. The taste of stone, mortar, and blood filled Miria's mouth as she final came to a violent halt inside a living room seated on the second floor. Helen's Jaw dropped in fearful disbelief as the cloaked man gracefully landed from his jump not inches in front of her.
"How are you so fast!?" Helen screamed slashing wildly at her target. Her blade furiously flew left and right slicing nothing but air.
"It is not speed," Ermita explained calmly as the sword continued to dance around him, "It is knowing how and where you will strike before you do."
"That's impossible, all of us have perfected suppressing our Yoki even during battles like this!"
"Who do you think discovered that technique?" Ermita chuckled lightly as he continued to dodge every attack. "I taught many of the best of your kind how to read and anticipate ones Yoki. I do not fight because I do not wish to."
Helen was attacking blindly, swinging more out of rage than anything else. Suddenly a calm but firm touch gripped her forearm arresting her blow mid swing. the Claymore quickly cut her eyes over and traced the hand to Ermita now standing to her right side.
"Please..." He breathed lowly guiding Helen's arm down slowly.
Clare quickly grabbed her blade hearing the sounds of a fight just outside. Leaping out of the window she could see the emptied streets of Rabona and the lonely figures dashing across the avenue creating a storm of dust and debris. The air rushed by her blocking out all other sounds as she descended towards the ground. Her impact was light, immediately rolling forward with all the remaining inertia from her dive. Without thought Clare bolted towards the battle unfolding a mere distance before her.
The former forty-seven ran with all speed forward, slowly recognizing those involved in the death match. Her heart rate jacked skyward as she saw her sisters slashing fruitlessly at the cloaked figure amongst them. Clare was determined not to let anyone harm her friends ever again, she had to rush to their aid, she couldn't fail them.
Suddenly a sharp and tearing pain slashed up from her spine and ripped into her skull. Clare dropped to her knees, releasing her sword as she doubled over covering her head. The pain surged and pulsated throughout her body before it came rushing back and finally erupted in her mind. She closed her eyes tightly and bit down so hard it felt as if her teeth would shatter like glass between her clenched jaws.
The pain suddenly subsided as she could feel the tall grass gently sway around her bended knees. Her hair danced in front of her eyes as they finally opened and saw that same hillside those many years ago. Three loud metallic clangs, she knew this sound, it had played over and over again in her mind. Those three sharp sounds ripped across her ears and sent a violent rush of hate and vengeance throughout her soul.
There they were, just like before, the same position every time. Just a short distance away they both stood locked in a battle of clashing swords. Clare was not going to fail this time. She was not going to see that bitch steal her life away again. She was going to stop Priscilla, she was going to save the one she loved. This time she was going to kill that stuck up little girl.
Clare gripped the hilt of her blade tightly as she brought it to arms. She had only enough time for one strike, one chance to right the wrong that had cursed her all these years. Priscilla was already on her back against that rock, whimpering like the pathetic excuse of a warrior she was. Clare blasted forward giving new meaning to speed. Everything faded and blurred around her as she focused on that single target, but she was losing time. She watched as Priscilla quickly severed Teresa's hands leaving her in shock. Clare screamed in rage as she exploded forward again leaving sound way behind her. She was almost there, a couple more strides and she could save her friend. One more step, one more swing of her sword and it would all end, all her malice and torment would fade away.
Those golden eyes went wide as they turned and saw Clare rushing in for the killing blow. It was priceless to see the hope in her eyes drain away knowing that she couldn't escape Clare's thirsty blade. And then that satisfying sound of flesh being sliced by steel as she drove her sword home. Clare could feel the warm blood dribble down the grip of her sword onto her hand as she gave it a quick twist.
The purple demons eyes darkened, life was slipping away from her. In one final farewell Clare placed the palm of her hand against the bottom of the blade's hilt and pushed almost the entirety of her sword through the awakened beings abdomen. Clare growled lowly gritting her teeth as Priscilla coughed and spewed forth her blood. It splattered across her face adding to the sensation. Clare had finally done it, she had killed all that was evil, she had saved her friend.
Raki couldn't believe what was unfolding before him. He recognized each one them as they flew through the air slashing and fighting this strange man. He had seen them seven long years ago. And now, just as before, they were fighting what seemed like an impossible foe. The young man stood in awe as this older and mysterious person made these seasoned Claymore's look like amateurs, much like himself. It seemed like they struck without discipline or precision as if fumbling through the battle.
Out of instinct Raki drew his blade, but as he stood there he wondered why he had. he could not make a difference here. A wave of dread washed over him as he felt as useless as he did seven years ago letting Clare go, running away. He swore under his breath still watching the battle rage on in the streets before him.
Suddenly a window above him burst open crashing against the structure it belonged to arresting Raki's attention. Raftela placed one boot on the frame, leaning well out as if watching the fight herself. But as Raki tracked her gaze he spotted what she was staring at. Not five hundred feet down the street another Claymore came sprinting to aid in the fight. Raki's adrenal glands exploded sending his heart into overdrive as he recognized the pageboy cut hair. He tried at first to yell but as soon as he inhaled his breath was again stolen from him making him stutter in disbelief, "CLARE!"