Chapter 2

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Clare looked around helplessly at the carnage that awaited both Helen and her at the bottom of the ravine. Apparently, humans hadn’t been the only creatures that had been thrown down into the ravine. Littered among shattered shields and broken spears, the bodies of many yoma continued to bleed out into the rushing river. It looked as if someone had switched a grinder on and thrown in a dozen yoma for the fun of it. The cool water of the powerful river was a dark shade of purple as the blood of both humans and yoma were carried downstream.

Helen, for once, was unnaturally quiet as she saw the frustration and hints of fear in Clare’s expression. The bodies of the humans they saw indicated that their deaths were due to the fall. Broken necks, pale bone pushing through backs and chests, all indications of high-impact trauma and not yoma inflicted damage.f

“Helen,” Clare said sharply. “Can you sense Miata or Clarice?”

Startled, Helen tore her gaze from the carnage and took a moment to focus. After a moment, she opened her eye and apologetically shook her head. “Gomen ne Clare.”

Clare’s eyes darkened at the response and her head abruptly whipped towards the direction the river was flowing. From her vantage point, she could see that after a system of cataracts, the river branched off into three different directions. Where they led to was anyone’s guess. Her eyes lingered on the cataracts. To ease some of her worries, Raki hadn’t been among the dead at the bottom of the ravine. But if he had been washed downstream…

“Are we going to follow this river, Clare?” Helen asked, none of her usual playfulness or lightheartedness in her voice. Clare regarded Helen with a penetrating stare.

“Of course.”

“How far?”

“As long as we need to.”

“Clare, you do know that this river has to be miles long? If we’re going to meet up with Miria and the rest of the refugees later, we can’t cover the entire distance by ourselves.”

Clare’s back was turned, and she said nothing in response. But, Helen noticed that her friend’s fists were clenched hard enough that the knuckles had turned white. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but if the humans here are in this condition, how will Raki survive the trip over those waterfalls? Clarice and Miata I could see surviving, they’re warriors like us. But Raki, Raki’s just a human guy.”

“Helen, go back and tell Miria to go on ahead,” Clare said in a low voice, there was just a touch of anger in it.

“But what about…?”

“The absence of one warrior will not make a difference if something strong enough overwhelms you and the others.”

“I know, I wasn’t talking about…”

“Go,” Clare turned her gaze to Helen, her yellow eyes giving the one-eyed Claymore a glimpse into Clare’s determination. A brief explosion of yoki hurled clods of mud, small pebbles, and varying debris into the air. When the dust settled, Clare stood on two very inhuman legs. “Go Helen, I will meet up with you and the others later.”

Before Helen could even form a response, Clare had pivoted and kicked off, leaving behind her swirling eddies in her wake. Helen blinked once, looked to the bodies on the ground, before blinking again and groaning.

“Miria is so going to kill me.”

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“Mama.”

“A couple more minutes,” Clarice mumbled incoherently, preferring the state of warmth she currently felt.

“Mama.”

Being called ‘mama’ gave Clarice reason to pause, even in her state. As she gained control of her thoughts, the warm feeling that she had been subsumed in vanished.

Clarice groaned and opened an eye. “What is it Miata?”

“Human, Raki, gone. No scent.”

“Raki’s gone…” Clarice’s eyes sprang wide open as memory of her fall over the cliff edge came back to her.

Realizing that she was sprawled out against the unconformable pebbles that surrounded a riverbank, Clarice slowly maneuvered herself into a sitting position. Shakily regenerating a myriad of minor injuries, Clarice took the moment to take in their current surroundings. First checking on Miata, Clarice was taken aback by her companion’s condition. Purple blood dripped unattended to from Miata’s long hair, and what was left of the girl’s clothes was saturated with the yoma’s life essence. Blood also dripped from Miata’s hands, where they hung limply on either side of the girl. Despite being soaked from head to toe in the purple blood, Miata gave off an aura of pure satisfaction.

Clarice blinked, and almost reluctantly peered over Miata’s shoulders. Clarice blinked again. Behind Miata, the forest that had surrounded either side of the river had been completely and utterly decimated, with corpses and splintered trees scattered all about. Separated yoma heads, arms, and various sundry body parts dotted the ravaged landscape, with even more parts being carried downstream by the fast moving water. It nearly looked as if an entire army had been wiped out by a very savage beast.

“Miata,” Clarice said carefully, at the blood-soaked girl. “Did you do all this?”

Miata nodded once, her long blonde hair soaked with yoma blood and obscuring her face.

“They were going to hurt mama,” Miata moved to Clarice and promptly encircled her in a tight hug.

Adjusting to the pressure, Clarice let out a shaky breath and returned the embrace. “Thank you, you did good,” she said reassuringly, her eyes flicked back up to the massacre apprehensively. “Now what was that about Raki? Where is he?”

“Gone,” Miata looked up at Clarice with wide eyes.

“Gone?”

“Woke up, no human,” Miata confirmed.

“Could…could he have been eaten?” Clarice prayed that wasn’t the case and was promptly reassured by Miata’s response.

“No scent either,” Miata shook her head, then pressed it back against Clarice’s chest and seemed to purr in contentment. “Mama’s scent.”

Taking another looked around the scene, Clarice gently pried the deadly warrior from her body. “We should get going as soon as we can. More yoma might come.”

Miata’s eyes glowed yellow for a second, “They will die.”

“You can kill then later,” Clarice placed a guiding arm around Miata and uneasily maneuvered her away. Though she had grown accustomed to the young girl, it always unnerved Clarice when Miata acted more like a yoma than a human.

“Promise?” Miata stared unblinkingly up at her pseudo-mother. Clarice did her best not to shudder as she nodded.

“Promise. But we need to find Raki first.” Miata’s head bobbed in agreement.

“He makes the medicine taste good,”

“Medicine?” Clarice was thrown off for a moment, but then gasped in understanding and pulled out the pills that hid a soldier’s youki, “He does?”

“Mixes it with honey,” Miata confirmed, reaching out for the pills in Clarice’s hand.

“No Miata!” Clarice said quickly, closing her fist and pulling her hand to the other side of her body. “They’re not candy.”

Miata fell quiet, and Clarice knew that the unstable warrior was silently pouting. That was never a good thing.

Miata may not have liked it, but she always obeyed her mother. Her new mother, the one she would not fail to protect this time around. Yet, her mother was holding back the sweet tasting medicine. Miata growled softly.

“We’ll find some yoma for you to kill instead. Big powerful ones,” Clarice hoped it would be enough to placate the girl.

The compromise had its desired effect, and soon Miata was happily walking alongside her mother once again. “Where do we go?” Miata asked.

“We’ll follow this river south,” Clarice shrugged. “I’ve never been in this part of the land before, but we should be safe if we stick to the river. Raki most likely washed up somewhere after us so we’ll run into him sooner or later. What do you think?”

Miata tilted her head in thought, before nodding. “South.”

“South it is then,” Clarice looked at the thick foliage around them. “I hope Raki isn’t too far away.”

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They had only been venturing along the riverbank half a day when, over the roar of yet another waterfall, they picked up sounds of civilization. Distant voices yelling over the din of a ringing ship’s bell, the clatter of carts rolling across cobbled roads, sounds that Miata and Clarice hadn’t heard in nearly five years. A cool wind blew in from the direction of the noise and carried with it a new smell.

“Salt?” Clarice paused. “Are we close to the sea?” Miata wrinkled her sensitive nose in distaste and tugged on Clarice’s hand.

“Fish. Mama, let’s leave.”

“In a moment,” Clarice managed to free her hand and parted the dense shrubbery in front of them. Miata followed her through the new gap obediently, even if her nose was still scrunched up in disgust.

They both quickly came to a halt, finding themselves atop a massive waterfall that spilled out into the ocean. At the very foot of the waterfall, through a curtain of fine mist, Clarice could make out the roofs of buildings and the bustling of a thriving human village. The waterfall itself seemed to power three giant waterwheels, stationed among the rocks a quarter of the way up. Water spilled down from these wheels and obscured the area immediately beneath it in a frothy white shield. What these waterwheels powered, however, Clarice had no clue.

Clarice had to blink several times to ensure that she wasn’t seeing an illusion. How could these humans be living so freely and in the open? Why hadn’t the yoma discovered them? Clarice looked for a way down into the village to get her questions answered.

There were not any. The village was naturally shielded by the cliffs that surrounded it, forming a cup-like protective barrier. The only visible way into the village that Clarice could see was by the water.

Small fishing boats dotted the ocean, but what caught Clarice’s attention was the very large boat docked at the village’s pier. Several times larger than the biggest building in the village, the multi-tiered, tri-sail ship was very out of place. Walking down the gangplank of the ship was row after row of individuals, in tight, military formation. Several military-style banners accompanied these soldiers as they gathered on the shore. There had to be at least several hundred people. The last people to emerge from the massive boat stood at the top of the gangplank and surveyed the gathered individuals. Though she was far enough away that these figures were barely visible to her, Clarice couldn’t help but shudder as a wave of fear soaked her to her very bones. These individuals were definitely not human, despite their humanoid shape. But what were they? Why were they here?

Out of the corner of her eye, Clarice could see Miata gazing at these newcomers with labored breathing. Clarice began to look away, but then quickly took a second look at her partner. Miata’s eyes had gone from a placid silver to an acidic yellow, and youki was silently screaming throughout the young girl’s body.

“Miata!” Clarice shouted above the noise of the waterfall. Miata showed no response. Clarice hesitantly reached out to touch the girl, and a shower of something wet splashed across her face. Clarice’s eyes went wide with shock, and fearfully, she shook as she looked down at her arm. It had been ripped off at the elbow and her blood was now steadily dripping to the ground. Raising her other hand to her face, Clarice tentatively felt the wetness, knowing with a sickening feeling that it was her own blood.

“Mia…ta?!” Clarice took a step back in fear, her outstretched limb trembling uncontrollably.

Miata held the severed portion of Clarice’s arm in her own arms like a toy doll. Cradling it, but at the same time, gazing down at it murderously. Clarice’s blood ran down the girls face and coated her hands, but Miata was oblivious to the fact.

In a voice so low, Clarice could barely make out, she heard Miata mumble something to the arm. It was said almost incoherently, eerily repeated over and over again. “You hurt mother! You hurt mother and made her bleed! Her guts are on your hand! You hurt mother!”

Miata’s head suddenly jerked up and baleful yellow eyes landed on a pale Clarice. Miata let out an inhuman snarl and threw the severed limb in her hand aside. Clarice rapidly backpedalled, her eyes wide and unseeing as the murderous youki enveloped her. When she stumbled over a protruding rock and fell onto the ground, Clarice quickly rolled back to face Miata and became still. Miata was standing right over her. Clarice was stunned with disbelief. Miata had just removed her arm and was now poised to end her life.

Miata moved quickly, bringing Clarice out of her stunned daze. “Miata!” Clarice yelled in desperation, raising her remaining good arm in a last ditch attempt to protect herself.

Suddenly, a second wave of youki washed over them. At first Clarice was too distracted by the strength of the wave to notice its effect on Miata. But when she came to her senses and noticed that Miata had collapsed, she let out a cross between a sigh of relief and a gasp of shock.

She heard a branch snap behind her and quickly scampered to her feet to meet the newcomers. There were two. Clarice didn’t think she could be any more shocked after seeing an intact human village and Miata’s near awakening, but she realized that it truly was possible.

The woman, wielding a large sword not unlike a claymore, cast a sidelong glance to her black hat-wearing companion. “Rubel, what do you want me to do with these intruders?”

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Something was tickling his nose, another was buzzing by his ear. Frowning, Raki tried to return to the peaceful sleep he had just been enjoying. Strange, his lips felt dry. He attempted to use his tongue to soothe his cracked lips, then abruptly spat out a disgusting mixture of sand and blood.

Blood.

Raki let out a groan as his next breath produced a sharp pain in his chest. Weakly opening his eyes, he gazed up at the soft clouds high in the sky. His attention was quickly caught by a lone fly. The bug circled him for a couple of seconds, before landing and walking along the length of his nose. He tried to brush it off with his hand, but gasped at the wave of nausea and pain that coursed through him. His quick release of breath though, was more than enough to dislodge the fly…and its friends, who had been crawling over other parts of him.

As they buzzed, annoyed, over his head, Raki stiffly turned his head to judge the state of his arm. It was a mangled mess. Lacerations and sand filled cuts covered practically every inch of his arm. To make matters worse, a pale white bone stuck out of the skin of his right arm in a very nasty looking fracture. The sight of it alone caused Raki to wince.

“Good thing I lost my sword. Would’ve been a pain to lug it around,” Raki muttered cheerfully, though he gritted his teeth as he accidently jolted the arm in question. If this was what his arm looked like, he didn’t really want to spare any more energy to see how the rest of himself had faired. Just talking to himself hurt. Let’s see, fractured arm, jaw, and…ouch, yup, ribs too. Wonder how many.

Raki ceased his efforts to rise and simply began to look around for help. To his immediate left, one of the soldiers from the morning patrol had also washed up. The man’s head had the misfortune to receive the same treatment the river had given to Raki’s arm. The man’s horse had been just as unlucky, half the body impaled on a jagged branch. To his right, another body, face down along the riverbank. Great, he was the only survivor, covered with blood, in lands dominated by roaming bands of bloodthirsty yoma.

To add to Raki’s unease, neither Clarice nor Miata were anywhere in sight. The two women were made of a lot tougher stuff than he was, so no matter where they’d wash up, Raki had a feeling they’d be fairing a lot better than him. It was just, he really really didn’t want to meet a yoma in his current condition and two anti-yoma soldiers would have been greatly appreciated. Then again, Raki surmised, at least he hadn’t washed up in front of a group of yoma. That would have really cut short his future plans.

A cool breeze washed over him, making him aware of the fact that the only thing left of his armor and clothes were a few sodden scraps of cloth and leather. He also still had one of his shin protectors, though it had been rendered into shreds, and partly embedded in his skin. Even his shoes hadn’t survived his river excursion. Raki made a face.

What I wouldn’t do to have Deneve’s regeneration ability right about now.

“Are you okay, mister?” a child-sounding voice jolted him from his thoughts.

Raki tilted his head backwards to see a single, young girl sitting on a rock not far from him, her spiky, flaxen hair glowing in the midday sun. She didn’t look much older than ten and if it hadn’t been for her voice, Raki almost mistook her for a boy. “Not really.”

“Oh,” the kid blinked her brown, flecked with yellow, eyes, and ran off.

“Okay…” Raki said, bemused.

There wasn’t really much he could do. The stabbing pain in his midsection let him know that moving probably wasn’t the best thing to do at the moment. Even if he could get up, he doubted it would be long before the scent of blood drew in yoma from all over.

He opened his eyes once more when he heard the sound of metal boots clink against the rocky shoreline.

“What did you find?” He heard an older female voice ask. There was no response, but Raki had a feeling that someone was pointing in his direction. “Oh, bodies? No? One survivor!?”

There was a sudden increase in the footfalls, and soon Raki was overshadowed by a silhouette. Even in his half-delirious state, he could make out the familiar mantel and sword of a Claymore.

“Hi,” Raki did his best not to cringe as he spoke with his fractured jaw. “There a doctor around here? I think I need one.”

“It’s amazing you’re still alive,” the Claymore knelt down next to him, her silver eyes examining him.

“Same to you.” He flinched at the unhealthy sound his jaw made as he spoke, “Beyond Miria and the others, I didn’t think there were others who survived.”

“There are other still alive?!” The woman gasped in surprise. “I…I thought I was the only one left!”

“Two Claymores fell with me, Clarice and Miata,” Raki smiled reassuringly, or tried to anyways. “When they track me down you’ll see that I’m telling the truth.”

“I’m not doubting you,” The blonde woman shook her head. “It’s just, it’s been five years since I last saw someone from the Organization, I was beginning to lose all hope.”

“My name’s Raki.”

Anything else Raki wanted to say had to wait as the woman decided to set his arm without warning. Raki saw stars as the jolt of sheer agony traveled up and down his arm, and he quickly bit down on the top part of his ruined tunic to muffle his cry of pain.

“Sorry about that. It’s just that you seem to be a fighter and if you ever wanted to use that arm again, I needed to make it heal as correct as possible. It’s still broken, I just pushed the bones back into their proper places.”

In the meantime, the young kid that had been with the Claymore returned, dragging a stretcher fashioned of hide and tree branches. The Claymore looked up and smiled.

“Thank you, Noel. Can you go back to the village and get one of the others to help? It won’t be safe for Raki if he’s jostled around too much.”

Noel nodded once and scampered back through the woods.

“Village?” Raki picked up, though his head was still aching something fierce as his combined injuries finally began taking their toll.

“A small group of twenty or so survivors are eking out an existence in a patch of woods not far from here. I stumbled upon them, and after clearing out a yoma who had infiltrated their group, decided to stay.”

Raki managed a weak nod. He could feel his consciousness leaving him.

“Don’t worry,” the Claymore began dressing another wound. “They’ll take you in and get you back to your feet in no time.

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Raki’s mind gradually switched itself back on.

He was alive. That was a definite plus.

Lying on something soft. An improvement from the uneven rocky surface of the river bank.

Now that he thought about it, he was also warm and dry.

A songbird’s call?

Where was he?

Raki opened his eyes slowly, blinking a couple of times to adjust the faint light of a flickering candle. He was in a cave of some sorts, on a bed, covered with an assortment of animal skins. As he catalogued his situation, he heard the beautiful, yet mournful twitter of the bird once more. In the silence that followed, he could just make out the soft scratching of a quill on paper. Raki turned his head towards the sound.

The slight movement seemed to alert the author of his consciousness.

“Oh, good, you’re finally up,” came the voice of the Claymore who had saved him.

“I guess I should thank you,” Raki relaxed. It had only taken him just the slightest of efforts to sit up to determine that he was still pretty banged up on the inside. As it was, he was barely moving his mouth, he could feel some type of cloth wrapped around his head restricting its movements.

“No need,” the Claymore replied, moving to his side.

“Thanks for getting me out of there…” Raki blinked and tried to remember if she had given him her name or not. Sheepishly, he did his best to smile. “You know, throughout all this, I never did get to ask you your name. I feel kind of embarrassed considering you saved me and all.”

“I didn’t tell you before?” The Claymore seemed surprised and then ran a hand through the long blonde curls that cascaded down the back of her head. “Sorry about that. I’m Number 45, Elyssia.”

“Number 45?” Raki’s eyebrows rose.

Elyssia picked up on the recognition and surprise in his eyes. “You know about the Organization’s ranking system?”

“I’m pretty familiar with it, yeah,” Raki smiled, recalling his traveling companions. He then winced when he realized that they’d probably be worried about him.

“I guess you’re wondering how one of the weakest warriors has managed to survive for this long.”

“I hope you aren’t offended,” Raki flushed sheepishly. “I mean, I travel with several powerful warriors, and it’s taking all our energy and teamwork to make it through the week.”

“I can understand, don’t worry,” Elyssia said soothingly. “I guess I managed to survive because I can’t detect, nor can I emit any youki. I don’t smell like a human to the yoma, nor do I give off an aura like one of the Organization’s warriors. The yoma I meet don’t seem to know what to make of me so they leave me alone if I don’t do anything to provoke them.”

A soft knocking on the wooden door to the room caused both to turn their attention to the entryway. The young child who had been with Elyssia earlier was balancing a single tray of food precariously on his head. As he wobbled back and forth, the soup in the bowl on the tray sloshed from side to side.

“Noel,” Elyssia scolded lightly.

Noel took the tray off her head and looked down, properly chastised. “I brought the guy some food. Is it enough?”

With Elyssia’s help, Raki managed to somehow get into a seated position. The bowl of hearty looking broth, his stomach growled. He rubbed the back of his head and grinned broadly. “It’s more than I’ve had for awhile. Thank you, Noel.”

Elyssia took the tray from Noel and set by Raki, while Noel beat a hasty retreat from the room.

As Raki accepted a spoon full of broth provided by Elyssia, he took the moment to get a better look around the room. It was surprisingly well furnished, with shoji panels blocking the dull grey cave walls from sight and ornately woven rugs coating the floor. Seated on a credenza made of rare wood was a birdcage containing an exotic looking bird. The credenza itself was against the wall opposite of the bed, and a chest-of-drawer set constructed of the same material by the foot.

“Recovered all from abandoned or destroyed villages,” Elyssia murmured softly, seeing his gaze. “The small group of humans in this place occasionally send out scavenging parties to bring back what comforts they could. Though I’ve told them I have no need for these things, they continue to give them to me, as an incentive to stay I think.”

The bird on the credenza trilled again.

“That’s a nice bird,” Raki said, subdued now. He let the hand that was holding the piece of bread absently drop to his lap.

“Isn’t she?” Elyssia moved over to the cage and let the bird hop on her wrist. “I accompanied one of the scavenging missions once and found it in the home of a wealthy merchant. I…I was drawn to it and was not going to let it starve to death in its cage.”

“Does she have a name?”

“She does,” Elyssia answered with a nod. “I call her Yuma.”

“Yuma?” Raki looked to Elyssia quickly. “She wouldn’t happen to be named after a warrior of the same name would she?”

“A warrior of the same name?” Elyssia paused in confusion, her silver eyes fluttering rapidly as if she was trying to recall something. When her eyes returned to normal, Elyssia smiled and shook her head. “No, the name just seemed appropriate for some reason.”

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“Yuma, what’s going on?” An anxious sounding Cynthia asked as she gently, but firmly, made her way through the throng of refugees.

She had more than enough reason to be both anxious and confused. As she had pushed her way back into the semi-circle courtyard, she noticed that many of the refugees had stopped their evacuation. It was as if someone had given the order to return home. But who would give such an order. Especially considering how little time left the people had to escape the walled city of Antaris.

“It’s almost noon and Tabitha’s and Miria’s groups have already made it out of the sewers and are halfway down the plateau. Why are these people returning?”

“Sorry,” Yuma winced as someone accidently tread on her foot. Recovering, she motioned to two disgruntled looking men. “It’s just that these two members of the governing council were protesting Governor Carales’ evacuation plan.”

“Really?” Cynthia glanced at the two for explanations. “And you two are?”

“Councilman Barot, Adriane Barot,” A hawk-faced man with a full goatee spoke in reply, his tone evenly measured. With a tilt of his head, he indicated his partner. “With me is Councilman Tilden.”

“Carales may be governor, but he cannot singlehandedly assume control over the military. That’s what the council is for,” Tilden spoke in turn, his sallow jaw and pale complexion giving him an emaciated appearance. “Even in times of emergencies, Anataris’ governor was only allowed to issue orders to the military with permission from the council.”

“Okay,” Cynthia said slowly, noting Yuma’s helpless shrug. “So you’re on the council, get the others and officially give him those powers.”

“We do not approve of his plan,” Barot answered sharply. “Carales seized power before anything could be done, before any rational decision could be made.”

“He is taking the coward’s way out by going through with this evacuation,” Tilden added.

Cynthia did her best not to say anything in her exasperation. “So what would you do different than the governor? Even with the help my friends and I can give you, we won’t be able to hold the city. And you can’t bargain with the yoma.”

“Is that so?” the Tilden said waspishly. “Considering the time we have, you Claymores apparently did just that.”

“We had something to offer their leader.”

“As do we,” Barot answered back.

“You do?” Yuma exchanged bewildered glances with Cynthia.

“We give them the location of New Caledonia and the two nearest cities, Morgina and Pallis, and in exchange, they leave us alone,” Tilden answered. “In this way, we can keep our city and avoid the casualties that will undoubtedly occur in Carales’ foolhardy attempt to traverse the wilderness. As you said, Claymore, if you can’t protect us from behind Antaris’ city walls, what chance will you have when we’re out in the open?”

“You can’t seriously mean you’ll sacrifice countless others to save one city?” Yuma blurted, horrified.

“These are dark times, Claymore. We are no longer afforded the luxury of scruples and fairytale endings,” Tilden said nasally. “In this world, it is everyone for themselves.”

“And the rest of the council agrees with this?!” Yuma shook her head in disbelief.

“They do, at the very moment, Councilmember Verene and Shaley are relieving the governor of his command and the remaining seven council-members are ordering the villagers to return to their homes.”

“You’re condemning them to their deaths if you do,” Cynthia added her voice of protest to Yuma’s. “Rifful of the West may be a yoma, but she has her own strange code of ethics. She’ll simply kill you if you try to offer up other cities as an exchange.”

“We shall see,” Barot said simply. “But if this Rifful spares the eight thousand inhabitants of Antaris, she’ll be rewarded by the nearly one-hundred and sixty thousand people that make up the cities of New Caledonia, Morgina, and Pallis. The reward for her is much greater if she agrees with us.”

Both Cynthia and Yuma were stunned. Was this truly what humanity had been reduced to in these dark times? Was it even worth saving anymore? Unable to come up with any response to the decisions of the obviously frightened governing council, the two Claymores could do little to stop the tide of returning refugees. The throngs of refugees around them slowly began to reverse as the governing council began to take control. Only a few continued to evacuate. Seemingly satisfied that they had gotten their point across, the two councilmen turned and began to denounce Governor Carales’ plan to the still retreating refugees.

“Cynthia, where is Miria right now?” Yuma asked, squaring her shoulders and deliberately staring past the two council-members.

“Like I said, she was at the front of the column with the governor,” Cynthia replied. “Why?”

“Are we really going to let these people throw away the lives of everyone in this village?” Yuma swallowed, looking down at the ground. “I know I am weak, but I can’t just give up on these people like this. Nor can I stand to see them become…well become whatever it is they’re becoming.”

Cynthia nodded reluctantly, “But these people have made their decisions. They could just as easily have continued to evacuate, but they’re not.”

The towering bell tower at the center of the city suddenly rang, both bronze hands of the clock were resting on twelve. The entire city went quiet. Even those, still in the semi-circular courtyard that led to the escape tunnels, momentarily froze. The bells clang once more, the noise echoing hauntingly throughout the city. A chill swept through the streets and several babies began to cry.

“We have to get everyone to leave,” Yuma whispered, her heart pounding. Those in the courtyard resumed their actions, most returning into the city amidst the…

The bell resounded for a third time.

“We have to do something,” Yuma shook her head, her legs shook violently, the only thing keeping her up was Cynthia’s supporting arm.

A fourth clang. Five of the council-members ordered the remaining guards to open the gates.

The fifth chime was nearly concealed by the great creaking of the massive doors as they swung open.

The council-members advanced to the threshold and waited, showing no reaction as the bell rang for the sixth time.

Yuma saw a young couple returning up from the designated evacuation route. Weakly, she made eye contact and shook her head. “No, please, you have to leave, it isn’t safe.”

The couple, and those around them, exchanged confused expressions. The bell tower chimed for a seventh time.

“But the governing council said it was all safe. That they were going to offer the yoma a deal that will get them to leave us alone,” one of the villagers said, puzzled.

“Please, listen to us,” Cynthia added, speaking over the eighth chime. “We know how the yoma think, how they act. Even if they leave you alone today, nothing will prevent them from coming back. They know where Antaris is now. If it isn’t this group of yoma, then another will come. You’re safest if you leave this place.”

“What would you know, you silver eyed-witch! You’ve never had a place to call home!” One of the refugees nearby pushed his way pass the two Claymores. He was soon followed by others, apathetic to the two Claymore warriors.

A ninth chime filled the air, a mournful note. Yuma held the gaze with the young couple and shook her head pleadingly. The couple finally nodded and began retreating once more.

A tenth chime.

“Everyone, you have to get out of here. Don’t come back, you’ll die,” Yuma whispered hoarsely, as refugees still continued to filter back into the village.

An eleventh chime.

“Please! Run!” Cynthia added, louder than before. She received a few shocked glances.

An immense wave of killer intent washed over them, and the two women’s eyes grew wide as they both stiffened. The yoma had arrived.

The bell tower chimed for a twelfth time.

“RUN!” Both Cynthia and Yuma yelled in desperation.

Black tendrils tore apart all five council-members in the entryway and ripped through the houses closest to the gate. The tendrils emerged with bodies skewed on them, some of the victims still alive and conscious as they were lifted into the air. A massive figure slowly rose up from the ground, yellow-red eyes staring down at the inhabited city in amusement.

“Good day, people of Antaris,” Rifful called down. “Thank you all for joining my men for lunch!”

As if caught by a vacuum, all her black tendrils shot up into the air and into a tight ball, disappearing only a second later. The bodies on the tendrils began a freefall, but were quickly snatched out of midair as a wave of flying yoma descended from the skies. Dozens more vaulted over the city walls or smashed through the open gate, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. The remnants of the town guard never stood a chance.

Cytnhia and Yuma quickly began gesturing towards the only remaining exit left, the tunnel-like sewer system that led out of the city.

“This way! Hurry!” Cynthia yelled, nearly buffeted over by the surge of panicked and confused refugees.

One of the nearby houses exploded in a hail of splinter, tearing apart those nearest. The spray of gore immediately caused others to stampede, trampling over those who had fallen from the shockwave without a second thought. Those trampled, were, however, the lucky ones.

A massive yoma arose from the remains of the house, and after taking in the scene around him with a feral grin, held up both his arms. Needle-thin tendrils erupted from his skin, wreaking havoc among the hapless humans. Those not instantly killed were perforated many times over and fell to the ground, slowly bleeding to death as their nerves registered every puncture.

Yuma tried to assist the fleeing humans, but the sheer mass of the panicked crowd, all attempting to escape through the narrow sewage entryway, had her pinned alongside another building. From her vantage point, she watched as lesser yoma sprang upon the crowd with abandon, the screams of the humans rising to a deafening level.

Cynthia was likewise unable to help, but in her case, a large wooden beam had landed on her, keeping her pinned to the ground. It was taking all her effort just to avoid being stepped on by the multitude of frantic feet.

As if things could not get any worse. The yoma, seeing that all the humans were heading towards a single location, saw the opening to the tunnels. Without a second thought, one of the larger yoma slammed a massive hand down on the arc above the entryway. The limestone keystone shattered, and the two supporting columns toppled inwards. What had once been the only chance for escape had become a death trap. Though the exit had been destroyed, the hysterical inhabitants of Antaris continued to push into the semi-circle courtyard, driven incessantly by the yomas’ feeding frenzy.

Pinned by the masses, neither Claymore could do anything as the crowd fell upon themselves in panic. Some tried to squeeze or crawl through the narrow openings between the fallen columns. Many were pulled out by the people behind them and trampled upon as the mass continued to surge forward. There was no stopping the slaughter.

Breathing heavily, Cynthia tried to dislodge the beam on top of her. Then froze. A massive shadow suddenly dwarfed her trapped figure.

“Claymore,” an Awakened Being, akin to a praying mantis, looked down at her with unmistakable glee. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to taste Claymore flesh. Where most of my brethren find it disgusting, I find it absolutely delicious.”

He raised one of his sickle-like hands, but before he could bring it down, a band of black suddenly wrapped around him, constraining his limbs. At the forefront of the black band was a hand holding a massive sword. The Awakened Being had only a second to realize that he was in trouble, before his arms, legs, and wings were sliced from his body. The extra long arm retracted, and its owner leaped through the air and landed on what was left of the Awakened Being’s torso.

“Hey bastard, you talk too much,” Helen grinned, proceeding to kick the maimed Awakened Being back over Cynthia as if it were an oblong ball. Helen looked around at the carnage and her smile faded. “What a waste.”

“Helen!” Cynthia and Yuma both called out, they couldn’t have sounded more relieved.

“Hey,” Helen gripped two charging lesser yoma by their heads and smashed their skulls together. “Need a hand, Cynthia?”

Twisting her arm around thrice, Helen let her claymore fly into the massive wooden beam and reduced it to toothpicks in seconds. A slightly stunned Cynthia allowed Helen to pull her to her feet before dusting the sawdust from herself.

Yuma, who finally managed to get a break in the thinning crowd, joined her companions a split second later.

“Someone want to explain to me why you two, and what has to be the entire town, are still doing inside the walls?” Helen was forced to yell the last part of her question while flipping backwards in midair. “Geez, can’t you yoma wait until they’re done telling me what’s going on?”

Both Yuma and Cynthia re-engaged another Awakened Being, forcing it to retreat behind a row of lesser yoma.

“The governing council tried to make a deal with Rifful,” Cynthia yelled, likewise to be heard over the screams of the still thinning crowd.

“And I thought Clare was insane,” Helen groaned. “Cynthia, Yuma, let’s get these poor idiots out of here.”

“But the yoma control the main gate,” Cynthia protested, cleanly taking out seven lesser yoma in a single swipe of her claymore. “Rifful is there as well.”

“I didn’t say we were heading towards the main gate, I’m not that suicidal,” Helen promptly turned her attention to three more Awakened Beings and charged with a gleeful yell.

“She’s not?” Yuma raised her eyebrows questioningly as she monetarily shared glances with Cynthia.

“Get ‘em all to a section of the wall,” Helen continued, she then raised her sword arm. It was already twisted around several times. “I’ll do the rest.”

To both Cynthia and Yuma’s alarm and bewilderment, Helen simply disarmed and de-legged the Awakened Beings she was fighting. Just as she had done with the praying mantis Awakened One, Helen then kicked or hurled the limbless torsos through varying buildings.

“Don’t wanna draw Rifful into this fight,” Helen explained once she returned to the two other women. Her good eye darted to where a single, small, figure was now standing in the main gate, just to ensure that the Abyssal One hadn’t left her post.

“Everyone!” Yuma called out, barely heard over the cacophony of screams and inhuman shrieks of joy. “Follow us! We’ll get you out of here safely!”

The three Claymores began to lead the surviving humans through the city. And attracted just about every yoma in the process.

“Hey, when she said ‘everyone’ she meant only the humans!” Helen yelled, divesting a yoma of its wings, fingers, and toes.

Another yoma’ s fingers exploded through the window of a house and snagged a hapless man, and yet another bypassed Yuma’s ineffective swipe to seize a child and fly off into the air.

“Keep moving!” Cynthia yelled, bringing up the rear. She watched helplessly as those who stumbled or fell were picked off by the ravenous horde behind them.

Despite their best efforts, by the time the trio of Claymores had managed to reach a segment of the wall, they had little more than a hundred civilians still in their charge.

“Give me another couple of seconds!” Helen yelled. “I’m on the twentieth rotation!”

An Awakened Being’s finger spikes shot out of nowhere, sending fragments of stone and plaster flying as it slammed into the wall where Helen had been. Yuma zealously removed the extended spikes and sliced the Awakened Being in two.

“Yuma! Don’t kill the big ones,” Cynthia yelled in warning, registering with some alarm, Rifful’s advancing presence.

“Twenty-one!” Helen yelled, and with a war cry she slammed her sword arm into the wall. The drill effect was instantaneous, blowing a massive crater into the several meter thick defensive barrier. “Go!”

Still fueled by adrenaline and fear, the survivors rushed through the new hole, attempting to escape their home-now-hell as fast as they possibly could. The Claymores held their ground until the last surviving citizen of Antaris had passed through the newly made exit. When that was complete, they followed, doing the same thing that they had been doing since the fall of the Organization. They ran.

Several yoma tried to follow, but the moment that they emerged from the hole in the wall, a curtain of black rained down in front of them.

“Lady Rifful,” the lesser yoma immediately fell to one knee in reverence.

“Let then go,” the human-girl Rifful said, looking pensively. “They earned their right to run, don’t you think?”

The yoma were silent, not daring to go up against the words of the Abyssal One.

“‘Sides,” Rifful grinned, “It’s best not to stuff yourself all at once. Go finish off whoever’s still in the city. When those who escaped tire, or run out of places to hide, we’ll just pick them off, one by one.”

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Miria’s jaw clenched as she heard faint screams echoing from above. Though they had had several hours to evacuate, it was inevitable that not everyone would be able to make it out in time. But as the screams continued, Miria’s forehead furrowed and she glanced back over her shoulder. The screams were much too loud and numerous.

Just then, she saw a flash of blonde and realized that Tabitha was frantically heading her way.

“Miria!”

“What’s wrong?” Miria said tersely, noting that governor Carales also stopped to hear the news.

Tabitha’s gaze briefly flickered over the governor before she began her explanation. “The governing council had some convoluted plan. I’m not sure what exactly, but the two members in my group were telling the refugees towards the rear to head back into the city.”

“What?!” Carales growled, his sharp eyes, burning with fury, darted over the crowd in search of the members in question.

“That’s not all, neither Cynthia’s nor Yuma’s group were able to make it out of the city,” Tabitha continued, “Apparently the rest of the governing council stayed behind and took over the affairs of the city the moment both Governor Carales and you, Miria, were far enough away.”

“Those harebrained idiots!” Carales swore. “How many returned to the city?”

“Most, if not all of Yuma’s group, and a large portion of Cynthia’s,” Tabitha said with a resigned shake of her head. “Your Captain Savalia reported that in addition to the groups led by Miria and myself, only an additional 330 people made it out through the sewers.”

“The groups your companions were in charge of… they had over four thousand people combined,” one of the nearby soldiers whispered, aghast. “And only three hundred made it out?”

“Where are the members of the governing council now?” Carales glowered.

Tabitha did not have any need to respond as three men in matching official looking clothes pushed their way to the front of the crowd. Following close behind them were several of the town guard, though the guard appeared less than enthusiastic about their current assignment. Carales regarded them evenly, though his dislike was evident.

“Now, if it isn’t the head of the council, Councilman Dorma and his three parasites,” Carales said with false cheer, his glare narrowed on the centermost figure. With a sidelong glance at the Claymores, Carales jerked his thumb at the man. “This influential bastard’s Rabar Dorma. Run’s the governing council with an iron fist and is unfortunately a friend of the former head of council, Gowen.”

“Governor Carales,” one of the three men on Dorma’s right spoke up. “We are relieving you of command and…”

The man fell to the ground, sans several teeth. The remaining two council members recoiled in shock. Carales calmly withdrew and unclenched his fist, only mildly glancing at the small lacerations on his knuckles. The remaining conscious council members quickly regained their wits.

“Men, arrest him!” The councilmember on Dorma’s other side squawked, while quickly backing up between the bunch of soldiers behind him.

Carales simply walked up to each guard and made eye contact. The guards stepped to the side, leaving the two council members out in the open.

“Now gentlemen,” Carales’ eyes narrowed. “In front of these survivors here,” he swept his hand back to the line of refugees. “Kin you tell ‘em just what ya tried to do up there with the yoma? ‘Cause I’m really curious as to why you were telling those poor folks in the other group to return to the city.”

The two conscious men remained silent.

“Thought so,” Carales shook his head and spat at their feet. “Now shut up and let the Claymores and what’s left of the town guard save your worthless lives. I don’t wanna hear another peep out o’ you three bastards for the rest of the trip, understand?”

Dorma’s face remained passive, while his companion glared mutinously. Both, however, remained silent. Carales nodded and motioned to the guards.

“Take them to the back of the line. If they start to slow us down, leave ‘em for whatever yoma’s following us.”

Once the three council members were out of sight, Carales flexed his hand and shook it out. “First Gowen, now Dorma, why couldn’t fate have been nice enough to leave ‘em in the city?” He looked back to a silent Miria and Tabitha. “Sorry about that, do ya want to wait to see if your people made it out?”

Miria shook her head slowly. “We still have to get these people to safety. Cynthia and Yuma know where we’re headed so if they made it out, they’ll meet up with us.”

Carales made a sound of acknowledgment and absently gestured for the refugee group to continue. As he did, both Tabitha and Miria could hear him mutter to himself in abhorrence of the situation. “I swear, we won’t need those yoma to finish us off. We’re doing a damned good job of offing ourselves without their help.”

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The sun, finished with its rise, was already halfway down in the sky when Clare blurred into view at the base of the last cataract. A methodical search of the river up to that point had revealed more broken bodies and weapon, but to Clare’s partial relief, none of them had been Raki’s. Yet, she knew survival became less and less likely the further Raki was carried downstream. Her yellow eyes scanned the bloated figures swirling around the rocks at the base of the waterfall. The humans were barely recognizable as such, with one figure lying face up, but with every single facial feature worn away by the man’s unfortunate trip down multiple waterfalls.

Clare stared at the body impassively. Raki just had to be alive. No matter what Helen or the others may believe, Clare would not accept his death until she saw his body with her own eyes. She couldn’t help but feel protective, knowing that he was a man now but still recalling the times when he traveled with her as a child. Memories of Raki both as a child and as an adult played through her mind as she absently followed the faceless body’s trip down the river. In every memory no matter if he was younger or older, Raki’s infectious grin and unquenchable optimism resonated strongly, giving her hope, a goal. When he began to travel with the Ghosts of Pieta, his optimism fueled the team, even in the harshest of moments. Clare took a breath, her eyes returning to their silver state. She tried to image what Raki would say in their current situation. But as she did, his smiling image replaced the faceless body, forcing Clare to look away, pained.

Dejectedly, Clare allowed her legs to return to their human form. A part of her knew that Helen was right, that the odds of Raki surviving the fall and trip down the river were slim to none. But she couldn’t give up. It wasn’t in Raki’s nature, and it wasn’t in hers. The afternoon sunlight danced along the river and one particular glint caught her eye.

Clare recognized the badly tarnished hilt caught between two of the larger rocks alongside the opposite river bank. Wading quickly through the water, she reached for the hilt and promptly yanked the weapon free. Though the blade was broken in two, Clare’s pounding heart nearly stopped as she examined the weapon. The Rabona style metalwork was clear, in both the hilt and the inscription alongside the blade.

But what made it unique were the two yoma finger blades that were affixed to the lower part of the blade. Clare closed her eyes. Raki had attached them to his sword while recovering from near fatal injuries caused by Priscilla’s Awakening. In fact, they were the two blades that had nearly gutted him after Priscilla had reached her limit and turned on him. Raki had had just enough strength to sever the blades with his own sword before falling over with the finger blades still fully embedded in his midsection. He had later told her that that moment had been the closest to death he had ever been. Of course, ever the optimist, he attached the two finger blades to his own sword as evidence that he had survived.

“So you see Clare,” He had said with his usual boyish charm from his seated position on his sickbed. “I figure that if I ever get into a pinch in the future, all I have to do is raise my sword and I’ll have this as a constant memory that I went up against the worse of the worst and survived. Plus it has the added benefit of making the sword more impressive to look at.”

“Are not the scars Priscilla left a strong enough reminder?” Clare raised a fine eyebrow, the only hint of emotion in her response. “The doctor told you that because of your recklessness, you will have permanent nerve damage in the area Priscilla pierced.”

“Thanks for caring, Clare,” Raki said wryly, and tapped her forehead with his fist.

“Try not to be as careless in the future,” Clare’s silver eyes softened and she reached up to grasp his hand briefly. “I have only just met you again and have no desire to lose you before your time.”

“Back at you, Clare. Is the position as your personal chef still open?”

Clare blinked at the non-sequitur.

“I mean, with me all banged up like this, cooking is probably the only thing I’ll be good for, for awhile anyways.”

Clare allowed a ghost of a smile to appear and she partially inclined her head. “The position is still open.”

“Great,” Raki settled back against his bed with a grin. “It’ll be just like old times.”

Clare blinked away the memory as she slid the remains of Raki’s sword into the spare slot of the sheath on her back. Stepping out of the fast moving river, Clare glanced at the fork ahead. Three paths to choose from. Exhaling, she let her youki flow through her body once more.

“Raki,” she breathed softly, opening her yellow eyes. “Continue living and I promise we will meet again.”

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Raki next awoke to the sound of a blade being sharpened, and with some effort, he managed to force his eyes open a crack. Elyssia’s young helper, Noel sat on the floor in the center of the room with several sharpening tools and a small blade.

“Whatcha’ working on?” Raki asked raspily.

Noel jerked in surprise at the voice, and in doing so, lost her grip on the sharpening block. The blade she had been holding sliced across her palm, evoking a small yelp of pain.

“Sorry!”

“It’s alright,” Noel shook her head, quickly pulling out a handkerchief and tying it around her small hand. “I’ve had worse.”

“You watching over me?”

Noel nodded, “Elyssia told me that she was going on another scavenging run. I normally go with her, but she told me that it was too dangerous this time around.”

“Too dangerous?”

“We’re not the only group of survivors in this area,” Noel nodded, the light from the candles that dimly illuminated the room danced off her flaxen hair. “There’s another much meaner group on the other side of the river. They attack our people simply because they like preying on weaker people. At least that’s what Elyssia told me when I asked why they were so mean.”

“How old are you?” Raki smiled lightly, remembering his own adventures with Clare as a child.

Her answer, however, made him frown slightly. “Not sure.”

“Not sure?”

“Nope,” Noel shrugged. “My first memory is waking up in some fishing village next to Elyssia about a year ago. I’ve been traveling with her ever since.”

“Strange,” Raki blinked.

“Yeah,” Noel shrugged, not seeming to care as she returned to sharpening her small dagger.

Raki felt exhaustion creep up on him and groaned. Being bedridden and heavily injured really sucked. As his eyelids began to flutter close again, he thought he saw something strange. He quickly dismissed it, attributing his misperception to the dim light and his exhaustion. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, Raki felt a small sense of alarm. He was sure that the blood soaking the cloth wrapped around Noel’s hand had been purple.

CCCCCC

Clarice’s return to consciousness was slightly less painful than Raki’s. Only slightly. She found herself chained to a cave wall, completely immobile. Miata was next to her, but the smaller Claymore was still unconscious.

“You’re awake.” It wasn’t a question. “Good. I must admit that it brings me great joy to see that some of the original warriors have survived these harsh times.”

Clarice tore her gaze away from Miata’s limp form to the one speaking to her. Her silver eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the familiar black clothing that signified a certain handler for the Organization. “Rubel!”

“Of course, if you and the former Number Four are still alive,” Rubel pressed a finger to his chin in mock thought. “Then it must mean Clare and the survivors of Pieta are still alive as well.”

“You’re wrong,” Clarice shook her head. “I’ve only been traveling with Miata.”

“Please don’t insult my intelligence, Number 47,” Rubel tsked, walking to her with his hands clasped behind his back. Leaning forward with a small grin, he whispered into her ear. “Who do you think told Rifful where Antaris was?”

Clarice stiffened in shock. “You told Rifful…”

“Oh, goodness no, not me.” Rubel took a step back and turned so that his back was to her. “Why would you think that I would do such a thing?”

“But you just said…”

“The Organization was the one who told Rifful where to look,” Rubel sighed theatrically. “Naturally, without any warriors available, I am afraid I had to let the attack happen.”

“But the Organization was destroyed,” Clarice protested.

“Did you really think that something like the Organization would allow itself to be destroyed in one fell swoop?”

Clarice fell silent. She knew through Miria that Rubel was a double-agent. Yet, where she stood in Rubel’s agenda, she was unsure. He wanted her alive, that much was clear. But why? What could she do?

“If you are wondering…forgive me, it’s been so long that I’ve forgotten your name…”

“Clarice.”

“Ah yes, well, if you are wondering Clarice, we are currently in a network of caves that will eventually lead to the fishing village you saw earlier.”

“The big boat in the harbor?”

“The Organization’s reinforcements,” Rubel answered plainly, turning back to face Clarice. “They intend to force the yoma to deplete their food supply on this island. Once all the food is gone, which we predict will take a little less than another year, the Organization will systematically pick off the weakened yoma, one by one.”

Clarice was stunned into silence.

“Of course, this means that the continent itself will become completely devoid of human life,” Rubel shrugged. “At least until the Organization decides to colonize it once more.”

“You’re letting the Organization get away with this?” Clarice said incredulously. “Isn’t it against your best interest to let the Organization re-stabilize the place?”

“Oh? And what do you propose I do? I am a loyal member of the Organization after all.”

“Contact your own people, tell them to send help.”

Rubel’s crooked smile caught the light of the torch that illuminated the cave. “The Organization has managed to requisition an entire battalion of soldiers from the mainland. What does that tell you about how the war is progressing?”

Clarice wasn’t sure if she could be any more stunned. “Your side is losing?”

“My side is losing,” Rubel’s crooked grin never disappeared.

“But don’t you have all those huge lizard things Miria told us about?”

“It is true, at the beginning of the war we had what you could call ‘monsters’ of tremendous strength and power.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well,” Rubel straightened, flames dancing in the lenses of his sunglasses. “In the end, humans proved to be the more fearsome and terrible monster.”

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A/N: Well, slowly advancing into the main storyline. Sorry for the two plus month wait, real life often isn’t the most conducive to story writing. Again, if anyone is still interested in betaing this story, drop me a PM. Next update tentatively end of August.