First part in a series.
(Teresa/Clare, Miria/Galatea, Irene/Flora, Helen/Deneve and hints at a het pairing)
Read Paths of Silver pt2
Disclaimer and order of stories: See part 1.
Paths of Silver pt 2
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson
Priscilla was awakened from her troubled sleep by something familiar, something terrible and frightening. Scrambling up from her makeshift bed she cast her eyes wildly about until they found the direction of Pieta.
Screaming in fear and clutching her head Priscilla ran off into the falling darkness, attempting to outrun that which caused her fear yet completely unable to shake it off.
The long locked-away memories of her past came back to her, all in a painful jumble, as she staggered and stumbled her way in between snow-covered trees. She screamed and sobbed and tore at her head, but the images would not stop. If only she could find her friend, if only he was there, he could make the images and the confusion go away and she would be safe.
Picking up speed she raced through the snow. She must find him!
The images that frightened her most were the ones of the pale woman, Teresa, yes, yes she remembered that name, Teresa was the most frightening thing of all. Teresa... was the one at fault, the one to blame, the one that was evil! Teresa was the one that had taken everything Priscilla loved!
Teresa had... Teresa had... taken Priscilla’s friend? Teresa had... hurt him and taken him away? Was that right? Yes... yes, that was right. Teresa was a monster, and she had taken Raki!
Barely noticing the transformation she underwent Priscilla turned towards Pieta and the presence she felt, carried forward on legs that ate the distance at an impossible speed. Priscilla would find her friend.
And Teresa would be made to pay.
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In Pieta Irene and Teresa, worried for Clare and her sudden burst of yoki-releasing anger, had kept abreast of her, keeping an even pace as the three of them cut through the remaining Awakened beings.
So few enemies remained by now that Miria took a moment to rearrange the teams so that Veronica would be in charge of a small group that would take care of healing Jean and a few others that had received more grievous wounds, while the two remaining teams would take care of whatever was left of wounded opponents attempting to flee the town.
They felt her just moments before she came down from the dark sky, her large and purple form landing not far from Clare with such force that the ground shook in her wake. Eyes closed she was still for a moment while everyone stared on in varied states of shock and horror, and in at least one case, with her surprise opening the door to half a lifetime of hate and sorrow.
Then Priscilla opened silver eyes to glance around herself, looking for a moment confused. “Raki? Where is he?”
The shock of hearing that name spoken by the one she hated most was, for but a moment, enough to jar Clare back in better control of herself. Conversely Irene and Teresa both froze, faces pale as they stared at this nightmare from their past walked unexpectedly into the present.
“Hmm?” Priscilla glanced over her shoulder at the gathered women behind her but appeared to take little notice of them. “He’s not here... where could he be...” Her gaze turned back towards Clare and stopped there.
“You! You took him!” Anger stole over otherwise almost sleepily indifferent features and settled there. “Yes, I remember now... you took Raki! You, you, you murdered him!”
“Raki?” Clare gasped, trying to understand how the monster that had plagued her life could even know that name, and with a growing sense of horror just what the winged Awakened being was inadvertently telling her. “W-what have... WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?”
“You murdered him!” Priscilla continued as if she had not heard Clare at all. “You ripped out his guts and ATE him!” A large, clawed hand reached down to grasp the hilt of a fallen woman’s sword even as silver eyes turned a glowing gold. “You killed him and ate him even though he had been so kind to you!”
Having gotten her answer, the only one she would ever have from Priscilla, Clare lost her recently regained control and released herself into a mighty roar of anger and pain, her yoki flaring up like a pillar encasing her.
“MURDERER! I’LL KILL YOU TERESA!” Priscilla cried in response, causing the real Teresa to turn towards her in surprise even as she hastened towards Clare. The angry Awakened being swung her borrowed sword in a vicious attack, but found it deflected against Teresa’s blade.
Staring into the face of her nightmares while still thinking she saw the same woman standing a small distance away from them as well proved too much for Priscilla, whom with a youthful-sounding shriek jumped back, stumbling, staring wide-eyed at them both while shaking her head.
“No! You are dead.” Priscilla’s voice sounded human now, small and fragile. “You are dead, I killed you!”
Too disturbed by the sight of two Teresa Priscilla turned, and with a mighty heave of her wings, fled with great speed into the sky. There was a whooshing sound and the last sight they had of the Awakened being before her wings took her too far away was of Clare, half transformed and with eyes that burned yellow, clinging to Priscilla’s leg while attempting to swing her great blade around to slash at a purple back.
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Teresa and Irene took off after the disappearing combatants immediately, not bothering to wait to see if anyone else intended to follow as well or otherwise speak to their comrades, they just dashed off into the night.
Of those left behind Deneve and Helen turned wild eyes on Miria, whom hesitated for just a moment.
“Go, Captain, follow Clare.” Flora hastened to assure, understanding the conflict. “Veronica, Undine and I will see things sorted here. Those of us that still can will join you as soon as we are able.”
Miria nodded. “Everyone, Flora is in charge in my absence.” A glance at Deneve and Helen. “You two come with me.”
The three of them raced out of the city.
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Swift though they were, by the time Irene and Teresa reached the volcano where Priscilla’s flight had ended the battle between her and Clare had already raged a while. As the two of them made their way inside the dangerous choice of a battlefield, things were already coming to their pivotal point between Priscilla and Clare.
During the battle Clare had allowed parts of her body to Awaken, causing her lower legs, arms and upper torso to be larger and gleaming white, her hands and feet turn large and clawed, and from her back sprouted a pair of enormous white wings that bore an obvious gleam of metal to them. Looking at the wings one could not help but to think of the usual representation of the goddess Clare and her wings, only the wings of the goddesses of mercy never looked this lethal.
Clare had clearly gained control over her new appendages, as mere moments after Teresa and Irene’s arrival the two enormous wings shot out and, like a pair of razors or possibly swords, sliced both arms and wings off of the already wounded Priscilla.
Down fell the Awakened being, crashing into the rock with blood pooling around her as she reverted into human form from all the damage. Sobbing Priscilla tried to crawl away, but without her arms all she managed was a weak squirming, and then Clare was upon her again.
Standing over the so hated being, seeing her defeated and wriggling helplessly while crying for a salvation that had been lost to her long ago, Clare’s rage ran its course. Calm and clear of her anger and desire for vengeance Clare lifted her blade high. Curious how now that the moment she had always wanted was here, all she could feel was a sense of unwarranted pity and compassion.
Looking down she felt herself silently vowing to Priscilla that her suffering was over now, and strangely the insane female stilled, looking up at Clare with eyes suddenly filled with calm acceptance, even gratitude.
Priscilla smiled gently.
Clare brought her blade down, neatly severing Priscilla’s head from her body and shattering it in a single swing. Afterwards she sank to her knees, clutching at herself and sobbing as she fought to reverse the change her body had undergone.
It was all over now.
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His bride. These insolent children had not only eradicated his army, but they had killed his bride!
Easley shook with unfamiliar emotions that were beginning to well up within. He clenched his hands and tried to will himself to calmness.
The wise thing would be to leave now, to retreat and build an army anew, and stronger, before returning to his campaign. All his followers were gone, now Priscilla as well, and even though he felt no concern that these little girls might actually cause harm to him, he was no longer in a position to take on Riful or Luciela. He really should regroup.
Those insolent whelps! He would teach them the true meaning of pain and despair!
Throwing his head back he howled as he allowed himself to cast aside his human guise and take on his true form. He roared to the sky.
“PRISCILLA!”
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When Miria made it into the volcano the battle with Priscilla was already over. Teresa was kneeling next to the sitting Clare, embracing her tightly as Clare struggled to beat back her Awakening. Irene was standing over the blood-soaked remains, her face hidden in shadows as she appeared to stare at the corpse.
Focusing on Clare and her dilemma Miria steered her descent towards her, trying to remember what Jean had said about the manner in which Clare had helped her revert from an Awakening. Beside her Helen and Deneve slid down the stone walls as well, when they were all violently thrown off their feet by a monstrous outpouring of yoki.
Suddenly he was just there, large and dark and a glowing whirlwind of yoki so strong the light formed a pillar reaching further into the sky than eyes could follow.
Scrambling to her feet Miria could not help but consider the odds. Two, no, three able warriors, two living legends and one Clare, hovering on the edge of destruction for who knew how much longer, against Easley. The Abyssal One of the North.
As Easley moved towards Priscilla’s remains the one that was closest to him was Irene. The master of the Flash Blade showed remarkable calm when she leaned down and gathered up the beheaded form.
“Be at peace.” Irene spoke softly before hurling the body down into the lava, then jumping back to stand by the others. The lava did not even hiss as Priscilla’s body was swallowed and melted away.
With yet another roar, Easley charged.
Teresa and Clare were airborne before Easley’s attack reached them, and both could be seen flashing back and forth attacking him from above. A sound that Miria felt must be the Flash Blade was heard moving around on the other side of the Abyssal One suggesting Irene full at work, while on Miria’s side... She had lost sight of Deneve after the unfortunate warrior had taken a devastating strike of Easley’s two front hooves full to the chest and been thrown to the far side of the crater, but at least she had seen one of Helen’s arms weave about to ward off some attack somewhere to the side.
Miria herself used her Phantom technique to full ability just to evade the barrage of projectiles Easley shot in great volleys towards her. Her blade worked at top speed just to keep herself from being impaled by the insidious missiles, she could not advance enough to make a difference from this vantage point unless she was willing to take several at least crippling shots moving closer.
The rock beneath her feet shook as her feet touched it briefly, and over the sounds of battle she could hear someone else screaming as they were being thrown into the stone wall with great force. Something in the pit of her stomach told her that it was Helen.
Sensing a gap in the barrage Miria changed direction, determined to do the most of it. One Phantom-speed jump and then another, one projectile grazing her thigh despite Miria cutting down as many as she could with her sword, and then... a mistake.
Reaching out to kick off from something to make her forward lunge, ground, wall, random outcropping, anything, her feet found nothing. Glancing down all she could see was moving lava, and with a cold sense of inevitability Miria realized that she had allowed Easley to drive her right over one of the large cracks in the volcano’s crust. There was nothing to break her fall with or even alter her trajectory, and she could hear the high-pitched whirr of another volley of projectiles rushing her way.
Closing her eyes on instinct Miria was unprepared for the sudden impact that propelled her backwards with some speed, but she was not so addled that she did not tightly grip whatever kept her from falling.
The first thing she saw when opening her eyes were silver eyes that held a small twinkle of amusement, and long flowing pale hair. One strong arm held Miria close while the other wielded a claymore with almost absentminded ease as they sailed to a stop. When the person in question winked at her Miria knew who it was, even before a voice purred into her ear.
“It is nice that you are comfortable, but don’t go falling asleep on me Strawberry.” Galatea smirked at her briefly as she put Miria down, before she turned serious eyes towards the thick of the battle. “Any plans?”
Firmly pushing away a strange surge of embarrassment Miria looked around, noticing with no small amount of awe all the women pouring over the edge of the volcano to throw themselves at Easley. A slow but increasingly confident half-smile found its way to her lips.
“I think I might just have one...”
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Easley had almost dispatched half of those accursed women despite some of them being far stronger and more difficult than they had any reason to be, when the inside of the volcano suddenly erupted in silver-eyed witches. Like ants they came crawling out of every crack in the ground it seemed, frustrating him to no end.
Every time he slashed at one in some way, three others appeared to block his attack while a fourth took a chunk out of him. His regenerative powers were straining to keep up with the onslaught; one attack managed to take one of his front legs, and while that regenerated both his hind legs were severed. Limbs and chunks of him flew every which way while the rock beneath him trembled and shook with the strain.
Finally, as his regeneration began to slow down considerably from the constant use, all his legs and most part of the hind portion of his body was severed, causing him to crash down onto a ground deeply washed in purple blood. The wretched creatures drew back then, all of them, as if on cue, and Easley wildly cast his eyes about to catch whatever attack would come next. And he did see them.
Fifteen golden-eyed warriors lining the edge of the volcano walls. All of them staring at him with obvious purpose.
After all those oh so very long years Easley knew with a fear that lanced through his heart that he was looking upon his death. He tried to draw himself up, tried to will more power to his slowly regenerating lower half, but he knew it would not be enough.
The women flew down from the walls as one, a small group of what was clearly the fastest ones among them aiming straight for him while the others did something he could not be bothered to see in the background.
Easley raised his arms and prepared for their attack.
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Flora’s Windcutter and Irene’s Flash Blade each took one of the large and transformed arms while Phantom Miria raced by and severed the protrusions on his back. Completely without limbs the Abyssal One lurched on rocky ground that suddenly heaved beneath him.
“NOW!” Miria cried the order even as she, Irene and Flora all leapt towards the safety of the volcano walls.
In response the women around the edges of the volcano pounded with all their might into the stone crust which provided the ground upon which the battle had taken place. The stone ruptured with a resounding boom, and where Easley teetered the ground shattered in a large area around him, sending him plunging towards the lava.
For one single frozen moment Easley looked up and found Clare there, hovering above him with gleaming wings spread wide, Teresa in her arms.
From the depths of the distant memories of what had been his childhood came the thought of the two goddesses of mercy, and Easley smiled.
Then two claymore blades arced out and in a single swing cut his head in two.
A mighty heave of large wings, and the two women propelled upwards. Beneath them rock and Abyssal remains all plummeted into the lava with a large and terrible splash. Outside on the upper slopes of the mountain Miria had already ordered the rest of the women to run, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the volcano. It rumbled and spat some of its contents towards the sky in protest to this sudden disturbance, before finally settling back down to resume its slumber.
The Abyssal One called Easley was no more.
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Watching the women gathered around the fire in the faint morning light, Miria could not help but be filled with a sense of wonder and pride. How had they all managed to survive against such impossible odds?
They had lost five women in the end, each of their deaths a tragedy of course, yet Miria had gone into this battle fully believing no more than one or two would survive at best, so compared to that five where a surprisingly light price to pay. There were a few women seriously wounded, so much so that it was entirely due to their healers’ efforts that they had not been lost as well, and of course not a single one among them had escaped the battle completely unscathed, but all in all it was a good account. The wounded now slept in the part of their commandeered building that had been turned into their field hospital, along with Clare who had drained herself completely during the ordeal, and now slept under Teresa’s watchful eye.
Miria herself felt fairly drained as well, and she knew she was far from the only one. They should really all go inside, find themselves beds, and go to sleep, but she understood the others’ unwillingness to do so. Although the night had passed now, the aftermath of such a long and intense battle still had them all on edge, and for many of the younger or previously less experienced women there was probably a sense of fear that a surprise attack should occur if they let their guard down enough to sleep. It did not matter that Miria herself had assured them all that the area was empty, that Galatea could sense no other yoki for miles, and that every single corpse of the Awakened beings had been accounted for, many of them would still be uneasy for a while, and be plagued by dreams of bursting walls and exploding ground. There was little to be done about such things but endure them until they had passed.
She would give them a few hours more, until what passed for daylight here had come, and then she would order everyone to bed and leave someone who still had some strength left to stand guard. Miria would do it herself despite how drained she felt, but she had a strong suspicion that if she tried that she would have a mutiny on her hands. Helen, Deneve and Flora would not let her stand guard alone no matter how much she ordered them, and... to Miria’s embarrassment Galatea had already whispered a threat that she would pick Miria up and carry her to bed in front of everyone if she did not go willingly.
She would probably do it too, for some reason the otherwise dignified number three had no qualms about doing all manner of outrageous and scandalous things around Miria it seemed. What had Miria ever done to garner such attention from the senior warrior? She really could not imagine it.
At the moment Galatea and a limping Helen were passing out apples to everyone, browbeating the other women into eating and emphasizing the need to eat and sleep to regain lost strength. Trust Helen to find apples, regardless of where or when. Honestly, they should rename her Apple Helen, for it certainly seemed as if procuring apples out of nowhere was one of her stronger abilities.
A large and brightly red apple appeared in front of her, interrupting the strangely silly turn Miria’s thoughts were beginning to take, and it was with a touch of gratitude that she focused on it.
“For you, Strawberry.” Galatea winked and took a seat next to Miria.
“I haven’t been a redhead since I was a child.” Miria felt some strange compulsion to point out, although even though it would take quite some effort to locate the faint trace of what had once been bright red in her hair, whether or not Galatea thought she could still see it was surely not of any consequence. “But thank you, for the apples.”
“I remember.” Galatea said softly, polishing an apple of her own. “Though I suspect you don’t.”
“No... I remember.” Miria matched Galatea’s quiet tone and appeared to be studying her apple. “You saved my life.”
“It was my first mission.” She frowned suddenly. “I’m sorry, is it too painful to talk about?”
“No.” Miria sighed, wondering idly when she had gotten so callous about the horrors of her childhood. As traumatic as it had been at the time, now even the memories had faded, so much so that the detail were lost. She couldn’t even remember anything about her childhood up until the moment when she had witnessed the yoma slaughter her family, her first truly clear memory was of seeing Galatea, a tall and gangly girl still years from adulthood, standing there over the yoma’s dead body with her large blade in one hand.
Strange how she hadn’t thought of that in years.
Afterwards, after Galatea had carried her out of the building and handed her over to someone and that someone immediately abandoned her as soon as Galatea had been out of sight, a man in a black cape had taken her with him. The Organization had owned her ever since.
“We all come from similar beginnings. We are all the orphaned and unwanted survivors of acts of yoma that the Organization picked up along the way.” She took a bite of her apple. “Were you really sent by the Organization to join us? I can’t believe they would so carelessly discard their ‘God Eye’ as that.”
“They didn’t. I was supposed to observe only, and I was expressively forbidden to take any action at all.” Galatea seemed rather unconcerned for admitting gross disobedience to the Organization. “I have used up all my second chances; returning to the Organization now would mean that I face the sisters or Rafaela as my execution squad.” She twirled the half-eaten apple in her hand. “So you see, I can no more go back than you can.”
Miria didn’t know what to say in response to that. Somehow, saying thank you to someone who had just put herself at the top of the Organization’s hit list for the sake of you and yours seemed woefully inadequate. So instead they ate the rest of their food in silence.
“You know you have to tell them, Miria.” Galatea’s voice was quiet and serious. “They both deserve and need to know all of it, and as soon as possible. While there is still time for them to decide for themselves.”
Wearily Miria nodded. She hadn’t wanted to bring this up, not now, perhaps never, but it was true that she couldn’t stall any longer. Although the knowledge in itself was dangerous, the gathered women needed to know of everything, before the Organization would come for them all.
She stood up and waited for everyone to go quiet and focus their attention on her. It didn’t take long.
“There are things you all need to know. Things that will not be easy to hear.” Miria looked from face to face, emphasising the seriousness of what she was about to say and noticing how several women straightened, forcing down fatigue or pain, in response. They truly were a group to take pride in. “I am sure that many of you have suspected it by now, but we who were sent here by the Organization were not meant to survive this battle, much less win it.”
“Many of us gathered here are what I would call the Organization’s ‘problem children’. Some of us have been known to disobey orders, ask questions we should not, or in other ways proven that we think for ourselves, all things not allowed. Worse, some of us, like myself, Clare, Jean, Helen and Deneve, have all experienced one or even several Awakenings, yet unlike what the Organization tells us is supposed to be possible, we managed to turn back.”
“For those reasons the Organization has been trying to kill us for some time, although never before so blatantly obvious as this mission. If you all examine yourselves I am sure you will know if and for what reason the Organization would wish for your deaths, and for those that know themselves never to have disobeyed, questioned or crossed the line, I have an even sadder bit of information.” A breath. “You were simply judged to be expendable.”
“What exactly the Organization hoped to gain by halving its number of active operatives simply delaying Easley here in Pieta I cannot say. I can tell you that whatever their thoughts and plans were, they did not take in account Galatea, Teresa and Irene fighting alongside the rest of us, nor could they have foreseen Clare’s actions and strength.”
“For a long time before being sent here, I have been gathering information about the Organization. Although I have gotten not nearly as much as I would have liked, what I managed to gather before they became aware of me is enough for them to want me and any I share this information with to be killed as quickly as possible.”
“So many generations have passed by now that we never think to question it, but have any of you wondered how humanity survived the yoma before the Organization began creating our kind?” No voices were heard in reply of course, but Miria could tell by the looks on the faces around her that had they not thought of it before, they certainly were doing so now. “I tried to find records of the time before the Organization, or stories passed down among people, and of what little there is it seems to suggest that the first waves of yoma attacks were not large in number and appeared just before the Organization made itself known. The oldest accounts of yoma still have silver-eyed warriors of some sort arriving to slay the monsters, meaning our kind had appeared by then.”
“Consider the years it takes to create one of our kind. Both the transformation itself and the training take so long before one is strong enough to fight yoma. Also yoma parts are needed for our creation, yet the Organization had warriors to send out nearly as soon as the first yoma appeared.”
“You should consider also where the Organization gets their supply of yoma parts for our creation in the present.” Galatea added, sharing a look with Miria. “We all know that villagers burn the corpses of yoma and yoma victims alike as soon as one of our sisters is out of their sight. Simple human superstition takes care of that before any Handler arrives, but even if it did not, the transplanted parts must be taken from a fairly fresh corpse in order to be usable. Transporting dead yoma from all over the countryside back to the training grounds would take much too long.”
“Simple logic would tell us that there are yoma being kept by the Organization, if for no other reason than to create more of our kind. Although I cannot prove it, I believe that there is more to it than this.” Miria took over from Galatea, knowing it had to be spelled out. “I firmly believe that it is in fact the Organization that creates the yoma.”
Amidst the outraged protests and cries of shocked disbelief Galatea stood up next to Miria.
“I have no proof to offer you either, but I know without a doubt this to be true. In my years as the Organization’s ‘God Eye’ I have seen and sensed this and more, things even darker and more horrible than their deliberate creation and release of yoma.”
Reluctant and troubled silence followed. It was true that there was not a single woman among them that had not at one point in her childhood lost all to yoma, so the possibility that they had unwittingly worked for the very people ultimately responsible was too painful a thought to digest all that easily.
“Unfortunately there is more. While I could never trace together enough to make a guess as to the Organization’s purpose, I do know that the release of Awakened beings into the wild, male and female alike, was done deliberately.” Miria continued. “A very large number of those that remain today were originally in custody of the Organization, where presumably it would have been easier to kill them before they gained in strength and gathered together. Since their release whenever warriors were sent after Awakened beings it appears they were either sent in small groups to be killed, or against stray Awakened beings in order to strengthen or push a certain warrior towards Awakening herself. I have myself been subject to both scenarios, although they failed.”
“The bottom line is that a number of us as of this mission have cut our ties with the Organization, and have no intention of returning. It is up to each and every one of you to decide for yourselves what you want to do from now on, whether you wish to go back to the Organization or chose another path for yourselves. If you choose to go back we will not hold it against you, just be aware that you may not be wanted back alive.”
“Those that choose to desert from the Organization will have their share of what provisions we have as they set out, but they can also stay here with the rest of us. For now all I can say with any certainty is that we intend to survive, beyond that where we go or what we do I feel we should decide as a group when the time comes.”
“One last thing.” With a sigh Irene, who had until now been silent and not reacted to anything spoken, rose to add information of her own. “It may or may not interest you to know this, but I have lived for years in a country outside of this island nation of ours. As such I know there exists no yoma outside this island, and the Organization’s reach does not extend there.”
“Anyone that wishes to run from the Organization should consider taking their flight over the ocean; the lands there are vast and even if a skilled warrior is sent in search for you the chances of being discovered are considerably less. You may find that you are able to create new lives for yourselves there, although I would recommend that you keep contact with humans to a minimum if you can.”
Having said her piece Irene calmly inclined her head towards Miria, scooped up a few apples into a piece of cloth, and silently walked back inside to the hospital.
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“Captain?” Tabitha asked hesitantly after the silence in Irene’s wake had lingered for a while. “I understand about breaking with the Organization, and about staying here together while everyone heals, but...” It embarrassed her a little that her voice sounded as lost as she felt. “What will we do?”
The silence stretched on until someone other than Miria decided to break it.
“What would you want to do?” Galatea offered with a touch of encouragement in her tone. “If not for the Organization, yoma and swords, what would you be doing right now?”
Tabitha swallowed her instinctive response that why, without the Organization she would be dead now, eaten by yoma or starved to death as a child with no means to care for herself. But that was not what her senior was asking of her, was it? “I-I don’t know.”
“I... I think I would have worked with horses... you know, in another life?” A voice offered timidly. “If I had been, ah, normal? Horses like me.”
“I think I would have made a decent farmer.” A gruff-sounding voice added as the change to the new and somewhat less bleak subject was eagerly accepted. “It doesn’t seem too hard, working the soil.”
“I’d have been a blacksmith, pounding on things that don’t break easily sounds good to me.”
“I would have liked to be a cook!”
“Helen, you would have eaten everything you ever made yourself, and your customers would get angry and never pay you.”
“But Deneve, I would have cooked for you.”
“...oh.”
“I’d have worked as whatever I could and saved up my money until I could get a little place somewhere that would have been just mine.”
“Maybe a fisherman? Spending all day on a boat, catching fish that doesn’t try to catch you...”
“A scribe... I would work as a scribe and have a small place of my own with a bright window where I could grow flowers.”
“What about you?” Tabitha dared to ask the tall woman whom while rather intimidating somehow seemed friendlier at the moment. “What would you have done?”
“Ahhh...” Galatea gave the younger warrior a conspiratorial wink. “I would live in a small house in the city, raise an orphan or two, and live happily with my beautiful wife Strawberry.”
Upon hearing those words the Captain had a strange reaction, blushing the darkest red Tabitha had ever seen on one of their kind and breaking out in a violent coughing fit. Tabitha winced in sympathy just watching her.
Successfully fighting down the coughing, but not the blush, Miria hurried to bark out her orders in a voice just a bit too loud and unsteady for the situation. “I want you all to go to bed now! Try to get as much sleep as you can to regain your strength, and we will talk more about everything tomorrow!”
As Tabitha got up to make her way towards the door along with everyone else, she noticed Galatea leaning in to whisper something in the Captain’s ear. The Captain jerked and gave the taller woman a strange look before turning around to make a swift yet somehow stiff dash inside the house. The oddly both amused and pleased glitter in Galatea’s eyes made Tabitha think. Strawberry?
After a moment it came to her with the image of her Captain’s darkly red face, and she stifled a giggle as she passed the older warrior on her way in. Strawberry indeed.
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The day and night that followed was largely uneventful, although sleep for most was fitful, nothing charged out of dark corners or just otherwise made its presence known in Pieta. Although Clare slept on without waking, Teresa spending most of her time tucked down into bed with her watching over Clare, the rest of the injured women were healing nicely.
On the third day everyone except Clare and Teresa gathered together in the great hall that the mayor of Pieta had used for official functions, and that the women had filled with a long row of tables, making it their dining room and meeting chamber. To Miria’s relief none of the women intended to return to the Organization ever again, and better still they all wanted to remain together.
Plans for the future were discussed back and forth, until they settled on a course of action together. Miria was and would remain their leader, something most women felt rather relieved with and Miria felt humbled by, and although they all wished in some fashion to put an end to the Organization if that was possible, they all agreed that survival took precedence. They just wanted a chance to live.
Now that the threat of Easley and his army was gone, Pieta was actually a good and defendable city. It was decided that they would fortify its walls and better the defences, so they could hole up there until the weather would turn milder in spring. As they were just now entering the harsher part of winter there, the storms and the snow would provide further protection for the three or four months they would be staying, although they did not think that the Organization would dare to mount an attack against them quite so soon. Still, to be safe escape routes across the mountains and forests would be decided upon, as well as strategies for the eventuality that a large-scale attack was mounted against them.
Because the citizens of Pieta had left in such a hurry the city was still filled with all manner of provisions, and groups were put on gathering anything useful to the cluster of a few large buildings surrounding the city square that the warriors would use as theirs. Clothes, furniture, food, firewood and even things for their entertainment, all could be found in abundance inside abandoned homes. Some houses were torn down, partly to strengthen the walls of the city, and partly for burnable wood for a large pyre outside the city where they burned all the corpses of the Awakened beings. Inside the city graves were painstakingly carved out of the frozen ground for the five women lost in battle, in a corner of Pieta’s graveyard.
Apart from the two horses Irene and Teresa had ridden in on a number of horses were found roaming the woods, still saddled though there were no signs of human life anywhere nearby. Assuming them to having belonged to unfortunate victims of the Awakened beings, the horses were gathered in, stabled with the two already in Pieta, and taken care of. Among the saddles and other things taken off these new acquisitions was an empty scabbard that Clare, once she finally awoke after several days of undisturbed sleep, found heartbreakingly familiar.
When Clare told the whole story about Raki, and what Priscilla had told her in her insanely turned-around way, several of the better trackers offered their assistance as Clare and Teresa searched the area several times after traces of the boy.
Between the carrion-feeders of the forest and the snow, it was no surprise that they never found any traces of Raki’s body. They did eventually stumble upon a sword with the holy sign on it that fit into the empty scabbard, and Clare stuck it into the ground next to the five claymores in the Pieta graveyard, a symbolic grave for the boy who would never have a real one.
Days passed one after another, and winter settled in as one of the coldest and most vicious in an age. The blizzards that traded places with another kept the women mostly inside the city, although during lulls in the weather scouts were sent out to physically inspect for any signs of company, but also occasionally to forage. There was never any sign of either the Organization or anyone else, human or yoma, as the winter raged on.
Four peaceful months later when the weather had calmed enough to herald the coming of spring, a band of silver-eyed women set out on their journey towards the ocean.
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