A Clash of Demons

by Aleks Canard

  ‘I don’t always require money,’ Trix said.

  ‘No, you don’t, though it rouses you to action faster than the promise of a job well done.’

  ‘Why do you care about when the wedding is anyway?’

  ‘Because I’d like to do my magical analysis here, if that suits you. Space stations and ships don’t have the same abundance of energy. I don’t need the extra help, but I’ve never been one to turn it down.’

  ‘Like I said, I’m in no rush.’

  ‘Then we’ll walk back to the Fox.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  The Huntress and the sorcerer wound their way through the trees, across streams, and over snow back to the meadow where the Fox waited.

  13

  Magic tests were carried out as the day readied itself for twilight.

  They weren’t interesting to watch. Altayr Van Eldric would say a few incantations, wait for results, then move on. By the time he had concluded his extensive tests, twilight cloaked the world with glorious shades of navy, pink, and cyan.

  Altayr’s tests had yielded uncertain results. Firstly, there were no markings on his body, nor Trix’s, as usually followed a curse. Like paintings were signed upon completion, so to, did magic sign those it had cursed, often with a rune shaped scar. The Red sorcerer’s next test was performing a magic scan for any internal markings. He found none on himself, but he did find an interesting one on Trix’s heart.

  ‘You’ve been blessed by a dragon,’ he said.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Only dragons can create the kind of magic that has marked your heart. Despite our studies, no mage has ever ascertained how their spells work. It’s like a whole other level of magic which is not understood. Whereas science and magic overlap, often aiding each other, dragon magic truly is the stuff of legend. Nigh on incomprehensible, even to the grandest altaeif mages.’

  ‘And, what is the mark?’

  ‘From what I sensed it is an unknown rune.’

  ‘Interesting.’

  ‘What type of dragon blessed you?’

  ‘A black dragon.’

  ‘I would only be more impressed if you had said its scales were gold like the sun.’

  ‘You know gold dragons only exist in stories.’

  ‘And you know that all stories are based, in part, on the truth.’

  Trix nodded. Altayr continued his tests. All that he could find by the end of the day was a faint tether, like a spider’s web, between himself and Trix. It was invisible to the naked eye, and barely detectable by magic. He detected no malicious energy from it. Deciding that the wraith’s curse was more or less inconsequential, Altayr retired from his experiments, glad that they were over.

  ‘There’s nothing else to do here. Shall we go to the Bastion?’

  Trix, who had been polishing her sword and checking her equipment, shrugged. ‘There’s always something else to do everywhere.’

  ‘But at present, none of it requires our attention.’

  ‘I like this place,’ Trix said. Djiemlur reminded her of Mair Ultima. Though nothing compared to its mountain ranges, Djiemlur possessed an overwhelming feeling that everything would be alright in the end. Mair Ultima had unfortunately been tainted by bad memories. As had Zilvia.

  ‘I find a place is only as good as the company one keeps.’

  ‘Is that why you so often travel alone?’

  ‘I could ask you the same question.’

  ‘And I could tell you to fuck off.’

  ‘Being alone and feeling alone are two different matters. If you are ever alone, and you feel it, too, you are in poor company.’

  ‘Happiness only begins when you’re comfortable with yourself.’

  ‘It always amuses me to see people think otherwise.’

  ‘You’re amused by anyone who thinks differently to you because you assume that makes them fools.’

  ‘You speak like I laud my advanced years and magical competence over suetes like a pompous noble.’

  A suete was a non-magical person.

  ‘Then I speak the truth.’

  ‘Perhaps that dragon’s blessing gave your words the power to burn?’

  ‘They had that power long before.’

  ‘And I bear the scars to prove it.’

  A large part of the reason why mages could live to be one thousand was that, through complex spells, they could control cancerous cell growth. It was discovered as early as the 21st century that when cells were made to stop the aging process, they became increasingly cancerous the longer they developed. So far science had enabled most races to live to 250 years old. Some easier than others.

  But many believed, even mages, that immortality was not meant to be, and achieving it would spell the galaxy’s doom.

  Trix took one last look at Djiemlur’s forest. She’d grown accustomed to the cold after spending a couple of days on the planet. Machinas adapted faster than any other living being. It was why they were so deadly after only a year of training. Their muscle memory far exceeded any other biological lifeform, as did their ability to learn. What would take humans a lifetime to learn, machina children could reach masterful levels within a few weeks.

  Still, none of that preparation had saved them when the anghenfil attacked Mair Ultima. Trix hoped the galaxy would never see a large-scale war like that ever again. Though she also understood that peace was an unattainable goal. All it took was one madman, a psycho who couldn’t be reasoned with, and the flames would begin climbing. When that happened, diplomacy was no longer an option. Like rabid dogs, they had to be put down.

  ‘Alright. Sif, prep the Fox for launch.’

  ‘On it.’

  The Fox’s loading ramp opened onto the snowy meadow. Trix went up first. Altayr grabbed his staff and followed. Both of them used the decontamination shower. While Altayr’s natural resistances to disease had nothing on Trix’s, he might’ve been unknowingly carrying pathogens.

  Trix went to the cockpit when the shower was over. Reaching the Bastion early wasn’t a bad idea. She’d need a new helmet. Her automatic repair locker wasn’t going to rebuild an entire one from scratch.

  Altayr’s eyes widened when he entered the cockpit.

  ‘Surely these controls do not all have a function.’ He hadn’t seen the Fox since Griffauron “Daddy Blue” Raivad had stripped it bare then rebuilt it from bones.

  ‘You’d be surprised.’

  Altayr couldn’t fly a ship. Well, he could engage auto-pilot. That was about it. Flying didn’t tickle his fancy like it elated Griff’s.

  ‘I suppose I don’t make a point of infuriating people to the point where they want to chase me across planets.’

  ‘I don’t make a point of it. It just tends to happen.’

  ‘Please, sometimes you can’t keep your mouth shut,’ said Sif. Her hologram looked around the cockpit innocently as if to say “what, who said that?”

  ‘I don’t like to suffer fools if I can help it.’

  ‘No, you just like to piss them off.’

  ‘That’s coincidental.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Most fools are easily pissed off.’

  Sif folded her arms. Ended her hologram. She was still housed in Trix’s comms gauntlet, but could appear on the Fox wirelessly.

  Trix took off with a devilish grin. Sif had been warming up the engines since the machina walked inside. Trees arched backwards at the Fox’s thruster power. Trix brought the ship around in a wide arc, low as she dared over the golden fields where J’vari’s convoy had been situated. She turned around when she reached the valley. Headed for the white cliffs which kept the ocean at bay.

  Trix flipped the ship so she was flying against the smooth white cliffs. Pink waves with blue and white tips battered the coastline. Once she’d had her fun, she danced on the yokes and the peddles, making the Fox arch upwards until it was nearly vertical, aiming for space.

  The Valkyrie angled the ship when she reached low orbit so she could see Djiem
lur’s curvature, and all that passed underneath.

  As she engaged ultrasonic speeds, then hyperdrive, she thought about what J’vari had said about death. He would only come when a person was ready. When their purpose had been fulfilled. What then, did that entail, for someone who was potentially purposeless?

  The answer, if it existed, was somewhere in the stars.

  For that was where all things lay.

  By Royal Decree

  1

  The journey to the Bastion was hastened by conversing.

  Altayr spoke of how he was working on new experiments to better understand why magic pooled in certain areas. He did this from his tower on the outskirts of a Yephusian village called Oakengulch, occupied by a mixture of races. It was situated at the base of Sunset Sierra. Far from the plateau Trix frequented whenever she went to Yephus.

  Primarily, Altayr was working on theories about alternate dimensions, even whole other planes of reality, and their connections to each other. While his progress was mired with pitfalls, his research was helping him to better understand teleportation. He’d already passed his findings on to Earthen scientists working to crack teleporting objects, and one day, people. Studying the Transfers had only taken them so far.

  Trix spoke of killing monsters, saving a princess, and Dheizir Crohl’s incarceration.

  The latter piqued Altayr’s interest the most.

  ‘It’s interesting to know the full story behind the trial,’ Altayr said. ‘Though imprisoning Crohl in the Rei’ner Ghlain… that is a bold move. If he’s as influential as you believe, it would be feasible for him to breakout. I’ve seen that prison many times. Imposing prisms built into black rock faces, overlooking ice sheets that splay over yonder further than the average eye can see. Temperature discrepancies cause fog to roll over them constantly. It’s no wonder that the corrachs who dwelled on the continents of Arthnach and Osthorgalt sent their exiles there.’

  ‘Would there be a way to break someone out by entering through the nearby dojo?’

  ‘Perhaps. To me, that would be the most obvious way to attempt a breakout. If any of the warlocks are loyal to Crohl, they could use that dojo as an entry point. I have no doubt the magic advisors to Vidal Laigalt and the rest of the Corrachian Council would’ve told them the very same. Their phrasing, however, may have been less precise. Warlocks are not typically concerned with magic’s finer points, though they are versed enough to give basic advice.’

  Sorcerers looked down on most warlocks like musicians jeered at percussionists, or how a physicist might take jabs at biologists.

  ‘And how come the ECG didn’t consult you on the matter?’

  ‘When magic was coming into its own, as was science, governments respected us a lot more. The zireans still hold those who are accomplished casters in the highest esteem. Bowing to them in the streets as you would royalty. Humans though,’ Altayr shrugged. ‘They see us as a threat now more than ever. Technology has advanced further than many believed it could, but magic can circumvent it in more ways than governments would like. While it was not as bad as the Great Conscription of 2719, there have been many cases, whispered through the stars, about children being taken to be trained as mages, even when they show no potential.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ Trix rolled her eyes. ‘Creating more of the thing you fear.’

  Altayr rested his head on his hand in complete agreement. ‘Well, they would assume that they could control their creations. After machinas, their stupidity astounds me. It’s so prevalent that I’m ashamed it still does.’

  ‘Earth has had some success in enhanced soldiers,’ Trix said.

  And that was true. There were two notable groups of warriors created to serve Earth’s military, split into stealth and combat classes.

  Apache Specialists were named for the famed Apache tribe. They underwent light genetic splicing to quieten breathing, slow heartrates, and enhance eyesight. Sleek robotic suits did the rest. Their boots cancelled the sound of footsteps — to a point — and contained impressive natural camouflage filters developed from chameleon skin.

  Eventually, the splicing became better, and the Apache name was discontinued, replaced by Ninja Armour. While both armours were highly secretive, kept for strict military use, you could occasionally find sets floating around on the black market.

  Vikings, again, named for famed historical warriors, wore tank-shell stopping armour. The suits needed to be powered, or else the people inside them wouldn’t have been able to move. Viking genetic splicing involved gorillas and bears to lend them above normal strength. The suits did the rest. When this process was refined, Viking hardware was retired and made way for Spartan soldiers, named after perhaps the most legendary fighting force in all of Earth’s history.

  Trix had heard stories of their training. She had laughed at how easy they had it compared to machinas. From what she knew of the ancient stories, Spartans would be ashamed that their name was being leant to a bunch of pretenders.

  But maybe that was Trix’s personal bias speaking. After all, Ninjas and Spartans were genetically altered, and no one hated them. Both had served Earth in military engagements countless times, though in periods of such widespread peace, the Ninjas got out more.

  ‘Yes, but those successes were paltry compared to machinas. Your biological make-up is close to half another species we can barely understand. Compared to them, we are but newborns, still screaming after emerging from our mother’s womb. Ninjas, Spartans, hah, they are still over ninety per cent human. Even relative to mages, they are a joke.’

  ‘Not to normal people.’

  ‘Of course not. Suetes praise anything that is better than them, so long as it seems attainable, and, the crossroads forbid, doesn’t make them too different. All races, humans especially, always wish to belong to the largest group.’

  ‘They must thank the gods every day knowing that neither of our kinds can breed.’

  ‘But unlike machinas, more mages are created every day. Whereas the people who possessed the skill to craft you, they are long gone.’

  ‘I believe Garth Roche is still alive.’

  ‘Not until I have seen someone’s corpse laid out and cut open in front of me do I believe any different. If we were ever able to harness the speed at which rumours travel, we would have no need for Transfers. But I am curious as to why your belief is as ardent as your timbre suggests.’

  ‘He came to me in a trance as I was cleaning my weapons. We were in a train station, he and I. The tracks ran through the stars, above Mair Ultima, back into my memories. He said that he was part of my mind, yet he knew things that I did not.’

  ‘Interesting. Is it possible that you dreamt this?’

  ‘Sif said I was conscious, though my heartbeat was only one a minute. I felt here, and there. Stuck between.’

  ‘Ah, the Betwixt. I would be overjoyed for my research to lead me there.’

  ‘Do you think I was dreaming?’

  ‘If you felt in between, then chances are that’s exactly where you were. Monks around the galaxy believe they can reach the Betwixt through meditation. They contend that the Betwixt contains the inner workings of all galaxies. From my research, I don’t think that they’re wrong, just misguided. The Betwixt can be used to find the key to everything, but the key itself does not reside there.’

  ‘What do you expect it looks like?’

  ‘Such a place of pure magic would probably take whichever form makes sense to the viewer. So far as we know, nobody has journeyed there. If they have, they haven’t been forthcoming with their knowledge.’

  ‘The Uldarians might’ve come from the Betwixt. Mayhap the No Man’s Land Transfer leads to it.’

  ‘No Man’s Land,’ Altayr leaned back. ‘I would like to see it one day, to venture to Mair Ultima. A planet virtually untouched by any race since the Uldarians. There must be a lifetime’s worth of study to be found in its biospheres.’

  ‘I’ll take you one day.’

  ‘
I wasn’t aware machinas would ever trust anyone with their home-world’s location. Even those who take part in questionable practices never reveal its coordinates, no matter what is offered.’

  ‘We were always told to keep Mair Ultima a secret. That it was a sanctuary, and if any wanted to take it from us, we would kill them.’

  ‘It could be rebuilt with magic,’ Altayr said, his intonations effectively suggesting he would be up to the task.

  ‘You underestimate the academies’ scope. If you could’ve seen the dragon spire,’ Trix said, almost wistfully.

  ‘Well, perhaps even I would need help.’

  ‘I don’t know another sorcerer I trust.’

  ‘But you do know an enchantress.’

  ‘My mother is bound to Zilvia.’

  ‘Having not seen Mair Ultima, I cannot attest to the following statement with absolute certainty, but Zilvia exudes eldritch energy more so than any other planet. Xifaw, specifically.’

  ‘Yes, the entire planet being like Xifaw Forest would be the ECG’s worst nightmare.’

  ‘It has something to do with the Arnums. Theirs is the only species similar to dragons, despite being sentient trees.’

  Dragons weren’t native to a specific planet. They could be found anywhere. In fact, that was one of the criteria an animal had to meet before it became a monster. Monsters, for whatever reason, could be found on multiple planets, whereas an animal was native to a specific place. That was why water wyverns were monsters. You could find them on Desraxe, just like you could on Hariyfir.

  Arnums, however, only existed on Zilvia. From what mages had been able to discern, their magic bore many similarities to dragons. Only, where dragons could live a couple thousand years, Arnums could survive indefinitely.

  Trix: ‘I know the stories. I grew up on Zilvia. Haven’t spent half that long in one place since.’

  ‘The stories of the first zirean settlers, you mean?’ Altayr said.

  ‘The zireans who first colonised Zilvia marvelled at the trees that grew so high. The wood was similar to daergrum trees. So they began cutting. But they weren’t cursed, well, not in the malicious sense. They simply began changing. The Arnums granted them unusually long life. Altering their features. Binding them to the forest. Those who stayed in the cities were immune to these effects. Now humans, corrachs, and zireans live there. Zilvia is a complex planet despite only having three major cities. They like to forget the rest of the galaxy exists. Aside from their textile and ore exports, they contribute little to any government, and serve their own agendas. There, as in Xardiassant, mages retain respect. Just don’t enter Xifaw Forest. The zireans who live among the trees are dryads now. My father believes that the Arnums impose total control on any lingering lifeforms.’