A Clash of Demons

by Aleks Canard

  Valentine: ‘Knowing his name and that he likes to appear as a human means little to us. His powers made you look like a street magician and what’s more, he fooled Trix, who does this kind of shit like the rest of us pay our bills. Did those loony scholars learn anything useful? Forgo your superstitions and tell us, Altayr. If Gauthier takes issue with us speaking his name than he can damn well come and say so. I won’t run from a ghost story.’

  ‘Neither will I,’ Trix said. ‘He showed me visions from my past. They were so real. My rage blinded me to noticing their illusionary nature.’ She looked down at her the hand her djurelian ring was on. ‘My ring remained cold when he showed me my nightmares, though it detected his first illusion. How can that be?’

  ‘Your question first,’ Altayr said to Trix. ‘But before I answer, I think each of us could use a stiff drink.’ The sorcerer rose from his chair. Fetched three tumblers, and one of Trix’s cheaper whiskey bottles. Once everyone had a full glass, Altayr resumed his explanation. ‘I haven’t examined the ring J’vari gave you. It may have flaws. I don’t know. Also, I didn’t fight… Gauthier myself. So I’m unaware of how his magic performs. It is possible that the reason J’vari’s ring failed to expose his nightmarish onslaught as an illusion is because they exist. Inside your memories they are as real as this ship, the very whiskey we drink.’

  ‘If that is true, does that mean they can kill me?’

  ‘Such magic is beyond the scope of my talent. I would venture that if you truly believed what you were seeing was real, then yes, a fatal blow would kill you. To everyone else, it may look like you were suffering a heart attack.’

  ‘A machina has never been recorded to have any sort of organ failure.’

  ‘Perhaps a machina has never met… Gauthier?’

  ‘On with it, sorcerer. What did those scholars learn?’

  ‘They determined that he cannot act of his own free will per se. He must be summoned. To do so, a complex ritual must be enacted at a crossroads, at midnight.’

  Trix: ‘A crossroad demon. They’re verified monsters, though they’re not common since summoning them typically requires some magical ability, or hard to procure ingredients. Classifying them is also difficult because no two demons are ever the same.’

  ‘Except for this one,’ said Valentine, pouring another glass of whiskey. The warmth soothed him.

  ‘Gauthier would present those who summoned him with unimaginable promises, ones they would hastily agree to, hence many of the fables involving him carrying the moral “be careful what you wish for.” Apparently he cannot actively harm anyone. Thus he uses trickery, illusions, and your nightmares against you. To best him, a challenge must be issued, also at a crossroads, at midday. Or so it’s said. I don’t know for certain.’

  ‘What sort of challenge?’ Trix said.

  ‘That wasn’t stipulated. The findings I read said that Gauthier picks the terms, and while they are guileful, they must be fair. His powers, while god-like, are bound by beings greater than him.’

  ‘Can he be killed?’ the Valkyrie said.

  Valentine lowered his glass. He wanted nothing to distract from Altayr’s answer.

  ‘He is said to be Eternal. Never able to be killed, only banished. Though he always returns.’

  ‘What calls him back?’

  ‘Greed. Insatiable, unwavering, bottomless greed.’

  Strife Squad sat in silence, unsure what to think. Now Trix knew what they were dealing with, fear abandoned her. The otherworldly sorcerer was not a god. Not an almighty conjurer.

  Just a demon, a reliquia.

  And reliquias could bleed. Regardless of what Altayr said, they could be slain. Before this was over, Gauthier’s blood would slick her sword from cross-guard to tip. Faedra, well, Trix didn’t know what to make of her.

  ‘Can we assume that Faedra has summoned Gauthier to help her procure these mirrors?’ Valentine said after several minutes had passed.

  ‘It’s unlikely. If anything, Faedra is assisting him.’

  ‘Ah,’ Trix said, a vicious smile forming on her face. ‘So he really is a crossroad demon.’

  ‘Damn it, Trix, I write science-fiction, not fantasy. What do you mean?’

  ‘Crossroad demons, while possessing plenty of strange powers, can’t fulfil wishes by themselves. The only creatures known to grant wishes are djinn.’

  ‘So what’s the point of summoning one if they can’t do anything for you?’

  ‘Each deal struck with a crossroad demon has three participants. The demon, the summoner, and the advocate. Since the demon can’t fulfil wishes himself, they enlist the help of a third party, typically offering them anything their heart desires in return for their services. Advocates can usually be identified by large runic markings, or brands, seared into the skin by magic.’

  Trix finished her drink. Looked Valentine in the eye.

  ‘While the summoner always pays for their wish with their life, purportedly eternal damnation if you buy into the stories, the advocate is technically granted whatever they desire. However, the caveat is that your soul is bound to the crossroad demon. You didn’t think the phrase “devil’s threesome” was originally about sex, did you?’

  ‘I try not to think of devil’s threesomes at all,’ Valentine said. He had the last of his drink. ‘If Faedra’s an advocate, how come Gauthier is with her? Wouldn’t the demon wait by their crossroads for all to be done then reap the reward?’

  ‘Normally they would, but writings on crossroad demons are scarce. Their section in Monsters & Other Beasts barely fills a page, including illustrations. We aren’t going to find out any more about Gauthier through discussion,’ Trix set her glass down. ‘What matters is that he and Faedra have the mirror. Regardless of Nadira’s terms, I don’t like the idea of Faedra possessing a Transfer of unknown power and origin.’

  ‘Who knows where she could go,’ Altayr said.

  Valentine smiled. Rubbed his scalp. His glass was on the table. His cigarillo in his left hand. ‘You need to be more imaginative, sorcerer. What is haunting about this Transfer is not what may enter,’ Valentine extinguished the cigarillo. Tossed the remains onto the table, ‘but what may come out.’

  Altayr’s face became grim.

  The author was right.

  3

  Strife Squad sat in silence, unsure of their next move.

  It was Trix who finally broke it, for the Valkyrie’s strength was great. Her resolve, while shaken, had not crumbled. Zilvia would be Faedra’s next target. But something told Trix she wouldn’t journey there yet. No, the sorceress would wait for Trix to go first.

  None dared enter Xifaw Forest. Even Faedra’s powers would pale compared to the Arnums. You could feel their magic pulsate inside you. Indeed, it was their magic that granted the first zirean settlers unbelievable reflexes, strength, and longevity.

  In a way, Trix supposed they were similar to machinas. Zilvians hated the dryads and their accursed magic. They hated that they kept their powerful magic to themselves. Mostly, Zilvians hated that the dryads were different. Trix could empathise. Zilvians, or at least, Blor’daeyn’s Feudal Lords, hated her too.

  The more she thought about Xifaw Forest, the more certain she became that Faedra would wait. Maybe take time to experiment with the mirror. And if she was Gauthier’s advocate, then mayhap she had other bidding which required her attendance.

  Yes, the dryads would skewer Faedra if she set foot in their realm. The dryads—

  3.1

  Five Years Before The Events At Duskmere

  Earth Year: 2722

  Location: Felix’s Cabin, Zilvia

  were mythical creatures to young Beatrix.

  Four years she had been on Zilvia, yet she had never ventured into the forest. Susan Marigold had caught her trying to cross the border many times. Felix insisted she not be punished, as he would’ve done the same at her age.

  ‘Good,’ he said the first time Trix had been caught. ‘Doing what others say you
cannot is the hallmark of all great warriors, hunters too. Perhaps one day you shall be great enough to avoid detection.’

  From then on it became a game. How close could Trix get to the border before Susan or Felix caught her? She came close many times, though she never could best Susan. Her stern enchantress gaze was so clear that Trix wondered if she had eyes in the sky.

  It was only later she discovered that Susan did. Her familiar was an owl.

  Finally, when Trix turned 13, Felix gave her the present for which she’d been waiting years.

  ‘Good morning, my friend,’ Felix said. He had a smile that set the world at peace and spread happiness wherever he roamed. It was early on Zilvia. The sun was just rising over the ocean. A clearer day, there was none.

  Trix: ‘Morning, dad. I heard you from the moment your feet hit the floor.’

  ‘I’d expect nothing less. But one day you will be able to know I’m awake from the change in my heartbeat,’ he picked up Trix’s hand and pressed it onto his chest. ‘And the way my breathing alters.’

  ‘Can you do that?’

  ‘How do you think I always know when you’re awake? But that’s enough of this talk. You are my dearest friend, and today is your birthday.’

  ‘I told you, dad, I was never really born. Not the way you and Susan were.’

  ‘But one day you weren’t here, the next you were. That’s cause for celebration in my eyes.’

  ‘Can we practice with swords today?’

  ‘Even better, my friend. Come with me.’

  Trix sprung out of bed. She was already wearing her training clothes. Most nights she slept in them. All she had to do was put on her boots.

  ‘Where’s Susan?’

  ‘She’ll be along later. This morning it’s you and me. Is that okay?’

  Trix hugged Felix. He tousled her white hair.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘You’ll see,’ he said, walking into the cabin’s main corridor. Trophies of monster kills used to decorate the walls. Susan thought they were a touch too macabre, so Felix had moved them into his armoury of various monster hunting tools.

  The air was crisp outside on the plateau. Songbird melodies reached Trix’s ears. She swore she could hear Old Man Baxter snoring, far below, on Xifaw Forest’s border. Felix released the drawbridge that spanned the chasm to the rest of the mountains. Trix walked across it with him. They weren’t taking his ship. That meant they were probably entering the forest. Trix could barely contain her excitement.

  The hunter and the young huntress walked down the Fynoed Mountains in comfortable silence. Normally they would run. Trix had told Felix of the Trial she used to do every morning on Mair Ultima. He’d been awed by how anyone could complete the course once, let alone three times in a row. Trix had discovered her own route through the Fynoed Mountains that she ran each morning before huntress training started. It was no Trial, but it served well enough.

  Dawn was truly underway by the time the duo had reached the mountains’ base. Though it was still dim in the shade. When they came to the crossroads, Felix turned south. This filled Trix with anticipation. East led to the ocean, North to Blor’daeyn, and back West was Duskmere. But south only meant one thing: Xifaw Forest.

  ‘Are we seeing the dryads?’ Trix said. Her fringe had fallen in front of her face. She pinned it back.

  ‘Maybe,’ Felix said. He was excellent at keeping secrets.

  ‘Daaaaad, tell me.’ Trix went to punch Felix in the side. He pivoted away. She went to hit him again. This time she succeeded. Felix was amazed how fast she was. She improved every day.

  ‘Ooph, careful, my friend. One of these days you’re going to hurt your old man, hitting like that.’

  He bent down and kissed her on the head. Little did Felix Westwood know that he had just spoken true prophecy. One that would not come to pass for another five years.

  The road to Xifaw’s border was smooth dirt lined with shrubs and tall Zilvian trees. Once the border was crossed, even they looked small.

  In the border, which was more like a strip of land, cabins formed small communities. They preferred quiet to the bustling city of Blor’daeyn. But their proximity to Xifaw wasn’t solely for serenity’s sake. Something else drew the dwellers to live among the trees. And there was a reason they were all men.

  Felix walked Trix around the edge of several communities until they reached one Trix knew. Old Man Baxter’s cabin. His was closest to the mountains, furthest away from any other settlement. A brook ran past his front porch. He was asleep in a rocking chair, rugged up in blankets. An empty thermos of mead was beside him. He was coming up on his 149th year. He’d moved to Zilvia when his wife died. At first he’d settled in Agius, but found the city life reminded him too much of his beloved, and their early years together.

  The hunter had become friendly with Baxter after taking out a contract on a fiend that’d stalked the woods. It’d been a vile creature with the head of a buck, a jaw full of sharp teeth, and a hulking body akin to a silverback gorilla. Felix had broken most of his bones by the time he felled the beast. If Baxter hadn’t found him and called for Susan, he would’ve died among the trees.

  ‘We’re not celebrating with Old Man Baxter, are we?’ Trix whispered. She didn’t want to wake Baxter. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, but Baxter held the opinion that waking a person while they were sleeping was frightful bad luck.

  ‘No. He’s going to take us to your present. Listen to his heart, Trix. See how it is changing. Hear his breathing, between the snores, how it’s shifting. He’ll be up in five minutes.’

  Felix knelt by the brook. Trix sat beside him.

  ‘So, are you going to tell me what we’re doing?’ Trix said.

  ‘I suppose there’s no harm in it.’

  ‘We are seeing the dryads. I was right, wasn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, my friend, you were.’

  ‘But you said they’re dangerous.’

  ‘Only because past acts of aggression have given them reason to be. Mages, scientists, and moguls all wish to see this forest torn down. They think there’s much to be learned from the trees, and precious, magical ore to be mined from the ground. And the Arnums protect the forest.’

  ‘I’d never want to harm the trees,’ said Trix.

  ‘They don’t know that, which is why we must be careful.’

  ‘Have they asked you to kill a monster? Is that why we can go in?’

  ‘The dryads can take care of any monster themselves. We’re going because I have beseeched them to teach you their skills.’

  ‘I’m still going to live with you and Susan though, right?’

  ‘Of course. The house would be too quiet without you.’

  ‘So why are the dryads teaching me?’

  ‘Because you, my little huntress, are quickly becoming better than me. Much better. In fact, I know you to already be stronger. Faster too. I will always guide your technique, but the dryads can help you move faster than I can. Hit harder. React so fast the blink of an eye will seem like an aeon in comparison.’

  ‘Oh…’ Trix said. That all sounded like what the machinists told her on Mair Ultima. About being better than everyone else. Better at killing.

  ‘What’s the matter? Ever since hearing about the zireans in the trees you’ve wanted to see them. Was I wrong?’

  ‘Am I only ever going to be good for killing? That’s why I was born. That’s why you and Susan can’t take me in to town that often, because people sneer and say mean things.’

  Felix wrapped his arm around Trix and pulled her close to him.

  ‘Knowing how to fight is not about killing, my friend. It is about protecting the ones you love, and people who are too weak to fight for themselves. If I could make it so, you would never kill anything but monsters, for they are unnatural, and their demise doesn’t affect eco-systems like hunting animals. You must remember that the first weapon to use in a confrontation is your words. And if those fail, then there is no sham
e in walking away. Violence, unless it is an absolute last resort, and stands behind a just cause, is always wrong.’

  ‘And a just cause is to protect your family, and your friends?’

  ‘Yes, it is always about protection,’ Felix smiled then gave Trix a noogie. ‘But not protecting your ego or your reputation, for you should have none of the first, and not base the second on belligerence.’

  Trix shoved Felix away. They chuckled. Old Man Baxter stirred on the porch. Felix cupped water from the brook in his hands. Drank. Trix did the same.

  ‘The dryads will teach you to become like water when you fight. To flow, and bend, then when you strike, to crash like a wave. They’ll teach you to root yourself to the ground so that you’re unable to be moved, just like the Arnums.’

  ‘But you’re already teaching me all those things.’

  ‘She who only has one teacher receives few lessons.’

  ‘Susan teaches me, too.’

  ‘She teaches you magic, that’s different. Besides, for her to teach you, you would actually have to listen.’

  ‘Magic is so boring.’

  Old Man Baxter woke up with one final snort as Felix was about to reply. Baxter was clean shaven with grey eyebrows and hair braided with strange beads. Trix thought of him almost like a grandfather.

  ‘Felix, Trix, how long have you been sitting there?’

  ‘We were here when you fell asleep, old man,’ Trix said.

  ‘Ha, nice try, girlie. I know you weren’t. I would’ve seen you sitting so close.’ Baxter stretched in his chair then rose to his feet and stretched a second time. He smelled like the forest. ‘If you’re here now, that must mean it’s your birthday.’

  ‘I’m thirteen.’

  ‘Some would say that’s an unlucky number, but if you ask me there aren’t any unlucky numbers, just stupid people. Felix, before you start your yammering, I know, I’ll take you in. But first, I’ve got a present for the young girlie over here, though at 13, why, I guess you’re a young woman now.’