by Aleks Canard
‘Faedra, did she summon him?’ Altayr said. Trix heard remorse in his voice.
‘You asked for information about Gauthier in general. You did not specify information about anyone else which is exactly what that question requires to answer. You’ve failed to understand the terms of our agreement, sorcerer.’
‘What can we trade you for more information?’ Trix said.
‘Your sword.’
‘No.’
‘You see, the problem with the three of you is that you’re too eager. Especially you, Trix. Your steady breathing and even heartbeat mask how rash you are. You made two mistakes. The first, you let on how badly you wanted to know about Gauthier. Second, you pulled a gun on me. I don’t know where you were raised, well, actually I do, but I count that as bad etiquette. Due to your poor form, I have no qualms about asking for your sword in return for this information.’
‘And I have none about leaving,’ Trix said, turning to walk out.
Valentine’s hand went to his pistol. Eisenheim made a face as if to say, you’re really going to try that?
‘Farewell, Trix, Altayr, Valentine. Trust me when I say that it was a pleasure. Enjoy the time you have, for I know you’ve seen the end, childe. It comes swifter than any of us would like.’
This stopped Trix in her tracks, again.
‘You know of the prism?’
‘I know that war comes. Terrible war. The most titanic one since the gods threw down their gauntlets and went at each other’s throats. It poisons the air, taints oceans, and its distant, ever approaching rumblings play harshly on people’s minds.’
‘When will it come?’
Eisenheim turned for the velvet curtain behind the counter. ‘I think you know the answer to that, childe. You have it written.’
The Illusionist disappeared. Trix ran for the counter. Vaulted over it. She passed through the velvet curtain and landed… outside the caravan. It was gone. Valentine and Altayr were standing on the ridge. Eisenheim Angier’s caravan had disappeared around them.
‘Have I, at some point in this venture, taken drugs?’ Valentine said. ‘That happened, right? We were in a caravan that was bigger on the inside with a man made from smoke?’
Altayr: ‘It would seem so. The energy I felt when the caravan disappeared, it was the same as my experiments relating to the Betwixt.’
‘You think he came from another reality?
‘He may have come from all of them.’
Altayr suspected that when this debacle was over, he would return to the Ddraeyg Mountains to search for Eisenheim Angier. Maybe it was only lingering awe, but Altayr suspected the Illusionist would be important in the wars to come. Little did he know there’d be more pressing matters.
‘It doesn’t matter from where he came. We know how we’re going to defeat Gauthier,’ said Trix, walking to the Fox.
Valentine: ‘A pity that in all this talk of challenging demons, we still don’t know what the challenge entails. If this were a novel, I’d be hoping for a clash epic enough to rip the sky apart.’
‘And no doubt you’d title it something ridiculous.’
‘A provocative title is the same as a wink from a beautiful woman. Both are filled with fantasy.’
‘Demons are said to enjoy riddles. In that way, they’re much like dragons.’
‘I have trouble believing this will be resolved with a classic I have a mouth but never speak, possess a bed but do not sleep,’ the author said.
Altayr was still deep in thought about travelling to the Betwixt. Trix kept speaking to Valentine.
‘There’s only one problem with besting Gauthier.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘We have to let him and Faedra take the mirror.’
‘We’ve had a lot of less-than-great ideas, machina. Enough to fill countless novels, you might say. The galaxy’s best seller list certainly would. My agent would say not enough. Regardless, this is possibly the worst idea you’ve ever voiced.’
‘I only see one problem with it.’
‘A minor miscalculation may unleash a being of unimaginable power, harbouring an insatiable lust for souls upon the galaxy? If that’s the case then, yes, we have only one problem. The same way you might think one bullet to the chest is troublesome.’
‘Nothing so dire. We don’t know if Faedra is the summoner for sure. But I think she is.’
‘Why is that, o wise one? Should I raise my hand like we were in school?’
‘Shut up, Valentine.’
‘Continue.’
‘If she was the advocate, she’d bear a mark. The brand of a crossroad demon can be on the chest, back, or arms, but the more powerful it is, the more obvious the mark. By all accounts, Gauthier’s the Demon King. His brand will be facial, either on the forehead or cheek.’
‘You’re sure of this?’
‘Being sure is another form of complacency, and complacency has a 100% mortality rate. I have a strong hunch.’
‘Based on years of experience, of course.’
‘I’ve had more life in my years than you’ve had years in your life, old friend.’
‘That, my darling, depends on how you define life.’
‘And I know how you’d define it.’
‘I’m curious to see what you’ll say.’
‘So shut up and let me speak. To you, life is a woman on your lap, a drink in your hand, and a cigar in your mouth.’
‘A concise, well-worded definition worthy of any dictionary, but you forgot one important part.’
‘Two women, not one?’
‘Friends by my side,’ Valentine said. They were in the Fox’s cockpit now.
Trix warmed the thrusters. Her ship’s boot-up time from a cold start was more than halved thanks to Griff’s upgrades.
‘Hopefully not while you have a woman on your lap,’ Trix said. ‘Walking in on you once was a feast my eyes needn’t indulge in again.’
‘It was dark. Any normal person wouldn’t have been able to see us. I remember when you tried to impress people by hitting a perfect bullseye in the shooting gallery eighteen times in a row with all the lights off, only to remember afterwards that no one else could see what you were doing.’ Valentine was sitting in the gunner’s seat. He turned to Altayr who was leaning on the doorway, lost in thought.
‘You still with us, Big Red? Or did your mind vanish like the Illusionist’s caravan?’
‘Should you be so lucky, poet.’
‘Right, now you’re back to the present,’ he turned to Trix, ‘how about you tell us the other part of your plan?’
‘As I was saying before, I think Faedra’s the summoner, but her acquiring both mirrors is no guarantee that all her wishes will be fulfilled. We need to know what she’s wished for. Only then can we safely “give” her the mirror, then lure her, Gauthier, and the advocate if necessary, to a crossroads.’
‘If only we had someone who used to be intimate with de Morland. Who knew the space between her thighs almost as well as looking into her eyes,’ Valentine smirked.
‘Watch your tongue, poet.’
‘Why, is it going somewhere?’
‘He’s right, Altayr. Crude, but right. We need to know what Faedra’s planning. If we take both mirrors without dealing with Gauthier first, then he’ll pursue Nadira. As conniving as she can be, she’s my preferred candidate for the galaxy’s arms dealing queen. Unlike Farosi, she’s not sadistic.’
‘Faedra won’t trust me after what happened in the Vault.’
‘You tell her that the Conclave found out about what you did and disowned you. Say you’ve seen the error of your ways, missed nuzzling her neck and kissing her legs,’ Valentine said. ‘I could write you a speech if you like.’
‘I don’t need your help wooing women.’
‘Don’t knock back 10,000 hours of experience.’
‘Do you have so many hours on the clock because you can never seem to keep one?’
‘And there, sorcerer, you show your i
gnorance in the ways of romance. Even during monogamy, a woman must be wooed, for every day she is different to the woman who shared your bed the previous night. Love is not professed once then locked like an old chest, sealed in one state for all eternity. Love is like a cat. Its mood ever changing, sometimes oblivious to your attentiveness and care. But if you neglect to romance your love each day you’re together, then, much like a cat, they will see what the neighbours have on offer. And rightly so. Even when life may last two hundred years,’ Valentine looked to Trix, ‘for some of us, much longer, it is still too short to spend with those who believe that love requires no maintenance.’
Valentine’s words silenced Altayr. The sorcerer could see love in the poet’s eyes, not for him, but for another. One who was beyond Valentine’s reach. Altayr sensed that death had taken her.
‘I’m sorry, Valentine. I didn’t know.’
‘Ignorance is not an excuse, sorcerer, though I admire its admission. You’re forgiven.’
Altayr nodded then returned to the matter at hand. ‘You won’t be able to drop me off in your ship.’
‘I happen to have a fine vessel you can use. Serena wouldn’t mind picking you up. My ship may look like a luxury cruiser, but I promise it can handle itself in a firefight if necessary.’
‘I don’t know where Faedra is,’ Altayr’s hand went to his amulet. ‘Though I may be able to contact her. Trix, I’m sorry, but for this I’ll need to be on the ground. There’s not enough magic to draw from in space.’
‘I understand,’ Trix said. She had been easing up towards Xardiassant’s lower orbit. She directed the ship downwards to an available spot of land near a seaside town. It had minor skyscrapers. Nothing compared to Estreser’s towers.
Altayr stood up. Trix didn’t land the Fox, but kept it hovering off the ground. The sorcerer would easily be able to drop down.
Altayr: ‘Depending on how Faedra responds, this may be farewell for now. She used a ship to escape on Drion, but that’s no guarantee Gauthier can’t summon portals between worlds now that they have one mirror.’
‘Good, you can lure her here, then we can shoot Gauthier in the face and have this over with,’ said Valentine.
‘Because that worked well the last time.’
‘He may not be so lucky again.’
‘We mightn’t be either.’
Trix stood. Embraced Altayr. She gave him a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Valentine looked away.
‘What I felt for Faedra once, it has no bearing on how I feel now. Especially not about you,’ the sorcerer whispered.
‘You waste your words assuming that I’m worried. Just don’t get yourself killed.’
‘When you dance with the devil, he always leads.’
Altayr left the Fox. Levitated himself back to Xardiassant’s surface.
Trix was toying with an idea. She flew skyward, but didn’t leave the atmosphere. If Altayr couldn’t get a hold of Faedra, they’d need to pick him back up.
‘Valentine, I think you’ll need to sit this next part out.’
‘Until this is over, I’m with you to my last breath. You don’t need to tote this expedition’s dangers to me. I’m aware. Or did you forget we took on an elemental army together?’
‘That indelible memory will be with me for the rest of my life. And I’m sure Jinx’s version will haunt me even further.’
‘Then I don’t see why I can’t come with you.’
‘While the character reference you gave the ENN after the Paris attack was colourful, Blor’daeyn’s feudal lords don’t take kindly to outsiders speaking on behalf of punished citizens. Then there’s the dryads. You entering the forest with no prior warning would be suicide. Besides, your bionic legs will probably fail among the trees due to the Arnums’ magic. Even my presence may not save you. The dryads shunned me from the forest after my banishment.
‘Then you can’t go in there. They’ll kill you.’
‘I was taught by them nearly every day for five years. I may be the only person in the galaxy who can enter unscathed if they do attack.’
‘Not like you to make such grand claims.’
‘This situation deserves atypical responses.’
‘If you feel that strongly about it, then we’ll part ways. Though I can’t say I’m entirely surprised.’
‘Because you’re a nihilist at heart, jaded and sceptical about all good things?’
‘I may be jaded, but I’m also broken. And that’s how the light gets through. This is the first time you’ll be going home to Zilvia since you left. The path to redemption must be walked alone.’
‘You think redemption is still possible after all we’ve done?
‘Our paths are closer to rivers of blood than dirt. Yours especially. I expect that if we don’t drown, we’ll find out one way or another.’
‘I saw Gauthier while we were in the sealed room. He was holding a machina skull in his hand. And he was sitting on a throne, at the Duskmere crossroads.’
‘The mind plays better tricks than magicians. Perhaps it was a vision?’
‘I’m not clairvoyant any more than you.’
‘I’d chalk it up to bad dreams, though the other possibility is just as nightmarish. Gauthier sent you a message.’
‘If he feels the need to try and scare me, it means he thinks I’m a threat. It means he’s afraid.’
‘He should be, for he is only a demon. You are a Valkyrie. A chooser of the slain.’
‘Thank you for the pep-talk, old friend.’
‘Always best to leave on a high note.’
‘You’re not leaving yet. I have to make a call first. One that I want you present for.’
Valentine caught on immediately.
‘You wish to inform Nadira of your plan so that she still thinks I’m with you.’
‘I wouldn’t want her men to pursue you and scratch your ship’s paint. Promise me, Valentine, that once this call is over, you and Serena will hide somewhere in space where Nadira’s spies won’t see you.’
‘I promise,’ Valentine said. A promise from the author was stronger than Uldarian metal. And that was saying a lot, for he had promised Trix numerous things while he should’ve been too intoxicated too think, let alone speak. Each time he’d come through. ‘But,’ he continued, ‘I will be hiding on the fringes of the Rose Vale system. Should you require aid, call for Meteor Brigade, and we’ll rain hellfire on any who trouble you. Whether they’re demons or sorceresses.’
‘For a moment there I thought you were giving in too easily.’
‘As one of Meteor Brigade’s last surviving members, I can’t give in. It would be an insult to their memory.’
‘You’re thinking of Aeronwen. Even with all your womanising, you could never insult her.’
Valentine’s eyes glistened with tears. His voice became shaky, gluggy. Like his words were made from mucus, not air. ‘When we were in the vault, and I saw my nightmares, I saw her, Trix. On the floor. I nearly lost my mind, you know. I’m losing it now. By all the stars, all the gods, I loved her, more than that. I was addicted to her. And even all these fucking years later I’m still suffering from withdrawals. Every other woman feels like nothing. Leaves me emptier than before.’
‘She wouldn’t stand to see you cry, old friend.’
Valentine wiped his eyes. ‘But I have cried for her, and all my friends, Trix. The tears are infinite, drawn from a well deeper than I know. How can you do it? You saw so many die.’
‘I knew nothing but conflict from birth. Death was engrained into me from my first moment, and it will follow me unto my last. You had a normal life before.’ Trix prepped the Fox to call Nadira Vega. ‘Some dickhead once told me that to express suffering, you must be vulnerable to it, and none are more vulnerable than poets.’
Valentine sniffled, smiling with relief. He’d stayed his tears. ‘Even the mediocre poets, it seems. Let’s call Nadira, shall we?’
Trix dialled.
She had mistaken the refl
ection for stars in the sky.
What she thought was pushing a button was, in reality, the first step on the path to redemption. Victory on Zilvia would not see her reach the end.
But while the path had to be walked alone, it grew forever longer. Only Death could cut it short.
Perhaps he carried scissors as well as a scythe?
3
The Red & The Black
The sorcerer walked a short distance, into the trees.
Vluddes sang in melodic choruses. Ceirlos drank heartily by a pond surrounded by lilac grass. His presence caused them to stop. They didn’t scatter, only ambled away. Ceirlos were highly intelligent creatures. Monks who lived in far off zirean wilderness believed ceirlos understood the ancient proverb that nature never hurried, yet everything was accomplished.
Whatever the reason, maybe it was simple apprehension, Altayr was left alone in the woods. His only company were the vluddes, which continued singing unimpeded. Their melodies were foreboding. Particularly spirited legends passed down through generations said vluddes were clairaudient. Not able to see the future, but sense it beyond a veil. Enthusiastic zireans cited these legends as reasons for strange behavioural patterns before times of crisis, or even celebration. They were often entwined.
Crisis for one side meant celebration for another, after all. Strangely, cats possessed the same talent, though their reactions were subtler, and harder to discern.
Altayr materialised his staff. He waved it over the pond like a conductor silencing an orchestra. All the ripples caused by the ceirlos were smoothed. Anyone passing by would’ve thought he’d turned the pond to glass. He unfastened his amulet from around his neck. It levitated in front of him.
He raised an orb of water from the pond at the same time. It flattened to a disc before his face. His amulet touched its centre. Magic pulses rippled the water. Altayr felt magic surge through him. There was enough power to cast a telemetry spell across the stars. Now he just had to make Faedra answer.
Each mage had a different signature. Just like a doctor’s signature, they usually required other mages to decipher them. Normally the only way to identify a particular mage’s aura was to spend time with them. Work closely on projects, and train together, for instance. Altayr had spent more than enough time with Faedra to know her signature. Knowing someone’s ancient zirean name was another way to reach them. It also made mind control spells far easier.