A Clash of Demons

by Aleks Canard

  Faedra had never seen fit to trust Altayr with her zirean name. He had fallen harder than she had. Love was rarely distributed equally in relationships. Nevertheless, Altayr felt like he could call Faedra despite not knowing her ancient name.

  Scholars — who were really zirean elitists — believed that the universe, space-time, all of reality, whatever you wanted to call it, was created by utterings in ancient zirean.

  Altayr half smiled. He had sensed Faedra. Now to see if she would answer. She did.

  Her black hair, dark lips, and sumptuous eyes filled the mirror in front of him. He couldn’t see her surrounds. Gauthier wasn’t visible, if he was there at all.

  ‘My dear Vyrnoch, what a pleasant surprise. After all this time, you still know how to reach me. It only took us duelling for you to call.’

  ‘I would tell you you’re entrancing, but I know how much you detest obvious statements.’

  ‘Still a charmer, I see. Why aren’t you with your machina friend?’

  ‘When I called the Conclave to tell them what happened, they revoked my membership. It was her fault that I was there in the first place. I wanted to be alone.’

  Faedra fell silent. She was searching for a lie.

  ‘Poor Vyrnoch. Love plays with you, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Not matter how much I protest.’

  ‘Is that why you’re calling? You want a revenge fuck? Well, I’m flattered. Only if I was the first you called. I can tell you’re not drunk, so I assume I’m near the top of the list.’

  ‘Nothing so crude.’

  ‘And are you Red mages not crude by definition? You can’t decide where to focus your training so you dabble in everything and master nothing.’

  ‘Sitting on the fence gives a clear view of both sides.’

  ‘It also gives one a sore rear.’

  ‘It’s far more pleasant to discuss these matters without any impending confrontation.’

  ‘Confrontation is always impending.’

  ‘Then is resolution not as well?’

  ‘You are more than a handsome face, Altayr.’

  ‘I wanted to speak with you about procuring the second mirror. The one which resides on Zilvia.’

  ‘You’re better informed than I gave you credit for, though I find your sudden reversal most curious. I didn’t take you for a man of such rash, retaliatory actions.’

  ‘From the outside I can see how secular the Conclave is, even within itself. Elitist to the nth degree. To revoke my membership for entering Conclave property is preposterous, and the mirror could greatly advance magic. Science as well. Now that the damage has already been done to the Conclave, I see no harm in helping you procure the second mirror.’

  ‘I’m not sure if this venture is befitting of another person. More isn’t always merrier. Not when such precious artefacts are at stake. Business has a tendency to pollute all it touches. Better to pollute fewer, wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘We’re already polluted, Fae,’ Altayr said. He’d used to call her that when they were together. ‘Magic wasn’t meant to be wielded by any other than dragons. We weren’t blessed with this power. We were cursed with it.’

  ‘An interesting idea, though I never had to undergo the Trials of Mirkwood.’

  ‘Your father did, and magic flowed so heavily through your mother’s veins she was born barren. Only a curse would rob a woman of their fertility. Magic is greatness, but that’s not to say it isn’t a burden. Let me help you carry yours, Fae.’

  ‘Quite the sentiment.’

  ‘You had no issue polluting those mercenaries by involving them in your venture.’

  ‘I was anticipating haxabyr in the Conclave’s vault and wanted to ensure I had old fashioned weaponry to break in. Their explosives certainly helped to clear those pesky chandeliers. And they were poisoned already, Vyrnoch. Ex-military, soldiers of fortune, lowlifes, though all highly trained, had few prospects. And I pay well.’

  ‘I know you’re waiting for the machina to take the mirror from Zilvia, for it lies with the dryads, somewhere in Xifaw Forest where technology may not scan, and magic is controlled by the Arnums. Let her take it, for even a sorceress of your calibre entering the forest would be a walk to the noose.’

  ‘So I’ve heard. The dryads are supposed to use mithril arrows. Can you imagine it? So much mithril in one place. No wonder people have tried to destroy the forest countless times so they may plunder its soil. And Arnum timber is akin to daergrum trees.’

  ‘Fae, this partnership could be beneficial for both of us. If you attempt to take the Valkyrie by yourself, you will fall. My healing spells could serve to make all the difference in open combat.’

  ‘And, besides the endless pleasures my company affords, how would you be benefitting from this partnership, Altayr?’

  She stopped calling me Vyrnoch, Altayr thought, that’s a good sign.

  ‘The chance to show the Conclave they were wrong, but more importantly, I believe the mirrors may hold secrets to accessing the Betwixt.’

  This made Faedra’s constantly seductive face falter in surprise. Altayr suspected he had touched on something that he wasn’t supposed to know. He held his poker face. It was alright to feel like you had the upper hand, but often a bad idea to show it.

  ‘As you know,’ Altayr continued, ‘the Betwixt is what my research revolves around. And in the vault, I felt distinct energy emanating from the mirror, similar to the energy I detect during my experiments.’

  ‘Altayr, while I would love to help you, I’m not sure I need your assistance.’

  Not sure was better than being certain. There was wiggle room with “not sure.”

  ‘You’re referring to the sorcerer who facilitated your escape. Yes, according to the machina and her soldier friend, he was capable of powerful illusions, though I think his most impressive trick was leaping from the pages of a storybook. Normally only monsters in fairy tales can do that. How was it that you came to share company with the infamous Bad Man, Gauthier Nadim?’

  ‘Your observational powers are as astute as ever. Since you know he travels with me, I would think you’d want to stay away. I have you to thank for my knowledge of him. I remember your fleeting dalliance with all things mythical, and your conviction that they were real somehow. Yet since your ongoing research involves largely theoretical magic based on an unknown place, I see you’ve never done away with the mythical world as much as you’d have people believe with your serious demeanour.’

  ‘Is he working for you, or are you working for him?’

  Faedra batted her eyelashes. Entering a deal with Gauthier was flirting with the devil.

  ‘You do know more than I thought. All those years you’ve accumulated must be worth more than a few concealed wrinkles.’

  ‘I would consider meeting Gauthier invaluable to my research.’

  Altayr had to struggle not to hesitate before saying the demon’s name, even though he’d already mentioned Gauthier once. He could’ve sworn the air had grown cooler. Haze seemed to settle over the forest, not fog, nor mist, but smog. The vluddes stopped singing mid-song. If Altayr was a superstitious man, he would’ve taken that as an ill omen indeed. Then again, he was afraid that a crossroad demon could teleport between planets whenever his name was uttered.

  ‘I see you’re not hiding your location from me. Are you wanting to lure me into a trap, Altayr?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so hasty. If I were still with the machina, we would have no need to lure you anywhere, for I know you fear the dryads, Fae. You won’t dare enter the forest. Even if it’s not their arrows you fear, the Arnums’ power perturbs you. I can see it in your eyes, the way they’re flitting ever so slightly. And now, how you brush your hair from your ears when it’s not even in your way.’

  ‘The machina, did you cut your ties with her?’

  ‘Burning bridges makes retreat difficult. I wouldn’t have come to you if I had ended our friendship. I simply requested time alone with a promise that I would
join her on Zilvia. I know where she’ll be going with the mirror, the path she’ll take out of the forest. I can ask to meet her there, lull her into a false sense of security, and then the mirror will be yours.’

  ‘And the Valkyrie, do you care what happens to her?’

  ‘Kill her if you like. Machinas are monstrous. They’ll show you no quarter once they’re enraged. To show them any less would be putting one foot in the grave.’

  ‘I thought you were against burning bridges.’

  ‘Only when they may be used later, and I suppose, in some ways, the Valkyrie could prove exceptionally useful.’

  ‘How?’

  Altayr had Faedra on his hook. Though he was aware she could be double bluffing him. But no risk, no reward. He wouldn’t know until later.

  ‘I’ll only discuss that with you in person. And I’ll take our meeting as a confirmation of our partnership in this venture. What you wish to use the mirrors for is your business. I only ask for some time to study them once you’re done in exchange for my help. Under your full supervision, of course.’

  This was all Altayr had. If Faedra didn’t buy this, then he was cooked.

  Faedra seemed to ponder for an eternity. Still the vluddes remained silent. Altayr felt something unnatural creep into the world.

  ‘You’ve persuaded me, Altayr. You and that handsome face of yours. I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you cross me. I expect you know, and I don’t want to speak of such unpleasantness.’

  Altayr bowed. ‘You’re too kind, Fae.’

  ‘If this goes well, maybe you’ll see how kind I can be.’

  Faedra ended the telemetry on her side. Altayr cut his. He didn’t ask about her location, or when she’d be coming. Mages always arrived when they meant to. Generally speaking, they all tended to be punctual as showing up late was considered a horrendous gaffe.

  The sorcerer sent a quick message to Trix, letting her know the plan was in motion. He erased any trace of it from his comms gauntlet. He doubted Faedra would know what he’d done, but it was better to be prepared.

  Then there was singing.

  It was coming from beyond the trees. Not a vludde’s melodic tones, but the sounds of a sailor who’d been at sea too long. Pining for his love. Though it had been centuries since any shanties were sung under sail, they were still sung in pubs, usually as a result of homesickness.

  Altayr gripped his staff. Followed the singing. The ceirlos were long gone. He saw no trace of them in the trees, waiting to return to the pond. The sorcerer did find a path though. A dirt road. He kept walking. He could see other roads through the trees. All converging at a central point.

  Fear lashed at the sorcerer. Whipped him forward. He was walking to a crossroad. And there were no prizes for guessing who was singing. The words were clearer now. Haunting.

  ‘Look ahead, look back, don’t let your courage flee. Walk high, walk low, walk gainst the lee. I see a man to windward, and a cosy town to lee. Walking down the crossroads, n’ere shall I flee. O are you a demon or a friendly man? cried he. Walk high, walk low, walk gainst the lee. O no! I’m not a demon but a friendly man, cried he. Walking down the crossroads of hidden trickery.’

  There was a signpost at the crossroads. A man was sitting atop it with a leg swinging off the side. His long face and high cheekbones made him seem stern, like a professor. But his wavy, shoulder length hair gave him the air of a travelling minstrel. He was even strumming a lute.

  ‘O I’ll rest my feet and dress a fire too. Walk high, walk low, and walk gainst the lee. For I have got some stories, of which to regale thee. Walking down the crossroads of hidden trickery.’

  Gauthier Nadim stopped his singing. He looked Altayr right in the eye.

  ‘Greetings, sorcerer. Funny that I should see you here. I was merely out on a stroll.’ He hopped down from the signpost. Began walking towards Altayr.

  The sorcerer was petrified. He tried to make sure his face didn’t betray him. It wasn’t what Gauthier could do that frightened Altayr. It was what Gauthier might be able to do.

  ‘You’re not with Faedra.’

  ‘Perceptive, Altayr. None could ever doubt your keen eyes.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘A worthy question. Always ask why. Other questions are all too often superficial, and an answer is only as good as the question that is asked.’

  ‘Only if the other person is truthful.’

  ‘Lies! A fallacy of titanic proportions. What carefully considered tripe you spout as wisdom, sorcerer. Careful, or your long white beard might show. A lie can be useful to both parties if the liar is adept. For a lie is only a lie if it is recognised as such. If a lie is believed whole heartedly, then it becomes a truth.’

  ‘That in itself is a lie.’

  ‘I swear my veracity is as veracious as my vociferation is vivacious. Despite your venomously vexing conviction about my virulently villainous, never varying visage, which has been vigorously vilified by vandals vying for victory over my vagabond vehemence to which even vigilant voyagers voluntarily venture, vagrants do not quiver before my viciousness, but venerate my benevolence. If I were to tell you that dirt was chocolate, you wouldn’t believe it. But if I told a child, blissfully ignorant, trusting creatures that they are, the very same thing, they would believe me. A person who knows no better and wants to believe is perfect, in my humble wanderer’s opinion.’

  Gauthier’s voice had a mage’s diction, though it also possessed odd inflections and a marginally slurred cadence similar to that of a perpetually drunk troubadour. Altayr noted that he was wearing eyeliner. It made his eyes seem bigger. More inviting.

  ‘As soon as the child picks up a handful of dirt and tastes it, they’ll know you’re lying.’

  ‘Of course they will, for senses are seldom fooled on words alone. Lies are delicate, sorcerer, like butterflies. Beautiful when they’re alive, yet they take so little to kill.’ Gauthier vanished his lute. Rubbed his hands together. A butterfly was in between them when they parted. Its wings were thinner than paper. Transparent as glass. ‘They take…’ Gauthier smiled, pinching the butterfly with his fingers, and ripping a wing off. An inordinate amount of blood flowed out. Though none of it stained his hand. ‘… so little to disassemble.’

  ‘Are you a mage?’

  ‘Me? No. I’ve never dallied in magic. I don’t care for it.’

  ‘Then how can you be here?’

  ‘How can you be? See, the question cannot be answered, for no one knows. We may be on a giant turtle’s back, or mayhap we’re held within the turtle’s mind. Those questions are a waste of everyone’s time, sorcerer. So wasteful that even Eternals would turn their noses at your vocal squandering.’

  Altayr found that ironic amidst his steadily plateauing fear. Gauthier was immortal. And if the sealed files were correct, he was close to invulnerable. Altayr wondered if Gauthier Nadim was a god. After all, the Uldarians had died, yet here was Gauthier Nadim, present since storytelling began.

  ‘Why are you here? I didn’t summon you.’

  ‘I am here because I want to be. Not a great answer, then not a tantalising question. And why on Xardiassant would you believe that I need to be summoned, sorcerer? See why these questions are so much fun?’

  ‘You’re a crossroad demon. I don’t want to see your idea of fun.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what those scholars thought as well. That’s stretching back some time. But if they didn’t want to see my idea of fun, then colour me confused as to why they were poking about in my private dealings.’

  ‘Why did you kill them for studying you?’

  ‘I didn’t kill them. I couldn’t even kill you right now. Ah, the relief is visible on your face. You may be able to win more than one hand of poker with a kisser like that, but you shan’t fool me, magic man.’

  ‘How did they die?’

  ‘Boring, humdrum, banal!’

  ‘Why did they die?’

  ‘Better. They died because I spoke to
them, and afterwards, they grew afraid. They saw death in every shadow. Edges glistened like razors, thirsty for blood and hungry for gore. I could engross you in the eloquently egregious details, but the sun would swap places with the moon before I was done. To put it bluntly, magic man, they killed themselves, you feel me?’

  ‘Why did Faedra summon you?’

  ‘Oooh, that is a delicious question. Succulent and bloody, just waiting to be torn open... if she summoned me at all,’ Gauthier flashed a smile. His teeth were pointed like rapiers. ‘But I’ve grown tired of our conversation. You see, I was just passing the time. Wandering is a bountiful life. When there’s no destination you can never be late, and the unexpected becomes an everyday delight. I always find it best to sit for a while whenever I come to crossroads. For what’s the rush? None, isn’t it fabulous? Now though, I know which way calls me next. It coos for me to come forth, to delve into its secrets. I do so lust after the unknown, magic man.’

  Gauthier began walking. His gait overflowed with self-assured swagger which sauntered all over the road. Even though he had perched himself masterfully on the signpost only moments ago, Gauthier appeared to have no concept of balance while he was walking. The way his feet went one in front of the other, and his arms came out by his sides, it was like watching a novice model who’d drunk too much tequila to calm her nerves

  ‘Farewell, sorcerer. I expect to see you soon. I always collect what I’m owed. Make no mistake. I’m just like the tax man, a never-late, reprobate.’

  The demonic troubadour continued on his way. Altayr watched him go. Then in the space of one blink, he was gone. The world felt a little less darksome. Though Gauthier’s words still rang in Altayr’s head.

  They saw death in every shadow…

  Altayr walked away from the crossroads, in the opposite direction Gauthier had gone. The sorcerer had felt similarities between Gauthier and Eisenheim. His theory was that each represented greed in their primal forms. They were opposites. While Eisenheim offered no strings attached trades of earthly goods — even if they did seem magic — Gauthier promised the moon with flowery words while he led you to a guillotine with your name on it.