by Aleks Canard
‘I first told you death was a viper. A vicious serpent. But death has many forms. It exists in everything’s shadow. Surviving this ordeal, white one, will grant you the undisputed title of huntress, second only to death himself. He will track you through the star ocean, across mountain ranges and desert plains. There is no avoiding him, for he wields his Eternal scythe. Even now, he waits in the shadows,’ Aryagyr said.
She moved backwards, withdrawing into the trees until Trix could only just see her hair shimmering.
‘And he has many servants. Do not take death in your hands this time, white one. Destroy it.’
Trix’s ears pricked up. Everything happened so fast. She heard bows being nocked. Arrows would follow. She raised her sword at an angle. She would have to move swifter than ever before. She’d sparred with some of the dryads. They’d been damned fast. Each day she came away with fresh bruises and new cuts.
Arrows pierced the air. To the left. Trix pivoted, using her magic in short bursts to facilitate frictionless movement. A volley came. Trix swooped her sword forwards, creating a gap inside. The sound of metal deflecting almost stopped her from hearing the arrows coming from behind her. She turned so fast that a normal person would’ve sworn on their mother’s grave that she’d teleported. Another deflection. An arrow nicked Trix on her boot. It grazed her skin. Lucky.
Having a boot full of blood made movement unpleasant.
Arrows from two sides at once. Trix brought her sword around her in a single fluid move, rotating so deflections were made on the edges and blade alike. A couple arrows caught her dress. One cut her thigh.
Fire from above. Angled from the trees. Trix jumped with a gravity spell. More arrows came when she reached her zenith. Trix sustained her spell a little longer, allowing her to whirl.
Then the dryads attacked. They launched from the trees, barely visible against Xifaw Forest’s dark greenery. Wielding daggers made from a metal resembling mithril. She parried the first, sending the dryad falling to the ground. She evaded the second dryad’s daggers by arching her back. Flipping mid-air. Pain erupted in her back. The dryad had kicked her in the spine. Her bones were too dense to be broken by a mere kick, but the pain radiated throughout her entire body. Falling feet first, Trix heard arrows released from all around the clearing.
Fuck, this was unavoidable. Her feet hit the ground. She fell awkwardly on a patch of embedded arrow shafts. Her back cramped. Forced her into a kneeling position. Trix raised her hand. Her magic typically had little effect on dryad arrows, but she was out of options.
The arrows kept coming. They struck the machina all over.
And each one of them shattered as they touched her skin. Trix wasn’t sure what had happened. She guessed it was something to do with her density and gravity spells. Whatever it was, she rose to her feet, wincing as she lifted her sword to its parry position.
No more arrows were nocked. Trix heard footsteps. She knew she’d die if all the dryads attacked her at once. There was no way to parry them all and escape alive.
But she would have to try, because that was exactly what happened. Scores of dryads came from the trees. Trix didn’t want to kill any of them. This was part of the test. They wanted to see if she could kill. Despite Aryagyr’s words about her being death, she had never killed anyone. Only monsters.
That was about to change.
But not here. Not in the clearing.
Trix parried one dryad. Twisted to avoid one behind her. Lashed with a kick. Deflected a blow to her left. Used her pommel to achieve a reversal. A dryad grabbed her arm. She shook them off. Blow to the solar plexus. Trix winced. Her other arm was grabbed. Stabbed with a dagger. Legs pinned. Disarmed. Shit.
The machina was bent backwards. Her hair being pulled by dryads. Aryagyr emerged from the group.
‘You have failed our test, machina. We will let you live if you surrender.’
Trix’s mind reeled. She could feel distant pain. Yet no blood ran over her arm. She had been taught no retreat, no surrender at the academy. No matter how bad the situation, if you were still alive, there was still a chance. Even facing certain death, you had to charge into battle and kill as many anghenfil as possible.
Maybe it was her training that made her respond the way she did. It could’ve been that she was vaguely aware of her medallion vibrating, and that the world, while it still existed as she had come to expect, shimmered around the edges. Just like Susan had said even the best illusionary spells were wont to do.
The Valkyrie would later learn that surrender could be tactical, and not necessarily a sign of weakness. But her stubbornness, which had been part of her nature since she was born, and reinforced by the dryads, prevailed in this instance.
‘I’ll never surrender. So you’ll just have to kill me.’
‘Are you sure, white one?’ Aryagyr said, squeezing Trix’s cheeks until they hurt. ‘Is that what you really want?’
Trix shook her head savagely. Aryagyr released her hold.
‘Death doesn’t scare me.’
Aryagyr smiled. ‘Well done, white one.’ The silver-haired dryad stepped back. The rest were shrouded in murk. Only Aryagyr remained. Her silver hair covered her face. Trix realised that no one was holding her anymore. She stood. Her arm wasn’t cut. She pressed her fingers to where she’d felt the dagger’s laceration.
There was only the memory of pain.
Trix looked at Aryagyr. Her silver hair had become reflective. The rest of the clearing was now black. Trix’s vision couldn’t penetrate it. She took a step. Then another. The ground was no longer lush grass, blossoming flowers, and mossy rocks. It was mosaicked stained-glass in the style of Blor’daeyn’s high streets.
However, unlike the streets, the mosaic was a picture. Trix levitated to get a better look. Found that magic was easier than ever. The image was richly detailed. A background of different trees was coloured by six beams of light. A man in a black cloak was in the centre foreground. Half his face was a skull. Galaxies stretched on for eternity in the empty socket. The other side of his face was human. Skin so white it almost blended into the exposed skull. His human eye was blue like a flame’s tip. Raven wings protruded from the back of his cloak. A three-piece suit that might’ve been pulled from the Victorian era was underneath his cloak.
He held a scythe in his hand.
A banner reading Thelonious Grim wrapped around his scythe.
To the left of Thelonious was a man much less fanciful than he.
He wore a stained white t-shirt, battered overalls. A shovel older than time itself rested on his shoulder. He was a towering man. Black skin. Bald head. Kind face. A small banner above him read Gabriel Daedalus.
Trix lowered herself back to the floor. She had to be dreaming. This couldn’t be real. She walked to the mosaic’s rounded edge. It dropped off into darkness. Seemingly into nowhere.
She returned to what had been Aryagyr’s body. It was completely gone. Replaced by a mirror as thin as pond reeds. Trix stepped in front of it. Her reflection was doused in blood. Her new sword was pointed at the ground, running with gore. Then she saw her face. Half of it was Thelonious’ “human” side. Half was hers.
Thelonious began speaking. His voice was Aryagyr’s.
‘You have stared death in the face for so long that you have not realised you were staring at a reflection this whole time. Indeed, white one, I knew you darkled from the moment I laid eyes on you. Now you have passed our final test. To destroy death you must forgo all fear. That you have done. You have not just taken death in your own hands, you have become him. You wield the power to create unforeseeable destruction, or to prevent it. Both paths lead to death, white one. It follows you everywhere. From this moment forward you will no longer be known as Beatrix Westwood to us, the children of the Arnums, but Gwyrlaeth naeyn Faenyd.’
Trix reached out to touch the mirror. It shattered. The mosaic around her started crumbling. She could no longer cast magic. The machina plummeted into darkness where t
he sensation of falling never left. Something was rushing up from the depths. She braced herself for impact.
Darkness again.
There was grass under her feet. She sensed a presence right in front of her. Trix opened her eyes. Aryagyr was before her. She’d never disappeared into the trees at all. The ground wasn’t covered in arrows. Her test had all been an illusion.
‘Greetings, Gwyrlaeth,’ Aryagyr bowed. It was the first time during all her training that the dryad hadn’t addressed Trix as white one, or little one, or machina.
‘Aryagyr, what did you do to me?’
‘The Arnums can create powerful illusions, ones that we are all able to share thanks to the Hanoryaeds. You performed well. As I had expected. No student of mine has ever perished in combat.’
‘But it wasn’t real. I couldn’t have.’
‘Your belief in the illusion was so strong that you would’ve died had an arrow pierced your heart.’
Trix was stunned. That was when Felix and Susan came to greet her. Susan looked marginally distressed. Felix was overjoyed. He hugged Trix tight. ‘Well done, my friend. We saw everything as you did.’
‘I couldn’t have done it without this,’ Trix said, holding her sword. ‘Thank you both.’
‘I think celebrations are in order, then,’ Susan said. She wasn’t typically as affectionate with Trix as Felix was. This time though, the enchantress hugged the machina. All the dryads had dispersed. It wasn’t that they didn’t believe in affection. To them it was shown in other ways. Namely putting an arrow through someone’s head if they were a threat. Thanks were paid in curt nods.
Raeyeleth descended from the trees. ‘You are always welcome here, Gwyrlaeth. You needn’t fear our arrows. Should you ever be lost, the fairies will guide you. Enjoy your celebrations.’
‘Do you want to come with us?’
‘My place is in the forest,’ Raeyeleth said. She nodded. Returned to Aefonryr proper.
Together, Trix, Susan, and Felix walked out of the forest. Fairies flew before them.
Their light coloured the darkness.
4
The Feudal Lords remained stoic as the Arnums’ faces throughout Trix’s recount.
‘We are to believe that you were trained to become death by the fiaeds who dwell in Xifaw Forest. Your testimony to their brutal savagery can certainly mean nothing else. Did they expect you to fight among their ranks? Slaughter innocents who wandered too far into the trees?’ Elael said.
‘I was trained to be deadly. To be fearless. I never intended on becoming a soldier or an assassin. I only wanted to become a huntress. I hadn’t given any thought to leaving Zilvia at the time. I planned on staying here. Helping people with monsters. Not once did the dryads instruct me to kill anyone. I never did. Not during all my years of training. I remained behind even when they stopped intruders.’
Elael looked sceptical. His eyes hinted at far greater knowledge about the dryads than Trix. Even though the other lords hadn’t spoken a word to each other, Trix knew they were communicating via screens behind the bench.
‘Unfortunately for you, Ms Westwood, there is no one to verify your claims. As such, they have to be treated as suspicious. The acts that followed your final test, as you say, call into question the desired outcome of your training.’
Trix was swimming on the stand. Her senses were dulled. Everything was muffled. She wondered if this was how humans felt all the time. Numb to the world. She hadn’t revisited the memories of that day since it’d happened. She’d only seen them in nightmares. Flashes of colour set to a soundtrack of screaming.
‘I lost my temper. If you think I was somehow brainwashed into attacking Zilvian citizens by the dryads, then you’re mistaken. They couldn’t care if you expanded Blor’daeyn to the rest of the planet so long as you stayed out of their forest.’
‘Did they ever say why intruders were not allowed? What are they hiding?’
‘I never saw past one of their outer settlements. And they never spoke of the Arnums in great detail. The Arnums themselves didn’t speak at all. They’re a mystery to me. The same goes for their elders, the Hanoryaeds.’
‘Your story is an unlikely one. Continue to the events at Duskmere.’
‘I can assure you, Lord Vorlym, that if I had been sent as a destroyer, we wouldn’t be talking right now. Nobody would remember the name Duskmere, and Blor’daeyn would be a graveyard. I lost my temper.’
Elael: ‘And in civilised society we expect people to find their tempers before they commit multiple counts of murder. Your statement, while plausible judging by the trauma your actions caused, does nothing to prove that you’re not a dryad assassin, spared their transformation so as not to be caught.’
‘Know that I would give anything to undo my actions on that day. The people of Duskmere weren’t the only ones who lost someone dear.’
‘Surely some would call that poetic justice. Continue with your recount, Ms Westwood.’
There was no doubting Elael was a cold bastard, but he was unwavering when it came to upholding the law. His delivery was biased, though his judgement always fair. That was why Trix didn’t like her chances. Her one shot was making sure the Feudal Lords understood the threat that Faedra de Morland presented should she acquire the Uldarian mirror. The machina was still debating whether or not to tell the Lords about Gauthier Nadim.
He was, foremost, a fairy tale. And Trix’s fervent belief in his appearance would probably weaken all her previous statements even more.
Trix delved into the second part of her story. Her steady voice quivered. She wished she could wipe her eyes, but her cuffs made it impossible.
Once more she pulled up a seat in that forgotten bar on Memory Lane. This time there were a few less cobwebs. Even some lights behind the counter were on. There was still no bartender in sight. Trix reached across to drink straight from the first bottle she grabbed.
When the heart could not find courage, wandering hands could always find a bottle.
5
The Demon of Duskmere
The trio stood at the outer forest crossroads.
Susan was willing to teleport them anywhere Trix wished to go. She just had to make up her mind. Blor’daeyn was the nicest option. The fragrant smelling streets lined with colonnades of flowers, the sweet smell of fruit pastries wafting from stores and bars that served the finest mead Trix had ever tasted.
But people in Blor’daeyn stared. Zireans regarded Trix like a mangy mutt who’d wandered in off the street and might’ve had rabies. Trix had picked up enough zirean over the years to understand what they were saying. She heard them whisper, saying she was a monster who lived on the mountain with her nikker loving father and whore mother. She could handle the staring, but she hated the way they talked about her parents.
Agius was even worse. Being a human settlement, she was lucky if she wasn’t spat on. Someone had flung actual shit at her when she was ten. Apparently their sister had been taken during the Great Conscription and didn’t survive the hasty foetus removal. Trix had felt embarrassed and angry. After seeing the first woman take a stand against the machina, the Agians began pelting her with whatever they had on hand. Trix had bolted when a man emerged from his house brandishing a gun. She’d used a zero gravity spell to stop objects hitting her any further. That night she’d cried in Susan’s arms. It was one of the first times she could remember doing so.
Agius had great seaside bars, but Trix still wasn’t over her trepidation. She’d prefer to wander the Quenpoe desert at night when all sorts of creatures emerged from their cavernous homes to feast.
Trix: ‘Why don’t we just go home? We’ve got plenty of food already. The Arnums’ illusions were tiring. It feels like I fought all those dryads for real.’
Susan knew the tone Trix was taking.
‘You can’t let other people dictate your life for you, my dear. If you never venture among the rest of the world, then whispers will continue to follow your footfalls. And I daresay t
hat none will throw anything at you with that sword strapped to your back.’
Since leaving Xifaw, Susan had bequeathed Trix with a sheathe that would retract when Trix’s hand touched her sword’s grip. Such a function was necessary to draw it as the sword was mounted on her back.
‘Hmm,’ Trix said. She still wasn’t sure. ‘I suppose we could go to Duskmere. It’s quieter there. And I helped them with their scorpoe problem last year.’
Scorpoes were giant scorpions, larger than three Clydesdale horses side by side. A nest had formed near the town. The contract had originally been given to Felix, and he passed it on to Trix without the townsfolk’s knowledge as a test for the young huntress. Trix had succeeded in purging the nest. The people of Duskmere were overjoyed that their township would no longer be terrorised. But they were wary of Trix when she tramped down the main street, carrying three stingers as proof of her kills.
‘Whatever makes you feel comfortable,’ Susan said, putting her arm around Trix.
‘You’re just unhappy because you’ll have to wipe the seats before you sit down.’
‘The dust does get everywhere. But I don’t mind.’
‘It’s the glasses you have to watch out for in Duskmere,’ Felix said. ‘I don’t think the word cleanliness exists anywhere in their vocabulary. Then again, if I had to dust twice a day, I wouldn’t bother either.’
‘The only reason you don’t live in a pigsty is because I clean using magic,’ said Susan.
‘I wouldn’t call it a pigsty. Just maybe not up to your immaculate standards.’
Susan rolled her eyes. Went to cast a portal.
Trix: ‘Can’t we walk? Portals make me feel sick.’
‘I still find that strange, considering your unique magical abilities.’
‘We’re in no hurry. Walking will be fine. The fog’s cleared up nicely.’
It was still morning on Zilvia. Midday was approaching lazily. It seemed like the whole world had slowed.
That was when Susan’s comms gauntlet flashed. The enchantress looked at it. Her eyes widened. ‘I’m needed in Blor’daeyn. Apparently Xardiassian representatives are here to discuss trade relations.’ Susan’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘Of all the times they call...’ the enchantress cursed under her breath. ‘Trix, I’m so sorry, but I have to go. I’ll make sure that all matters are settled quickly, even if I have to use mind control spells.’