A Clash of Demons

by Aleks Canard

  ‘Dad,’ Trix held Felix close to her and rocked him back and forth. She kissed his head. Her hands were shaking. Her face was washed with tears. She felt unclean. Needed to leave Duskmere. She’d need a boat to traverse the river of blood which glistened under the midday sun. Westerlies blew sand across the road. It stuck to the blood, creating a gluggy mixture that suffocated the machina.

  The hunter’s heart was beating slower now. Trix wished for Susan’s healing powers. She cried out again. Even those who had witnessed her massacre felt sympathy amid their fear. Mothers had lost sons. People had lost friends.

  ‘Susan,’ Trix said. Her voice was shrill. Hysterical. It pierced the sky like a dryad’s arrow. Someone had called Blor’daeyn’s police force. They were instructed to bring everything. As many weapons as they had. Nothing was to be spared. The operator on the other end thought that the caller had to be exaggerating.

  Trix kept calling for her mother. For even though she was 18 years old, despite having the lethality of a highly trained assassin, Beatrix Westwood was still a child. And she needed her mother now more than ever.

  A portal opened on the road. Susan Marigold stepped out. As fate would have it, her meeting had wrapped much sooner than expected.

  Susan’s boots were immediately dirtied by blood. She was taken aback by the sight that greeted her. It was like stepping into someone’s home and being socked in the face with brass knuckles. She knew Trix had killed the victims, for her daughter was covered in blood.

  Then she saw Felix. Knew he was dying. Susan was wont to say a dignified enchantress never ran. Right now, she wasn’t an enchantress. She was a wife in all but title. And her husband needed help. Susan couldn’t heal him here. Soon the police would arrive. And their red-tape would do nothing to stop his blood flow. She opened another portal. There was only one place the three of them would be safe now.

  ‘Trix, my darling, come quickly,’ Susan said. She held her resolve. Shed no tears. Right now, Susan Marigold had a job to do.

  The machina was frozen in place. Holding onto Felix as tightly as she could without crushing him.

  ‘Now, Trix. Felix doesn’t have much time.’

  Susan hauled Trix to her feet, using a levitation charm on Felix. Trix’s sword too. They fled through the portal. All became quiet in Duskmere. People exited their homes. They looked around as if they were entering a brave new world, or emerging centuries after nuclear warheads had been unleashed on Zilvia’s surface.

  An alien landscape greeted them. Death had a macabre way of redecorating.

  His excessive décor and monochromatic colour scheme was overkill.

  5.1

  Trix fell to the ground and vomited upon exiting the portal.

  The air around her was fresh. Cool. It cooed. Telling her all would be alright in the end. When she opened her eyes and the motion sickness passed, she saw that Susan had teleported them to Old Man Baxter’s house. She heard him inside, getting dressed. No doubt wondering about the commotion. Xifaw’s border was constantly serene if nothing else. Bird calls were all that typically disturbed the peace. And Baxter stubbing his toe on the kitchen counter.

  Susan had Felix by the brook which ran past the porch. She moved her hands over his chest wound. Trix watched as the cut began healing. She dragged herself to the brook’s edge. The water was just deep enough to submerge her entire face. She felt like she’d never be rid of the filth that plagued her even if she scraped her skin with a wire brush.

  Baxter emerged from his front door. His curious face turned aghast at the tragedy laid out before him.

  ‘What’s happened? By the Arnums, Trix, are you alright? Susan, what’s wrong with Felix? Whose blood is that?’

  ‘Quiet, Baxter. Your rushed tones are helping no one. If you want to be of use, fetch cloths to clean this mess. Pliers if you have them too.’

  ‘Yes, madam,’ Baxter said. He knew better than to question an enchantress. Susan could turn him into something warty. And in any case, he was too flustered to argue. He went inside. Smashed his foot into the kitchen counter. This time he didn’t curse. Complaining about a stubbed toe when one of your friends was dying in your front yard was poor form indeed.

  He returned in less than a minute with all the linens and wash cloths he owned. So about five. Pliers were in his front trouser pocket. Baxter thrust them to Susan.

  She took one of the cloths. ‘Give the rest to Trix.’

  ‘And the pliers?’

  ‘She’s been shot. She knows what do to with them.’

  ‘These are hardly sterile, mada—’

  ‘Hush, you insufferable coot, and do as you’re told.’

  Baxter dipped the cloths in the brook. Brought them to Trix. Her normally smiling face and bright eyes were glazed over. Clichéd though it might have been, Baxter thought she’d seen a ghost. Of course, that sort of thing could happen in the Milky Way when the conditions were just so, and magic was at play.

  ‘Susan told me to give this to you,’ Baxter said, handing Trix the towels.

  She took them. Held them without moving. Slowly started cleaning herself. Tore her dress off. Blood had soaked right through.

  ‘This too,’ said Baxter, handing Trix the pliers.

  At first she only stared blankly at them. Trix couldn’t imagine why she’d need pliers. Right, her shoulder. There was a bullet lodged in it somewhere. Trix removed most of the blood from her arm using the cloths. Baxter grabbed them off the ground. Began washing them in the brook. Trix saw faces contorted in screams in the dirty water. Agonising howls. Glimmers of hope. She looked away. Trix found the bullet easily enough. Yanked it out. More blood poured from her wound. She didn’t notice.

  Baxter picked up her bloodied dress. He tore strips off to make a bandage. Trix only looked at Felix. Susan’s eyes were watering. Trix had never seen the enchantress cry before. She realised that Felix hadn’t wept in front of her either.

  Duskmere’s events were catching up with her. How many had she killed? She knew it was over ten. Less than twenty. The memories accelerated. Sound cut in and out. Trix grabbed the sides of her head. Her heart beat on the verge of exploding.

  She’d been trained as a soldier. As a huntress. She was supposed to kill the anghenfil because they were massacring humans. Monsters had to die because they threatened people’s lives.

  Trix had become everything she swore to defeat. The thought made her want to vomit again but there was nothing left in the tank.

  Baxter wanted to ask what had happened. One look at Trix told him it would be better to not. The machina appeared to be trapped in a hellish torment that looped her mind like barbed chains. Its hold grew tighter with each revolution.

  Thankfully for Baxter, Susan spoke.

  ‘Trix, we need to take Felix to the dryads.’

  Susan’s words echoed in Trix’s mind. They seemed out of sync with the enchantress’s lips.

  ‘Can’t you heal him?’

  ‘Not fully. I’ve sealed the bleeding but he needs more time. And he won’t have that anywhere else on Zilvia besides Xifaw now. He’ll be wanted. Hunted in the streets for being seen with you.’ Susan wasn’t angry at Trix. She was just stating the facts. ‘He’ll have to live among the dryads indefinitely.’

  ‘But he will live?’

  ‘If he takes to the Arnums’ magic. Most men don’t,’ said Susan. Her eyes were welling up. She used the back of her palm to stop any imminent tears. ‘And I’m in this too. I won’t be able to stay on Zilvia anymore. Not after helping you two escape.’

  ‘You’re going to leave?’ Trix said, almost starting to cry again. She couldn’t lose her father and her mother on the same day.

  Susan cupped Felix’s face in her left hand. Her right lay on his chest. The hunter reached for her face and grunted. She lowered Felix’s arm, submerging it in the brook. He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I will stay with Felix.’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘You need to convince the dryads to let u
s stay. Trix, you have to.’

  ‘So we’re all going to live in Xifaw… forever?’

  Susan didn’t respond. She levitated Felix’s body off the ground. ‘You go first. The fairies will only guide you to Aefonryr.’ Susan turned to Baxter. ‘Burn these cloths and get yourself inside. If anyone asks, you didn’t see us. If they don’t believe you, flee for the forest. None will follow you in there.’

  ‘I can do that,’ Baxter said. He scampered to gather the cloths he’d brought out. ‘What happened?’

  Trix surprised herself by answering. ‘Death came to Duskmere.’

  Baxter didn’t push the matter any further. He’d known Trix for almost as long as Felix had. Even covered in blood, he wasn’t afraid of her. If anything, he wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be alright, and that he loved her. There was more he wished to tell her as well. But the time was not right.

  Trix picked up her sword. Twirled it fast enough to fling the blood from its surface. She paid no mind to the fact that the splatter would probably incriminate Baxter if the police arrived. Then again, unless they had a mage in their unit, they wouldn’t be able to trace Susan’s portal.

  The machina gave Baxter a last look. She couldn’t think of anything to say. Sheathing her sword, Trix ran into dryad territory. Susan followed closed behind. No fairies were needed. Trix knew exactly where she was going.

  The only question was whether she’d be able to stay.

  6

  Zilvia’s Feudal Lords were unsettled.

  Trix could tell it in the way their breathing had changed during her recount which was delivered as monotone as a piano with only one key. They’d held their breath at certain places. Now, Trix could hear their heartbeats gradually returning to normal.

  Altaeifs prided themselves on not sweating. They believed it was only for lower classes. But Trix smelled sweat on each Feudal Lord sitting at the bench. Heard the police officers shuffling their feet behind her. They were wary of her before. Now they were anxious.

  ‘Your original statement, which was barely a page of transcript, said that Susan Clara Marigold teleported you directly into the Xifaw Forest, yet now you say that you first visited a citizen on the border. Why reveal that now?’

  ‘Baxter didn’t know what had happened but he helped us anyway. I couldn’t give him up.’

  Elael’s eyes indicated that he knew something more about Baxter, but he moved on.

  ‘What we are still trying to understand, Ms Westwood, is why you left the relative safety of Xifaw when you said the fiaeds had granted you clemency in their realm?’

  ‘I needed to face the consequences of my actions. I couldn’t make the screams stop. Thought that they’d go away if I turned myself in.’

  ‘And, did they?’ Elael said.

  ‘The mind’s a big place. I still hear echoes.’

  ‘Do you know what became of your adoptive parents?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘They might be dead. The dryads may have killed them.’

  Trix said nothing.

  ‘From your current recount we can piece together what happened next. You were sighted walking into Blor’daeyn streets with your hands raised in the air. You dropped to your knees at the first sight of police officers.’

  ‘Then spare us your synopsis and bring in the witness.’

  Elael nodded at the bailiff, a medcanol zirean, who until this time had been sitting off to the side, lost in his own thoughts. He exited out a side door. He returned half a minute later with a human woman dressed in simple clothes. Loose fitting. Cotton. All a uniform shade of dirt. She was a Duskmere resident alright.

  Trix didn’t recognise her. Even as she had been recounting her story she didn’t remember all the faces in detail. That was somehow worse than knowing them.

  The witness took to the stand. She looked at Trix meekly. To the machina’s surprise, there was no fear in the woman’s eyes. Just curiosity. A certain reverence.

  So you’re the one who always plagues my nightmares? Her expression seemed to say. I remembered you being taller.

  ‘Please state your name,’ said Elael.

  ‘Rida Ordway.’

  ‘Rida, please tell us what you saw take place in Duskmere when Beatrix Westwood attacked.’

  ‘I was only a little girl then,’ she said. ‘I heard screaming from outside. I couldn’t see through the window, but my mama had gone out to check. She’d left the door open a little. So I pushed it open and stepped outside. There was so much blood. I didn’t know what it was at first. That was when I saw her,’ Rida said, motioning to Trix. ‘I thought she was a monster. Covered in red. Not a human anyway. No one could’ve moved like that. I’ve forgotten almost everything. But I remember the way you moved. How every time you did someone died. You killed my mama by smacking her face. She was screaming for you to stop. She came up behind you. It was your elbow that hit her, right near the eye. I saw it come out.’

  ‘Would you say that these acts were carried out intentionally?’

  ‘Yes. You know a monster from its wild eyes. But hers were focused. A couple of times they turned to slits and I really did think she was a monster.’

  ‘And was that monster the same woman you see before you now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘As I thought. Ms Westwood as I must stand on ceremony, you shall have your chance to say why you’re appealing but—’

  ‘I’m not done,’ Rida said. Her voice was soft. Demure. Still child-like over five decades on. Trix wouldn’t have been surprised if her massacre had stunted Rida like this forever.

  Elael made a motion for Rida to proceed.

  ‘I saw two people in the street that day. There was the monster. A horrible demon. What parts of her face weren’t covered in blood were ghostly white. Her eyes were golden fire. And then I saw the person, the human.’

  ‘She’s a machina,’ said Elael.

  ‘I don’t think humanity is exclusive to humans,’ Rida said. She was careful not to mispronounce anything. Like a child sounding out words from a book.

  ‘I don’t know who he was, the black man who you cut down. But when he fell, so did you. You cried. You hurt. You screamed against the world like your words could make it change. I didn’t see the same amount of pain from anyone else that day, even at the funerals after. I’ve never seen that much pain again.’

  ‘That point is irrelevant. The monster and the machina are inseparable.’

  Rida cocked her head at Trix. She moved from the bench like she was in a trance. She approached the stand where Trix was cuffed. Rida stood in front of her. Placed her hands on Trix’s face. As Trix looked into Rida’s eyes, she saw it all. Everything that’d happened in Duskmere from a child’s perspective. Trix lulled her head in Rida’s hands. Tears came. Trix was hopeless to hold them back.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ the machina said. ‘If I could take back that day I would. I would give anything so you could have your mother back.’

  Rida wiped one of Trix’s tears away with her thumb. ‘Hey, my mama always said that crying was no good because you can’t buy anything with tears, and you can’t fix nothing with them either.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Trix said again. Her entire vocabulary had been reduced to those words. The filth from that day crept back over her skin.

  ‘Bailiff, this woman is mentally unstable. She can’t be trusted as a witness.’

  ‘If I may, Lord Vorlym,’ a voice from the back of the room said. It was Myven.

  ‘You may, Officer Myven.’

  ‘In the event of a tragedy, such as the one for which Ms Westwood is now appealing, under Zilvian law, as derived from Xardiassant, the affected region has the right to pick a representative to serve as a witness. And the court must oblige by their choice so long as the chosen person did in fact witness the crime.’

  ‘Don’t quote the law to me, officer. I was one of the people who penned it.’

  ‘Apologies, Lord Vorlym. I only meant to say that R
ida received a unanimous vote from all eligible candidates.’

  ‘Did they give a reason, officer?’

  ‘Yes, my Lord.’ Myven read his notes off a tactical contact lens he had in his left eye. ‘Their sentiments are able to be paraphrased thusly: only a child’s perspective is true. Rida was the only child who saw the massacre. And therefore the only one they deemed worthy enough to be a witness.’

  ‘Those of us who were there,’ Rida whispered in Trix’s ear, resting the machina’s head against her neck. Warm tears rolled into her blouse. Rida didn’t mind. ‘We forgive you, okay? You are forgiven. Only those who have heard nothing but stories still fear the Demon of Duskmere. But we have seen you on the news. And my friends have read me stories about a woman named Jinx who helps people. That’s what you do. You help people. And we forgive you.’

  Trix sobbed against Rida’s shoulder loudly enough to silence the court. She wanted to hug Rida but the damn cuffs were stopping her.

  The Valkyrie had reached a waystation on the path to redemption. It was far from idyllic. Guilt still circled the sky like vultures, waiting for her to fall. But sun peered out from behind the clouds.

  ‘That’s why you’re here now, isn’t it? People need your help. I bet that’s it,’ Rida said.

  Trix thought of all the people who’d needed her help over the years. Why was it that when someone needed her, people died? ‘You had to grow up without a mother because of me,’ Trix said.

  ‘Aw, lots of people grow up without mamas, I guess. But they still grow up. You wanna know a secret?’

  Trix sobbed. Rida took that as a yes.

  ‘There is life after death. The ones the dead leave behind. We’ve always got a piece of them, right here,’ said Rida. She took one of her hands off Trix’s face and put it over the machina’s heart. ‘They’ve trusted us with life, so we can’t waste it crying. You’re gonna be alright. My mama always gave me chocolate and hugs when I cried. Well, if we had chocolate. So maybe it is good for something. Getting hugs is always nice too, even if you don’t feel bad.’