A Clash of Demons

by Aleks Canard

  She wondered what Altayr was doing as Myven drove to Xifaw’s border. Trix couldn’t contact the sorcerer lest she blow his cover. Informed Valentine that her banishment had been temporarily lifted instead. His response was enthusiastically colourful.

  Trix wished he could’ve been with her. She would’ve welcomed any of her friends on this journey. But entering Xifaw was something she had to do alone.

  Depending on how the dryads were feeling, she knew it could be the last thing she ever did.

  Trees & Mirrors

  1

  The sorcerer waited well away from the crossroads.

  He wandered until his feet left the trail. Headed nowhere particular. Over swathes of purple hills. Part of him said that Gauthier Nadim was still watching. That the troubadour had been following him this whole time. But Gauthier couldn’t kill. He’d said so himself.

  Altayr believed everything Gauthier had said. He didn’t think the bad man had told a single lie. That was what perturbed Altayr most of all. Maybe Gauthier had already wormed his way inside his mind?

  That thought made Altayr skittish, though he calmed down when he rationalised the situation. He also performed magic scans and found nothing out of the ordinary.

  Close to an hour passed before he saw a ship heading for him. It was the same model as the one that’d fled Strife Squad on Drion. Sleek zirean design. Small. Likely made for a crew of no more than two people.

  It landed on a flat patch of nearby grass. Altayr moved to the loading ramp as it opened. A cargo bay half the size of Trix’s and more than tenfold luxurious was revealed.

  Faedra de Morland, in all her glamour, was standing in the centre. The damage from their fight had been mended. Altayr did a quick scan for life forms. There was no one else aboard the ship. He’d been hoping that Faedra was travelling with Gauthier’s advocate.

  ‘Altayr, whatever’s the matter? Normally when you see me your eyes tell of all the fantasies your mind is imagining.’

  ‘I met an interesting man on the crossroads.’

  ‘Oh, really? Surprising that anyone travels by foot these days, don’t you think?’

  ‘You know who I’m talking about.’

  ‘Indeed I do. And was meeting him as invaluable to your research as you hoped?’

  ‘It left me with more questions than answers. Why did you choose to partner with him?’

  ‘You assume I have.’

  ‘Crossroad demons don’t make friends.’

  ‘Why don’t you come aboard and we’ll discuss this among the stars. Such serious conversation is out of place under clear skies.’

  Altayr obliged. Followed Faedra onto her ship. She entered a command on her comms gauntlet. It took off. There was definitely no one else inside. So who was the damn advocate? The other question Altayr was asking himself was if the advocate’s identity really mattered. Anyone could challenge Gauthier. But if the advocate was hellbent on receiving a reward for their trouble, they might stop Trix from killing him.

  Why were these things never clear?

  Faedra’s ship had living quarters with plush seats. Everything was refined. There was no gaudiness. Altayr sat on the sofa. Faedra sat next to him, crossing her legs provocatively.

  ‘Gauthier Nadim isn’t a crossroad demon, he’s the crossroad demon,’ Faedra said, continuing their conversation with no introduction.

  ‘Do you have proof of that?’

  ‘Proof isn’t needed. His abilities establish him as greater than any other recorded demon, though I suspect his anatomy isn’t actually demonic. It’d be impossible to discern his true nature.’

  ‘And you entered into an agreement with him, didn’t you? Fae, you need to tell me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s happening.’

  Faedra twirled her hair. Looked everywhere besides Altayr. The sorcerer felt time crawl forward. It seemed she would never answer.

  ‘I did, yes.’

  Why? For what purpose? You have the ability to do almost anything that you could imagine? Why enlist the devil’s help?’

  ‘We cannot bring back the dead.’

  ‘Who have you lost that would be worthy of such a steep price?’

  ‘Altayr, don’t be so coy. You know full well of who I’m speaking.’

  ‘You wish to speak with your parents again?’

  ‘Is it so inconceivable that I would want that? Only in stories are black mages heartless monsters. They were my parents, Altayr. And I miss them, even if I was young when they were lost. I can scarcely remember it at all. Sometimes it feels like a dream. Though I cannot know for certain if they have perished. Not Siabarryn nor Cydroion have any answers. Vesiata won’t even help me search for their bodies. She says in this instance it is better to let the dead lie. Ha, rich, coming from that black magic harlot.’

  ‘How do I know you’re not lying to me?’

  ‘Gauthier has a contract, inked in blood, on paper made from skin. He would show it to me, should I ask.’

  Altayr was sceptical, but for now it was better to go along with the lie, if only to procure more information. Never mind the fact that nobody could summon the dead back to the living realm.

  ‘What else did you wish for? My memory serves that crossroad demons are like djinn. They grant three wishes.’

  ‘You are awfully concerned with what my heart desires.’

  ‘Old habits.’

  ‘You’re every bit as charming as you once were. Old age has done nothing to sour your sweet nothings.’

  ‘And nothing to dim my perception. I know when you’re hoping to change the subject, Fae.’

  ‘It’s been so long since we’ve had an opportunity like this to be together. Why rush it?’

  ‘Because the huntress is rushing towards Zilvia with all haste to thrusters. And I’m not helping you until I know with what you’re involved.’

  ‘I see that I should’ve wished for your obsession with specifics to be nullified.’

  ‘Fae.’

  ‘Alright. I summoned Gauthier by reading about his methods in the Guild’s private library. As you know, we house the galaxy’s largest collection of banned grimoires.’

  ‘I don’t need a step by step guide. I have no interest in summoning him for myself.’

  ‘You wanted specifics. So that’s what I’m giving you. Besides, I thought such information would benefit your ongoing studies.’

  Altayr knew she was right. He let Faedra continue.

  ‘At a crossroads, at midnight, the following items must be buried in the centre, then doused with the summoner’s blood: the eyes of a child, brain of an elder, and bone of one in between.’

  ‘A specific list.’

  ‘It was said in the notes that a child’s eyes see truth, an elder’s brain holds wisdom, and a teenager’s bones are indestructible. For don’t we all believe we’re invulnerable in our years between childhood and adulthood?’

  ‘Even when we’re given evidence to the contrary.’

  ‘Despite the ritual, it was noted that Gauthier could appear at anytime, anywhere, whenever he pleased, though a deal could only be struck at a crossroads.’

  ‘I’m interested to see how you coerced him into raising the dead. In every tale told among the stars, even djinn refuse such a request, for it cannot be done.’

  ‘Gauthier said the same thing. Said it was against the very rules by which he was bound.’

  ‘Did he say who bound him?’

  ‘He quoted Cuthbert Theroux, those we call gods have their own, too. Can you imagine?’

  Altayr imagined it quite easily after considering his meeting with Gauthier on Xardiassant. The demon had a penchant for flowery dialogue. It was no surprise that he quoted famous poets.

  ‘Gauthier told me that if I were to use one of my wishes to grant his freedom from his masters, then he would raise my parents from the dead.’

  ‘Please, Fae, tell me you didn’t agree to that. Tell me you found another way.’

  ‘I agreed, Altayr. Do
not stress. If Gauthier is no longer bound by his masters, then he should cease to have seemingly infinite powers. He’ll be able to fall just like a normal man. Lucifer cut himself in the blackberry bush after falling from Heaven, for he was only human.’

  ‘What were your wishes? I want to know exactly how they’re penned on Gauthier’s contract.’

  ‘Fine, but only because I know that worried look in your eyes, and you’re simply no fun when you’re like this. First Wish: The Maestro of Mirrors, Maldrodyn, also known as Gauthier Haunt Nadim, shall be freed from his bonds during this life. Second Wish: The artefacts known as the Uldarian mirrors will become the property of Faedra de Morland, Child of Magnus. Third Wish: Magnus de Morland and Ifriegha Sromme shall be risen from The Dead.’

  ‘Fae, you know that Gauthier will kill you once he has granted you these wishes. Stories say demons take souls as payment. Whatever the case truly is, you won’t live to benefit from what he’s given you.’

  ‘That was one of the reasons for wishing my parents back from the grave. Gauthier won’t be able to do it. I’m not even sure he’ll be able to free himself from his bonds, which means I get the mirrors, and my wishes are left in limbo. Unable to be completed. Besides, how do we know he kills people for pleasure? He may forgo such eldritch offerings upon freedom in preference of commoner victuals.’

  ‘Fulfilling wishes is why Gauthier will have hired an advocate. And your age is showing through your naivety. Gauthier won’t begin subsisting on anything typical just because he’s free. He’s an entirely different race. Another being. I doubt his shackles affect his diet.’

  ‘I told him that hiring a third party wouldn’t be necessary. I said that I was happy to fulfil my wishes myself.’

  ‘You’re a damned fool, Fae.’

  ‘That’s hardly any way to speak with someone who’s offering you hospitality.’

  ‘Gauthier will have hired an advocate to ensure your other wishes are fulfilled. He’s been doing this for aeons. He wouldn’t have agreed to your contract unless he knew collecting was a sure thing.’

  ‘Well, if an advocate has joined the game, then I know not who they are. He certainly hasn’t told me.’

  ‘The machina said that anyone who agreed to be an advocate would have a visible mark on their face, a brand, similar to corrachian scarification, though probably in the form of runic symbols. Have you seen any such person?’

  ‘No, I can’t say that I have.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Altayr said. This was an issue. The advocate — depending on what Gauthier was offering them for their services — might stop Trix from challenging him. If Trix succeeded, Gauthier wouldn’t be able to grant the advocate’s wish. He had an awful premonition that he had already met the advocate without knowing it.

  ‘What bearing does the inclusion of an advocate have on the situation?’ Faedra’s tone was becoming accusatory.

  ‘I only care about seeing you safe. An advocate could put you at unnecessary risk.’

  ‘I can take care of myself.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I can stop worrying about you.’

  ‘You needn’t worry. Soon I’ll have the mirrors, and then no one will be able to catch us. If you’re right we’ll be able to flee into the Betwixt.’

  ‘What lies in the Betwixt may be more dangerous than what dwells here.’

  ‘Then we’ll be able to discover it together,’ Faedra said. She tapped her comms gauntlet several times. A melodic noise confirmed her command.

  ‘Surprised you didn’t dim the lights.’

  ‘Just because you’re charming doesn’t mean I’ll take my clothes off so easily. We’re going to Zilvia. I want to be close when the machina obtains the mirror.’

  ‘That may take a while. Her procuring the mirror depends on her banishment being lifted. If she can’t do that, then there’s no way she’ll make it to Xifaw.’

  ‘Then we may have a lot of time on our hands.’

  ‘I can think of something else that I’d rather have on my hands.’

  ‘That’s crude, Altayr.’

  ‘Lustful feelings often are.’

  ‘A poetic save. What brought on these feelings? I could tell you were infatuated with the machina when we met on Drion.’

  ‘You were the one who broke my heart, or have you already forgotten?’

  ‘Only because you disapproved of my experiments. I saved you the trouble of a conflicting conscience.’

  ‘You’re too kind.’

  Faedra leaned closer. Her scent of lavender and mulberries was more intoxicating than any liqueur. Altayr knew that it was actually a perfume, not a spell. Faedra was adept at potions. Perfume was simple in comparison.

  Faedra sighed. ‘You know how bad I can be.’

  Altayr felt his heart beat faster. To his surprise, he almost said Trix instead of Fae. Something tugged his heartstrings. Altayr wondered if it was the wraiths’ curse.

  Faedra left the room. Headed for the cockpit. She’d always known how to leave Altayr wanting more. He’d only been pretending to want her… at first. Now he couldn’t be sure.

  She could be playing you, Altayr reminded himself.

  But you’re playing her. All’s fair in love and war.

  You mean lies and deceit.

  What’s the difference?

  None. Everybody is fucked in each scenario.

  Hardly eloquent.

  Eloquence is reserved for fairy tales with knights and fair maidens. The real world remains as crude and primitive as civilisation’s first steps.

  Altayr leaned back in his chair.

  He hoped Trix was well on her way to Xifaw.

  And he hoped she had a plan.

  2

  Xifaw’s border was unchanged.

  Myven’s cruiser looked out of place among the wooden cabins with stone chimneys. He drove slowly along the northern edge. Trix was directing him towards Baxter’s place. It was the only way she knew how to reach Aefonryr.

  Myven: ‘I’ve only been here once. There are never many disturbances this close to the forest. Well, except for people trespassing, but the fiaeds take care of that.’

  ‘Stop,’ said Trix. ‘This is the place.’

  Trix exited the cruiser. The border was quiet apart from the thrusters’ gentle hum. Her gaze was normally held by the trees. She stared at something else this time.

  ‘Baxter,’ she said.

  The old man’s cabin was derelict. Windows that’d been covered in frost during winter were broken in. Fire had destroyed the roof. The porch was collapsed. Graffiti covered the stones. “Nikker Fucker” was scrawled on every available surface. Trix stepped over the splintered wood. Entered through the front door.

  Inside hadn’t fared any better. Everything that wasn’t bolted down had been taken or destroyed. Spiders made their homes in nooks. Weeds grew through the wooden floorboards.

  Footsteps behind Trix. It was Myven.

  ‘This was the one time you came here, wasn’t it?’ said Trix.

  ‘It was three days after your banishment. People knew that you often came to the border. They discovered that this was the cabin you visited.’

  ‘What happened to the man who lived here?’

  ‘I don’t think you want to know.’

  ‘Tell me, Myven.’

  Myven retracted his helmet fully. Sighed. Grimaced at the stale air that lingered in the walls. Despite all the cabin’s holes, breeze didn’t blow through. Death kept it out.

  ‘Baxter Greythorn was found to escaping into the forest. The mob who came for his head caught him before he made it far enough to be under the fiaeds protection.’

  Trix entered Baxter’s kitchen. The counter he always banged his toes on was crushed. Bullet holes riddled the walls.

  ‘What did they do to him?’

  ‘That information is sealed.’

  ‘Please,’ Trix whispered. She ran her hands along the counter. It was covered in decades of grime. There had been a table in the corner. She’d of
ten sat there while waiting for Felix as Baxter told her stories. Although Felix and Susan thought her childhood was important, both of them were always insistent on training.

  Baxter had never had any children. He’d thought of Trix as a niece. And as such, he used every opportunity he had to spoil her. Often with homemade presents or hot cocoa bought from Blor’daeyn’s finest chocolatiers. Trix didn’t even know where Baxter had gotten his money from. In all the time she’d known him, Old Man Baxter had never held down a job. Maybe he’d sold paintings?

  ‘I found him bolted to the floor. Daggers were in his hands and feet. His…’ Myven searched for a more delicate word, ‘… manhood was found shoved into his throat. He died of asphyxiation. I’m deeply sorry, machina.’

  Trix hung her head low over what remained of the counter. She couldn’t remember a time when Baxter’s house had been gloomy. He always had lights on. His cold fusion generator had malfunctioned once while she’d been over. Baxter had scrambled to light a candle so he could fix it. He’d been afraid of the dark. True though it was that dryads liked music, Baxter sung when walking into Xifaw not from fear of them, but of darkness.

  ‘Did you catch the monsters who did this?’

  ‘We did. They were heard boasting about it in Blor’daeyn that same night.’

  ‘Were they banished?’

  Now Myven hung his head. ‘No.’

  ‘How could they not be? After doing something like this.’

  ‘They were imprisoned for life.’

  ‘Did they have an appeal?’

  Myven remained silent.

  ‘Were they released?’

  ‘Killing them will not bring you peace, machina.’

  ‘I’m not interested in peace. I want revenge.’

  ‘Surely you know that revenge will do you no good.’

  Trix pushed past Myven. Headed for the backdoor. The trail that would take her to Aefonryr.

  ‘I do know. But it’s not only about revenge. It’s about my reputation.’

  ‘How could this have anything to do with your reputation?’

  ‘A huntress worth her salt never lets monsters roam free.’

  Myven had nothing to say. He stood at the backdoor, remembering the night he had found Baxter Greythorn. It made him feel weak. He knew he had to wait for Trix, but he couldn’t stay in the house. Even now he had trouble patrolling Duskmere. Blood had stained the whites of his eyes that day.