A Clash of Demons

by Aleks Canard

  Zireans weren’t so lucky. They were the only race to be born with strong magical abilities, but compared to an anghenfil’s invulnerability to radiation, a djurel’s night vision, or a psygota’s ability to breathe underwater, it was a meagre prize. Magic had to be practiced for it to be of any value as arcane proficiency was sadly not an instinct.

  Trix rested against the felled tree. ‘Valentine, Altayr: Faedra’s unconscious. We’re on the south road. I’m injured. So is Officer Myven. We need immediate medical assistance. And for fuck’s sake, you’d better bring some haxabyr cuffs. I don’t know how much longer Faedra’s gonna be out.’

  ‘One of these days you’ll learn to accept help,’ Valentine said.

  ‘I can tell by the way you’re breathing that you’ve been stabbed, dickhead,’ Trix said. Stars flared across her vision every time she moved her back. The cut in her chest was still bleeding.

  ‘You’ll be hailed as a hero for this,’ Myven said, speaking softly. His lips barely moved.

  ‘This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for me.’

  ‘You said she was after the mirror,’ said Myven, pointing at Faedra with his good hand. Her skinned shoulder was grotesque to behold. ‘Which means she would have come anyway. You saved us. You certainly saved me.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have attacked you. She would’ve just left.’

  Myven shrugged. He coughed. Blood splattered onto his uniform. ‘Why are you so reluctant to be the hero?’

  Trix was hardly in the mood for a conversation. But she figured that keeping Myven conscious was a good way to ensure he didn’t die. She heard sirens in the distance.

  ‘Heroes only exist in fairy tales, officer. I’ve committed too many wrongs to be called such.’

  ‘Your methods might be vicious, but… I don’t think… you’re all bad… Ms… Ms…’

  Myven passed out. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Cruisers flew overhead. Trix watched as they landed. Valentine was hanging out of an open cargo bay. He jumped down before it landed despite his injuries. Ran for Trix.

  The machina gave a crooked smile, not least of all because her cheekbone was broken. She extended her hand to Valentine. He went to grab it.

  ‘I can stand by myself, old friend. Pass me that smoke.’

  Valentine shook his head. Handed Trix the cigarillo resting carelessly on his lip. The machina took a long drag as she stood.

  ‘Where’s Altayr?’

  ‘Big Red’s fine. Nasty scrape against the side of his head though. I swear it wasn’t my fault. Even if he can be an arse with that patronising tone of his. He obeyed my commands to the letter, actually, now that I come to think of it.’

  Trix handed back the cigarillo. Paramedics rushed towards Myven. Others came for her, albeit apprehensively. Trix’s eyes looked more dangerous than usual under the firelight. She waved them away. Her speech sounded lower, grittier. She wiped the blood from her nose like it was nothing but some mucus.

  ‘I’ll come in a moment,’ she said, leaning against Valentine for support.

  The poet looked down to see Trix’s swollen arm. It was purple. Pus came out like water from a firehose.

  ‘No, you’re going now. I’m as far from a doctor as you can get, but that doesn’t look safe.’

  Trix gazed at her arm. It hadn’t been so bad before.

  ‘Come and join me then. Hospitals are boring at the best of times.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Valentine said, helping Trix to the ambulance. ‘We’ll find you something to drink.’

  Precarious Alliance

  1

  The night grew weary as early morning took its place.

  Trix leaned against her balcony, watching the sun rise over Agius. Blor’daeyn’s lights dimmed one by one as dawn made its glass spires twinkle. The machina hadn’t seen a morning like this since she left Zilvia. Crisp air blew off the ocean. It was autumn on this part of the planet, though many of the trees were evergreens.

  Trix was wearing a hospital gown. They weren’t as ghastly as Earthen ones. Zireans saw no reason one couldn’t be chic, even if they were laid up. The gown was loose, sleeveless, and tapered just enough so that it didn’t look like a sack. Men’s were the same. In fact, they resembled the long tunics zirean nobility had once worn. Some families still did.

  Looking back into her room, Trix saw her armour hanging up on a rack with her weapons. They’d been washed clean. A strong breeze brought her attention back to the spectacular view. Trix’s hair was out. It looked like a blizzard tethered to one place as it was tousled by the wind. The night had been heinous. Trix rubbed above her left breast. A nasty scar had formed there.

  Savage puncture wounds decorated her right forearm. Altayr and Blor’daeyn’s doctors had purged the poison and stemmed the bleeding. It had actually accelerated quickly once Valentine put her into the ambulance. Normal people would’ve died almost as soon as they were bitten, for the gunk had been so virulent. Trix passed in and out of consciousness while she was being mended. Her wounds itched relentlessly. Her forearm still burned like dying coals in a fire.

  Altayr had stayed with Trix for as long as he could before tending to Faedra. The machina didn’t know how the sorceress was faring, but she wouldn’t have minded setting her recovery back a bit by walloping her again. Trix smiled grimly at the thought, causing pain to shoot across her face. Of all the places to break bones, Trix reckoned the face to be among the worst. Her bones had been magically reassembled. However, they’d be as brittle as human bones for almost a week before healing.

  ‘They’re so fragile,’ Trix said, speaking to Blor’daeyn’s glass spires, its wooden bridges, and quaint lanes. She also spoke to Sif, for Trix had put her comms gauntlet back on when she’d woken up. She also wore her medallion, choker, and ring.

  ‘Buildings or people?’ the AI said, her hologram appearing to stand and watch the sunrise, same as Trix.

  ‘Both, I suppose.’

  ‘You’d be one of them if it wasn’t for Garth Roche.’

  ‘That’s why I find hating him difficult.’

  ‘Then don’t bother. You have the best chance of finding him out of anyone.’

  ‘If he’s still alive. I’m not even sure I want to find him.’ Trix’s gaze fixed on the mountains. Specifically, the plateau where Felix’s cabin stood.

  ‘Are you prepared for returning to Xifaw, and facing the real possibility that your parents might be dead?’

  ‘You’ve spent entirely too much time with me, I think. You’ve lost your once abundant tact. You know, back when you only spoke when spoken to.’

  ‘And, did you not begin this conversation by speaking to me?’

  ‘I’m not exactly spoilt for choice right now.’

  ‘I’ll pretend that’s the anaesthesia talking.’

  The sun rose higher in the sky. Trix breathed slower. Deeper. The air on Zilvia was good enough to eat. Only one other place felt so good. And that was Mair Ultima. Though the sadness associated with its cyan oceans, thornwoods, and barbarous wilderness somewhat lessened the feeling.

  ‘There’s so much to do.’

  ‘Then it’s a good thing you’re not pressed for time.’

  ‘No, I’m not. But everyone else is,’ said Trix, thinking of Valentine, Yvach, Griff, Andy, even Nadira. Her machina friends would live as long as she. And according to Sif’s countless compilations of her vitals over the years, it didn’t look like Trix’s cells were deteriorating at all. Then again, considering the lives machinas led, she knew death would come for them sooner than most.

  ‘You know, whether or not an apocalypse destroys the galaxy, even the universe, somewhere, life will continue.’

  ‘Can you imagine it? Seeing the end. Can you imagine at all?’

  ‘I can draw various conclusions from nearly endless amounts of information and compile them in different ways. I’m not sure what inspires me to do so, if anything does. It might only be programming.’

  ‘And, what do you see?�
��

  ‘Do you really want to know?’

  ‘You’re not prophetic. I’m hardly afraid of being told the future.’

  ‘You’re hardly afraid of anything.’

  ‘It’s just that I don’t think the future can be known. Not in its entirety, anyway.’

  ‘I see you,’ Sif said. Her hologram looked at Trix.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes. You and I. Together at the end of the world.’

  ‘Do we make it?’

  ‘Like you said, I can’t see the future. But if Garth Roche is right, and the world ends in fire and ice, Ragnarök, then I can’t imagine there’ll be much left besides dust.’

  Trix looked at the Quenpoe Desert. It stretched beyond the horizon and over again many times.

  ‘Can I tell you a secret?’ Sif said.

  Trix’s mouth nearly opened in shock until she remembered her broken cheekbone.

  ‘You have secrets?’

  ‘A lady always does,’ said Sif, affecting a haughty accent.

  ‘Alright, what is it?’

  ‘I don’t really see me at the end, with you.’

  ‘But why would you say that?’

  ‘I think…’ Sif ran one hand through her lob haircut. ‘I think I’m hopeful.’

  ‘That you and I will be together?’

  ‘Yes, and that I’ll still be alive. You’re my best friend, Trix. I’ve known you longer than anyone else.’

  Trix raised her arm so that Sif’s hologram was looking right into her eyes. An AI hoping was unheard of.

  ‘If you are with me at the end, Sif, then that is more than I deserve. And for your company, I would be grateful to all the gods who were still alive, if any ever were.’

  Sif smiled. ‘I’d be blushing if I had any blood.’

  This time Trix grinned. Damn the pain. ‘Is Valentine up yet?’

  ‘He hasn’t sent any messages. And you know he would if he was awake.’

  ‘He probably would’ve barged in.’

  ‘What’s your plan?’

  ‘For dealing with Valentine?’

  ‘No, for Gauthier, Faedra, and Nadira.’

  ‘That’s considerably harder than giving them a bottle of whiskey.’

  ‘Though it could be worth keeping in mind.’

  ‘Funny,’ Trix said. There was one sun lounger on the balcony. The machina sat. Crossed her legs at the ankles. ‘What we do now all depends on what progress Altayr’s made with Faedra. He’s probably stayed up all night to quell her fears, maybe even expel a curse. Gauthier says he can’t harm anyone directly, but I don’t trust him.’

  ‘Let’s say Altayr’s brought Faedra around. What then?’

  ‘Then we’d have to convince her to fulfil the rest of her wishes so I can challenge Gauthier. But Gauthier told me his advocate was here. And not just on Zilvia. In Xifaw. Apparently they were going to beat me to the mirror. I didn’t see anyone, nor did the dryads.’

  ‘How do you plan on granting a demon freedom, as well as raising two people from the dead? Something not even the greatest scientists or mages can accomplish.’

  ‘We’ll have to figure that out, won’t we?’

  ‘You’ll also have to determine who takes the mirrors once Gauthier’s been defeated.’

  Trix grimaced. That was going to be a quintessential Mexican standoff. Altayr represented the Conclave, and their interests. Though judging by how he had revered the mirror when he saw it, Trix wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to keep both for himself.

  Then there was Faedra. Altayr knew why she wanted them. If Trix had to hazard a guess, it would be to facilitate further dark magic studies. And as exhibited last night, that bitch packed a mean punch. Trix rubbed her chest again.

  Finally, there was Trix acting on Nadira Vega’s behalf. Trix couldn’t care less about what became of the mirrors. But she did care about not pissing Nadira off. The Valkyrie thought it would be better to return the mirrors to where they’d been. The Milky Way had enough problems without potentially inviting creatures from other worlds to come on in.

  ‘I guess we’ll see.’

  ‘That’s machina code for I’ll make it up when I get there.’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘You must have some sort of plan.’

  ‘Yeah. Don’t die.’

  ‘No one could ever accuse your plans of being too convoluted.’

  Trix was going to reply when she heard footsteps in the hallway. Normal feet would’ve been more muffled. But there was a soft whirring sound of complex mechanics.

  Right on cue, the author entered Trix’s room. He was shirtless. His combat boots and jeans were still covering his bionic legs. Stubble shaded his square jaw. Tattoos ran over his entire body. Sinister bruises and old scars filled in the few gaps. It looked like he’d just come out of the shower. Fresh bandages were stretched across his back. He moved stiffer than usual. Missing his typical swaggering gait.

  ‘You’re up early.’

  ‘So are you.’

  ‘I didn’t mix alcohol and pain killers. I’m also a machina.’

  ‘You’ve a good point there.’

  ‘What’s the news?’

  ‘I had breakfast with Serena.’

  ‘Already?’

  ‘She was called in to give a report of her actions. It was nothing serious. Actually rather an informal event, considering that breakfast involved Elael Vorlym and several high ranking members of the police force. Apparently,’ Valentine sat on Trix’s hospital bed, ‘Elael’s a big deal.’

  ‘Only Zilvia’s Steward and Blor’daeyn’s original High Feudal Lord. He acts as Zilvia’s representative to Xardiassant’s president, and Queen Iglessia.’

  ‘Of course he does, because zireans own half the fucking galaxy.’

  ‘With how you’re acting anyone would think you just got stabbed.’

  ‘Spending time with Elael is worse, thankfully, he wasn’t there for the whole meeting. The police were reluctant to charge me or Serena with destruction of property since their call for backup was publicly broadcasted. And it led to the capture of five mercenaries who would’ve caused more destruction than we did. The meeting went so well, in fact, that the Red Queen’s in their docking station right now.’

  ‘And Serena?’

  ‘She’s taking in the sights seeing as she’s never been here before. And some shops are already open.’ Valentine walked to the balcony. Stood beside Trix. ‘This view could inspire a thousand verses.’

  ‘How come you’re not with her?’

  ‘I wanted to see how you were doing. That and the hospital staff are reluctant to release me.’

  ‘When have you ever listened to authority?’

  ‘When I was in the military.’

  ‘Besides then.’

  ‘True. But Serena didn’t want me to leave either. She said I’d better rest for as long as the people here could stand me. And I always listen to Serena. She’s my guardian angel.’

  ‘And what am I?’

  ‘You’re the devil on my shoulder who always whispers naughty things in my ear.’

  Only a handful of people could get away with making that joke to Trix. Valentine was one of them.

  ‘Have you spoken to Altayr yet?’

  ‘Big Red, nah, I haven’t. I asked one of the nurses who spoke Earthen where he was. She said he was occupied and wouldn’t tell me anything else. So then I asked about Faedra. Same thing.’

  ‘Do you know how Myven’s doing?’

  ‘The officer you were with on the road? Yeah. He was in the room next to mine. He’s still unconscious. I overheard one of the nurses saying he was going to be fine, but he wouldn’t be returning to active duty for a while. His clavicle was broken into shards. They’ve had to completely replace it. Good thing we have 3-D printing, hey?’

  ‘I’m not sure what was ever done without it.’

  ‘People suffered.’

  ‘They still do.’

  ‘That’s because suffering is th
e galaxy’s most adaptable monster. It preys on comfort in all its forms.’

  ‘Your mind works in amusing ways.’

  ‘I find that personifying a concept makes that concept less scary.’

  ‘Many people would disagree with you if they saw a skeleton in a black robe standing over them,’ said Trix.

  Her mind was assaulted by a vision. Stained-glass hovering in a void. Death’s name was Thelonious Grim, and he wasn’t entirely skeletal. Beside him stood a man named Gabriel Daedalus. He laid souls to rest. She had remembered the vision for the first time since its occurrence when she’d recounted her story for the Feudal Lords. Though she had omitted that part. It was too surreal to be believed. And yet, Trix believed it all the same.

  Cirrus clouds shifted in the sky. They looked like a snake in an infinity symbol for a moment. How peculiar.

  ‘Ha, a bag of bones with a farming implement for a weapon. I hope that’s what he is. He won’t stand a chance.’

  ‘Only if you challenge him to a drinking competition.’

  ‘Well, Trix, when he’s standing over me, scythe raised, I hope you’ll be there to help.’

  ‘What happened to him not standing a chance?’

  ‘As a chooser of the slain, I think he’d listen to you. And your name, Gwyrlaeth, it means White Death, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Did Altayr tell you?’

  ‘Aye. He said that only he knew it. But Faedra called you that when we met in the vault.’

  ‘The dryads gave me the name when I passed their final test. To not only cheat death, but to become him. How Faedra knows it, I have no idea. I never refer to myself by that name.’

  ‘You rarely use your actual name either.’

  ‘I prefer Trix. And if we’re getting into specifics, my actual name is SixV.’

  ‘Why is it that you machinas add “of so and so” to your names? You’ve never really explained it to me. The first time I asked, I think you told me to fuck off.’

  ‘I know I did.’

  ‘Care to divulge now?’