by Aleks Canard
The machina didn’t try to stand. Even the notion of it made her queasy. She vomited over herself, unable to turn her head at the last moment. Her entire body was caked in blood, mud, pus, gore, and other bodily fluids. The stench alone made her feel like passing out.
No longer did the hourglass seem maddening. It truthfully wasn’t even that loud. Now it held a lullaby’s soft melody. Soothing were its tones.
‘I’m still in this fight,’ Trix said. She wasn’t crying, only because the effort for her tear ducts to work was too much. ‘I’m still in this fight.’
She began army crawling, fighting the sound of dripping blood. Slowing her heartrate as much as she possibly could. Whenever she spoke with Garth Roche in Pensive Station, Sif said her heart slowed to one beat a minute. Maybe she could do that now.
Words rose to her cracked lips. The cold was drying out her mouth. She compelled herself to sing. If Gauthier liked to perform morbid little ditties, then damn it, she could too.
‘Under stars and neath the trees, fairies flyin’ twixt the leaves,’ she said, her voice quieter than a sleeping spectre. ‘The machina trains, her blood it flows, all that she is bound by throes.’
Trix crawled forward. She was beginning to see the end. Maybe she was only hallucinating. It was possible. The banshees could be toying with her in the swamp and she’d never know. She pushed forward regardless. The reliquia stirred behind her. It was still in the fight too.
‘She knows no peace just anarchy, death preys on her sanity,’ Trix whimpered, crawling faster now. She heard the beast rise. How was that possible? Was this place actually Hell?
Then, her eyes glimpsed upon the end and saw that, at the arena’s terminus, there were in fact, two.
Two ends. Both the same. The canyon walls yielded to them. There was the graveyard in which she’d challenged Gauthier on the left. So it was on the right. Both showed the scene how it had lain at the second Gauthier froze time.
One of these is the lie, Trix thought. But which one?
(drip drip drip drip drip drip drip)
Acid had broken through her vest. It was working on her exo-armour. Soon it would reach her skin.
The ceirlo — which Trix had begun to think of as Doom — dragged its belly across the stones. Doom was coming for her. It was ravenous for vengeance. Trix was beginning to have tunnel vision.
She looked at left scene. Then the right. She was sure they were the same. Then again, that moment felt foreign to her. As if it’d only occurred in a dream of a dream.
The lie would be miniscule. She was sure of it. A minor detail out of place. Maybe someone standing where they hadn’t been. Or a colour being swapped for another.
It was fucking hopeless. The acid was almost through her armour. Doom came for her. Drawn to her with insatiable bloodlust.
Trix’s head moved between the two scenes again. She crawled forward.
(drip… drip… drip)
This was the end. Trix looked to the sky for hope. Instinct made her do it. But why? All demons had once fallen from the sky. She would receive no help there. Or would she?
That was it. The right scene. The sky was different. There were stars among the storm clouds. In the left, there were none. Trix was sure that they’d been non-existent in the graveyard. It’d been totally dark.
Gauthier was hoping that I’d confuse a reflection for stars in the sky, Trix thought. She crawled towards the left scene, for it was veridical. The acid was now on her 2nd Skin One Piece. Doom’s mandibles bit at her legs.
Maldrodyn waited with bated breath. There was less than ten seconds in the hourglass.
‘For the machina, eyes of gold, hair as white as snow, she’ll cut, and slice, quarter and dice, and never grow old… never grow old,’ Trix sang, her skin literally cracking from the cold. Her lips split open. Blood oozed out like raspberry carnival ice. It was a viscous sludge.
‘The answer to your riddle, Gauthier, is lies, so I journey for the truth. Eat shit and die, dickhead.’
The hourglass ran out. Doom enclosed on Trix’s legs. Acid burned her stomach open.
But not before she crossed the threshold which led out of the Riddling Arena, and into the truth.
6
Pain lingered in phantom wounds.
Trix was standing in the exact same spot she’d been when Gauthier approached her. Pain wracked her body without mercy, though she was no longer bleeding out. Her bones were not broken. Acid didn’t eat away at her stomach. She had ten fingers again. The wounds had been real in that place, in the Riddling Arena, though here in the truth, they faded.
Disturbingly, the pain remained.
And still the world was frozen.
But Gauthier wasn’t. His skin had begun turning black. Pulsing energy came from within it. He no longer walked towards Trix. He stepped backwards.
The machina grabbed him, crying out in agony.
‘I won your fucking challenge, so now you have to get the fuck out of here.’
Gauthier’s skin began flaking off, revealing energy beneath. It was greed, lust, desire, all bound by malice. Each fragment disappeared into an individual portal, like little holes in reality.
‘You cannot kill me, machina. I will return one day and have your head, and those of your friends. I will subject them to torture you cannot even conceive. My lips have been wet by divine blood. I will return. I cannot be slain, not by you, nor anyone else. For when the end of this world comes, I shall still be here.’
‘So will I.’
Gauthier snickered so hard that part of his scalp came off, drifting high into the storm clouds like a loose sheet of paper.
‘This world exists on a knife’s edge, and it’s approaching the tip. Soon you will all die. The End comes, machina, and even you, you infernal demon, will be hopeless to stop it.’
Gauthier started laughing. He guffawed like a ruffian then teeheed like a school girl. All the while parts of him drifted off into the nether. Into the Betwixt.
‘You’ll never be free. Eternity is to be your prison, and not one of your cheap tricks can do shit about it.’
Gauthier kept laughing, though his eyes cried tears of sadness. He began shaking all over.
Trix punched him in the face with a right jab.
Maldrodyn, known by many as Gauthier Haunt Nadim, shattered. His fragments took on the look of stained-glass as they disappeared. Trix knew not where. As his body faded, his eyes remained, hovering in the air, burning into Trix with misery, despair, and the promise of revenge.
Then he was gone.
And time, free from Gauthier’s influence, resumed.
Picking Sides
1
It was amazing what could happen in one second.
Lightning that’d been stuck in place lanced the earth, scorching the plain with unfounded aggression. Bullets continued flying. Trix used her combined density and gravity spell. They shattered against her body which was now void of the Riddling Arena’s pain.
Trix considered that she was still inside the arena. That the hourglass had only been a ruse to make her rush. In her mind, for a brief moment, she was still in the swamp, being slowly devoured by ghouls as far off banshee wails made her dream this victory.
She supposed that anything could occur in a moment, no matter how brief. After all, she could’ve sworn she’d been in the Riddling Arena for hours. Though when she emerged, it was as if no time had passed at all.
Perhaps Gauthier couldn’t stop time, just compress it, much like dreams. Thoughts clashed in Trix’s head enough to give her a headache. Everyone was shouting. Altayr was preparing to return fire. Faedra had inched closer to the mirrors.
That was when Nadira Vega stopped shooting.
‘Machina, where is Gauthier? What happened to him?’
The mages ceased their activity. Turned to Trix. One second Gauthier had been in the crossroads’ centre. Now he was gone.
‘Gauthier Nadim has been banished.’
Nadira kept
her weapon raised. So did her thugs.
‘How could you?’
‘He was going to tear apart the galaxy.’
‘Fuck,’ Nadira said, running one hand over the top of her helmet.
It was the first time Trix had seen Vega lose her temper.
Altayr held his staff at the ready when he noticed another anomaly.
‘The graveyard’s gone,’ he said.
All the tombstones and the sepulchre had vanished. The latent magic he had felt when entering the space had been an illusion created by none other than Gauthier himself. The coffins that contained Faedra’s parents though, they were still present. No longer levitating, but lying on the rocky ground.
Faedra, who was moving to secure the mirrors, looked around. Altayr was right. What did that mean for her parents? She ran back to the coffins. Prised the lids off. There was nothing inside.
‘Gauthier tricked me. He lied.’
Nadira raised her weapon at Faedra. ‘Step aside, sorceress. Far away from the mirrors, if you please. I’d rather not hit the machina with any stray fire. I wouldn’t want to tread on the tiger’s tail, as it were.’
‘There must be a way to solve this diplomatically,’ Altayr said, moving his staff to a more neutral position.
‘That’s why I haven’t fired yet, Mr Van Eldric.’
‘It didn’t stop you from firing before,’ Trix said.
‘Those were only warning shots. I simply meant to stop you from issuing a challenge.’
‘You wanted Gauthier to grant your wish.’
‘Astute observation, but that’s not all I want.’
‘Gauthier lied. He lied to me. My parents aren’t here. Mayhap they never even died? How could my contract be fulfilled if he lied?’ Faedra said, her mutterings becoming fevered. She stood. Pointed her spear at Nadira Vega. ‘You had some part in this, didn’t you? You were instrumental in this trickery.’
‘I was merely instructed to bring you and the mirrors to this location. I didn’t know what awaited me here either.’
Altayr recalled part of his conversation with Gauthier on the crossroads. He wasn’t even aware that he was speaking until everyone looked at him.
‘A lie is only a lie when it’s discovered. If you believe a lie, then it becomes the truth.’
Trix shuddered at the words.
(beautiful when believed, ugly if you know)
Faedra turned her attention to Trix.
‘Machina, bring that demon back here so I can kill him myself.’
‘He can’t be killed. That’s what he told me. He disappeared. Somewhere into the Betwixt.’
‘Dear Trix, may I suggest you take care of this squabble some other time. I no longer need Faedra, but I will be taking those mirrors with me now.’
‘Why do you need the mirrors? You can’t use them.’
‘I don’t need to explain that these mirrors are valuable.’
‘You’re not taking those mirrors,’ Faedra said, aiming her spear at Nadira. She had moved to the north crossroad. Trix moved away from the centre to the south, from where Gauthier had come. Altayr stood in the east. Nadira held her western position.
‘I can’t let anyone take these mirrors either,’ Altayr said. ‘They belong to the Conclave, and now that we have both, we can begin to make real progress into teleportation.’
‘You want them for yourself to study the Betwixt,’ Faedra said, keeping her spear trained on Nadira but boring her eyes into Altayr. ‘Help me take them and I’ll let you study them all you want so long as you don’t object to my testing.’
‘I’m sorry, Faedra, I can’t let you do that. You could unleash something for which we’re unprepared. You could summon Gauthier again.’
Trix watched the exchange unfold. The mirrors were closest to Altayr, though they were still in the crossroads’ centre.
‘Machina,’ Nadira said. ‘You owe me these mirrors. You’ve already cost me my wish. I won’t be so forgiving if you cost me this payday as well. I have two ships ready to unleash orbital bombardment at my command. They have laser targeting systems. I can assure you they won’t miss.’
Altayr drew his pistol. Pointed it a Nadira while holding his staff towards Faedra. ‘Trix, you know these mirrors belong with the Conclave. Make the right choice here.’
Faedra said nothing to the machina.
How fast everything had gone to pot.
Trix didn’t want to deal with this right now. Exhaustion threatened to undo her at any moment. The pain had subsided. Memories of the Riddling Arena streaked across the sky. She saw another segment in every flash of lightning. The severed heads in the amusement booth. Her parents dying. Monstrous hordes. She heard Gauthier’s haunting laughter. And now she had to make a choice.
Stopping Gauthier Nadim, while it had been the most gruelling experience of her life, served a greater purpose. It prevented large scale calamity. While Trix had no proof of that, she wanted to believe it was true. Her ordeal had to be worth something.
She had promised Nadira to recover the mirrors. But to whom was she selling? Then again, they couldn’t be worse than Faedra de Morland. Altayr having them wouldn’t be bad at all. But if she chose to help him, they’d be up against Faedra and Nadira.
Still, she had the Fox overhead, and leverage with Valentine in Dark’s Hide. Trix knew what she had to do. Her decision surprised even her. She moved her arm behind her back. Typed a quick message on her comms gauntlet. Then she spoke.
‘I agree with Altayr. Nadira, if you so much as try to stop us from leaving, we will blow Dark’s Hide out of the Dying Star Nexus. Valentine’s in position with a thermobaric bomb. And he will use it.’
Nadira’s face was concealed by her helmet. The voice that came from it was cold. Unfeeling. ‘You think I would buy that bluff? You couldn’t acquire a thermobaric bomb any more than I could cast a fireball from my palms.’
‘Tell your workers to scan the station. You’ll see that I’m telling the truth.’
‘Enough,’ Faedra said. She slammed her staff onto the ground. The ensuing dark magic shockwave sent Nadira and her goons sliding across the gravel. Trix shot backwards too.
Altayr protected himself with a barrier. Trix noticed that the mirrors began glowing. Energy started pooling in their centres. Something was happening to them.
An image of Gauthier stunned Trix. He couldn’t be coming back already. Surely that wasn’t possible.
‘Sif, I need you coming in low, and focused on Faedra. Prime the rail gun to maximum.’
‘What about Nadira’s ships?’
‘I’ve taken care of them already.’
‘You’re the boss. Bringing her in nice and low. Watch yourself, Trix.’
‘You too.’
Trix watched the scene unravel in slow motion. The dark shockwave had begun materialising creatures like the one that’d bitten her on Zilvia. Nadira fired. Altayr summoned spears of light. Aimed them at Faedra.
Launch.
Faedra swatted them away.
The mirrors filled with more energy. They were reacting to the magic.
Trix drew her sword, relishing the way it felt in her hand. She’d never been closer to death than that final crawl in the Riddling Arena. And she never wanted to be that close again.
The machina focused on killing the beasts that charged towards her. Black magic clung on her armour. They would keep coming for as long as she was marked. Unless Faedra died. That was for what Trix was hoping. Altayr would understand in time.
If not, well, there was nothing she could do.
Nadira and her troops moved as a unit towards the mirrors.
A hellhound the size of a horse came from the ground. Swallowed one of Nadira’s men. Their unit spread out. That was a mistake. More beasts launched.
Trix drew her pistol. Its roar was impressive even against the thunder. She dropped two of the beasts with direct shots to the brain. Nadira kept moving.
Altayr was drawing closer to Faedra, forcing he
r away from the mirrors. He was avoiding lethal force. Trix could tell.
Two gunships came from overhead. They were Nadira’s. The storm clouds had disrupted their targeting systems. They needed to be closer.
The ships flew side by side, so low that Trix could’ve jumped and smacked her head against their hulls.
That was when Faedra de Morland showed everyone what the offspring of history’s two greatest dark mages could really do.
Faedra threw her spear at Altayr. The sorcerer deftly sidestepped, predicting the move. What he didn’t anticipate was that Faedra made it turn laterally, smashing Altayr across the face, exactly where he’d suffered a gunshot wound in Zilvia.
The sorcerer fell to the ground.
Had it not been for a last second barrier, Altayr’s skull would’ve been mush inside his skin.
Spear back in hand, Faedra’s eyes glowed with hatred. Trix thought she saw smatterings of Gauthier in her baleful aura. The machina knew Faedra had to be stopped. But if she was too close to Faedra when Nadira’s ships rained plasma, Trix would be cooked as well.
Ancient zirean was recited in booming tones that sounded nothing at all like Faedra’s regular voice. The words meant nothing to Trix. But they were enough to make Altayr shake in his boots.
Summoning was the most powerful branch of offensive and defensive magic. However, it was the least exact science within the arcane arts.
In fiction, summoning entailed calling powerful monsters from their realm to do the caster’s bidding. The issue was that legendary creatures were just that, and there was often no proof of their existence.
Strangely enough, there were records of summoners calling forth creatures which were thought to be mythical. They were documented events that inarguably happened. The question that remained was whether or not the beast that had been summoned was real, or simply a manifestation of immense magic power that took the form of an image held within the summoner’s mind.