by Aleks Canard
Altayr was about to speak when Trix realised her idiocy.
‘Gauthier’s haggling was a ruse. All three wishes must be connected. He can’t win his freedom without the mirrors. As for Faedra’s parents, well, he must be able to do it somehow, or he wouldn’t have agreed. Crossroad demons seal your fate with their wording. There’s a reason that the phrase “the devil is in the details” exists.’
‘If I can convince her to join forces with us, until Gauthier is finished, then maybe we can do this.’
‘There’s still the matter of the advocate. They’ll want this to play out until the end. And they won’t be happy about having their wish denied. Since Faedra’s your ex, how do you plan on breaking the news to her?’
‘Subtly.’
Sif: ‘Trix, I’m reading a bogey coming in. I’ve estimated their flightpath to bring them over our position in one minute.’
‘Colours?’
‘They’re not flying any.’
While the terminology was antiquated, it was still customary for unknown ships to be asked for “colours.” This meant scanning a ship’s public log to reveal its main crew and its allegiances. Having no colours could mean pirates. Or worse.
Altayr waved his hand in front of his face. A water-like substance formed from the air, creating a lens which enhanced his vision even more than Trix’s. Had he been more adept at the charm, there would’ve been no need for the exterior lens.
‘It’s Faedra’s mercenaries. Their weapons are primed.’
‘Sif, can you confirm that?’
‘In my sleep.’
‘Shit,’ said Trix. The Fox was capable of outmanoeuvring any ship in the Milky Way. But it was impounded in Blor’daeyn’s docks.
‘Altayr, get us out of here.’
‘Follow me. Stay close.’
Trix activated her helmet with a thought. Sent Valentine a message with all the neural functions now fully operational. Air support was needed. And it was needed now.
‘You need to find out what the fuck Faedra thinks she’s doing,’ Trix said to Altayr.
‘Once we leave the blast zone,’ said the sorcerer. He leapt from the mountainside. His staff materialised in his right hand. Trix followed suit. The mercenary ship was looming overhead. Altayr created a portal.
The duo entered. Plasma rounds were loosed on the mountainside. Trix knew she had to inform Myven of the situation otherwise her probation would be violated.
Right now though, that was the least of her worries.
7
The world spiralled in different colours, all of them blurry.
Shades washed over Trix’s eyes like she was seeing them from behind frosted glass. She wanted to vomit. Her movement felt delayed. Then the glass was shattered. Colours became objects. Blurred lines became sharp edges.
She orientated herself with the environment. She was in Blor’daeyn, right inside the main gate which led to the Elemental Crossroads. Trix was standing where she’d been all those years ago when Myven arrested her. She was put on a ship and taken to Dark’s Hide less than an hour later with nothing but the clothes on her back. And her sword.
Trix: ‘Why’d you bring us here? There’ll be too much collateral damage.’
‘I tried teleporting to the crossroads again but my path was redirected.’
‘Faedra.’
‘It must’ve been.’
‘If that’s the case, she knows we’re here. Valentine, how’s that air support coming?’
‘We’re headed to Blor’daeyn now. I’m dropping in. Serena has the helm.’
‘You know it,’ Serena said over the same comms link. Valentine had connected her to the battle-net.
Trix ran for the road, leaving the mirror behind. Altayr levitated it. Followed Trix.
‘Myven, it’s me.’
‘Ms Westwood, have you finally emerged from Xifaw? You must’ve gotten lost. I can’t see you for all the trees.’
‘Change of plans, but that’s not important. Mercenaries under Faedra de Morland’s employ are here in a grey, unmarked ship. Corvette with troop carrier modifications.’
‘They fired on the mountain only moments before. I was about to call it in.’
‘Just tell your boys to fire at will. Mobilise all the troops you can.’
‘Hysi, Ms Westwood. Where are you now?’
‘Blor’daeyn’s southern gate. I—’ Trix saw the corvette coming up above the road. The sound of cannons arming reached her ears. ‘They’re here.’
A plasma bombardment hit the dirt road. Trees were set alight. Others were struck dead on. They were broken to pieces. Some melted. The road became craterous. Trix evaded into the now burning tree line. Altayr was still within Blor’daeyn’s city walls.
Faedra’s corvette was about to swing up park when a devastating plasma round struck its side. Trix saw the shields flare. It was the Red Queen.
‘Never park in a firefight,’ Serena said. Her voice was cold. Like it had been during all the Meteor Brigade’s missions. Trix saw a figure falling from its cargo bay. It was Valentine. He was headed for the southern gate.
Serena readied the guns to fire again. She reckoned one more charged shot would send the corvette to hell in a thousand pieces. Alas, the corvette knew that to be true. Gunned the engines. Headed for Blor’daeyn’s spires.
Troops dropped in pods from the corvette’s hull. They slammed into the mosaicked ground near the southern gate. More landed on the road. Right near Trix. Serena gave chase. Her HUD identified thirty pods. That could mean up to sixty troops.
‘Trix, I need help,’ Altayr said.
‘Don’t worry, Big Red. I got you,’ Valentine said. He was still freefalling, though he’d spotted a way to soften the landing somewhat. He flipped so he’d hit the ground feet first.
But Valentine wasn’t aiming for the ground.
The square in front of the southern gate swarmed with mercenaries. Valentine’s HUD highlighted their expensive hardware. He didn’t give a fuck what Jorge had said back on Drion. There was no way these thugs were all plucked from random places. Average thugs didn’t pack as much heat as a sun. Nor did they possess the impunity to cut down civilians, no matter how badass they professed to be.
Altayr had ditched the mirror out the front of a furniture store boasting handcrafted, quality wooden items. He wasn’t concerned about the mirror being damaged since it was made from Uldarian metal.
He summoned a thunderous gust of wind in the hope that it’d topple the mercenaries and allow him to find a safer position.
The mercenaries took cover. Drop pods — such as the ones Faedra’s mercenaries were using — were much more than people carrying missiles. Their doors bolted into the ground upon opening to form 360-degree cover. In addition to carrying two people, they also held an ammunition cache, making them ideal for dropping soldiers behind enemy lines and giving them a fighting chance.
Valentine was well versed in drop pod technology. After all, they had been Meteor Brigade’s specialty. None of the mercenaries had noticed him yet. The author saw Altayr’s gust of wind rush across the square. The mercenaries were safe from Altayr’s magic as their pods provided protection from the wind.
As for Blor’daeyn’s citizens, they were already well away from the area. They’d fled as soon as the corvette had opened fire.
Even so, Valentine saw several corpses protruding from underneath the drop pods.
‘Fucking shame, that,’ he muttered to himself.
He analysed the battlefield. Some of the mercenaries on the vanguard began moving towards Altayr’s position. Six moved around the right flank, up a sloping road which would grant them access to the shop’s upper floors that could be used to get the drop on Altayr.
Another six were approaching from the front. They raked the shopfront with bullets.
‘Big Red, hold your position,’ Valentine said. ‘Don’t retaliate.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I need them where I can crush th
em.’
Altayr was perplexed by the author’s phrasing. He encased himself in a magic barrier. Risked a look outside.
So that was what Valentine was going to do.
Cosmic Eagle in one hand, Plasma Storm SMG in the other, Valentine depleted one mercenary’s shields at the rear of the centre party. Six more were moving to the left.
‘This is a hell of a gamble,’ Valentine said.
When the mercenary’s shields dropped, he fired his Cosmic Eagle just wide of the man’s heart on purpose. Valentine needed the heart to keep beating. Blood was good for reducing friction.
Altayr retreated to the shop’s backdoor.
The mercenary Valentine had shot keeled over. Blood spewed from his chest like a geyser.
There’s no better brush for painting the world red than a fifty-calibre handgun’s smoking barrel, the poet mused.
Valentine’s bionic legs slammed into the mercenary’s back. Thrusters engaged. First to slow the author’s descent, then to accelerate. Valentine surfed along the ground using the thug’s body. Units behind him opened fire. His shields were holding.
‘Now would be a good time for cover fire, sorcerer, to my six o’clock. I have the others occupied.’
‘Alright,’ Altayr said, moving to the rightmost windows. Letting fiery spears fly. Fireballs were fine, but they were difficult to aim. More useful for artillery rather than precision.
The thugs taking aim at Valentine were suppressed. Police sirens reached Altayr’s ears. About time.
The poet continued surfing on his profusely bleeding corpse board. Valentine holstered his guns. Reached for his bandoliers.
Nothing like sticky C4 when you were looking for a good time. Valentine had used it for sabotaging anghenfil strongholds in his military days. But, as old joke books were wont to say, sticky C4 had 101 uses.
The poet placed three sticky bombs as he weaved between the five thugs ahead of him, crouching low to avoid their bewildered blows. Valentine drifted the corpse ahead of the furniture store. Dug his foot into the bloody hole his Cosmic Eagle had created. Heaved himself backwards. Brought the corpse in front of his body. Detonated the C4 using his comms gauntlet.
The blast was three times as big as he’d anticipated. Valentine was thrown backwards through the only glass pane that was still intact. The author smashed into a wooden armchair with lush upholstery. His momentum carried him to the back wall. The chair was in one piece. Valentine would’ve had a lot of broken bones had he not slowed himself down by reversing his thrusters.
Altayr was only a few paces to his right. ‘Don’t just sit around. You only took out six.’
‘Only, one of the ego’s least favourite words. Well, in this context. Still, that’s six more than you, sorcerer.’
‘We’ll see.’
‘Yeah? Well we’ve got six more coming around on our left. And another six moving to grab the mirror on our right. Might give you a chance to catch up.’
‘Don’t forget about the twelve others in the square.’
‘How could I?’
‘The police are coming,’ Altayr said, gesturing to the upper streets where cruisers were arriving.
‘Aye, I’m sure they’ll be a big help.’
Machine gun fire swept the shopfront. Both men got down. They were thankful that the front wall was double layered stone.
Valentine rolled to the windowsill. Fired his remaining Cosmic Eagle slugs. The barrel spewed smoke. He’d struck one merc in the chest, but his shields had prevented the shot from being fatal. Valentine reloaded.
‘I’ll take the fuckers coming from the left. You look after the mirror.’
Altayr nodded. In almost all other matters, he secretly liked believing that he was superior. It wasn’t arrogance so much as hoping that his advanced years had been lived purposefully. He was happy to defer command to people with more experience in combat. And there was no doubting Valentine’s prowess.
The battle for the south gate had begun.
Police took positions in balconies overlooking the square. Their snipers picked off two thugs before one pulled out a rocket launcher. The snipers evaded, but their vantage point was wrecked.
Serena repeatedly slammed the enemy corvette with plasma blasts overhead. Even Griffauron Fulum Raivad would’ve been impressed with how she handled the luxury liner between Blor’daeyn’s elegant spires. She was easily outmanoeuvring her rival. But she couldn’t bring the ship down over the city. She didn’t need more lives on her conscience.
Serena Alura had to wait until the opportune moment.
When the rival ship banked hard right, trying to lose her beneath a bridge, Serena sensed that her opportunity would be coming sooner rather than later.
Out on the road, Trix was facing thirty assailants.
Didn’t they know they were dancing with a demon?
8
Bloody Retribution
Flaming trees provided minimal cover.
Trix didn’t dare take on all her enemies at once, though she was aware that she didn’t have much choice.
‘If you time it right, you could use their own pods against them. Initial scans are showing they’re packed with heavy weapons,’ said Sif.
‘Numbers are the problem, not weapons.’
The machina had drawn her pistol and her sword. She thought about disappearing into the forest, but the flames were climbing higher all the time. She didn’t really feel their heat. Should’ve been sweltering this close.
Mireleth’s blessing, the Wise Frost, she thought.
Needless to say, the dragon’s blessing wouldn’t extend to her armour. And she still had thirty reasons to need it.
That was when she heard thrusters approaching from the south. Trix rolled to the next available tree. Some of the thugs were beginning to leave cover. It was machina season. They knew who they were hunting. Trix of Zilvia. The Valkyrie. Faedra hadn’t promised a specific reward for her death.
However, there were others around the galaxy — a warlord, slaver, and disgraced noble family, for instance — who were whispering about bounties, though they were attempting to keep them hushed. None wanted to let the machina know that, even now, people were arming themselves for a hunt. And she was the Milky Way’s biggest game.
Trix was worth more alive than dead. But taking a machina, especially the Valkyrie, alive would be like putting makeup on a bear then giving it a smooch. That was an ugly way to go.
Trix saw the approaching cruiser. It was Myven’s. She could just see his outline behind the tinted windshield using her x-ray vision. He wasn’t slowing. Trix had an idea of what Myven Daebas was about to attempt. She would’ve done the same if she’d been in the officer’s position.
Myven banked hard, bringing the cruiser as low to the dirt as he could without the chassis scraping. He opened the driver’s side door which was facing back the way he’d came. Kicked the thruster controls with his foot as he jumped out.
The cruiser smacked into the ground. Its momentum sent it into a crazy barrel-roll which ploughed through the drop pods, wrecking at least five of them beyond comprehension. The cruiser’s thrusters kept firing. One thug was cooked extra crispy inside his armour. Anyone who did an autopsy would be unable to tell where his skin ended and his plating began. He’d been melded into a solid mass.
Trix caught Myven with a gravity spell. Made the officer fall into the trees. He landed beside her.
Trix swung her sword a couple times. Myven’s unorthodox idea had given her one that was even crazier. Trix smiled beneath her helmet.
‘My sensors have detected that you’re smiling,’ said Sif. ‘I know that smile.’
‘Ms Westwood,’ said Myven, standing rather quickly, despite what he’d just done. Officer Daebas had clearly, as Kit would’ve said, seen some shit. ‘What is happening here?’
‘I’m going to work,’ the machina said.
She’d used trees as weapons before. Most notably while fighting a reliquia that’d taken the fo
rm of a giant spider. Trix jumped. Used gravity to assist her upward movement. The tree she was behind had been hit relatively low by plasma. The fire was spreading just below halfway. Trix increased her density. Dropped her pistol back onto its respective mag-panel.
The Valkyrie crashed into the tree. Its trunk began falling towards the thugs below. They were still reeling from Myven’s attack. Hadn’t expected the copper to launch his own damn squad car at them. Now the tree was coming down. Perfect.
And on it?
Trix of Zilvia.
She had the home field advantage. And she felt like scoring a couple of touchdowns. Hitting a few homers. Knocking out a whole heap of motherfuckers. Yeah, that last one was good.
The mercenaries, paid to fight and not to run, fired. Trix slunk low, nearly until she was flush against the bark. Myven lay on the road’s shoulder. He started shouting.
Zirean rifles issued to the Blor’daeyn police force could fire single shots, or burst fire. The reinforcements Myven had called — which were now fighting on the south gate — would have full automatics. He didn’t think he was going to need one before leaving the law courts. He’d never seen anything like this in all his years of policing.
The tree trunk hit. Trix side-flipped to the left. Increased density. Kicked the thug nearest her with so much force that his helmet caved in. His head tore off his neck. Flew into another mercenary’s chest, causing his rifle to fire into another’s shields. Trix was still airborne. And she wasn’t finished yet. Her sword decapitated a mercenary who was standing behind her. His falling body revealed a third thug who was just asking to die.
Trix used a gravity spell to bring the mercenary closer. Faedra obviously hadn’t seen fit to protect her hired help with any sort of magical barriers. Altayr would’ve been quick to tell Trix that protective magic at a distance, especially when you were a Black mage, would’ve been taxing enough to kill the caster. But the Red sorcerer had his own problems.
And Trix was too busy to listen.
Trix flipped her body moments before hitting the ground, slamming the decapitated corpse into the mercenary she was pulling with her gravity spell. The thug was blinded by the blood spouting from his dead comrade’s neck. Trix’s feet hit the ground. She pivoted to avoid incoming fire, then thrust her sword through the blinded thug’s ribcage.
