A Clash of Demons

by Aleks Canard

  ‘I wasn’t aware that you’d think so much as once,’ Altayr said as he went outside. The police were handling last few thugs without any problems. Altayr levitated the mirror into the shop then returned to Valentine, who was now holding a silver tube in his right hand.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘My two step recovery process, patent pending.’

  Valentine flicked the cap open on one end. He pushed himself up. Swaggered to Altayr. Nothing gave you a buzz like smoking while potentially bleeding out.

  Valentine applied a viscous gel to Altayr’s head wound by pressing a button on the tube’s side. ‘Nano-gel, man’s second best friend.’

  ‘And the first?’

  Valentine flipped the tube around. Opened the other side. He raised it to his lips. ‘Triple Distilled, Proper Irish Whiskey, with a fifth of painkillers.’ The author downed the concoction in one go. ‘Now, I scratched your back, how about you scratch mine?’

  Altayr obliged. He worked fast, stoppering Valentine’s wounds with magic seals. Scanning for any infections. He was still on edge. Faedra had not appeared yet.

  It was only a matter of time.

  And though neither man would admit it, they were close to spent.

  10

  Valkyrie’s Judgement

  Grenades in hand, Trix of Zilvia whipped through the pods.

  HMG fire narrowly missed her every time she emerged onto the road. Trix armed two grenades as she neared the felled tree, throwing them towards the HMG wielding foursome.

  That caused them to scatter. Two dove left. Two right. That gave Trix time to cut across the centre aisle and blindside the gatling gun crew. A djurel dual wielding SMGs fired at Trix. Plasma hit her combat vest, though she didn’t feel the heat. A bullet smacked into her right pauldron. Another in the abdomen. Good thing she was a machina, or she would’ve been severely winded.

  The djurel kept firing.

  That was a terrible idea. God damn awful. Truly a cockup in every sense of the word. If you were going to shoot Trix of Zilvia, then you had better shoot her dead. If not, then you may as well flick a bull in the face wearing nothing but a crotchless G-string and pray to whoever would listen that you weren’t gouged. Either way, you were dead.

  And chances were your departure from the land of the living wouldn’t be particularly dignified.

  Trix turned past the djurel. Grabbed his tail. Slammed her boot heel onto it. Chopped it off with her sword, then broke the djurel’s spine with a density kick. A bullet scraped her helmet. A psygota had fired it. His neck brace gave him away. Alright. Trix knew just what to do with the severed djurel’s tail.

  The Valkyrie tossed her last two grenades at the HMG mercs to keep them occupied a little longer. She drew her sword. Split the psygota’s neck brace open. Trix cracked it with a palm strike. Ripped it off. Wrapped the djurel’s tail around the psygota’s neck then jerked him in front of her just as a bullet hailstorm riddled her meat shield.

  She dodged into a pod, landing on her back. Trix was splattered in blood like an abstract painting where the artist just flung colours at the canvas and hoped something stuck. The corrach manning the gatling gun had detached it from its mount and was swinging it towards her.

  Trix leapt from her position. Landed atop of the gun barrel, bringing her sword into the corrach’s head. He stopped moving. She relieved him of his gatling gun. Let fly at the three remaining thugs. Their HMGs looked like children’s toys next to the Trix’s latest acquisition.

  They weren’t able to evade in time. Trix vaporised them. Dropped the gun. Jumped back to the felled tree.

  ‘Myven, you there?’

  ‘Holding on,’ said the officer. He’d moved up from the trees and taken cover behind a pod’s exterior. He shot a thug point-blanc, then took his weapon. Seven more remained on his side of the tree. Trix knew she’d be able to clear the area in record time with a distraction.

  ‘Draw their fire.’

  ‘You’re crazy.’

  ‘They won’t have time to shoot you, let alone reload.’

  Myven paused. If the machina was coming to help him, she must’ve killed everyone else. How did she do that?

  ‘Hysi.’

  Trix leapt from the top of the tree, mule kicking the first mercenary in the back, riding him to the floor, then shooting him in the head. Dispatched the next thug with an upward slash. Rending his armour. Insides spilled like diseased serpents, or a serial killer’s party favours.

  Five left.

  The thugs didn’t know where to look. Myven took the opportunity to destroy a kalarik’s knee cap with a steady burst of rifle fire. The kalarik fell. His neck met Trix’s sword on his brief downward journey. Four more.

  Myven moved south, dividing the remaining mercenaries’ attention. One was hiding behind Myven’s totalled cruiser. The officer grabbed a rocket launcher from a vacated pod. Fired. Only three left.

  Trix heard them shouting for backup. They’d be waiting a long time. The Valkyrie whirled through the final three thugs, killing the last one by slashing his chest in an “X” shape. Then she pivoted. Kicked his lower back. His torso spewed its contents everywhere, opening like a carnivorous plant’s mouth. Trix twirled her sword. Blood flew off its blade. She sheathed it. Retracted her helmet. Saw the Red Queen take out Faedra’s corvette overhead. Its thrusters burned out. It hurtled for woodland that bordered the ocean.

  Valentine instructed Serena to wait in orbit for further instructions. Apparently he owed her one for taking out the thugs in the square. Trix was about to reply when she saw Myven looking at her. He’d retracted his visor. She could see his face was pale.

  ‘The way you move…’ he said. His voice was barely above a whisper.

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  Myven took a couple of seconds to register the machina’s words. His brain was still processing what he’d seen. The machina wasn’t a demon. Not even hellspawn — Myven imagined — could move so fast. No. Trix of Zilvia was a ghost. She was Death. Unstoppable. Inevitable.

  ‘I’m fine. A few rounds scraped my shoulder. Nothing serious. Are you… okay?’

  Trix looked at her armour. A couple of shells were buried in her combat vest. And the paint on her helmet was scratched. She knew that because of the warning she’d received. Trix had to hand it to the mercenaries. They’d done alright. Not the best opponents she’d fought by any means. But no walkover either.

  The Valkyrie nodded at Myven. His face went wide. Trix wondered what the problem could be now when she heard whistling behind her. She knew that sound. Felix’s spear had made a similar noise whenever he threw it. Trix sidestepped to see Faedra de Morland’s staff skim past her ribcage. It was headed straight for Myven. The officer rolled out of the way, but he was too slow.

  His standard issue police armour was no match for Faedra’s staff. Its spear tip cut his vest like butter. The force from its momentum shattered his clavicle. Myven grunted. Fell to the floor. The rocket launcher he’d acquired landed in front of him.

  The spear flew backwards. Right into Faedra’s waiting hand. She was standing a ways down the road. Her hair was dishevelled. Her face stricken with fear. Trix guessed that Faedra had received a visit from Gauthier Nadim.

  The machina drew her sword. Her helmet activated. Gold visor gleaming under the starlight. It was dim along the road. Though the lights from Blor’daeyn’s spires cast a glow that extended far beyond the city walls. The only other luminance came from the flames that still danced among the trees. That had worked to Trix’s advantage. It wasn’t dark enough for the thugs to use night vision. Only the kalariks and the djurels wouldn’t have been overly disadvantaged.

  ‘Valentine, Altayr,’ Trix said over comms. ‘Faedra’s here.’

  ‘Where’s here?’ said the author. His voice was groggy from injury.

  ‘The south road.’

  Altayr: ‘We’re coming.’

  ‘I’ll call in Serena to bomb the bitch,’ said the poet.

&
nbsp; ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘We need Faedra on our side if we’re going to end this properly.’

  ‘Then let us come to your aid,’ Altayr said.

  ‘Stay with the mirror.’

  Trix ended the communication. She honed in on Myven’s heartbeat. Faedra’s spear hadn’t pierced a major artery. He’d live if he received medical attention soon.

  Sword edge bathed in moonlight, glinting against the flames, Trix walked towards Faedra de Morland.

  ‘Greetings, Faedra.’

  ‘Get away from me, impure filth.’

  ‘I think we can help each other.’

  ‘You have something I want.’

  ‘What a coincidence. So do you. The only difference between you and I is that I’m willing to let you have mine.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘I assure you I’m not. Gauthier Nadim’s twisted your mind, Faedra. He wants what you promised him. He wants your soul.’

  ‘He told me you would say that.’

  ‘What else did he tell you?’

  ‘That you wanted to have Altayr for yourself. That you want my mirrors when they’re rightfully mine.’

  Fuck me, Trix thought. Gauthier’s turned her into a jealous sack of shit.

  ‘He’s feeding you nightmares, Faedra, and you’re eating them, bones and all.’

  ‘I was hoping my men could kill you. But I suppose I’ll have to do it myself,’ Faedra said. The fear in her eyes dissipated somewhat. They became cold. Lethal.

  Trix readied herself. ‘Well, come on.’

  Faedra’s spear shot at Trix nearly as fast as a dryad’s arrow. Trix parried it, expecting her sword to slice through it. Trix deflected the blow. Faedra retracted her weapon. It was still in one piece.

  Either it was powerfully enchanted, or it was Uldarian metal, and Faedra had disguised it as a lesser alloy. Whatever proved to be the case, Trix was in for a harder fight than she first expected.

  The sorceress’ feet turned into a black smoke cloud. She hovered off the ground. Charged at Trix, hurling dark magic blasts before her. Trix avoided them, dreading to think what would happen if one hit her. Altayr’s choker would protect her from some damage, but a direct hit would be more than it could handle.

  One of the drop pods was hit by Faedra’s magic. Trix saw it from the corner of her eye. Nothing seemed to happen. The darkness just lingered. Then a spectral hound with sinewy shoulders, muscular legs, and teeth dripping with gunk emerged near the point of impact. It lunged at the pod, disappearing into the darkness. That affirmed Trix’s aversion to being struck.

  Knowing that the sorceress would need space to cast, Trix decided to close the gap. She brought her sword forward, ready to thrust. While charging with a sword above you to cleave your opponent’s head looked cool, it left you wide open to attack. Such a move was best attempted against amateurs who would be too intimidated to react.

  Trix thrust her sword. Faedra strafed right. The machina redirected her movement. De Morland was too fast. She brought her staff crashing down onto Trix’s lower back, sending her into a flaming tree trunk. The Valkyrie’s armour was flame retardant, so she didn’t catch alight, though she felt like something had been broken. Maybe her pelvis. It was hard to tell.

  Faedra threw her spear for Trix’s chest. The machina turned. Her right arm was cut open, just above her gauntlet.

  ‘Trix, you have to move,’ said Sif.

  Trix’s back howled in pain. Yeah, she’d fractured something but she could still walk.

  Trix soared for Faedra using her magic. This time she aimed for her staff instead of her chest. Trix needed to disarm the sorceress to have a chance.

  Weapons clashed. Faedra worked her spear like Felix used to, only much faster. Trix parried wild, looking for an opening. Swapped her sword to her left hand mid-parry. Drew her pistol. Six shots rang in the night air. They were stopped by Faedra’s magic barrier.

  The sorceress’ eyes flared. Stopping those shots had taken a lot of energy. Trix noticed. Fired again. Faedra blasted the machina’s pistol hand with dark magic. Trix’s Magnum Opus flew into the air. Shit.

  The Valkyrie back-flipped. Grabbed her pistol. Slammed it onto its mag-panel while blocking a blow from Faedra’s staff. That was when a spectral hound came charging from the nether, headed right for Trix’s hand. She avoided the hound, but the magic which drew it closer didn’t leave her hand. It was dissipating slowly, like ice melting under morning sun.

  Trix hadn’t hit the ground yet. The hound had. It disappeared into the dirt. Launched upwards again. Trix went to slice it in half when Faedra took the kill shot. The Valkyrie noticed. Couldn’t evade completely. Fucking hell, this was going to hurt.

  Faedra’s blade went right through Trix’s combat vest. Pierced below her subclavian artery. Trix brought herself closer to Faedra, causing her spear-tip to penetrate further. The machina slammed Faedra in the chest with her combat boots. She felt bones break. There was no time to celebrate.

  Teeth clamped onto Trix’s right gauntlet. The bite force was unreal. Trix gritted her teeth. Her entire forearm was inside the hound’s mouth. Despite its strength, it hadn’t broken through her gauntlet. The exo-armour around it, however, was another matter.

  The hound’s back half was severed. Though it didn’t die. Kept mauling Trix’s arm. She brought her sword around in an arc. The hound was rent from nose to back. It could no longer hold on without a top jaw. His body vanished in smoke, re-joining the cloud that encircled Faedra’s feet.

  Whatever gunk that’d coated its teeth was seeping into Trix’s wound. The pain was like having hot irons pressed against her skin while being dragged over rusty barbed wire. Trix could barely flex her fingers anymore. Her tendons were mangled. She wouldn’t be firing her pistol anytime soon.

  ‘Trix, I’m detecting some kind of poison entering your bloodstream,’ Sif said as Faedra came back for round two.

  ‘Is it fatal?’

  ‘You’ll probably survive, but it’s spreading.’

  ‘Fucking fantastic.’

  How did Altayr escape this bitch with barely a scratch? Trix thought.

  Trix answered her own question. Faedra hadn’t really wanted to kill Altayr. But she definitely wanted to kill the machina.

  Myven struggled to prop himself up with only one arm over by the felled tree. He watched the Valkyrie and the sorceress clash. He wondered if he was witnessing gods fight. The speed was unbelievable. He saw that the Valkyrie was losing. Myven picked up a rocket launcher. Heaved it onto his good shoulder. He was sure it hadn’t been so heavy before.

  Trix cut open Faedra’s right arm, carving it like a ham from the shoulder down. The sorceress didn’t seem to notice. She was muttering a spell. Trix’s helmet began fogging up. She couldn’t see. It retracted. The butt of Faedra’s staff clocked her across the face, breaking her cheek bone and her nose. Trix skidded along the dirt path. None of her teeth had come out. That was always a plus. Trix leapt up. Spat blood to the side. Sheathed her sword.

  Sometimes there was no better way to disarm your opponent than by grabbing their weapon and wrenching it from their hands.

  First though, Trix wanted to hit something. And Faedra de Morland’s face looked like a prime target. The Valkyrie sprinted, ignoring the pain that begged her to stop. Faedra unleashed a dark magic volley. Trix jumped over it. The sorceress loosed her spear.

  Perfect, this was what Trix had wanted. Trix watched the blade come towards her in mid-air. It glistened with machina blood. Her blood. She was teleported back to Aefonryr. Aryagyr firing arrows at her. Trix remembered the day she’d finally caught one dead centre.

  Trix angled her body away. Her hand reached not for where the spear was, but where it was going to be. Trix’s good hand encircled the staff. Faedra was astounded. She’d charmed her staff to burn white hot in anyone’s hands but hers. Somehow the machina was impervious.

  Unaware of this, Trix continued hurtling towards
Faedra. Staff in hand. She didn’t want to kill the sorceress. She had no idea what kind of implications that would have in regards to Gauthier. Trix just wanted to beat the nightmares out of her.

  The Valkyrie struck Faedra’s exposed humerus, breaking it in two. Then she introduced her studded knuckles into her the sorceress’ nose. It shattered like glass. Blood poured down Faedra’s face. Faedra blasted Trix with a shockwave. The machina tried grabbing onto something, but she was flung backwards again. She lost her grip on Faedra’s spear. It returned to the sorceress’ hand. Trix flipped in mid-air. Landed on her feet. Her arm where the hound had bitten her was swelling. Even the breeze blowing across it caused tremendous pain.

  An explosion happened behind the sorceress. Flames engulfed her black dress. Her robes turned to ash. She hadn’t been expecting that.

  ‘Myven…’ Trix said, her words lost to the burning night.

  Faedra turned. Soared for Myven. Going to finish him.

  Trix ran. Combat boots flying over the dirt. She approached Faedra as the sorceress was preparing to stab Myven through the heart. The machina was feeling faint. But she’d fought more battered than this. Dai of Thyria had given her a licking for the ages, leaving her toothless, broken, and swollen. If she could still go toe-to-toe with him then she could handle Faedra de Morland now.

  The machina’s fist connected with the back of Faedra’s head. Trix didn’t give her full strength. If she had, she would’ve been able to wrap her fingers around Faedra’s brain, or whatever was left of it anyway.

  Faedra crumpled to the ground. Trix heard the change in her heart — and her breathing — immediately. The sorceress was unconscious. Trix kicked her staff away. Bent down next to Myven.

  ‘You’ve saved my life twice, Ms Westwood.’

  ‘My banishment is reinstated if I’m seen without you.’

  Myven smiled weakly. He’d lost a lot of blood. Only kalariks were able to control blood flow. It was biologically impossible for them to bleed out. If you severed their arm, the veins closed up. They could also slow their hearts to one beat a minute without needing any training.