A Clash of Demons

by Aleks Canard

  ‘So you walk to Blor’daeyn every morning?’

  ‘Most mornings. Today’s my weekend. That’s why I’m glad you came.’

  ‘You know, if you ever get tired of living down here, my friends and I are building a cabin up on the mountains. You could stay if you like. The views are beautiful.’

  ‘Maybe, but I like it down here. It’s home.’

  Trix breathed the Zilvian air deep.

  ‘Yes it is, little one. Yes it is.’

  3

  The machina sat up.

  She was wearing her commemorative Mars colonisation sweatshirt and underwear. Her fingers played absently with her medallion. Thinking of Rida made her hopeful for the future. She was stronger than most people Trix had ever met. And to say Trix had met some tough customers was putting it lightly.

  Rida always talks about her mother, Trix thought, her eyes drifting to Xifaw once again. She had put off seeing the dryads even though her victory over Gauthier meant she could roam their realm with complete freedom. She didn’t want to know if her parents were dead, yet she wanted to know if her parents were alive. Desperately.

  Sunlight’s first rays appeared over the ocean. Trix couldn’t believe the night had passed so quickly. She, Valentine, and Serena, had shared many drinks, laughs, and stories after settling in around the fire. There had even been dancing. Trix and Valentine had performed a limber foxtrot which gave way to Valentine and Serena waltzing over the djurelian rug preceding the fire. Sif had played music through concealed speakers, her hologram sitting on the coffee table, watching everything unfold.

  Merriment had been thick in the air. Everyone’s veins had flowed with it. And Sif had experienced happiness like she’d never known before.

  4

  Flames crackled like popping candy.

  Music wafted through mountain passes. Alcohol flowed as heavily as the rain during Desraxe’s wet season. Valentine and Serena were slumped against the sofa, on the floor. Trix was propped up against her armchair. A goblet of Xardiassian plum wine was in her hands. Her hair was out, over the scarred side.

  ‘I think I’m going to stay here for a while,’ Valentine said. ‘It’s been a long time since I worked on nothing but writing.’

  All his words were like one big word. But Trix and Serena were well versed in Valentine drunk-speak.

  ‘And what about me?’ Serena said, sipping some spiced rum.

  ‘You can stay or you can go. I pay for the ship, but she’s yours more than mine. I can’t make her dance like you can.’

  ‘I’d like to dance,’ Sif said.

  ‘Then dance you shall, my darling one.’

  Valentine went to stand. His legs could hold him no problem on account of being bionic. But his torso no longer had the strength to remain upright, and he flopped back onto the carpet in a fit of laughter.

  ‘Maybe not right now. The world, it spins. And I have a theory about why.’

  ‘Can’t wait to hear this one,’ Serena said, giggling, then saying something incomprehensible in Spanish.

  ‘You’ve all heard how everything comes out of consciousness, that we all… derive from the same pool, as it were. Waves on the ocean, only rising for a moment, convinced of our individuality, then… crash, back into the ocean of consciousness.’

  ‘Vaguely,’ Trix said. It had been a long time since her philosophy classes on Mair Ultima.

  ‘Well, if consciousness is us, then it’s also the universe, the galaxy, and the planets, and all that. And they’re all spinning. So maybe, when you drink, as I have. Lord I am drink… I mean drank… fuck it, you know what I mean.’

  ‘Te refierers… when you are drunk?’ Serena said, speaking slowly so her words came out in a semi-comprehensible fashion.

  ‘Yes, that’s it. See, that is why you’re such a good editor. Maybe, when we are drunk, it makes us, the individual wave, closer to consciousness, and that’s why everything spins.’

  ‘Stick to writing, my friend,’ Trix said, downing the rest of her glass in one.

  ‘I plan on it, but now we’re drinking.’ Valentine raised a tumbler of whiskey to the ceiling. ‘For all the friends we have, and all the friends we have lost, we drink for you.’

  Trix refilled her goblet. Toasted.

  ‘And we drink to Sif one day being able to dance,’ Serena said, raising her glass so enthusiastically rum flew into the fire. It spat with excitement.

  Everyone drank again.

  After that, the trio became a little more subdued. It would still be an hour before they all turned in. But there was joy during that time. Trix told Valentine and Serena about the Uldarian prism’s recording. Meteor Brigade’s last surviving members boldly announced that they would stand with Trix when The End came. They toasted again. Trix smiled.

  Content held sway over all.

  5

  Trix got out of bed.

  She crossed the room. Put her armour on. This was the first proper night she had spent in the cabin since her banishment. And Trix decided that she would start the morning as she had done for most of her formative years. She would walk to the woods. Her hearing told her that Valentine and Serena would be asleep for a while yet.

  Fully suited up, Trix walked to their room. Peeked inside.

  Valentine had fallen asleep holding Serena. Her dark hair obscured some of his face. In sleep, his scarred, tattooed body looked haggard, despite his muscle tone. Serena looked older too.

  Both of them were smiling softly. No nightmares. Not this morning at least. Trix hoped that the two of them would find happiness here on the mountains. She had. Trix shut the door. Set out into the brisk air. She crossed the chasm by altering gravity. Then Trix continued down the mountain path.

  Her sense of déjà vu was so strong that she could’ve sworn she was in Felix’s company. Whether it was old feelings that conjured her father, or simply Zilvia’s magic rich environment, Trix found that she was daydreaming.

  ‘It’s a nice morning,’ she said, looking skyward. There was no fog. The sky was clearer than neon in the dark.

  ‘And ain’t that the truth?’ Felix said. He was in a particularly jovial mood. He and Susan had probably finished making love before he left to walk with Trix.

  ‘I’ve killed a lot of monsters since we last spoke, dad.’

  ‘I never had any doubt you would. You’re certainly my best student.’

  ‘I was your only student.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’

  They laughed. Walked in silence. Just appreciating each other’s company. Loved ones could converse with nothing but breathing and beating hearts. Words often complicated things too much. Not even the sincerest “I love you” ever spoken could convey the sentiment as well as a loving embrace. The kind where both parties closed their eyes and in that moment, there was only them.

  And those were the moments people wished could last forever. The ones that populated only the fondest memories with the dearest people. As luck would have it, they were the moments which always ended too soon. For no matter how much you confessed love, or showed it, Death always made you feel like you hadn’t done enough.

  What made Thelonious Grim so callous was unknown. Perhaps it was experience. Or mayhap it was something more. A loss suffered long ago, never to be forgotten. And that was assuming he had a choice.

  Trix and Felix passed the crossroads. Headed towards Xifaw’s border. They didn’t speak again until they reached Baxter’s house. It still looked miserable. Trix thought she sensed a dark presence inside. She wanted to spend the night before leaving Zilvia. If anything lurked inside Baxter’s home, she would dismantle them limb from limb.

  ‘I miss Baxter,’ Felix said, his voice more melancholy than before.

  ‘His killers will be sorry if I ever find them.’

  ‘It doesn’t do to seek revenge, Trix. Revenge twists your insides and makes them vile. Take a page out of Rida’s book. Learn to love instead.’

  ‘I’m not going to love the people who did that,�
�� said Trix, pointing to Baxter’s ruined house.

  ‘I’m not asking you to. But you have to see it from their perspective. They were scared. They were angry. And you know better than most that anger can make you do stupid things. Don’t hate. It doesn’t do any good.’

  Trix bowed her head in shame.

  ‘But so long as you can forgive others, and perhaps, more importantly, forgive yourself, well, I think you’ll be alright.’

  Felix stood at the beginning of the path leading to Aefonryr. Trix walked up beside him.

  ‘If you enter here, my friend, you won’t be able to pretend anymore.’

  ‘You’re alive. You’re too strong to die. I know it.’

  ‘If you know it, then why do your feet stick to the ground? Why do your eyes glisten?’

  ‘Please, don’t say these things. You’re alive. You and Susan. You have to be.’

  Felix placed his hands on Trix’s shoulders. Her head fell onto his chest. She felt the ridge of a scar beneath his shirt.

  ‘Little one, whatever you find in there, know that I love you very much. More than I have ever loved anything in the world. My heart bursts just thinking about the love I have for you, and the pride I feel knowing that you are my daughter. And knowing that you loved me back. I wouldn’t have traded my time with you for anything. Please know that. Please know that I am not mad for what you did. I only hope that from what happened in Duskmere you learned the importance of patience, of not letting anger consume you. Because anger is poison, my dearest one, and I could not bear to see it hurt you. Not ever.’

  Trix gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to cry. A pitiful wail erupted from her lips. Tears came in a deluge, soaking Felix’s shirt.

  ‘I love you, dad. Please don’t go. Stay with me.’

  ‘Trix, I’m not really here.’ He kissed her on the forehead. ‘I’m just inside your head. But why should that mean I’m not still alive, somewhere? I will be with you always, my best friend, my dearest friend, until your last breath, and beyond.’

  Trix felt Felix disappear from her arms with a final kiss. She wasn’t holding anyone. She was alone at Xifaw’s edge. Her face drowned in tears. Trix punched a tree trunk. She had such little strength left that it only cracked the bark.

  The machina fell to her knees. Bent forward, almost kissing the ground. She thought she would be sick.

  All the loss she’d ever experienced, and all the loss she was yet to, beat her senseless. Jab. Cross. Hook. Endless combinations.

  Trix stayed in this position until her sobbing subsided and pain was replaced with memories of love. Dawn had given way to early morning.

  ‘Trix,’ Sif said. ‘Do you want me to call Valentine and Serena to come and get you? I don’t like seeing you like this.’

  The machina chuckled a little. She sniffled just like Rida had done a couple days prior.

  ‘No, it’s alright. Thank you.’

  ‘Are you still going to enter?’

  Trix stood. Looked into the forest. ‘I have to.’

  ‘But you might not like what you find.’

  ‘Then I’ll have to live with that. I can’t live with not knowing. Not anymore.’

  Beatrix Westwood, Knight of Zilvia, and Valkyrie Huntress, took her first steps into the forest. She sang as she walked.

  Further in and further again, until she reached the answers she sought.

  Fairies flew beside her.

  6

  Raeyeleth was waiting at the river crossing.

  The dryad, ever a picture of grace, let one of her long slender legs dangle above the water with refined carelessness. She watched Trix approach. Here she came, Gwyrlaeth, the white death.

  ‘I’ve come for my family, Raey.’

  ‘No greeting, I see.’

  ‘I did what you asked. Gauthier Nadim has been banished from this world.’

  ‘I know. And that is why I shan’t torture you any longer. The Arnums have told us stories of Maldrodyn in hushed whispers. I cannot begin to conceive the suffering you must have endured to best him.’

  ‘It made your final trial seem trivial.’

  ‘Of that I have no doubt. What became of the mirrors that you were seeking?’

  ‘One was lost to the other’s portal. The last remaining mirror, the one that was housed here, is being kept with a powerful sorcerer. He plans to study its properties to see if he can learn anything about other worlds.’

  ‘Have you thought that other worlds saw fit for you to have the mirrors, and are therefore using them to study you, maybe all of us?’

  ‘Not until now.’

  Raeyeleth shrugged. ‘It is a possibility. But there’s no sense in dwelling on it. Possibilities are endless. It is better to do than wonder what might be.’

  ‘Are my parents alive?’ Trix said.

  This time Raeyeleth did not answer straight away. Though she did keep walking.

  ‘They are… in a manner of speaking. Don’t take my hesitation as cruelty, Gwyrlaeth. It’s only that I am at odds with how to describe their state.’

  Trix’s heart was a flutter. She didn’t cry. All her tears had already been shed.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘After you left to face the consequences of your actions, Felix died from blood loss and trauma. We tried to make him take to the Arnums’ sap, to become a dryad, but his body rejected the serum, as all men do. Susan cried when he passed. And she cried because she believed she would never see you again.

  ‘When we gave her the serum, she took to it faster than any I’ve ever seen. Radiant she was. Hair of shifting silver so glorious it could’ve been water. And she had retained her ability to cast magic. An invaluable skill for warding off unwanted visitors.

  ‘But without you, without Felix, she only grieved. And the Arnums’ sap makes you forget who you once were. She could feel her memories slipping. Her screams pierced the night. Her tears put the rivers to shame. She was losing all her memories of the people she loved most. One morning we found her dead next to… well, you shall see.’

  Trix took the information with a stoic face. She had expected this, yet hoped it was not so. Trix saw Aryagyr lounging on a tree branch while she followed Raeyeleth. The dryad locked eyes with the Valkyrie and nodded, then turned to look through the trees.

  Past the training meadow, on Aefonryr’s outskirts, there were two trees no taller than ten feet high. They wrapped around each other. Perfectly entwined. Zilvian roses grew at their base. There were embossed faces on the widest parts of each trunk. Trix would’ve known them anywhere.

  Felix Westwood and Susan Marigold.

  Their faces were angled towards each other, touching ever so slightly.

  ‘They are with the Arnums now, a part of the forest. If you listen, Gwyrlaeth, mayhap you will hear them speak.’

  Raeyeleth turned to leave Trix with her thoughts.

  ‘Thank you, Raeyeleth.’

  ‘Whatever for? I couldn’t save your parents.’

  ‘No, but you and Aryagyr, you taught me to fight. Helped me to be strong. I wouldn’t be here to see this without you.’

  The dryad smiled for the first time Trix could remember. ‘Do not thank me, Gwyrlaeth. Thank the Arnums. And you are most welcome. It is an honour to count you among our ranks again. Farewell.’

  Raeyeleth walked back to Aefonryr proper. Trix was left alone under the trees. Fairies flying in the breeze. She knelt on one knee before the trees which marked her parent’s final resting places. Trix had never believed that the dead stayed where they were, bound to their corpses forever. Save for instances with monsters, of course.

  That being said, Trix drew her sword. Planted it in the ground, taking care not to impale any flowers. Slowing her heart, bowing her head, she listened.

  Felix and Susan, whether imitated by the Arnums or speaking beyond some veil, through some corridors, or from Trix’s memories, spoke.

  Their words were only for Trix. No one else.

  And they were beautifu
l.

  7

  Dusk was preparing for its big reveal when Trix of Zilvia emerged from Xifaw again.

  The weather was unusually cold. Trix put her scarf around her face. Began walking back to the cabin. Valentine had probably spent the day writing. Serena had likely been exploring Blor’daeyn, maybe Agius too.

  Trix paused in the Elemental Crossroads’ centre when she reached them. She had only lived in her childhood home for one day, but already her feet were restless. Her hand begged to engage the Fox’s hyperdrive, blasting into the stars once more. She didn’t know where she would go. She never did. But she would end up where she was needed. Bounty hunters be damned.

  Of all the talk about homes, of the Fox, Mair Ultima, and Zilvia, a machina’s first home was the stars.

  And they were calling again.

  Marked shall the end be, by the Child of the Blessed Blood, they of this prophecy. It shall start when such child ascends the throne. That moment will be the end of all that is known. They will choose to herald doom or champion accord, vast and endless shall be their horde, yet their enemies will be greater still. To what will the child pledge their allegiance? And to who?

  Salvation and the end of times, the child shall hold both within their eyes. Glass will shatter. Stars will fall. This has happened long before. Hordes will come that block the sun and turn their beams to black. The Child of the Blessed Blood will have to make a choice. And there will be no turning back.

  Great power will the child possess, an ancient gift from her noblesse. Every day it will grow. Feared by friends, more by foes. Either allegiance shall result in woes. One side will the child lead while th’other begs, th’other pleads. Choose Darkness or choose Light? Either choice there will be a fight. Thus begins the final plight.

  Excerpt from Siella Firriel’s 19th and final prophecy, posthumously titled: The Ultimate Destiny. Translated from ancient zirean by Altayr Van Eldric, The Red.

  Written over 50 days

  Brisbane, Queensland, Australia

  Please enjoy this sneak preview of the prologue from Only Gods Forgive: A Machina Novel Starring Beatrix Westwood by Aleks Canard. Slated for release in the first half of 2020.