by J. F. Penn
Sienna felt a rising buzz in anticipation. It was a rush and she wanted to feel like she was flying again.
She looked down at the map in front of her with the streets of Bath laid out in deliberate ways. She thought of all the maps back in the shop, a way to travel wherever she wanted. How could her father have kept this from her? How could he have wanted her to remain ignorant of this ability?
"I want to do it again." Sienna put her hand on the map, and Mila put her hand on top. Sienna closed her eyes. She thought about the stone interior of the Abbey, the huge blocks that made up the walls of the ancient place of worship. In her mind, she conjured up the sense of space above and beneath her feet, the gravestones of those who died a thousand years ago. Her father would have walked these streets too and traveled above them.
She pictured where the Abbey was, the roads surrounding the river and the canal. She could see the square outside and the ancient Roman Baths, the main shopping area and the little tea rooms where tourists sat eating Bath buns. Maybe her father had sat there too, thinking of her over the years.
But as she mapwalked, it felt different this time. An overwhelming sense of cold stone and death. There was a sense of flying, but this time it was as if she had crossed a shadowy threshold.
"Where are we?" Mila's voice broke through her concentration.
Sienna opened her eyes. The sense of coldness she had felt just a minute ago was real, and she shivered as the chill permeated through her thin top. It looked like a castle dungeon. Great blocks of stone made up the walls and stagnant water trickled down, stinking of sewers and rotting flesh, metallic blood and the stench of suffering.
A scream rang out, echoing through the rooms beyond.
Mila pulled Sienna against the wall, and they huddled, cowering, backs pressed against the stone. "This isn't the Abbey," Mila whispered. "I don't know where we are."
Footsteps padded past in the corridor outside. They stayed huddled against the wall waiting until the steps passed. The agonized scream came again, a sound of agony and torture. Sienna imagined what might be happening down here and her skin goose-bumped in fear.
It fell silent, and that was somehow worse.
Mila stepped away from the wall, her eyes wide as she looked around. "Oh, no." Her hand flew to her mouth.
Sienna gradually realized what hung around them on the walls. The place was hung with maps, but not of paper or vellum. The maps were of flayed human skin with map lines tattooed on them, etched into the flesh. The acrid smell of dried blood permeated the room. Sienna fell to her knees, gagging and coughing.
Mila knelt by her. "You have to be quiet," she whispered. "They might hear us. I don't know exactly where we are, but we're definitely in the Borderlands."
"What are these … things?" Sienna whispered as she gazed in horror at the gallery around them.
"Blood maps." Mila's eyes narrowed. "This is the dark side of your gift. Those with blood magic can create new places by etching maps with blood, and the most powerful method is to carve into human flesh. Each of the Blood Cartographers mark their skin over time, tattooing the places they care about most in order to protect them. Your grandfather, Michael, had The Circus and central Bath on his body. He protected the city with his blood." Mila frowned. "But the maps can be etched onto skin without permission. This is the work of the Shadow Cartographers."
Another scream rang out in the dungeon and Sienna had visions of someone strapped down as a knife carved lines of a map into warm flesh.
She understood now why her father wanted to keep her away from this world. Then a realization came to her. "Surely we can only be here if my father is here too? I was thinking about him as I began to mapwalk and this is where we ended up. What if he's here?" Sienna rose to her feet and went to the door. "I need to go and see."
Mila grabbed her arm, holding her back. "You can't go out there. The other side of being a Blood Cartographer is that your skin and your blood are the most powerful. If they mark you and skin you, they will have your power to remake maps." Mila pointed at the wall. "Do you want your flesh to hang here? Is this what your father would have wanted?"
Sienna sighed and stepped away from the door. Part of her was desperate to go and see whether it was her father screaming down the hall. But it was impossible. She shouldn't even hope that he was alive.
But she had to know for sure. She would go back to Bridget and join the Extreme Cartographic Force.
"We have to get back." Mila walked further into the room. "But before we go, we need to see what they have here."
Sienna looked more closely at one of the skin maps on the wall, her nostrils flaring at the fetid stench. The skin was from a woman, part of her breasts clearly visible, her legs hanging down like some disembodied jumpsuit. The skin had been tattooed with dark lines in black, marking out territory.
Mila leaned closer and then pointed her finger at a whorl-like shape. "This is the symbol for a mine, but it's a new minefield, for minerals or maybe coal or other kind of power generation. It's not a map to change the borders Earth-side. It's creating a new part of the Borderlands." She frowned. "They need power, so they need to mine, and if they can't go back over into Earth-side to get it, then they have to create it here."
Sienna took out her smart phone from her pocket to take some pictures but the screen was black, inert.
Mila looked over. "Technology doesn't work over here. Something about the way they created the border in the first place renders it unusable. Like a safety switch added to tip the balance in favor of Earth-side, I guess."
They walked around the room looking at the other maps tattooed on different shaped bodies. Some were still red and raw with droplets of blood dried in the lines of hills and cities. Some were older, more tanned, like an animal hide. And that is exactly what we are, Sienna thought. Just animals, in the end, our flesh rotted away, our skin merely leather. She shook her head at such a macabre thought.
Mila walked into the shadowed corner of the dungeon. "A five-pointed compass." Mila's voice was weak, her dark skin suddenly paler in the weak dungeon light. "It's only used by Mapwalkers. Each of us has a different compass rose, but all with five points. This one marks one of the last Extreme Cartographic Force, a woman who left with your father."
Sienna thought back to the picture on the wall, the team who were with him when he disappeared. "We have to check the rest of the bodies." Her voice was calm, cold as the air in the dungeon, but her skin prickled in anticipation for what they might find.
Was he hanging here?
They walked around slowly checking each of the hanging skins, but her father's wasn't there. Sienna exhaled sharply, relief flooding through her.
Then she noticed a small wooden door at the end of the dungeon. Sienna walked towards it and pushed it open. It creaked a little and she froze at the noise echoing through the dungeon.
But nobody came.
She walked inside, Mila close behind. A few oil lamps lit the room, casting red light around the walls. They were papered with maps of Earth-side, similar to those Sienna had seen in the library of the Illuminated Cartographer.
There was a huge map of Bath on one wall, with the Abbey in the center. Areas of the city had been stuck through with nails, hammered into the map next to razor slashes cut through streets. Burned houses had matches dug through them, smeared with soot. A small knife had been stuck into the heart of the Ministry, marking the site with blood.
"A fetish map," Mila whispered. "Blood Cartographers can change the shape of the world, but Bath is so well protected that they can't just destroy it and recreate it. But they can use a fetish map to bring pain and destruction to the city."
They looked around at the other maps on the wall. London, Jerusalem, Rome, and in the corner, Aleppo. The ancient city in Syria was littered with fetish marks, whole areas scratched out with razor blades and burnt matches thrust into ancient sites.
"Most of Old Aleppo is already in the Borderlands," Mila said softly.
"Cities that are abandoned by so many, left in ruins, often are. Those who loved it enough to stay are either dead or forgotten and are pushed over into the Borderlands. This is why so many here are traumatized by war and disaster." Mila indicated the maps around them. "These maps are all cities with Ministry headquarters. Ancient places where the border has always been permeable, where it's easier to cross over." She turned back to the fetish map. "Whoever controls this map is planning on releasing hell into the city."
She reached out to pull it from the wall.
As she touched it, shouts rang out. The sound of feet running in their direction. Then another scream from down the hall.
Mila looked at Sienna. "We have to get out of here. There's no watercourse, so I can't do it myself. You have to do it."
They held hands and Sienna closed her eyes, desperately concentrating, trying to bring the image of the canal boat back to her mind. But the sound of screaming echoed through the dungeon, filling her mind with pain. She couldn't seem to lift herself into that three-dimensional world, out of her body, above wherever they were.
Mila pushed the door shut quietly, her eyes wide with fear. "It has to be now, Sienna. We don't have much time."
From outside the room, they heard footsteps enter into the hall of blood maps.
"They're almost here," Mila whispered. "Think of the map shop, think of your grandfather."
8
Heart pounding, Sienna thought of the map shop, the pedestrian street that ran in front of it, the maps whispering inside, their texture on her skin. There was a whisper of breath on her cheek, and the sounds changed as the dungeon faded. Cool stone disappeared, and she opened her eyes to find them both back in the shop.
"That was close." Mila uncurled her hand from Sienna's. "We have to go down to the Ministry and tell Bridget what we saw. And what you can do."
Sienna suddenly felt dizzy and sat down on the chair by her grandfather's desk, her head in her hands. "What can I do?"
"You don't need to have a physical map or know it by heart to mapwalk. I've heard rumors of that kind of magic, but it's incredibly rare."
Sienna looked up at her. "But I don't know how to do it again. It was a fluke, and you realize that we almost got ourselves killed, right."
Mila grinned. "But we're still here. You got us back."
"But not whoever was in that dungeon." The memory of the screams rang around Sienna's mind. "We have to get back there."
Mila raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean you're joining us?"
Sienna met her gaze and nodded. "If there's a chance that my father is alive, I've got to try and find him."
They left the shop and walked down towards The Circus again. The mist still shrouded the trees in the center of the round, but it faded even as they watched. Police stood guard, turning people away, but Mila walked towards them. As she approached, they lifted the tape.
"Afternoon, Miss Wendell," one said with a respectful nod.
"Afternoon, Constable." Mila ducked under the tape and Sienna followed, curious as to what they might find within the mist.
"The Ministry has close links with the local police," Mila explained. "Sometimes they pick up Ferals who make it across, or there are incidents with Borderland creatures. Most of them think we operate some kind of weird zoo."
They approached the perimeter of the mist and stepped through. Bath faded around them, and Sienna felt a sudden sense of expansive space, far bigger than was possible in the tiny circle. It had the same darker vibration that she had felt in the dungeon, the touch of the Borderlands. But it was faint, further away now.
A roar came from deep within the mist.
"What the –?" Sienna's words were cut off as a huge lion padded towards them, its golden mane thick, keen eyes fixed upon them. Its huge powerful shoulders rippled with muscle and the fur around its mouth was stained with blood. It bared its teeth.
Sienna froze.
"Just stay still," Mila whispered.
The lion came closer and sniffed at Sienna's clothes. Then it purred like a big cat and rubbed its head against her, almost knocking her over.
"He likes you." A young man stepped out from behind a tree. His hair was a dark mop of loose curls, and his languid demeanor suggested that he'd just woken up from some debauched party. A few days of stubble highlighted his jawline and full mouth, and his eyes were a bright hazel-green. Mist swirled around him as he walked towards them, his gait confident and in control.
Mila introduced them. "Xander Temple, meet Sienna Farren. Hopefully our newest Mapwalker recruit."
Xander walked closer, his eyes appraising. Then he grinned and reached out his hand to shake hers. "Good to meet you, Sienna. We could use someone new to keep Mila out of trouble."
Mila nudged him in the ribs and they both laughed. Xander bent to kneel on the ground and wrapped his arms around the lion's neck, leaning his head against the soft fur. "This big softie is Asada. We've just been finishing off the last of the Ferals, and the border is now closed again."
He was so close to the powerful blood-stained jaws but there was no fear in Xander's eyes. Sienna noticed flecks of gold there, echoing the creature's golden gaze.
"You walk around Bath with a lion?" she asked.
Xander stood and pulled out a tattered map of the city on a scrap of leather from his pocket. The edges of the map were inked with creatures, a tentacled sea monster and a shark in one corner, a dragon in the opposite, a coiled serpent and then a space in the top right where it looked like something was missing.
"I'm an Illustrator," Xander explained. "On every map, there are decorative cartouches, and the corners of maps often feature monsters, demons and animals. Illustrators have earth magic. We draw creatures, and they live." He petted the lion once more and then placed the map on the ground. Asada stepped onto it, and for a moment, it looked as if his heavy body would tear through. Then he disappeared, and the inked image of a lion appeared in the previously empty corner. Sienna blinked in surprise, but the lion really had gone.
Xander picked up the map and folded it neatly before putting it back in his pocket. "We all have our different gifts." He smiled. "But I have the coolest."
Mila snorted. "You wish."
The mist dissipated around them and the outline of the Georgian buildings appeared through the haze. A ray of sunlight burst through, turning the leaves a brilliant green as a gust of wind made them rustle. The Circus was back to its usual self again.
Sienna's anticipation grew as the three of them walked down the hill back towards the Abbey. In a single day, the direction of her life had changed beyond recognition. By stepping back into the Ministry, by actively choosing to return with Mila and Xander, she was taking it even further – and she was ready for it.
As horrific as that dungeon had been, something had called to her there, something dark within her echoed to the heartbeat of the Borderlands. She craved that feeling again, but she needed backup next time. At least until she learned how to use her Mapwalking skills and could go alone.
They arrived back at the Ministry door, and this time, Sienna felt more at home. With Mila and Xander by her side, she could face Bridget.
They walked down the long corridor towards the War Room. Bridget stood looking at charts while Perry was deep in conversation with one of the other men. Bridget looked up as they entered, a smile dawning on her face.
"I'm glad you came back, Sienna."
Mila explained what they had seen in the dungeon within the Borderlands. Bridget's eyes widened at the five-pointed compass on one of the skins.
"Are you sure that's what it looked like?"
Mila nodded.
"Then it was Jenny, part of your father's team, Sienna. She was an Illustrator."
Xander turned away, cursing under his breath.
"The fetish map you saw is a version of our world twisted into something darker. It is not real yet – but it could be. Was there anything else that might help you get back there?"
&n
bsp; Mila shook her head.
Bridget thought for a moment. "There might be something. Mila, help Perry and Xander prepare for the mission. Sienna, follow me."
They walked together back up the corridor to the wooden door marked Blood Gallery. Bridget stopped outside.
"Blood maps are part of Mapwalker heritage. Each Blood Cartographer tattoos themselves over a lifetime of magic. The tattooing is part ritual, part protecting that which we love." She rolled up the sleeve of her shirt to reveal a tattoo of Dublin, the lines of the port and the River Liffey, marks for the castle and the cathedral. Her eyes softened as she looked at Sienna. "Your grandfather tattooed these for me."
Bridget unlocked the door. "When a Blood Cartographer dies, their skin is kept as a powerful map. It might seem macabre, but the layers of blood and tattoos over generations have kept the border sealed and safe."
She pushed open the door. A cool blast of air rushed out and Sienna's skin goose-bumped in response. Bridget stepped inside. "Follow me."
Like the dungeon, this gallery was hung with skins, but they were displayed with respect here, rather than roughly nailed to the walls. Each was framed with the name of the dead inscribed beneath it, and a portrait or a photo of the Cartographer alongside their five-pointed compass rose. It smelled of tanned leather, of a museum, not of death. But the skins were the same macabre items they had seen in the dungeon.
"This is one of the oldest Blood Galleries," Bridget explained, "although there is one in every major Ministry location around the world. Each Blood Cartographer understands that this is where we will end up. Part of our responsibility is tattooing while we're alive in order to seal the borders with our blood."
Sienna shivered as she looked around at the skins. "So what were the skins we saw in the Borderlands?"
Bridget frowned. "They would have been forcibly tattooed. Jenny was only an Illustrator, her magic wasn't strong, but the Shadow Cartographers could have used her skin to inscribe with blood and pervert what we have done as a sacred rite for generations."
