The Borderkind v-2

by Christopher Golden

  “I can think of three reasons,” Blue Jay said.

  Frost raised an eyebrow, icy mist steaming from his eyes. He said nothing, only continued walking along with his companions, blocking out the sounds of the crowd to listen to the trickster speak.

  “First, their master has been moving in secret all of this time, acting without the knowledge of his king or the support of the people, on some kind of personal vendetta against the Borderkind. The people don’t like that sort of lying, bullshit politics. If the Hunters tried to attack us here, it’d be wholesale slaughter. Lots of people would die. That would make it even worse. See, if Ty’Lis is behind all of this, you’re talking a major diplomatic incident here. Atlantis is neutral, remember? They brokered the truce that created the Two Kingdoms. People might blame Atlantis. Worse yet, they might blame King Mahacuhta, and kings tend to frown on their advisors doing things without permission that could cause their subjects to rise up in anger.

  “Second, Mahacuhta may have just killed the bastard already and saved us the trouble. Even if we assume he’s been blind and deaf to all that has transpired, kept in the dark by Ty’Lis and his other advisors, by now he’s likely to have heard what the Hunters have been up to. If he’s traced it back to Ty’Lis…well, you see where that’s going. Also, Ty’Lis might have just run off. The pricks who do this sort of thing, secret genocide orders, conspiracies, that sort of thing…they’re cowards. They’re far more likely to run than to fight.”

  Up ahead, the road narrowed. They had been curving southwest, the palace to their right. There were shops and homes on either side now, but for the most part the whitewashed stone and the gas lamps looked exactly the same as any other part of the city. A butcher’s and a small bookshop jutted a bit onto the road and after that it was as though the walls were closing in. In this more residential street, dwarf trees grew in front of the buildings and the windows were mostly dark.

  The small army that had gathered around them had to stretch out into a thinner line, only four or five across, to walk this way. Up ahead, the jaguar-men who had been the scouts and guides and vanguard of their march paused and sniffed the air.

  They turned north along an alley.

  Frost frowned, the ice around his eyes cracking.

  How many times would the labyrinth of the city’s design turn them away from the direct approach? He could long since have spun himself into a frozen wind, a tiny storm, and gusted toward the palace to find Ty’Lis on his own. That had, in fact, been his plan all along, until they had been met with such a formidable welcome. He’d intended to leave Blue Jay and the others behind to fight whatever enemy tried to block their way, and go up to the palace to face Ty’Lis alone. It would have been best for everyone.

  Now the winter man worried that altering his plan might have been an error. The music and the laughter and the spectators had been left behind. Faces watched from windows, but only a few.

  “And?” Grin said, staring at Blue Jay. The boggart ambled down the road, long arms nearly dragging on the ground. He seemed entirely caught up in the conversation, and Frost wished he would pay more attention to their surroundings.

  Blue Jay paused to touch a damp spot on the road, but then walked on before anyone could collide with him from behind, and before they could lose sight of the jaguar-men as the great cats followed the ever-narrowing alley further northward.

  “And what?” the trickster asked, glancing at Frost.

  They exchanged a silent but anxious look. The winter man glanced back at Cheval and Li. Cheval Bayard strode along, her silver hair gleaming in the starlight. Several of the Lost Ones walked with her, talking to her quietly, perhaps comforting her. But Li was alone, ignoring the pair of strange vampire serpents that slithered at his side. Much of his clothing had burned away and all over his smooth, ash-gray flesh were large patches of scorched skin, glittering embers. Fully two-thirds of his body seemed to have turned to cinder now, blue-white flames flickering along the surface of his skin. It crackled and flared.

  Without the tiger, the Guardian could no longer properly contain the fire within. Even though its strength was diminished, it was consuming him. In time, he would be entirely sculpted of burning embers. What might happen then, Frost did not care to guess.

  Li glanced around unhappily, obviously just as concerned about their surroundings as Frost and Blue Jay.

  “Three,” Grin said, tapping Blue Jay on the shoulder. “You said there was three reasons you could think of why no one’s tried to stop us getting to the palace. What’s the third?”

  Blue Jay moved with a strange grace, there in the narrowing alley, following the jaguar-men. He stepped from side to side, a dark blue blur beneath his arms.

  “Hello? What’s the matter?” Grin said, noticing at last that they were troubled.

  “The third possibility,” Frost said, answering for Blue Jay. “It may be that there are no Hunters and no soldiers trying to stop us or attack us because those are their orders. Our arrival may all be a part of the plan.”

  “Oi, come on, mate,” Grin said, turning to the winter man. “You think this is a trap?”

  Blue Jay laughed softly, his eyes wild with mischief. “We’ll know soon enough.”

  They followed the jaguar-men until the alley twisted back upon itself once more and they were moving due south, then east, parallel to the center of Palenque again. The alley became so narrow that it was difficult for two of them to walk abreast.

  All conversation had ceased. Frost wondered how far back their coterie of Lost Ones and southern Borderkind snaked through the alleys of Palenque, and how vulnerable they all were now.

  Then the jaguar-men led them, at last, to a broader avenue. When they stepped out onto the street, they had returned to a city buzzing with nightlife and music. Glasses clinked and laughter came from a nearby bar.

  At the far end of the avenue, tall street lamps burned amidst rows of ironwood trees, all of which led to twin sets of high stairs, like those at the pyramid they had passed earlier. At the top of each set of stairs were massive doors, tall enough for gods and monsters.

  Mahacuhta’s palace.

  Frost hesitated. Perhaps it was not a trap after all. Or perhaps the trap lay within.

  Now the Lost Ones and Borderkind who had joined with him gathered around, all eyes upon him, waiting. The winter man did not hesitate. He started down the avenue toward the palace stairs with Blue Jay and Grin on either side. As they approached, Li and Cheval joined them so that all five of the Borderkind who had survived the journey south walked together. Others gathered ahead of them and behind, but seemed to keep away from those five out of respect or, perhaps, fear.

  As they neared the palace Frost could make out a dozen guards near the top of each staircase, armed with spears and swords. The sentries stood entirely still, but he was not fool enough to think they were there merely for decoration.

  “What is that?” Li asked. The Guardian of Fire raised his ember hands, flame dancing on his fingers. His eyes were tiny infernos.

  “What do you see?” Cheval asked.

  “Beneath the ironwood trees,” Blue Jay said. “I see them now. What are they?”

  Frost glanced around at the crowd with him, wondering at the best path for them to take cover should an attack come now, wondering how many would die in the process. But then he saw what had caught the attention of his comrades. Near the bottom of the right-hand staircase, outside the dome of light shed by the nearest gas lamp, amidst the trees, three figures stood entirely still as though they were iron-woods themselves.

  Leicester Grindylow laughed happily. “Well, they’re friends, aren’t they, mates? Friends.”

  The winter man nodded. “Indeed.”

  The trio of thin, cloaked figures beneath the ironwood trees floated just a bit above the ground, and as the jaguar-men approached they stepped out into the corona of gaslight at the base of the palace steps, the high tower of the king of Yucatazca rising up into the night sky abov
e.

  They were Mazikeen.

  Cheval quickened her pace. “He called his brothers after all.”

  The winter man flowed forward, all of his former doubts dispelled. The Mazikeen would keep to themselves as always and so he did not bother to stop and welcome them or thank them, he simply kept going, past the Mazikeen sorcerers, past the jaguar-men, up the stairs toward the palace doors.

  A huge cry and furor rose behind him as Borderkind and Lost Ones alike rushed upward in his wake. Frost reached the top of the stairs before any of the others, and as they began to catch up and gather around him, the guards blocked the doors, drawing their swords.

  “Turn back, or face the wrath of the king’s guard!” shouted one of the sentries.

  Frost darted at him, tempted to drive sharp ice fingers through his brain. But this man was not the enemy. He was merely an obstacle. He knocked the guard’s sword aside and snatched the man up by the throat, searing his flesh with cold.

  “I am Frost of the Borderkind, and on behalf of all my kin, I have come to see the king.”

  CHAPTER 20

  T he cold mountain winds blew across the cradle formed by the meeting of those three high peaks. As the sand skittered across the grass and across the bones of Detective Halliwell, it began to snow.

  Kitsune raised her hood and from its shadow peered out at the activity around her. The Sandman’s pagoda castle-so reminiscent of the styles of old Japan, from which her own legend hailed-remained standing. The doors had been torn away. She kept close to the castle, kept still, and simply watched.

  Oliver and his sister celebrated their reunion. He fussed over her, making certain she was not badly injured. The captain of the soldiers had turned out to be Damia Beck, the new advisor to King Hunyadi. After attempting to murder Oliver and Kitsune, the Atlantean advisor to the king of Euphrasia had been removed and executed.

  Captain Beck gave Collette Bascombe a change of clothes and her own cloak, so that after a few moments out of sight she had emerged clothed in a dark, heavy tunic and too-long trousers and a black cloak with the crest of Hunyadi upon it. When Collette returned, she thanked Captain Beck profusely, thanked all of Hunyadi’s soldiers who had ridden with Julianna and the late detective Halliwell to aid her.

  Over the course of these long minutes-slices of eternity-Kitsune had been forced to witness a second reunion. With Collette seen to, Oliver had turned his attentions to Julianna, who though only human was far more beautiful than Kitsune had imagined. Her long auburn hair gleamed darkly in the celestial light. Tall and slender, she had a formidable air about her.

  Kitsune could have killed her in seconds, torn out her throat and had Julianna’s blood dripping down her chin before any of them could react. She was only human, after all.

  But, hidden within her fur cloak, she only watched as Oliver and Julianna held one another close and cooed apologies and promises. Her ears were keen, and she heard most of what they said to one another, heard Oliver’s regret and the passionate crack in his voice as he rasped his love to her.

  At long last the Bascombes-the Legend-Born-and Julianna said their good-byes to Captain Beck and her soldiers and came back to the massive open doors of the sand castle, where the wind whistled in the vast dark hollow of the place.

  “You said we can pass through the Sandman’s castle here and come out in any of his other castles, right?” Oliver asked.

  His eyes were alight with new passion and hope and courage.

  Kitsune bared her sharp little teeth. “That’s right.”

  Oliver looked at his sister and his fiancee, and they nodded their consent before he turned to Kitsune again.

  “Then we ought to be going to Yucatazca now, don’t you think? Whatever lies Frost may or may not have told, I still believe he is my friend, that he’s trying to do his best. And he kept his vow to me, to find Professor Koenig. It’s time for me to keep my vow. Captain Beck and her soldiers can’t come with us. The treaty between the Two Kingdoms forbids it. But whatever help we can be to the Borderkind, we’re going to stand with them.”

  Kitsune stared at him, eyes narrowed. She smiled, and wondered if he even saw the edge to it. “And while you are in Palenque, if you and Collette can earn a pardon from the king, all the better.”

  “True enough.”

  But a look of dark and painful regret passed between Oliver and Julianna then. Collette, looking on, glanced away as though crestfallen.

  Kitsune understood. Even if Oliver and Collette could earn the pardon they sought, and were able to travel back to their own world without fear of persecution from beyond the Veil, Julianna would have to remain behind. Unlike the Bascombes, she had not been carried here by a Borderkind. She had touched the Veil.

  Julianna would be trapped here forever, one of the Lost Ones.

  What would Oliver do now?

  The irony was cruel.

  Kitsune had the cunning heart of a fox and the mischievous soul of a trickster. Love had touched her for the first time in centuries and now it had curdled into bitterness. She had always hoped and believed that Oliver would come to love her, in time, but Julianna’s arrival had ruined any chance of that. Her heart felt dark and heavy now. She saw Julianna’s misery and Oliver’s pain, and she relished it.

  “Let’s go, then,” the fox-woman said. “Frost and the others need our help.”

  They all spared a final glance and a wave at Captain Beck and her soldiers, who had mounted their horses and gathered now by the castle doors to see them off. Then Kitsune led the way back into the howling shadows of the Sandcastle, into the darkness, shielding her eyes from the windblown grit, nursing her bitterness at the truth that she had learned.

  For she understood now that Oliver could never have been hers, no matter what he may have allowed her to think.

  He had hurt the woman in her, quite deeply.

  But it was the fox in her that now wished very much to hurt him back.

  For a moment, Blue Jay allowed himself to think that it was all going to go smoothly, that Ty’Lis was not prepared for their arrival. Lost Ones and Yucatazcan Borderkind surrounded the palace in the circle at the center of Palenque. In the flickering gas and electric lights they were a sea of curious and angry faces. When Frost gripped the sentry by the throat at the top of the stairs, they were all with him.

  The other guards attempted to intervene, but Li snapped at them and sketched a line through the air. Where his hand passed, the air itself lit on fire, a streak of flame suspended above the ground. He held one hand at his side and fire spilled from his palm, forming itself into the shape of an enormous tiger. He staggered with the effort, no longer the legend he had once been. The blazing tiger-thing opened its maw and a gout of flame roared out.

  The guards kept still.

  Frost released the guard he’d throttled. The man reached up to touch the frozen flesh of his throat where the winter man had clutched him.

  “Let them pass,” he rasped.

  The three Mazikeen were arranged around Frost as though they were his honor guard and several of the sentries stared at them and whispered to one another. One in particular, an imposing soldier whose face was scarred from a lifetime’s survival in battles that had claimed others, watched the Mazikeen with cold eyes.

  “You must be announced,” the scarred sentry said, and it was clear from his tone that he would not be so easily intimidated.

  Cheval Bayard threw back her silver hair. “Then announce us.”

  The grim, scarred man nodded, took one last long look at Frost and the Mazikeen, and then turned to hurry into the palace. The two massive doors had been built large enough for gods and giants to enter the palace, but given the rarity of such occasions-and that the king was a god in name only-there was a pair of smaller doors set into the larger. The scarred sentry disappeared through one of those and it slammed shut behind him.

  Cheval seemed pleased with herself, but she had a reckless air about her, as though she no longer cared what
fate held for them all. Perhaps, with Chorti dead, that was the truth.

  Beside her, and several steps below Frost, Grin smiled. Soon, his expression seemed to say, they would have their answers. They weren’t alone now. Instead they were surrounded by others demanding the same answers, demanding justice.

  Blue Jay remained several steps below the others, watching the crowd, watching the skies, watching the palace itself.

  This did not feel right.

  Only a fool would have allowed himself to think it would be this simple. He cursed his own momentary lapse.

  “Frost,” Blue Jay said, moving up the steps past Cheval and Grin, pushing between two of the Mazikeen. The eyes of the sentries watched him carefully. “This isn’t going to be-”

  The winter man looked at him with a weary, knowing gaze. Too easy.

  People began to shout at the foot of the stairs. A woman screamed. Blue Jay spun. A sentry reached for him and with a single, solid kick he sent the man tumbling off of the stairs, turning end over end until he struck the cobblestoned street far below.

  Soldiers flooded into the plaza around the palace, streaming out of buildings on the main thoroughfare and from every alley. Doors in the base of the palace banged open and hundreds of armed men erupted from the bowels of the massive structure.

  “Bloody Hell!” Grin shouted.

  The boggart grabbed hold of the nearest sentry, twisted, and hurled the man down the stairs, even as some of their allies raced up after them.

  A light, damp snow whistled and eddied around those who had gathered at the top of the palace steps. The winter man ran at the huge doors, sliding through the air, driven by an arctic breeze. A guard grabbed at him and Frost chopped the edge of his hand down-honed to a razor blade-and sheared the man’s arm off at the biceps.

  Screams and jets of blood gouted as the sentry staggered back. Cheval grabbed the nearest sentry and drew him to her, mouth tight over his. He struggled and kicked as she lifted him off the ground. When she dropped him, his head tilted to one side and water spilled from his gaping lips. She had drowned him with a kiss.