The Borderkind

CHAPTER 14

H alliwell retreated deep within himself. It felt to him as though he operated his limbs from a great distance. Even looking out through his own eyes, everything seemed far away. And down in that place deep inside, he nursed a growing hatred of Oliver Bascombe. More and more he had become convinced Oliver was a victim, just as he and Julianna were, but that no longer mattered. He had simply grown tired of following the man, of chasing this phantom who bumbled on ahead of them through a world of impossibilities, and upon whom they had hung all of their hope.

There it is, Halliwell thought. That’s why you hate him…because you need him, and you know damn well he doesn’t have a magic wand. No ruby slippers here, Teddy. No way to click your heels and go home.

He thought the world of Julianna, but with every passing moment he drew further away from her. The distance helped. If he let himself be charmed by her wit and intelligence and sincerity, it became difficult to hate Oliver. Yet much of his bitterness was on her behalf. Julianna believed that once they found her fiance, everything would be all right. Somehow, they would get home.

The truth left a black streak across his heart. There were no ruby slippers. Halliwell wanted so desperately to believe they would get home, and this world bristled with magic, so perhaps it was possible. But following Oliver around the Two Kingdoms seemed bound to get them killed.

Not that they had any other option. And even if they had, the time to divert from this path had long since passed. They were committed now.

All three of them-Halliwell, Julianna, and the girl, Kara-had been locked into a single large room. It had been well appointed, with soft, comfortable chairs, a balcony too high to leap from, and a pair of sofas. Halliwell had rested a bit, but had been unable to fall asleep. How could he shut down his thoughts, quiet his fears? Eyes open, he could only lie there and think of never seeing Sara again. The more he tried to push thoughts of his daughter from his mind, the more impossible that became.

Julianna and Ngworekara had gone out on the balcony for a time, then the girl had stayed out there while Julianna came in, curled up in a chair, and instantly fell asleep.

She woke with the metal clank of the lock turning. The door had swung open and Captain Beck had entered, leaving a quartet of guards in the hall. All of which had led them to the here and now.

Kara led the way, flanked by two grimly silent soldiers who seemed immune to the girl’s mercurial charm. Julianna and Halliwell followed side by side, with Beck and the other two guards behind them. The captain kept right on Halliwell’s heels and he felt her presence keenly. In all his life, he had never encountered a woman so beautiful and so deadly. Captain Damia Beck looked as though she’d been carved out of ebony and she moved with utter confidence, but he had no doubt she would kill him without blinking if the order came.

“He’s been here,” Julianna whispered.

Beck cleared her throat, perhaps coincidentally, but Halliwell felt sure it was an admonition. He ignored her, glancing at Julianna.

“How can you be sure?”

She smiled softly and arched an eyebrow. “Aside from the way we’re being treated? I just feel it. I know him, Ted. Have known him, in fact, most of my life. He’s been here.”

Julianna said nothing more. They followed Kara and the two guards around a corner, down a long set of stone stairs that gently curved to the right, and arrived at a pair of wood and iron doors that looked like they could withstand just about anything.

A diminutive soldier, a woman with olive skin and dark eyes, stood at attention at the sight of Captain Beck.

“His Highness, King Hunyadi, awaits,” the small soldier said. Then she grabbed hold of the door handle and swung it open with strength that belied her size.

They were ushered into a long, narrow room extensively decorated in an oceanic theme, with art depicting nautical scenes and marine life. A great many candles were arrayed around the room, but they remained unlit. The light from the lamps and torches on the walls cast the room in an eerie, pulsing glow. Fully two dozen soldiers were already inside the room when they arrived, lined up at attention on either side of a raised dais at the far end of the room, beneath a massive stained glass depiction of Neptune or Poseidon.

On the dais was a chair. But the king wasn’t sitting.

At least, Halliwell assumed the guy was the king. He stood with his arms crossed as though he had been awaiting their arrival with impatience. With his thick beard and graying hair, he could have been the father to the Viking soldier they’d met at the castle gate.

Kara, Julianna, and Halliwell were halted by their escort. Captain Beck strode forward and bowed with a flourish.

“Your Highness, may I present-”

King Hunyadi leaned on the back of his high chair and studied them. “I know who they are, Captain.” The king stared at Kara a moment, then looked at Julianna and Halliwell in turn. “The question is, do they?”

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but what the hell does that mean?”

Halliwell blinked and turned to stare at Julianna. Whatever distance he had cultivated evaporated in that moment. The way she looked at the king, it amazed Halliwell that she was not executed on the spot.

Instead, Hunyadi smiled and shook his head. “Ah, Miss Whitney. I can see why Bascombe wants to marry you.”

Julianna gave a tiny gasp and Halliwell was sure he saw her shudder at this confirmation that Oliver was alive. Whatever she might have believed, this was the first real indication she had that her faith was well founded.

“Then he’s been here?”

The king nodded thoughtfully. He came around his chair and sat down, then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. With that gesture, he seemed like such an ordinary man that Halliwell found himself instinctively trusting him. The whole atmosphere in the castle was a comfort to him, given the circumstances. Some of the animalistic panic that churned in him retreated, and he took a steady, even breath.

Twillig’s Gorge had been chaos. But this…there was order here. He was a former military man and a police detective. He could understand hierarchy. It calmed him.

“Your Highness, if I may-” Kara began.

Hunyadi’s gaze turned dark. “No. You may not.”

The king ignored her then, studying Julianna and Halliwell. Several times, he seemed about to speak-so that when at last he did, it was obvious he had come to some decision.

“Detective Halliwell, what are your intentions toward Bascombe?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What will you do when you catch him?”

Halliwell shrugged, hoping that neither his dark thoughts nor his desperation would show in his expression. “I don’t know. We’re going to help him get his sister, Collette, back. After that…”

Julianna stared at him. Ted looked away.

King Hunyadi’s gaze commanded his attention. “You are aware, I’m sure, that there is no way for you to return to your own world?”

“We’re aware,” Julianna said.

“That’s what we’re told, at any rate,” Halliwell countered. Whatever calm he’d felt moments before had been burned away by the king’s words. Hunyadi was the ruler of this nation. If there was any way back, surely he ought to know. But Halliwell set his jaw and glared, still refusing to surrender to the consistency of this assertion.

He could not.

The king nodded slowly, studying him. “One day, my friend, you will have no choice but to accept the truth of it. When the day comes, perhaps we can speak again. A man with your training could be of great use to me. But that is the future. Let us discuss the present.”

He smiled at Julianna. “By now you’ve realized that your Oliver was, indeed, here at Otranto. He travels with a Borderkind called Kitsune. When they left my presence, both were still alive. I presume they remain that way and make their way even now toward the Sandman’s castle in hopes of destroying the fiend and retrieving Oliver’s sister from her captivity there.

“However, their visit here was not without incident. Beneath my very nose they were attacked by the Hunters. They survived only because Kitsune was swift enough to take Oliver across the border between worlds. They went through the Veil.”

Halliwell felt ice form in his gut. “They’re back in the world?”

King Hunyadi nodded. “Oliver is not restricted the way you are. He is an Intruder. But he has asked for a boon-a year to prove himself worthy of my trust-and I have granted it. Already, I believe he may earn that trust. The tale he told of a conspiracy against the Borderkind, and the threat presented by Ty’Lis of Atlantis, was proven by the assault upon him and his companion in this very chamber. Captain Beck has graciously accepted the position of advisor after I was forced to…eliminate the Atlantean presence in my own court.”

Halliwell frowned. Kara had begun to fidget like an even younger child where she stood at the foot of the dais, between the two guards who had escorted her in. She huffed and crossed her arms in petulant boredom.

The king either did not notice, or chose to ignore her.

“My agents had brought me tales of the travails of the Borderkind, but I confess I had only begun to realize the extent of the conspiracy and certainly had no idea what powers might lie behind it. I am indebted to Mister Bascombe for enlightening me. And now that you are here, I shall repay that debt.”

Kara twirled her hair in her fingers. “Really, Your Majesty, that isn’t necessary,” she said.

Hunyadi pinned her with a glare. “Oh, but it is. Entirely necessary. I repay my debts.”

Again he looked at Halliwell, then sat back in his seat, elbows on armrests, fingers steepled before him. His gaze shifted to Julianna.

“You will sleep here tonight. I will provide you with horses. At dawn, you’ll leave in the company of a dozen of my soldiers. They will ride with you to the Sandman’s castle either to aid Oliver or to learn his fate. Captain Beck herself will lead them.”

The relief and gratitude on Julianna’s face was contagious. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Halliwell took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “We’re grateful, but with the lead Oliver already has, would it be…” He’d been about to say wise, but thought better of it. “Wouldn’t it be better to leave right away?”

King Hunyadi glanced at him. “Of course. But Kitsune has taken him through the Veil. There is no way to overtake them. Your only hope is to reach Oliver’s destination before he gets there himself. As he explained it to me, they plan to recruit a powerful ally before continuing on. That effort should divert them at least for the night, if not longer. And let us be honest with one another, Mister Halliwell. Neither you nor Miss Whitney is in any condition to continue on your journey without rest.”

It was Halliwell’s nature to argue with such a statement, even if it had come from Sheriff Norris. The panic rose up in protest, anguished and desperate, making his whole body tense with the need to shout and move, to continue the search for an answer. But this man was the king of the country they found themselves in. And he was right.

“We appreciate your generosity,” Halliwell said.

The king remained grim as he studied them. In front of Halliwell, Kara shifted impatiently.

“Excellent. Then only one thing remains,” Hunyadi said, and he nodded once toward Captain Beck, whose own expression was equally grim, the lamplight playing across her ebon features.

Beck reached into the shadows of her cloak and drew out her twin silver pistols. Halliwell shouted and reached for Julianna, putting himself between her and those guns.

He need not have worried.

Captain Beck leveled both pistols and began firing. The first bullet struck Kara in the back, even as the girl tried to turn. The pretty little girl contorted, still on her feet, as the bullets tore into her, spraying blood across the floor. She would have fallen sooner, but the impact of each bullet drove her back another step and kept her from collapsing.

Julianna shouted and tried to pull away from Halliwell, to run to Kara, but he grabbed hold of her and would not let her move, afraid that the next shots might be for them.

Instead, Julianna collapsed into him and he held her. Together, in the fading echo of the bullets, they watched the little girl fall to the ground with a wet thump. Blood pooled, and tongues of smoke licked from the barrels of Captain Beck’s guns.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you people?” Halliwell roared, his mind trying to deny what he had just seen.

Captain Beck turned her guns on him, her eyes emotionless. For the first time he noticed a thin scar above her right eye, the only blemish on her perfect face.

“The Hunters who are murdering Borderkind are also searching for Oliver Bascombe,” the king said, stroking his beard calmly, eyes locked on Halliwell. “They are not above subterfuge. Ngworekara had her own purpose in guiding you. In her land, she was queen of demons.”

Halliwell blinked. Demons?

“She was a little girl!” Julianna screamed, pulling away from Halliwell and stalking toward the dais. Captain Beck got in the way and Julianna stopped, but still she stared at Hunyadi in disgust.

“No,” said the king. “She was not.”

In confusion, Halliwell stepped forward. Even as he reached for Julianna to pull her back, they both looked down at the bleeding corpse of the little girl who had guided them this far.

Her skin no longer looked human. And her face…Tusks thrust from her mouth and an elephantine trunk hung down where her nose and mouth had been. Short, bristly hair stubbled her skull.

“Oh, hell,” Halliwell whispered.

Julianna clapped a hand over her mouth and turned away.

The Borderkind forged their way through the rain forest, the air thick and close, so dense it seemed more akin to striding along the ocean bottom than crossing terrain above sea level. Coils of moss hung down from branches, and in the heat and humidity and the lightly falling rain, the whole forest churned with the rich smell of vegetation, of life. Through the canopy of treetops above, the late morning sky was a blue-white haze.

The winter man led them, moving through the brush swiftly, but heavily. He did not belong in Yucatazca. The heat and humidity wore not only at his spirit but at his physical self as well. It eroded him. The weather could not destroy him, of course; winter itself comprised his core. But here in the rain forest, his form became leaner and sharper, until he stalked mantislike through the trees, freezing the moisture on the leaves he brushed against.

The climate put him in the foulest of moods.

Blue Jay hung back, lingering at the end of their little parade, watching the rain forest for sign of some threat. The others were strung in a line between them: Cheval Bayard and Chorti, Li and the Mazikeen.

Despite his heavy robe, the Mazikeen seemed to drift ghostlike through the heat and dampness. A sense of doomed resignation enveloped him. Frost wondered if this was grief for his lost kin, or some deeper sense of impending catastrophe.

They would never reach Palenque, the capital, without coming under attack. Difficult to accept, but there it was. There were simply too many of them to avoid detection. When he had begun to formulate his plan, he’d envisioned a small army of Borderkind, never imagining that so many would have been murdered or fled before he could repay his debt to Oliver and discover the identity of their enemy. A small army would have been useful. But with every mile they traveled into Yucatazca, Frost became more and more convinced that it had been a mistake to set out with half a dozen allies. Without the strength of a larger force, he’d have been better off alone, slipping into Palenque as a silent assassin, a cold breeze that slit the throat of Ty’Lis.

But there was nothing to be done about it now. They were allies, and committed. The winter man was determined they would make an attempt at stealth, but he felt certain it would fail. The seven of them tromping through the rain forest-they could hardly fail to attract attention.

With a low growl that seemed to vibrate the ground, Li’s tiger padded past Frost. On his back, Li turned toward the winter man.

“Do you see it?” asked the Guardian of Fire.

Ahead, above the canopy, hazed in damp air and roiling heat, thrust the pinnacle of a pyramid. Unlike the Egyptian sort, the structure had a broad, flat top, upon which was built a small square temple. Wide stairwells-fifty feet across-led up the outer walls, steps to allow the high priests to climb to the sky, to be nearer the gods.

Frost had been so lost in thought that he had not, in fact, noticed. Perhaps a dozen large, red-winged birds soared above the pyramid, circling lazily. It was difficult to see from this distance how large the clearing around the pyramid might be, but if there was a temple, he knew there was likely a village, and if a village, likely there was water. Despite the level terrain, Frost suspected a river or at least a stream.

He turned to regard the others as they gathered around.

“It’s half a day to Palenque from here, if the Mazikeen is correct. I do not know how long we can remain undiscovered, but it seems wise to go around any settlements. We’ll move east, keep forest between us and whatever people worship at that temple. From here, it’s going to-”

The growl of the tiger alerted him first. The winter man glanced at the animal. Upon its back, Li narrowed his eyes and the fire that flickered there burned higher as he glanced around, studying the forest. Rain hissed into steam where it struck Li.

Chorti grunted and began to turn in a circle, slowly, also searching for the source of whatever it was that had unsettled him. He edged protectively closer to Cheval.

“What’s this, then?” Grin mumbled low, almost to himself.

Frost looked past them all, at Blue Jay. The trickster closed his eyes and tilted his head back, listening to the patter of the rain and whatever other sounds were in the forest.

“Jay?” Frost said.

The trickster shrugged. “Not sure. Something, though. Something dark.”

“What do you say, sorcerer?” Frost asked the Mazikeen.

The hooded man reached up and tugged the iron rings in his beard, brow furrowed in thought. “No sorcery. Whatever comes this way is not familiar to me.”

Frost peered into the trees around them. Li rode the tiger into the forest, weaving in and out of trees with stunning quiet, prowling in search of their watcher. The winter man did not wish to wait any longer.

“Let’s move on. We will circle the settlement, as planned. All of you, be wary.”

The Borderkind began to move, continuing southward through the rain forest. The hazy sky seemed far lower suddenly, as though it were slowly collapsing in upon them. The rain fell upon each of them, hissing as it touched Li and the tiger, but merely dappling the others.

Something watched. They had a Mazikeen among them, and creatures with remarkably acute senses. Whatever it was, they ought to have been able to sense it.

Wings fluttered above him, and Frost glanced up to see the small bird dart above his head. Blue Jay felt safer in that form, Frost knew. Cheval moved through the trees as though dancing. Her rain-dampened hair clung to her face and coiled in wet strings upon her shoulders. Chorti stayed close to her, metal teeth bared as though every raindrop posed a threat.

Now it was the Grindylow who hung back. Even as Frost glanced at him, Grin paused and turned slowly, backtracking with his eyes.

A noise had been growing, distant at first but moving closer, a high-pitched flutelike whistle. Frost saw no sign of its source but knew it was only one more reason to continue forward. The alternative was unacceptable.

First, though, they had to get past whatever Grin had seen in the trees. He wanted to see it for himself. The ground around the winter man froze, ice spreading from his feet onto the grass and leaves and the stalks of plants. His eyes narrowed. Again he spun, mist rising from his eyes, and then he saw it ahead of them, standing amidst the trees as though to block their way through the rain forest. At first glance it seemed like a man riding horseback, but it was nothing so mundane.

“Black Devil,” Chorti grunted.

The winter man stared at the centaur-some sort of local legend. It had the body of a stallion, but where its head ought to have been was the upper body of a man. Yet that was only illusion, it was neither one thing nor the other but a third creature that shared elements of both. Its skin was black and smooth and ridged with cords of muscle. Slick with rain, it gleamed in the haze of the Yucatazcan day.

Frost caught scent of its musk.

The whistling noise became louder…moving closer.

“Either it moves,” Cheval said, gliding past him, “or we kill it.”

Li urged his tiger forward, blocking her with its sinewy body. The little man glared at her. “Do you really think it is alone?”

“Ah, bloody Hell!” Grin swore, as if in answer.

As one they all glanced back at him. He ignored them, staring still into the forest they had just traveled through. Two more of the Black Devils were moving out of the trees, hooves noiseless on the wet ground.

The winter man studied the centaur ahead of them, took a step toward it. “We don’t know they’re enemies. Even if they are, they might not be Hunters.”

Blue Jay circled around his head, wings fluttering, and with a blur of color that seemed darker against the rain, transformed once again into the jean-clad trickster. The feathers in his hair lay flat and damp against his head. His eyes were clear and bright with danger.

“Something else is coming.”

The tiger growled. Li shifted anxiously upon its back. The Mazikeen appeared suddenly at the winter man’s side as though he moved between moments.

“They are Minata-Karaia. We must leave the forest.”

Frost heard the whistling. It grew louder still.

The Black Devils moved through the trees in a slowly closing circle, but they were only three. Around the winter man, the rain turned to snow. He was weaker here in the tropical climate, but not entirely without power.

“Get to the pyramid!” he snapped. “Kill anything that gets in your way!”

As one, they turned south. Blue Jay took flight again, diminishing into a bird and darting up through the branches. Li and his tiger bounded into the trees with Grin and Chorti crashing through the forest behind them. Cheval Bayard was all green and silver streaks, shifting in an eyeblink from woman to horse. Frost could have summoned a chill wind to carry him, but he dared not exert himself so much in this weather. Instead he ran, slicing through the forest again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the Black Devils careening through the trees to cut him off. He tensed, dagger fingers hooked, prepared to slaughter the thing if it attacked. But before he could even pause, Cheval was there. The kelpy thundered through the trees, snapping branches before her, and collided with the Black Devil, knocking the centaur off of its feet. Before it could fight back, she began to beat it with the hooves of her forelegs, breaking bones and pulping its skull. The Black Devil screamed, then fell silent.

The winter man kept going, grateful and impressed. He had underestimated Cheval, and vowed not to do it again.

Another bestial cry came, off to his left, and he glanced over to see a Black Devil writhing on the ground, bucking against the earth in obvious agony. Over it stood the Mazikeen, one skeletal hand extended from beneath its robe, the air shimmering between its fingers and the centaur’s flesh.

The last of the Black Devils galloped behind him, its hooves pounding the forest floor, but Frost was not concerned. On its own, a single Black Devil posed no challenge to the Borderkind.

Ahead, in the trees and through the sheen of light rain, he saw Chorti and Grin rumbling through the rain forest like enormous children playing some sort of game. But the whistling sound had grown louder still, and the name the Mazikeen had used, Minata-Karaia, was echoing through the winter man’s head. What were they? The sound was unfamiliar, but if the sorcerer said they had to flee, he knew they must be terrible indeed.

Branches whipped against him, snapping on his frozen form. All around him, snowflakes whipped in a light breeze, the rain no longer reaching him. Frost darted around trees and leaped-flowed-over fallen logs.

Up ahead, he heard Li’s tiger roar.

Something shifted in the forest beside him.

A tree.

But not a tree. He looked up and his eyes widened at the sight of the creature as tall as the tallest tree, fruit hanging from its strange branch-arms, its head a thick wooden knot that jutted up from the trunk of its body. There was a hole in its head, and even as it bent to grab at him, the air rushing through that hole screamed into that terrible whistling noise.

With merely a thought, Frost became the winter storm. There in the rain forest it was little more than a cloud of frigid mist, but as the Minata-Karaia reached its tree-fingers into that cloud, the entire branch froze solid. When the creature moved, that whistle announcing its motion, the branch snapped off.

Frost drifted only a dozen feet before taking form again, a sliver man, narrow ice carved like a stick figure. He could not keep up the storm for long. Now he ran again, but this time his gaze searched the trees above and he saw them moving. The whistling grew louder. The Minata-Karaia came after him through the harmless, unmoving trees.

Li’s tiger roared again, the sound echoing through the rain forest. There came a howl that could only have been Chorti. Then Cheval thundered past, her hooves pounding the ground. Frost would have tried to swing up onto her back, but by then the Mazikeen was beside him as well, not running but rather floating along a few inches above the forest floor.

Together, they burst from the trees out into the vast open plain around the settlement. Small huts and white-washed buildings were clustered on the far side of a narrow river, little more than a stream. On the near side was the pyramid.

The Borderkind charged out across the open ground, leaving the trees behind. Chorti had blood matted on his furry back. The Grindylow rested on his fists like a mountain gorilla and spun to face the others. Li leaped down off of the tiger, spheres of fire bursting from his hands, ready for battle. Blue Jay danced down from the sky, spinning until he was a man again, his boots alighting upon the ground. Cheval reared back, the battle cry erupting from her throat not quite a neigh.

Together, Frost and the Mazikeen turned to look back the way they’d come. The Minata-Karaia shuffled to the edge of the rain forest. Only when they were moving was it obvious they were not trees, but then it was very, very obvious. They were not even tree-men, but giant, narrow creatures with dark, brittle flesh like bark and long, long legs. They were a race of giants perfectly created to camouflage themselves in a jungle or forest, save for that horrid whistling their heads made as they moved.

But they stopped, unwilling to come into the clearing, at least for the moment, and so the whistling stopped as well. They made odd Hunters, these things who would not pursue their prey. Frost saw perhaps fifteen or twenty of them, just standing there watching as though they were the audience at some kind of bizarre Roman forum.

A single Black Devil trotted from the woods, but it was not looking at them. Its gaze was on the sky.

Then Frost knew.

The Minata-Karaia were the audience, but they had also been shepherds, herding them into a real forum, a gladiatorial ring. He turned and looked up at the top of the pyramid where those red-winged birds-blood-winged carrion birds who bathed in the lifeblood of sacrificed prisoners-had begun to land atop the temple roof, also watching, also waiting.

The Borderkind moved nearer together, forming a tight, defensive circle.

“I sense magic,” the Mazikeen said, glancing at Frost with black eyes.

The winter man nodded. “Yes.”

“It seems we did not run fast enough,” Cheval Bayard said, pushing silver hair away from her face.

Blue Jay spread his arms, the blue shimmer of deadly, invisible wings beneath them. “I don’t know about the rest of you,” he said, “but I’m tired of running.”

Leicester Grindylow pounded his fists on the ground. “Too right.”

The tiger roared.

In the air, familiar figures soared and circled, green-feathered wings spread wide, twisted antlers dark scrawls against the hazy sky. The Perytons had arrived.

The Manticore emerged from the temple atop the pyramid and began to prowl down the steps. Jezi-Baba followed. From this distance, they should not have been able to hear her laugh, and yet it rolled across the field of battle like distant, insidious thunder.