A Mapwalker Trilogy

by J. F. Penn

  John groaned, and Sienna leaned down to brush his hair from his face. She shuddered to think that he had almost ended up in the Blood Gallery of the Shadow Cartographers.

  The door opened with a creak.

  "Sienna?" Bridget came through the door, followed by one of her clerks. She looked down at the two men on the floor. "John?" She turned to the clerk. "Get the medics down here."

  The man rushed back out, and Bridget came to kneel by her friend. John's blood had dried a little, but he was still a mess of cut and bruised flesh, barely recognizable.

  Bridget put out a hand on his arm, lightly touching the skin between his wounds. "You're home now, my love," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes, then she looked up. "Where are Mila and Xander?"

  Sienna quickly filled Bridget in, and the Irish woman's eyes darkened as she heard of Xander's betrayal.

  "We have to strengthen the borders again and close the Gate." Bridget looked at Sienna. "Are you ready?"

  Three medics burst through the door, two carrying a stretcher. Between them, they rolled John gently onto the support and carried him out, the other man supporting Perry as they headed out to the Ministry hospital.

  Bridget turned to Sienna as the door closed behind them. "John is strong, he should make it through, but he can't help us now. We have to do this together. We are the only Blood Cartographers left now, but we do have the help of one who loved you very much." She walked to a circular wooden table set in the middle of the room.

  Sienna frowned as she approached it, suddenly seeing the new skin mounted there, the edges pegged out so the torso and limbs could be clearly seen. The leather was wrinkled and tanned in parts, but the tattoos were finely drawn, the lines of the ancient city of Bath visible with the Borderlands beyond.

  Then she realized whose skin it was.

  Sienna's hand flew to her mouth. "Grandfather," she whispered. Nausea rushed over her, and she clutched at her throat. "No."

  Bridget put out a hand. "It's what Michael wanted. It's why he inked himself like this. His skin and his blood magic helped define and strengthen the border here. He lived to protect it, and in death, he protects it still. But because Xander left a back door, it needs fresh blood, Sienna. It has to be yours." Bridget hung her head. "My blood magic is weak now, I've used it too much in recent times and the shadow has grown strong in me. I … I feel its dark pull."

  "I felt a glimmer of it in the Borderlands," Sienna said, stepping closer to the table. "It was powerful, like the edge of addiction."

  Bridget nodded. "Yes, and the feeling will grow every time you use your magic. If I use mine now, I'm afraid I won't be strong enough. It will pull me too far into the shadow side, and they will win."

  Bridget picked up the ritual knife from beside the map and held it out. "This was Michael's. Blood Cartographers have used it for generations, and I know he would have wanted you to have it now."

  She held it out towards Sienna.

  The rhythmic thump of drums beat through Finn's chest. The deep notes echoed within him, bringing back memories of joining his father on raids at the edge of the Uncharted where they would gather slaves to sell to the Shadow Cartographers. Slave women he now knew became forced vessels for the Halbrasse, and men they used for sacrifice to the gods of the once dead.

  The warlord's men would drink a special concoction before forming their ranks, downing a sharp alcohol spiked with hallucinogenic plants and flavorful herbs. It gave them an edge in battle, a belief that they were superhuman in strength and power. It made them uncaring of physical pain, separating their rational minds from willing bodies. These were the men who would cross into Earth-side through the gathered mist, a vanguard for the warlord's hand-picked warriors.

  Finn ran down the road towards The Circus as tendrils of mist stretched further out from the great plane trees in the center.

  "Wait," Mila shouted after him. "We need backup."

  "No time," Finn called back. Up ahead, he could see a gathering crowd of tourists and locals, staring with interest at the mist, some with devices they held up to capture images of the strange sight. The wolves were running in the side streets, but here, people were entranced, unheeding of the danger.

  "Move away from the area," a police officer shouted, waving people back as he stood on the edge of the mist.

  Suddenly, a huge axe came out of the grey above him, hacking into the man's shoulder, cleaving his arm away. The officer dropped to his knees as the attacker emerged, face tattooed with the half-moon, teeth bared in a bloody grimace. The crowd backed away in horror and turned to run, tripping over each other, screaming as they tried to escape.

  The Borderlander launched into a flurry of death-dealing blows, wielding the axe in a frenzied, drug-fueled state.

  Finn didn't falter, he ran straight at the axe-man, swinging his sword as he approached from behind. He thrust his weapon into the man's back, angling the sharp blade so it pierced the man's heart, tugging him closer with a neck hold as the murderer died. Then Finn pushed the body forward, pulling his blade out.

  "Run!" he bellowed at the people still there. Those remaining ran or crawled away as Finn picked up the man's fallen axe and turned to face the swirling mist.

  The drums beat faster.

  Mila stood by Finn's side, her hands lifted to the falling rain as she called it to her, twisting the water into tornado whips. The mist parted, and a horde of Borderlanders strode through in filed ranks. These were not the Ferals those on Earth-side talked of, these were the warriors of the warlord of Old Aleppo come to take what was rightfully theirs. They were dressed in the cast-off, mismatched uniforms of dead soldiers, those who slipped through the border, but they walked in unison.

  They were an army.

  In the middle of the men, Finn saw his father. Kosai held up a hand to halt the company. His soldiers stood to attention, eyes fixed forward, disciplined enough not to break ranks when faced with this strange environment.

  "Have you come to welcome me, son?" The warlord walked forward. "Or beg for mercy after you took what was mine?" He looked Mila up and down, lingering on the curves of her body. "Have you brought me tribute?"

  Finn lifted his weapons and took a fighting stance.

  The soldiers either side immediately stepped forward, swords raised, blocking his path to their warlord.

  Kosai laughed and shook his head. "Do you think you can stop this, Finn? It is beyond time that we took Earth-side for our home." He turned around, his arms raised as he looked up at the stunning architecture. "Look at this place. Wouldn't you rather live here than in the ruins of Old Aleppo or in one of their cast-off forgotten cities?"

  "There are people here already," Finn said, his voice controlled.

  Kosai spun round, eyes blazing with anger. "People who will take our place in the Borderlands. People who deserve to suffer for what they have done to those of us pushed out of this earth." His voice softened. "Join me, son. Rule with me in this new world, and help me build a better life for our people."

  Finn thought of the castle and Isabel's death, the way Sienna had helped him, the possibilities for a future where both sides of the border could be better somehow. He sighed. "I know the Mapwalkers on this side will help us. If you would just talk with them, Father, I –"

  "Take them." Kosai's voice cut off Finn's words and the guards either side swarmed in, blocking Finn's blows and taking him swiftly to the ground. Mila spun out a tornado whip, cutting one of the soldiers down but then she too was overcome.

  "I can't trust you, Finn. You've clearly spent too much time with these lying Earth-siders." Kosai nodded to the men. "Hold him."

  Two of the biggest guards forced Finn to his knees. Another pulled his head back, exposing his throat to the warlord.

  "You were my son once," Kosai said, "but now you will be the first sacrifice to Moloch on Earth-side soil for thousands of years, the first of many offered in the days to come as Borderlanders take all of it back."

  "No!" M
ila shouted. The man holding her wrapped an arm around her neck, choking her into silence.

  The warlord smiled. "Don't worry, beautiful. We won't take your head. You're going to the breeding rooms of the Halbrasse." He turned back to Finn. "But this one …"

  Kosai pulled a knife from his belt and stepped closer to his son.

  Sienna looked at the ritual knife in Bridget's outstretched hand. It had an ivory blade bound with a leather strap tied into a series of knots around the end. The border had to be closed, but she couldn't bring herself to touch it.

  She looked down at her grandfather's skin, trying to equate the tanned leather with the living man she once knew. This was the fate her father had tried to keep her from, because he would eventually hang in this gallery … and so would she.

  But if she ran from the Ministry now, she would find a changed city, and the border could be redrawn in other places too.

  Sienna reached out and took the ritual knife. "What do I do?"

  "Your blood knows its power," Bridget said. "Just let it out."

  Sienna cut into her arm, letting ruby drops drip onto her grandfather's skin. Bridget used a fine brush to paint it over the lines of the ancient city, the circle and the half-moon of The Circus and Royal Crescent, down to the Abbey and around the Baths, along the border around the city.

  As her blood sank into the leather, Sienna felt a pulsing as if her heart beat inside the city itself. Screams echoed in her mind as the shadows began to be sucked back inside the border.

  The earth shook, and the warlord stumbled, his knife slicing to one side as he was thrown off balance, hitting one of his own men with a glancing blow.

  "What the –?"

  Finn took his chance and rolled out of the grip of the men holding him, springing to one side, grabbing the blade from one of the soldiers. He turned swiftly, slicing the man's throat.

  Mila ducked under the arm of the man who held her, clawing the rain down into a whip and then spinning it around her, cutting through the soldiers as they looked about in horror.

  A howl came from the shadowed streets, the animal sound of beasts in pain. The soldiers fell from their tight formation as the mist swirled about them, the ground shaking as they began to be sucked back into the vortex of the gate.

  "The border is closing," Mila shouted in triumph. "Sienna must have made it!"

  Finn heard her words and despair shot through him, for it meant that he must go too. He couldn't be on this side when the gate finally shut, or he would dissipate into shadow, and somehow, he had to see Sienna again.

  The soldiers scattered, some going willingly back into the mist. Others tried to run, but tendrils of grey reached out for them, dragging them back into the copse of trees and then through the Shadow Gate.

  The warlord stood, legs akimbo, bracing himself against the moving earth. He looked at Finn. "This isn't over. I'll be waiting for you on the other side."

  He strode back into the mist.

  Bridget looked at Sienna. "The gate must be closed properly, so you need to go back up to The Circus. The Ferals will be swept back through as the border closes and you can use your blood to seal it."

  Finn.

  Sienna thought of the last look they had shared, the things that remained unsaid. She had to get to him.

  "I'll go right now." She picked up the ritual knife and laid her hand on her grandfather's skin. A pulse arced where she touched it and she smiled to think of some part of him wishing her well. She closed her eyes and used the map to travel to The Circus, lifting away in her mind.

  She opened her eyes to find herself in the Georgian circular terrace, but instead of pristine pavements, injured and dying Borderlanders, tourists and police littered the streets. Two wolves tore at one body, ripping chunks of flesh as they worried at it with bloody jaws even as they were sucked back towards the vortex of the mist. The smell of death lingered in the air, and the fetid stench of the Borderlands swirled in the mist around her.

  But it receded even as she watched, slowly swirling back towards the copse of plane trees, circling the gate between them.

  Was she too late?

  Sienna ran into the mist. "Finn!"

  Tears ran down her cheeks as she tore into the grey, clammy air sticking to her skin as she tried to see through the shadows to where he might be.

  The circle of trees emerged, and suddenly she saw him. He stood next to one of the great plane trees, right on the edge of the border. The mist chased at her heels, and she knew that as soon as it disappeared, the border would go too, the gate would close, and he would be sucked into the darkness.

  "Sienna!"

  She ran into his arms, and Finn pulled her close, dipping his head down to meet her lips. They clung to one another, lost in a kiss where borders meant nothing.

  The wind picked up around them. Sienna pulled away. "I'll come to you. I'll find you again."

  Finn took a deep breath and walked towards the shadow gate. As the mist swirled closer, he turned and looked at her, an unspoken promise in his eyes.

  Then he stepped through.

  As the last of the mist dissipated into the air, Sienna drew the knife along her arm once more. With tears running down her cheeks, she used her blood to paint ancient runes on the trees, following the lines her grandfather had carved before her.

  Epilogue

  Two days later.

  Sienna sat at the old desk in the map shop, her grandfather's parchment in front of her portraying the ancient city of Bath. The oversize globe sat next to her, in pride of place at her right hand, a reminder of how borders had shifted over time. The door to the shop was open, and the smell of freshly roasted coffee came from the café over the road. A light breeze whispered across the maps with a rustle.

  The sounds and smells of normality.

  Sienna breathed a sigh of relief. Her father recovered in the Ministry hospital, his back healing from his physical wounds even as he drifted in and out of consciousness, muttering of nightmares. On Bridget's urging, Sienna hadn't told her mother about what had happened or about John being back. That was one conversation she would tackle when her father was ready. If he ever was.

  Perry was back in the chambers of the Ministry, practicing his fire magic with newfound confidence, driving flames into his targets again and again. Sienna knew he saw Xander's face there alongside his father's and she had no doubt that Perry would want to be on the next mission into the Borderlands. Mila had taken her canal boat east, escaping onto the water, Zippy by her side as she recovered in her own way.

  Sienna had no way of knowing what had happened to Finn after the border closed. She could only hope that he had joined the underground Resistance and escaped Old Aleppo, away from the wrath of his father.

  She picked up the fountain pen and began to trace over the lines of central Bath with deep red ink, new drops of her blood mingling with her grandfather's. Each stroke of the pen was a line of power, strengthening the border as she traced the arch of the Royal Crescent, the straight line of Brock Street and the curves of The Circus.

  For now, the border was closed again, and Finn's world was separate from hers. But Sienna was counting the hours until she could go back into the Borderlands again. She remembered the other blood maps in the castle dungeon, the world remade. The Shadow Cartographers had many more plans, and one setback would not stop them.

  Before Bath, Sienna had been drifting through life, unable to see the path ahead. But now she would make her own map and this was only the beginning.

  THE END

  Author's Note for Map of Shadows

  I hope you enjoyed this fantasy as an escapist story, but perhaps you also glimpsed something of the themes beneath as you read. Here's how the idea came into being.

  The antique map shop

  I moved to Bath, England, in 2015 and discovered an antique map shop in a little pedestrianized street between the Royal Crescent and The Circus.

  I walked past it almost every day when I went to the caf
é to write, and one day, I went in and bought some books. It sparked my research around cartography, maps, and the obsession that humans seem to have with finding our physical place in the world.

  Bath can seem perfect at times, with its Roman Baths, medieval Abbey, Georgian architecture and tasteful shops and restaurants. I love living here, but the darker edge of my imagination invented a shadow side to the city, a place just off the edge of the map, and the Borderlands were born.

  You can find more of my thoughts and pictures at www.booksandtravel.page/unusual-bath/

  Borders

  In November 2016, we visited Israel on a research trip for my ARKANE thriller, End of Days.

  Borders are a big deal in Israel, surrounded as it is by nations who want to destroy it, and split internally by occupied territory. When we traveled to the West Bank, through checkpoints that Palestinians couldn't cross, I began to think about what it meant to be born on the other side, to be locked into a certain place, unable to leave, to be left with the land no one wanted.

  As I write this in 2017, borders and walls have become part of the international conversation. Refugees find themselves crossing borders, and perhaps some of them have wandered into the Borderlands, pushed over by those countries who don't welcome them.

  Here in Europe, Brexit fills the news. I voted Remain, but at this point, it seems certain that the passport I hold as a European Citizen will be revoked. I won't be able to cross borders as easily as I have done for most of my adult life and the international landscape I value so much is gradually disappearing beneath rampant nationalism.

  I haven't chosen to give up being European – that identity is being taken from me.

  So perhaps this is, in fact, a political book, a way I can deal with the complicated and unsolvable problems of borders.