The Border Keeper

by Kerstin Hall

  He reached out and placed a hand on her arm.

  She let out a shuddering breath. Her grip around the pole loosened.

  The howls of Fanieq’s dwellers did not quieten, but the door held firm. They talked a while longer, and the inner sanctum grew comfortably warm. Tyn used her shiv to carve the end of her pole into a sharp point.

  As the night wore on, Vasethe fell into a doze, startled awake by louder banging every few minutes. Each time he closed his eyes, details from the mural returned to him. Again and again, the house in the woods, the city on fire and Eris looming over the walls, Eris slumped on the dance floor with Buyak above her, Eris with blood on her lips. Nialle singing over the crib as the face of her child dissolved into ashes.

  Chapter Nineteen

  HE WOKE WHEN TYN touched his shoulder.

  “It’s gone quiet,” she whispered. “We should get moving.”

  The flame in their lantern had ebbed to a low burn. Within the sanctum, he could only make out the contours of her face. He shivered.

  “Bad dreams?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He rubbed his eyes. “Although I guess it’s better than no sleep at all.”

  Most of the fires still burned at the statues’ hands. A crack split the front door, and the bolts had almost come free from the wall. Faint morning light shone through the high windows.

  “Seems we chose a good place to hide,” he said, and walked over to the statue of the dancer. He blew out the flame and lifted the bowl of oil out of the statue’s hands.

  “Unfortunately, I have a feeling it was chosen for us. Given that it was so nicely signposted.” Tyn wandered over. “What are you doing?”

  “I like to be prepared.” He set the lantern on the ground, removed the hood, and slowly poured oil into the reservoir at its base.

  “Speaking of which”—she held up the now-dry brocade sling—“can you give me a hand with this?”

  “No problem.”

  He slipped the fabric around her arm. She leaned forward to accommodate him, and he tied the knot at her neck.

  “How is it feeling?” he asked.

  She waved her free hand. “I’ve had worse.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m a member of Res Lfae’s personal guard. It isn’t a ceremonial position, you know.” She rolled her shoulder cautiously. “Besides, you did a good job binding it.”

  “Glad to have been of use.” He knelt down and replaced the lantern’s hood. He straightened. “You must be hungry by now.”

  “A little. You?”

  “I could eat. In Ahri, obviously.”

  “Oh, right.” She sighed. “Well, unfortunately for me, I doubt there’s anything edible in this whole blasted—”

  She stiffened. In a single fluid motion, she shoved Vasethe behind her, grabbed her spear off the ground, and spun to face the altar.

  “You haven’t learned, have you?”

  Fanieq stepped down from the dais, and her mantle of long white hair wafted above her shoulders as she walked towards them. She radiated power; it crackled like electricity in her wake. The same woman who had rescued Vasethe in Umbakur, yet her skin had gained a pearlescent sheen, and she wore sleek steel armour, a skirt of silver mail that glittered with diamond studs.

  “Must I break every bone in your body?” she asked. “Will that be enough to drive home the lesson?”

  Vasethe tried to step around Tyn, but she raised her pole to block him.

  “Stay behind me,” she said, under her breath. Her gaze never wavered.

  “You think that will help?”

  The goddess lifted her pale arms to the ceiling. The flames in the statues’ hands rippled.

  Vasethe slammed into the wall, hitting his head hard. His vision turned white. Through his daze, he heard Tyn cry out; Fanieq had wrenched her broken arm sideways and now held her by the wrist.

  “You think that you can fight me?”

  Tyn, he thought, and staggered upright. He fumbled for the lantern.

  Tyn bared her teeth. She tried to raise her spear, but Fanieq forced her down to her knees.

  “You greatly misunderstand the position you are in,” she said.

  Vasethe swung the lantern at the goddess’s back; without turning, Fanieq caught it in her free hand. The metal buckled under her fingers with a sharp crunch. Shards of glass pattered to the ground.

  “Run!” Tyn gasped.

  “And you”—Fanieq glanced over her shoulder at him—“are even weaker.”

  The world lurched, and all the air vanished from Vasethe’s lungs. He felt as though he was spinning; colours danced over his vision.

  Then they were standing inside the throne room.

  The roof stretched high overhead, cavernous and domed, and a shaft of light pierced through a ragged hole above the stairs to the throne. Six hooded guards stood to attention at the windows. They did not react to Fanieq’s appearance, remaining perfectly still. Beyond the towering, triple-arched windows, the city far below extended into the distance, and the rising sun cast the wreckage in shades of black and pale gold.

  Fanieq kicked the spear out of Tyn’s hand, and it clattered out of reach over the polished stone floor.

  “Get up,” she commanded. She sounded slightly out of breath, as if the act of travelling there had winded her. “There’s a task I need you to complete.”

  Tyn lifted her head. Her cheeks had turned bloodless from the pain, but her eyes were hard.

  “No, thank you,” she said.

  Fanieq smiled thinly.

  The weight of Tyn’s body shattered the window, sending glass cascading out into the void. She didn’t scream. She didn’t make a sound.

  “Tyn!”

  Vasethe ran across the room. It was pointless; she was gone, but his mind was blank and his body moved on instinct. As he reached the window, two guards grabbed hold of his arms and brought him to a violent stop.

  Fanieq approached. Her lips were stained dark red.

  “You will be still,” she said, “until I tell you otherwise.”

  Vasethe’s body instantly seized up. He struggled, but his limbs refused to obey; he could not move his arms or legs.

  “You killed her,” he spat.

  Fanieq turned from him, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She walked over to the windows and gazed down through the broken pane.

  “Not this time,” she said, and crooked three fingers.

  Tyn rose up through the air; her whole body rigid. Relief rushed through Vasethe.

  “Are you ready to be cooperative?” Fanieq asked her.

  For a moment, nothing. Tyn didn’t seem capable of replying; her jaw was locked and her breathing harsh and erratic.

  Then she shook her head.

  “No. Thank you.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

  “I’ll do it,” Vasethe said. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

  “That isn’t an option,” said Fanieq.

  “Then she’ll cooperate. She will. Tyn, please, don’t do this.”

  She found his eyes and forced a smile.

  “Sorry, Vasethe.”

  “Dead or alive, you’ll still be of use,” said Fanieq. “Your corpse can fulfill this task equally well.”

  “Then go ahead and drop me.”

  “No!” Vasethe strained to free himself.

  “This is your last chance,” said Fanieq.

  “Tyn, please, listen to me,” he begged. “If it doesn’t matter, then live. Your pride can’t be worth more than that. Don’t make me lose you a second time, not like this.”

  She hesitated.

  “Well?” asked Fanieq.

  Vasethe could not breathe. Tyn closed her eyes and, with the smallest movement of her head, nodded.

  The goddess beckoned. “I thought you’d come around.”

  Tyn drifted back into the room and dropped onto the stone floor. Tiny scratches covered her arms and neck. She staggered, and Fanieq grasped her wrist, pressing something into the pa
lm of her hand.

  “Give this to the border keeper,” she said. “You’ll find the channel to Buyak’s realm through the antechamber at the end of the hall; it comes out at the Jifui Pass. Tell her that I will forge a God Sword before the next sunrise, but the choice of materials is hers.”

  “You’re letting me go?” asked Tyn.

  “Either you do as I say, or I carve the message onto your skin and throw your dead body through the channel.”

  “And Vasethe?”

  “He stays here.”

  Tyn was about to argue, but Vasethe forestalled her.

  “It’s better that at least one of us gets out.” Recklessness struck him. “Go. Warn Eris. And throw that thing into the sea, or crush it with a rock, or—”

  The wound on his throat burned with sudden agony, choking him.

  “You should know,” the goddess told Tyn in a low, dangerous voice, “that he will die if you disobey me.”

  Vasethe could not speak through the pain, but his eyes were locked on Tyn’s, willing her to understand. Willing her to take the opportunity and run. To save herself and to lie to Eris.

  “I’ll go,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty

  VASETHE KNELT AT THE base of the stairs, a guard on either side of him. The polished floor gleamed like glass, the rich, unbroken stone rippling with the colours of storm clouds.

  Fanieq sat upon the throne and played with a dark-haired infant. She rocked the child on her knees, allowing it to tip backwards, dangerously close to falling, and then catching it at the last possible moment. The baby laughed each time.

  “You seem nervous,” said Fanieq. The child tipped, tipped, and was caught. “Do you think this might belong to you?”

  He refused to answer.

  She took the baby by the ankle and swung it upside down. It shrieked in delight as she dangled it over the hard stone stairs, but the laughter broke off when she began to swing it from side to side.

  “Stop that,” said Vasethe.

  Fanieq tilted her head to one side.

  “Please.”

  The goddess smiled. One of the guards approached her. She handed the child over and rose to her feet.

  “Do you want to know if she is yours?” she asked. “I could tell you. Do you want to claim her from me?”

  The baby began to cry. The high-pitched wails echoed through the empty room and out into the city. Through the windows, the sun was already sinking back towards the horizon.

  “She certainly isn’t yours.”

  Fanieq laughed. She descended the stairs. “Of course she is.”

  “You don’t own your servants,” he muttered.

  “No, I meant that quite literally. She is mine. Flesh and blood.” She stopped before him and ran a hand over his cheek affectionately. “You still don’t understand, do you?”

  He pulled his head away. “Understand what?”

  As one, the guards drew back their hoods.

  “That I’ve been guiding you every step of the way.”

  All of the women were pale. While their faces differed, they moved in perfect, graceful unison, their smiles identical. All except for one, whose face had been ravaged, the tissue swollen and crushed, like it had been melted by burning tar. Water ran from her eye sockets and her smile split the skin of her cheeks. Her breathing sounded wet. A single white braid hung over her left shoulder.

  A hand touched his right shoulder. He looked up. Nialle stood beside him. Her hair was white as new paper—had it always been that colour?—and her smile mirrored on Fanieq’s face. He stared at her, uncomprehending. She was dead. She shouldn’t be there.

  “After Raisha, I almost gave up on you,” said Fanieq.

  “What?” He tore his eyes away from Nialle. “What does she have to do with anything?”

  Her smile grew wider. “You really didn’t find her death suspicious? Didn’t think it was a little too sudden? A little too isolated?”

  “What are you—”

  “I killed her. Poisoned her, in the hope that you would run off to the border keeper for help.”

  The rule bound him; Vasethe could not rise. Even so, Nialle and the other guard gripped his arms.

  “But even after she died, you were happy to let her rot in the ground, weren’t you?”

  “Shut up!” he snarled.

  His throat burned, fierce and hot, and he forgot how to breathe.

  “I imagine that the border keeper felt that. A reminder of her deadline.”

  Through the pain, he saw the goddess walking towards the window.

  “It won’t work,” he gasped. “Whatever you want a God Sword for, she’ll stop you. She’s still stronger than you.”

  “I have no interest in the Sword; that was always Buyak’s goal.” Fanieq stared out over the misted landscape. She spoke softly. “She’s weak where it matters and has lost her old allies. Once she’s here, she won’t be able to leave. I will hold all the power.”

  It was Vasethe’s turn to laugh. “You think she’ll come here? To your realm?”

  He saw Fanieq clench her fists.

  “So, that’s why you gave Tyn the Compass.” Understanding dawned. “Because you wanted to draw Eris here alone.”

  “Be quiet,” she snapped.

  “You think she’ll voluntarily walk into your stupid trap? Look, the sun is setting.” His smile grew savage. “You thought she’d be here already, didn’t you?”

  Fanieq strode towards him. “Be quiet.”

  “And even if she comes, what then?” He shook his head. “She’s dual-souled. If you kill her, she’ll adopt another body. She’ll hunt you down.”

  Fanieq grasped him by the jaw and lifted him into the air. Her eyes were blazing.

  “With a Compass, she’ll be able to follow you anywhere,” Vasethe rasped. He laughed again. “Why would you just hand her your greatest weapon?”

  For a moment, Vasethe thought that she might actually kill him. He stared back at her, triumphant, daring her to do it, break his neck, smash his head against the ground, rip out his throat. For the first time, through the mask of her arrogance and poise, he could tell that the goddess was afraid.

  “Better start running, Fanieq,” he croaked. “You’re dead.”

  Her grip tightened and he cried out. The edges of the throne room turned black. He could hear voices; Nialle said something urgently, but the words were impossible to grasp.

  Then Fanieq let go of his throat, and he hit the floor. Cold, sweet air rushed into his lungs.

  “She will come.” The goddess’s words reached his ears from a great distance. “She knows what is at stake. I will see justice done.”

  Vasethe tried to catch his breath, wheezing. The baby’s screaming rang through the room, and his heart boomed.

  “Come here.”

  Fanieq had returned to the windows, her back to him and her face hidden. Against the setting sun, her body was silhouetted in orange light.

  “You may move,” she said.

  The pressure paralyzing his limbs evaporated, but he did not get up immediately. Fanieq said nothing. She simply waited.

  He found his feet and crossed the room. A breeze blew through the smashed window, lifting the goddess’s hair off her shoulders. The smell of lilies.

  “This was my city,” she said when he reached the windows. “My heartland. Addis Hal Rata, the Jasper Star. I can still see it as it used to be. I still dream of it.”

  Beyond the glass, the ruins were endless. Unchanged, as if the fires had died only hours before. The mist curled like smoke.

  “She destroyed it for the sake of one dead god.” Fanieq turned to look at Vasethe, undisguised loathing written across her face. “Tell me, how could anyone wish to deny me my revenge?”

  The crying of the child was the only sound, rising high and piercing through the air. The last rays of the sun dimmed.

  “So be it,” the goddess said softly. “Her choice is made.”

  “Yes. It is.”


  Eris stood in the middle of the throne room, the Compass lying in her palm.

  For a second, no one moved. Then, with a terrible wrenching sensation, Vasethe found himself forced onto the throne. Three guards held him in place.

  “No!” he shouted.

  Sethe, it’s okay.

  “No, you need to leave!” He tried to pull himself free, but the guards only forced him back down.

  Eris had the strangest expression on her face. I can’t do that.

  Fanieq grabbed Vasethe’s jaw. She held a copper spoon filled with honey to his mouth.

  “Give me the Compass,” she demanded. Her green eyes burned.

  Eris gazed around, taking in the room, the baby, and the women standing around the throne. She seemed calm and a little sad.

  “You split your soul,” she said.

  Fanieq laughed. “Guess who gave me the idea?”

  “That’s how you could bring the child across the shadowline without my noticing.” Eris took a step forward, and Fanieq tensed. “The Compass granted passage for the baby, and you slipped through alongside her.”

  “Stay where you are.” The spoon pressed against Vasethe’s upper lip. He could smell the honey, sweet and deadly.

  Eris glanced at the woman with the ruined face, the broken fragment of the goddess’s soul. “What have you done to yourself, Fanieq?”

  “She stepped out of line.” Fanieq scowled. “The Compass. Now.”

  “Release him first.”

  “It’s pointless,” Vasethe gasped. “I’ve been in Mkalis for too long already.”

  Fanieq slammed his head into the backrest. Lights danced over his eyelids. Eris rushed forward and two guards stepped into her path.

  “Please, I just want to send him back to Ahri.” Her voice held an edge of desperation. “I’ll give you the Compass, but let him go.”

  The light of the rising moon cut through the hole in the roof, and Eris stood illuminated beneath it. Vasethe could see that she carried no weapons, nothing to protect herself. Self-loathing surged up within him.

  With all his strength, he lunged for the spoon.

  No!

  Fanieq struck him across the face and his nose broke. He swallowed, but there was no sweetness in his mouth. The spoon clattered to the ground; through the red haze covering his vision, Vasethe saw the honey spreading over stone. Out of reach.