The Song Between Worlds, page 1
The Song Between Worlds
Border Guards Book 2
Gareth Lewis
Copyright 2023 Gareth Lewis
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Any piracy of this work shall result in the forfeiture of the pirate's soul to the author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Language Note
This novel is written in British English, so contains spelling differences from American English.
Chapter 1
Let me start halfway through, for purely artistic reasons. In no way is this a cheap framing device to allow me to recap past events, and generally infodump.
Technically, these’re flash-forwards, rather than the other parts being flashbacks. I dislike flashbacks. They always feel like they stop you getting on with the story. Like waffling. So let’s just get on with it.
‘Please state your name,’ says the interrogator.
She sits across the utilitarian metal table from me. The table and our chairs are the only furnishings in the featureless cube. Apart from the polygraph, her laptop, and the semi-circular protrusion on the ceiling containing a camera and other recording devices. I’ve no doubt there are other cameras I can’t be bothered spotting. The room is kind of cosy, in an industrial-chic way.
She must practice her blank expression in front of a mirror. It’s very good. She glances at the laptop. I assume it shows the result of the polygraph. Either that or she has kitten videos looped to help her process being in such a grim environment.
‘Is this really necessary?’ I ask, holding up my hands to show the pads connected to my arms. I don’t raise my hands too high, given the cuffs linked to the table.
‘Please state your name,’ she says again.
‘Does this thing even work on fae physiology?’
She doesn’t quite sigh, but there’s a void where a sigh wants to be. Would a sigh be unprofessional? ‘That’s on the list to be checked.’
‘Because our metabolism is faster than that of humans.’
‘Please state your name,’ she says, hiding any impatience. Almost like she’s challenging me.
‘Aelik Swiftthorne,’ I say. ‘And you are?’
‘Where are you from?’
‘Around.’
She looks at me, her eyes saying she’s content to wait as long as it takes.
‘I suppose the fae city of Starfall, in the land of Faerie, is the closest to something resembling home.’
‘Please state you’re human, as a control.’
‘Oh, goody, the official lying bit.’ I adopt a suitably sonorous voice. ‘Hi, I’m Warren Horne, and I’m human.’
Her face betrays nothing. I don’t expect it to be looking for lies, anyway. They’d ask for yes/no answers if that was their primary objective. It might be no more than a prop.
‘Did it work?’ I ask. ‘Did it read as a lie?’
‘What are you doing on Earth?’ she asks. It seems this conversation will be one-sided, which the décor and cuffs did hint at.
‘Long story,’ I say, settling back. ‘Briefly, I was unjustly accused of a crime, and coerced into joining the Border Guards, policing fae who come to your world. We send them back and prevent stories of our presence spreading.’
She types on the laptop and doesn’t look up as she asks the next question. ‘So, you’re a thief?’
‘Thief is rather a pejorative term.’
‘Are you a thief?’
‘That’s an unfairly restrictive question. It doesn’t account for the breadth of experience one can-’
She doesn’t give up. ‘Are you a thief? Yes or no?’
‘Fine,’ I say. We’re obviously not yet ready for an actual conversation. ‘I have had occasion to engage in activities regarding the redistribution of material objects which certain involved individuals may construe as theft. But it’s not as though I’d list thief as my occupation. Not even a hobby, really.’
She displays no satisfaction at the admission. ‘The border you claim to guard. Is it a physical border? Or is it more metaphorical?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I say, no doubt confusing the machine. ‘I’ve seen no physical manifestation of a barrier, or experienced anything between stepping into one stone circle, and out of another in a different world. Or far away on the same world. It always seems instantaneous, at least from the traveller’s perspective.’
‘These stone circles allow travel through this border?’
‘Yes. The primary route, anyway, available to most who lack the magic to push through unaided.’ I know full well I’m probably causing more questions to pop up in the heads of my questioner and everyone else observing, but let’s be honest: That just gives me more excuse to talk.
Some more typing. Then she meets my gaze again.
‘What does the role of Border Guard entail?’
‘We respond to alerts of crossings, apprehending the perpetrators of such illegality where possible.’
‘With force?’ she asks.
‘Ideally not,’ I say. ‘Realistically, it can be necessary. It’s not as though any of them run up begging to surrender.’
*
There’s a relative peace to the early morning forest. The intruder disturbs that peace as they burst into the clearing a short way from the stone circle where I just arrived.
A touch taller than I am in my native fae form, he has large floppy ears - hare-like, or donkey-like. Not a true fae like me, but there are a few fae breeds similar, and it isn’t light enough to make out more detail. Not that it matters once they’re caught here.
The expected flash of fear on his face on seeing my uniform is disturbingly replaced by what looks like relief. That’s not natural. His experiences here have clearly mentally scarred him.
I’m sure he sees my uniform. I’m standing in pre-dawn moonlight, but it’s hard to mistake for anything else.
He runs halfway towards me, then drops to his knees. ‘Please,’ he pants out, exhausted and terrified. ‘I surrender. Take me home.’
I back away a step, alert for an ambush. I glance around without ever letting him out of my sight.
He shuffles forward on his knees, with the occasional worried glance back over his shoulder. In no particular direction, so the object of his apparent fear might be anywhere, or nowhere, or just in his head.
I’m admittedly nonplussed at the situation. And suspicious. It must be a trick. Nobody can be this scared of me.
I’ll admit I look good in the uniform and mask. In certain lighting I even verge on intimidating. But anyone who’d risk travelling to Earth from Faerie, aware of the penalties of being caught, should be made of sterner stuff.
Unless standards have dropped since my day. And since my day was barely months ago, that’s depressing.
I see two explanations. One, he’s playing me, looking for an opportunity to get away. Or two, he’s genuinely seen something that scared him this much. I’m not sure which I’d prefer.
He doesn’t resist as I approach and take the talisman he has on a chain around his neck. Presumably it’s supposed to hide him from me, but doesn’t. I do a quick check for other enchanted stuff, coming up empty. All the while alert for any movement by him or an accomplice.
‘What’s your name?’ I ask.
‘Veduk,’ he says after the briefest of pauses. At least he has it together enough to lie about that. That’s something, I suppose. ‘Please take me away from here?’
He might be trying to lead me away from an accomplice. Self-sacrifice isn’t a common fae trait, but I’ve no way to tell what kind of damage he’s taken.
‘Are you alone?’ I ask. Because while I should just take him in, then return to my life, the idiot’s aroused my curiosity. Not much, but it’s been a slow week.
‘I thought I was,’ he says, again glancing around. ‘But something else is here.’
‘It’s a forest. There’s often something else here. Could you be more specific?’
‘I didn’t see them, but I sensed they were here. And they were predatory.’
‘You didn’t see them.’ I’ve got a real hardcore rebel on my hands. ‘Did you hear them?’
The fear on his face surrenders ground to vague indignation. ‘Is that a poke at my ears?’
‘Not intentionally. Though I assume they have to be good for something.’
‘Just because I’ve got big ears, I must have good hearing, is that it?’ At least his affront displaces his panic.
‘Are you saying you don’t?’ I ask.
He opens his mouth to reply, closes it again, and glowers with little heat. ‘Of course I do. But there’s no call to go making assumptions.’
‘I’m fairly sure that was you.’
Panic creeps over him again, and he glances around. ‘I heard stuff. Movement all around. And sinister laughter.’
‘Sinister?’
‘Yeah, sinister,’ he glares again. It quickly shifts into a pleading expression. ‘Can I please go to the Hive now?’
He doesn’t give a good impression of our kind. He’s jumpy, enough so that any base cunning he possesses has yet to manifest. I spotted him glancing about me for weapons. He’s hard ly poker-faced, at least while under stress.
Though so far, he’s exhibited all the slyness of a brain-damaged owl with substance abuse problems. His head continues turning all around, and I’m worried what’ll happen if it tries to go too far the wrong way.
I was never like this. For one thing, I was never caught. I doubt the change in perspective alone explains the difference.
Because I now seem to consider myself on the other side of the law, and am in danger of accepting this as my new normal. I’m only sticking with the job because I’m sure the alternative is that they lock me up. But if I think of this as real, I might be better off running now.
That’d mean I’d always be on the run, and that’s the optimistic view. More realistically, I’ve become convinced the protective mantle of enchantments we Border Guards have laid upon us would afford them some means of locating us. It’s an expensive enchantment, and one they’d hardly be happy about losing.
That means I’m stuck with the so far unsuccessful strategy of trying to mess up in a non-obvious way that’d get me fired but not incarcerated. A problem complicated by me not knowing why the Lawbinder chose me.
I’m trapped, with no realistic path to freedom. At the moment, I’m considering ways of losing the mantle. Given how reliant I’ve become on the mantle, I’m not excited about the possibility.
I have to focus on surviving until an opportunity arises. And looking for entertainment where I can find it.
‘Please take me home,’ Veduk says as I glance around for proof of his absent assailants.
‘That’s forward of you,’ I say offhandedly as I tie his hands behind his back with iron-flecked cord. ‘You’re not my type. What could you tell about them?’
‘I told you, nothing.’
‘Come on.’ I drag him to his feet, and back towards where he came from. ‘You must’ve had some impression from what you heard. Apart from their generally sinister vibe. Their size, speed. Anything?’
‘What’re we doing?’ he asks, half-resisting me. He may be addle-witted. ‘The circle’s back that way. Are you mad?’
‘Never professionally diagnosed.’ Though I can hardly refute accusations. I’m just bored with my entrapment and looking for excitement. That never goes well. ‘What could you tell about them?’
‘Stop,’ he tries pulling us back towards the circle. ‘They’ll get us.’ At least he’s persuading me he might genuinely believe something’s out there.
I don’t let him move us. ‘I can call the Sentinel to come and take you away if you want to leave now.’
Panic returns to his face, joining indecision. He must be scared, if he’s considering a Sentinel as a realistic option. They’re magical automatons we can call for any visitors who resist too hard. Their version of taking prisoners can involve breakages and fatality rates.
‘There’s nothing to see,’ he says, almost pleading.
‘Then nothing to be afraid of.’
‘I never said that.’
‘Of course not. Something made you surrender without a fight. Which I approve of, because I’m strictly non-confrontational.’ In theory. ‘I hate having to call the Sentinel. It feels dirty, and not in a good way.’
‘Can you call the Sentinel first?’ asks Veduk. ‘As protection.’
It’d be useful, but I’m not sure that would work. ‘I think it needs a target on arrival. One I can picture in my head. As you’re the only one who’d qualify, do you want to risk it?’
His face is stretched by conflicting impulses, his glance flicking to every sound. But he doesn’t resist as much as I drag him along.
Am I really so bored as to stroll into the middle of no telling what? Yes, it seems I am. And I’m too stupid to back down in front of the prisoner.
‘Did you see anything of them?’ I ask. ‘Even a fleeting glimpse.’
‘Nothing I can be sure about. I thought I saw hunched figures lurking near the trees. Maybe not quite our size. Hard to tell. Or they could just’ve been bushes.’
What’re the chances?
‘Could you tell from the sound how many there might have been?’
He considers the question. ‘Might only have been a handful.’ A quick glance confirms he has four fingers and a thumb. Always wise to check. ‘But I didn’t hang about to see.’ At least he’s not a complete imbecile, though I’ve yet to determine what percentage of one he is.
The abilities granted me by the mantle include low-light vision slightly above that of the common fae. It lets me be reasonably sure nothing’s around. The undergrowth in the forest occurs in sporadic bursts, not all large enough to offer cover. I take a wide berth around the bits that are, because I’m not completely reckless.
No sign of anything having been here. Though with the tree cover blocking the moonlight, and my admittedly limited woodsmanship skills, the chances of my spotting anything beyond the blazingly obvious is admittedly slim.
Though once I’ve started, I can’t back out too quickly, no matter how spooky the surroundings. It’d totally undermine my authority.
‘I suppose it could just’ve been the local wildlife,’ says Veduk. With little confidence. More desperation to get me to give up, letting him get to the safety of a cell. ‘Bears?’
‘Not in this region.’ I’ve done some research on the local fauna around the stone circles within my domain. Not that I can avoid responding to an alert, but knowing what dangers to be alert for is always better than not. ‘And they don’t go about in packs.’
I’m wasting the time of all three of us here, aren’t I. I mean, sure, foreshadowing. But I’ll be honest, I see nothing around me.
In the moment, I doubt his story. And wonder if he’s engaged in some local recreational alchemy. Though I’m unconvinced even that’d be enough to scare him into surrendering.
Simple stupidity is the most likely culprit. Though if he’s lived with it this long while remaining at large, I have to admit surprise and grudging admiration for his luck. His expression supports the stupidity hypothesis, as he tries convincing me it was probably nothing.
He seems to think that because he can’t see my face behind the mask, I can’t see the deceptively sly expression behind his innocence. It gets more pronounced the more blatant his bullshit becomes.
I can see the appeal of police brutality.
Pretty soon I’m as bored as you’re in danger of becoming, so let’s move along. I dump him back in a cell in Faerie, skim through as little of the paperwork as I can get away with filing. I mention his claims, but say I found no evidence of other visitors. The stone circle had only provided one alert of an activation, so unless they came with him, how did they get there?
Then I plunge back into the story.
Though we’re still chapters away from some proper action, so don’t get your hopes up yet. Still some setup to wade through first.
Chapter 2
The interviewer looks at me over the top of the glasses I’m sure are mainly a prop.
‘Part of your duties as a Border Guard involve the infiltration of enemy organisations,’ she says.
‘No,’ I say. ‘That’s just a hobby.’
The look she gives me isn’t overflowing with amusement.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘No, that was just a happy accident.’
Yes, we’re back in the interview room. You’d better get used to it. It’ll save time later, rather than lumping it all together to show what I shared and what I didn’t.
‘You accidentally infiltrated Operation Echo Lima Foxtrot?’
‘Who even calls it that?’ I ask. ‘It’s the Iron Corps. That’s a far poppier name. Anyway, yes, total fluke.’
She stares at me. ‘Would you care to elaborate?’
‘Would I care to speak some more? Are you serious? Of course I will. We have identities for our human disguises. Because you don’t allow strangers to wander about, I assume for taxation purposes. Most Border Guards become vagrants. Let me rephrase, they pretend to be vagrants. I doubt any of them will ever hear this, but some of them can be touchy.’
‘Can we please stick to the point,’ she says.
‘You may be capable of it, but I’m not so sure about me. Anyway, personally I prefer ready access to a bathroom. And since we hunt faeries, I figured getting in with the faerie hunter community would be the ideal cover. I was unaware the Iron Corps existed. Or that they were going around recruiting experts in the field. When I encountered them, declining the offer of recruitment seemed rude.’
_preview.jpg)
