Kitsune hauled him through.
In the last moment, Oliver glanced up at the throne. King Hunyadi had driven his short blade into Hy’Bor. The magic that animated the Atlantean had been snuffed like a candle flame. Behind Hy’Bor was an eight-foot, hideously ugly troll. Where he’d come from, Oliver had no idea, but it made him realize that Hunyadi had suspected Hy’Bor’s treachery and had been prepared.
The troll had crushed Hy’Bor’s skull between his hands. Oliver suspected it was not the king’s blade that had ended the traitor’s life.
Hunyadi glanced at Oliver and gave a small nod as if to spur him on. Then Kitsune and Oliver were gone from the Presentation Room, from Otranto, and from the world of the legendary.
For just a moment, he felt the membrane of the Veil, or at least the pressure of it around him. The substance of reality warped and his eyes could not process what they were seeing. He squeezed them closed, staggered, and as he fell forward he felt a gust of frigid wind.
Oliver dropped to his knees on frozen ground covered by a thin crust of snow. He shivered with the cold and opened his eyes. The shift of location, of reality, had become almost familiar, but this was something different. They were in the mountains somewhere in Europe, above a lake that seemed quite similar to the one at Otranto, down in the valley below. But the lake was frozen and snow covered the mountaintops. The sky was a lustrous blue, perfect and clean. It was afternoon and the sunlight gleamed on the pure white snow.
“I’m not certain where we are,” Kitsune said, walking several paces in the general direction of the lake.
Oliver laughed. “I don’t care. I really don’t. We’re home. In my world. For the next few minutes, I’m just going to…”
He could not even finish the thought. This was a brief respite, he knew. Collette needed him. The Sandman held her life in his hands. Wherever this was, Switzerland or Germany, he figured, but wherever, they couldn’t stay. But for just a moment, he had to relish it. Hunyadi had granted his boon, spared him and Collette for now. The conspiracy beyond the Veil had begun to unravel with the revelation of Hy’Bor’s treachery. They’d escaped the Battle Swine.
“Pigs,” he whispered to himself, and he chuckled, shaking his head. “Fucking pigs.”
Then he sobered. Grimly he rose and strode after Kitsune. She turned to glance at him, then returned her attention to the frozen lake below.
“We have to go to England. All the way back to England, from wherever here is,” he said. The Dustman could only be encountered in an English nursery, and the knowledge was heavy upon his heart. “It’s the wrong direction, Kit. I know there’s nothing we can do without his help. But for Christ’s sake, it’s the wrong direction.”
Kitsune turned to him. With a mischievous grin, she reached up and touched the tip of his nose.
“I have an idea.”
The night sky caressed Blue Jay as he rode the wind higher. Dark as it was, the moon was bright enough that he could see his companions emerging from a dense forest onto a hillside. A valley lay below and they descended the hill without hesitation, headed southwest. The icy edges of Frost’s profile gleamed and sparkled in the moonlight, and the others followed. His injuries had been nearly healed within minutes of their return to Perinthia, and now, hours later, there was no sign that he had ever been wounded.
Frost had been right. Crossing back through the Veil from the Akrai had put them in the midst of the Latin Quarter of Perinthia again. They had been spread out, so that it took precious seconds for them all to gather again in the ruins of the Greek and Roman city. Strigae perched on the peaks of buildings and shattered rubble, and the black birds began to caw loudly, a shrill cry like children being stabbed. It filled the air. Legends in the Latin Quarter had pulled their shutters quickly or raced to hide in shadows.
But they were only birds.
There would be no retreat for the Hunters. Ordinary legends, they could not slip away through the Veil the way Borderkind did. They could not cross between worlds without a door.
The Strigae hadn’t stood a chance. Dusk had settled over Perinthia. Though Frost and Chorti had been injured, they were not so badly wounded that they could not trouble annoying birds. Frost impaled the nearest Strigae with a spear of ice that jutted from the palm of his hand. The others cried out and their wings beat the air as they tried to flee.
Blue Jay had slain two of them himself. Grin had climbed an old palazzo with three quick bounds and grabbed hold of a Strigae, then snapped its neck with a quick twist. Li burned three of them right out of the air with gouts of flame that spewed from his throat, breathing fire like a dragon. The tiger had broken one in its jaws. Two or three of the Strigae had escaped, but Blue Jay had pursued them for a mile to be sure they would not follow, and as he suspected, they had not even slowed in their flight of terror.
As the evening deepened, the darkness gathering its cloak around Perinthia, Cheval Bayard had slain the sentries at two of the watchtowers on the edge of the city. They had left Perinthia without raising an alarm on the northern end, but by the time the dead sentries were discovered, they would already have circled around and started southwest, away from the city.
As a bird, Blue Jay had flown far above them throughout the journey, circling, watchful for any threat or pursuit. They had given a wide berth to the village of Bromfield. There would be no help from the Lost Ones who lived there, and certainly not from any of the legendary. They could expect little help wherever they went, but Frost and Oliver and Kitsune had stopped in Bromfield on their way to Perinthia and doubtless there would be spies in the village on the watch for Borderkind.
No one could be trusted.
As a trickster, he understood that, but Blue Jay wondered if the others truly did.
Once past Bromfield, the motley collection of Borderkind had traveled briefly on the Truce Road, where the going was far smoother. But as the night deepened and the creatures of darkness roamed across the land, there would be too much risk of an unpleasant encounter. Also, by then, Frost and Blue Jay had been certain the Myth Hunters would have made it back through some Door in the Veil. It would likely be many hours before any of those searching for them could catch up, but it was better not to take chances.
So they had struck out from the road, journeying first through farmland and then up into the hills and then deep in the Cardiff Forest. Blue Jay lost sight of them for much of their trek through the woods but he continued to circle and to travel southwest. He had seen night birds flying-several owls, but no Perytons and no Strigae. On the road there had been private carriages, but this far from any frequented path, only the wild legends were about. Goblins and sprites and the occasional giant might live in the forest, but they would not have anything to do with the conspiracy against the Borderkind.
Even so, the moment he saw them emerge from the forest and start down the grassy hill into the valley, Blue Jay felt a wave of relief sweep over him. He could easily make out the shambling form of Chorti. Cheval Bayard drifted along beside him, ghostly in her translucent gown, silver hair picking up the shine of the moon. Chorti’s wounds would heal, but she doted on the monster in the meantime.
The tiger stalked along behind them with Li upon his back. A gray specter followed: the single surviving Mazikeen. He moved as though floating just above the ground, never hurrying, never lagging behind. Blue Jay was unnerved in the presence of the sorcerers. He understood magic-hell, he was magic-but warping sorcery was something different entirely.