Last came Leicester Grindylow, who moved not at all like the ape Blue Jay considered him. He forgot that Grin was a water bogie and quite agile. The boggart never stayed precisely at the end of the line. He moved from side to side, swiftly and quietly, watching their backs.
Any doubts Blue Jay might have had about Grin’s loyalty had dissipated. The boggart was faithful, and smarter than he looked. In short order, he had come to trust the boggart more than any of the others, even Frost.
Once again, Blue Jay flew a circle. As he did, he thought he saw, far behind him, a single dark mark against the night sky.
The bird descended, swooping down from the dark. He passed over the trees, wings straight out, and then he was out over the grassy hillside, propelling himself after the Borderkind. When he reached Frost, he circled once around the winter man’s head and spread his wings. They became arms, and he set his feet down upon the grass. Blue Jay smoothed out his thick cotton shirt and shook his head. His long, braided, black hair fell down his back, and the feathers tied there danced in the breeze.
“Are they following, then?” Frost asked. In the moonlight, his jagged ice features looked blue.
“I’m not sure,” the trickster said. “I thought I might have seen something. But we’re far enough away now and moving closer to the Atlantic Bridge. No reason not to cross the border so that there is at least part of our trail they cannot track.”
Frost concurred.
The small group of Borderkind gathered around, there on the hillside. The Mazikeen inspected Chorti’s wounds silently and muttered a few words in his ancient tongue. The wild man grunted and actually smiled in relief, soothed by the spell.
This done, they all crossed together, that strange new family of Borderkind.
They left the long night of legend behind.
In the mundane world, dawn was on the eastern horizon. The seven Borderkind and the massive tiger stood on the shore of a broad half-frozen lake whose exposed surface rippled in the chill morning breeze. In the dawn’s light they found themselves surrounded by rolling fields and hills, with mountains in the distance.
A small town sprawled nearby, rows of white houses and shops with gray-black shingle roofs. It was a simple place, unchanged from a long ago time, and on that winter morning it was pale and faded, as though every home had its share of ghosts. The only brightness in the entire panorama was the twinkling of Christmas lights on several of the larger trees, but even that seemed halfhearted.
Cheval Bayard stepped away from them, leaving Chorti on his own. The town earned merely a glance. The lake drew her attention instead and she stepped into the water, crushing a thin shell of ice that had formed. A sensual shiver went through her and Blue Jay relished the sight. Contact with the water gave the kelpy great pleasure.
“Where are we?” Cheval asked, turning to look at Frost.
They all regarded Frost. No formal command had ever been given or taken, but he led them. Even the Mazikeen, alone now in his silence, looked to the winter man for instruction.
Frost glanced around, hesitating. He didn’t want to say it, but Blue Jay saw in his eyes that he had no idea where they were. Li ran his fingers through his tiger’s fur, the two growling softly to one another-serious and proper, they seemed two halves of a whole, complete unto themselves.
They all seemed slightly baffled, but then Grin spun around once, nodding as though to himself.
“Can’t say for sure, but if I was the sort, I’d wager we’re in Wales. Kind of gray, but pretty. Mountains. We headed off west, so, Wales. We keep going west, or south…or any direction but east, really, and we’ll hit ocean, yeah?”
The winter man held up a hand, feeling the wind. “Due west.”
And so they went, that strange parade, across thirty miles of the hills and fields of Wales, moving faster than ever they could have with Oliver or any human along for the journey. The sun had been up less than two hours when they came to a rocky coastline where the wind whipped at them and the waves crashed furiously upon the shore. Several houses were in sight, but as they approached the Irish Sea the sky had become overcast and now hung low and grim above them. All throughout their journey they had easily avoided being sighted by humans. It was not difficult in a country as quiet and desolate as this. And now, on the shore, it mattered little if they were seen by an old Welshman or some young housewife.
Who would believe them?
The waves crashed on the rocks and spattered them all with frigid sea spray. Li’s tiger kept well back from the water, growling at the raging surf. The Guardian of Fire sat astride him, watching Frost impatiently.
Cheval stood with her feet in the water, stroking the fur on the back of Chorti’s neck as he leaned into her, the largest, most ferocious pet anyone had ever had. Or so it seemed. But they all knew differently. The two shared a rare friendship that any would envy, if it had not been based on grief and loss.
The Mazikeen kept his distance, lost in his flowing robes. Blue Jay tried to catch his eye, but the sorcerer resolutely refused to meet such direct scrutiny. He stroked his beard and kept his gaze out to sea. Blue Jay wondered what created that distance the Mazikeen kept between themselves and others. What was this guy thinking?
Frost strode up beside Blue Jay. He seemed quite recovered now. “Are you ready to cross?”
“Is anyone else getting tired of this back and forth?” Blue Jay asked, looking around at the others.
Grin leaped from one large rock to the next like some reckless child, spinning toward his kin.
“Unless we’re very unlucky, this ought to be our last jaunt through the Veil for a bit, yeah? You worry too much.”
Blue Jay blinked in surprise. He was a mischief maker, a trickster. In all his ages, no one had ever accused him of worrying too much about anything. But that was the world they were living in now, wasn’t it?
Frost laughed softly and shook his head, icicle hair chiming. “Oh, yes, because we’ve been very lucky so far.”
The trickster turned to the winter man. “We’re still alive, aren’t we?”
Frost sobered, all trace of amusement gone. There was a brief pause and then he turned to the others.
“Shall we go?” he said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world.
And in a way, Blue Jay supposed it was. After all, what choice did they have? One by one they slipped through the Veil again and now found themselves on the eastern bank of the Atlantic River, far, far north of the main bridge. There were other bridges, of course, but they were all in agreement that crossing the river that way was a terrible idea.
Cheval and Grin swam, both of them ecstatic to be in the water, even briefly. Frost whipped up a cold wind and let it carry him away as a gust laden with sleet. Blue Jay could fly, but that left Chorti, Li, and the tiger. The Mazikeen muttered something in a low voice and gestured for the trickster to move along. Blue Jay presumed he planned some magic or another and the sorcerer’s presence unnerved him, so he spread his arms into wings and took flight.
When he landed on the opposite bank of the broad, churning river, he was the last to arrive. Somehow the Mazikeen had gotten the others there before him. The tiger seemed disoriented, snapping its jaws at the air, and Chorti’s eyes were glazed as though he was drugged. Li kept far away from the Mazikeen after that.
They set off toward the southwest, Frost once more leading the way. There was a great deal of open land between here and Yucatazca and a few small villages they would avoid, just as they would only travel on the Truce Road for the few seconds it took to cross it.
Blue Jay walked beside the silent sorcerer and studied his gray features. “You’re really freaking me out, you know that?”