Christopher Golden - Lost Ones

Smith strode along a mist-shrouded path, one of the Gray Corridors that wound in and out of the worlds, allowing him to move not only between parallel realities but between locations in a single world.

The Wayfarer paused. Mist clouded his vision. He raised his cane and, like a dowsing rod, it tugged him forward and to the left, and he could feel that he was close to his destination.

After a dozen steps, the mist cleared and he found himself standing in a copse of trees whose branches kept off the worst of the southern heat. The battalion led by Captain Beck was on the march, dust rising as they moved northward. For a moment he just watched them go past.

Then Smith emerged from the trees, the brim of his hat providing his only shade, and set off toward the troops. Soon, a small group of soldiers broke away from the battalion and started toward him. Several archers nocked arrows and drew back their bows, prepared to fire.

The Wayfarer kept moving.

One of the archers loosed an arrow-by dint of nerves rather than purpose, he surmised-and Smith knocked it from the air before it struck. A shout came from amongst the troops, and then he saw the tall, lithe form of Damia Beck emerge. She waved the defenders back into the ranks, then stood waiting as Smith approached.

A moment later, Blue Jay extricated himself from the marchers. One by one he was joined by others of his kin-first Li, the Guardian of Fire, and then the odd pairing of Cheval Bayard and Leicester Grindylow. Cheval wore her human face and shape, and her silken gown clung deliciously to her figure as the breeze caressed her.

Smith did not pick up his pace. The four Borderkind and Captain Beck waited patiently for him. He stopped perhaps eight feet away and let several moments pass as the rear flank of the battalion marched past.

“You’re ready, then?” Smith asked Blue Jay.

The trickster nodded, his features grim. The feathers in his hair twirled in the breeze.

“You’re certain this is necessary?” Captain Beck asked. “My battalion is marching to intercept an invasion force headed for the Oldwood. We need every advantage we have against the invaders, especially if the rumors are true and Ty’Lis is adding more Atlanteans to their ranks.”

Smith stroked his beard, studying her. “The enemy will find the Oldwood nearly impossible to take. As for the Atlanteans, you’ll find that in a few days whoever they’ve put in to rule as regent for the young prince Tzajin will announce an alliance with Atlantis. Then the flood of reinforcements will arrive and the real invasion will begin.”

“You’re sure of this?” Captain Beck asked, horror etched upon her features.

The Wayfarer cocked his head to one side. “I’ve just learned of it,” he lied. How else to explain that she and the other commanders ought to have seen the development coming themselves?

“Suffice it to say, Captain, that if Blue Jay and his companions are swift in their efforts, they may return when you will truly need them, having performed a service far greater than any they could provide in a single battle.”

Blue Jay shook his head, crossing his arms and staring at Smith. “Do you ever come right out and say something, or does it all have to be a fucking mystery?”

Smith smiled. “Espionage is usually best conducted in secret, don’t you think? Details now could cost your lives later, and the Bascombes’. And then, perhaps, cost John Hunyadi his kingdom.”

The trickster glanced at the other Borderkind he had recruited for their task. It was Cheval who met Smith’s gaze. Her silver hair seemed to glow almost white in the sun.

“We are at your service, monsieur.”

Smith nodded. “Excellent. We ought to depart, then. Good luck, Captain Beck.”

The old wanderer began to turn away, but then paused and looked back at Li. His legend called him the Guardian of Fire, but he had lost much of his control over the flames. Every inch of his skin had become black, burning embers. He had no hair, no clothes, no features at all to speak of save for his nose and mouth and the dark orange blazing pits where his eyes had once been.

“Not him, though. You others will blend in, but Li will be far too conspicuous.”

The grindylow stood up straight, speaking before Blue Jay or Cheval could summon the words.

“We’re mates, aye? That means we stick together, or we don’t go at all. You let us worry about keeping our secrets. We’ve done all right so far. The four of us, we left our friends behind in Palenque. Always figured we’d go back for ’em, and now the time’s come, so we’ll go. The four of us. You got that?”

The Wayfarer studied the water bogie more closely. “All right, young Master Grindylow. Just so you know it’s a problem you will have to solve.”

Blue Jay lifted his chin. “You’re not the only clever one, Smith. We’ll see to it.”

Smith nodded and took a final look at Li. The Guardian of Fire only stared back at him with those burning pits and said nothing.

“Say your good-byes, then,” the Wayfarer told them.

Cheval Bayard fixed him with a venomous stare, but said nothing. The grindylow stood close by. Li held himself apart. None of them had anyone whom they ought to bid farewell, but Blue Jay turned to Captain Beck and they exchanged smiles only lovers could share. Smith approved. He had spent generations persuading Borderkind that there was no sin in loving ordinary people. Of course, Damia Beck was the descendant of Lost Ones, and so even if they were to have children, their offspring would not be Legend-Born. Such children had to be the product of love between a Borderkind and a human from the other side of the Veil.

Still, it touched him to see the way they looked at one another. Wayland Smith had lived through eons almost entirely alone. Most of the time he felt as though he had nothing but callus where his heart ought to be. Once in a while, however, he felt a small twinge that reminded him that he still could feel.

“You know,” Captain Beck said to Blue Jay, “if you succeed, you might well hasten the end of the war.”

“One way or another,” he said, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

“In our favor, of course,” the captain said, ebony skin shining in the sun. Then she kissed him, letting her lips linger a moment, not caring that the others saw. Blue Jay returned her kiss tenderly, and when Damia stepped back from him, she was breathless.

“I wish you better luck than on your first journey to Palenque,” Captain Beck said, glancing around at the gathered Borderkind.

The grindylow snorted. “Well, we could hardly do worse.”

But Blue Jay and Captain Beck were not listening. Their fingers touched in a final lingering farewell, and then the trickster moved toward his kin and nodded to Smith.

“Let’s go.”

“Indeed. Swift through the Veil, and careful on the other side. The ordinary world has been too long without proper legends. We must do our best not to disturb them.”

“We’ve all been across before, old man,” Cheval Bayard sniffed. “We’re all Borderkind.”

With a nod, Smith reached into the fabric of the Veil. It took him a moment to grasp it-something that happened more often of late-but when he did, it was simple to draw the curtain aside, to open a path through the barrier for them all.

Li went through first, and quickly, as though he had wished for any reason to leave the legendary world behind. Cheval and Grin followed. Blue Jay spared one last glance at Captain Beck. She nodded gravely to him, and the trickster grinned. Then he stepped through.

Silently, as he too passed through the Veil, the Wayfarer wished the lovers whatever destiny they desired for themselves.

As long as it did not interfere with his own.