Borderlands (20 page)

‘Without the night,' she chokes. ‘You can't . . . can't have stars . . . without the night.'

I freeze. Those are Lukas's words. Those are the words told to him by his grandmother, when she gave him the silver star charm. And for the first time, I realise the meaning of Silver's bright green eyes. Morrigan green. Just like Lukas.

‘You're her.' The words feel like paper on my tongue. I wet my lips. ‘You're his grandmother.'

Silver's lips twist into a bloody smile. ‘He takes after me, you know. Family scandal . . . when I left. My son . . . my son declared I was . . . dead.'

She pants a little, then grabs for my wrist. She presses her fingers against the silver star – the charm that doesn't yet contain any alchemy. The charm that can only be enchanted with a dying soul's proclivity.

‘Without the night . . .' she manages, and closes her eyes. I feel something strange against my wrist – something warm and cold and hot, all at once, and the charm falls back against my skin.

Silver gives a little gurgle. Her hands fall slack.

And with a twitch, her breathing ends.

After that, I lose track of myself for a while. It's like I'm operating automatically – a boat steered by an invisible captain. My body runs, dashes, ploughs through trees and leaves and darkness. Over roots, under branches, around trunks . . .

Forest air fills my throat, rich with the scent of damp mulch. I stumble a few times when my ankles snag, before I tear them free and stagger onwards. I'm only vaguely aware of my crewmates: shadows, gasps, flailing limbs. Sometimes we speed up, sometimes we slow. We splash along a river for a while to hide our footprints, then emerge back onto the same bank we left behind. We clamber across boulders and lurch through undergrowth.

Teddy suggests a treetop route, swinging from branch to branch. ‘Means no tracks on the ground, doesn't it? I reckon it's worth a shot.'

But Maisy looks pale, still on the mend, and a wild scramble through the canopy would be too much for her. So we choose another stream, and splash among shallow rocks and river weeds.

And through it all, I barely know what's happening. All I can think of is Silver lying dead in that ditch. We didn't have a chance to bury her. Lukas's grandmother. Lukas's grandmother, a member of the royal family, and we left her to rot.

As I run, my charms hit the skin of my inner wrist. Every twang makes me think of Silver. And now, the little silver star . . . it's not just a sentimental piece of jewellery any more. I felt something back there, in Silver's dying moments. I think she distilled a little of her own proclivity into the metal.

I know Silver's proclivity was Night, but I have no idea what the charm will be able to do. So how am I supposed to use it? Confusion races through my head, my body races through the trees, and all I hear is the crash of footfalls and the bark of my crewmates' breath.

Finally, we collapse. We have run until we can't press our bodies any more – until Maisy looks ready to have a heart attack – and then pushed on further anyway. It's Clementine who finally stops us. She doubles over, grabbing her knees. ‘We have to . . . rest . . .' she manages. ‘Maisy . . .'

I nod. ‘I know.'

There's no sign of pursuit from the smugglers; for all I know, they've given up. Maybe they found Silver's body and figured they'd dealt with the traitor. Maybe they just don't want to leave their boat – not if there's a risk of the catacomb restorations triggering more storms. Either way, I'm not about to complain.

We set up camp on a sheltered hillside, where the earth curves inward on its slope down to a creek. There's a nest of boulders about halfway down, and we wriggle inside to find a small cave. I lay out my magnetic circle and cast a quick illusion. The earth is damp and the rock is mossy, but at least we're protected from the wind. It's picked up quite a bit over the last hour, so it's a relief to place a wall of stone between my face and the late-afternoon sky.

I only rescued one supply pack, and its contents are drenched. The pack was soaked two nights ago, when the surge swamped the
Nightsong
, and it's already starting to stink. We shovel a mess of gluggy porridge out, then plunge our fingers into a bag of mysterious mush that was probably a flour cake in a prior life.

‘Yum,' Teddy says.

The porridge has a strange odour, and I sniff at it suspiciously. A moment later I discover the cause for the smell, and I almost gag. This was a batch of mushroom porridge, cooked days ago, and the muggy weather hasn't been kind to its remains.

‘That's disgusting,' Clementine says. ‘Who mixed that in with the oats?'

Teddy looks a little sheepish. ‘I figured it'd be good to have some precooked food – you know, since it's not always safe to light a camp fire . . .'

‘Oh, come off it, Nort. Even
you
must have realised it would go bad.'

‘Yeah, but I thought mushrooms were a kind of fungus!' Teddy says. ‘You know, like mould. You can't get mould growing on mould, can you? It'd be like a weird incestuous fungal party.'

I peer down at the remains of our porridge. ‘Hate to break it to you, Teddy, but it looks like your mushrooms were in a partying mood.'

In the end, all we can salvage is a bag of soggy nuts and the apricot syrup. I dump the rest in a corner of the cave, but the stink of mushroom porridge seems to intensify with every passing moment. Soon Clementine is holding her nose and giving Teddy a pointed look. He deliberately avoids her gaze.

I fight back a sigh. My head feels like it's ready to explode, and the last thing I want to deal with is an argument. ‘I'll get rid of it.'

I scoop the glug into a porridge bag and wriggle out of the cave, trying not to inhale. Then I drag the lot down to the stream, dump it, and watch our hopes of dinner churn away.

The light is fading to grey with the evening, but as I straighten up, something catches my eye. A shadow, a movement, a human at the edge of my vision . . .

I whip around.

Nothing.

The water downstream runs clear and empty. No sign of shadows. No sign of anything, really – except for a couple of skinks on the rocks. I wonder briefly whether they're edible, but as soon as my gaze falls upon them they flit away like tiny green arrows.

Back in the cave, Teddy divvies up the remaining loot. I accept my handful of nuts and syrup, although I don't feel like eating. It's odd – my stomach grumbles, but now that I'm faced with food, I can't bring myself to eat it. All I can think of is Silver.

I know it's not smart. It's self-indulgent, really, to wallow in grief. I learned that much in Rourton. In the first days after my family died, I barely managed to survive because I was too busy sobbing my heart out. It was only when I hardened up and learned to put the grief aside that I managed to find food and shelter. That's when I decided that it's easier not to care for people. It's easier to be alone. That way, they can't hurt you when they leave.

And if someone's death actually manages to hurt you . . . Well, you evict that memory as fast as you can, and don't look back. You can't afford to. Not if you want to keep living.

But in the last few weeks, I've broken my own rules. I've allowed myself to care. Radnor. Maisy. Clementine. Teddy. Lukas. I took that risk, and I care so damn much that it aches.

And what Silver told me changes everything. She became an alchemist because the royals are expected to learn a skill – just like Lukas becoming a biplane pilot. She fled her own family because she didn't want to play a part in the king's atrocities. Just like Lukas.

And then I let her die.

‘What's wrong?' Teddy says. ‘You're not eating.'

I shake my head. ‘Nothing. I just . . . that mushroom porridge really stank.'

Teddy grins, revealing a mouthful of syrup and nut mush. ‘That's why you need some sugar. Gotta get your strength back up, I reckon, after an ordeal like that.'

I force a smile and pick a nut from my palm. ‘Yeah,' I say. ‘You're right. Most traumatic sack of porridge I've ever dumped in a river.'

There's silence for a while. No one seems keen to talk about what happened today, and I'm fully onboard with the denial train. But my thoughts of Silver have turned to thoughts of Lukas. Even when she was dying, the old woman begged me to help him. To save him.

He's been missing for the better part of a week. My stomach churns when I think of where he might be. Alone in the forest. In a river. In the army camp . . .

‘When we get to the army,' I say, ‘the first thing we'll do is look for Lukas, right?'

No one speaks. Clementine looks down at the nuts in her hand, and rolls one silently from finger to finger.

‘I mean, he's part of our crew,' I add, when the silence has stretched too long for comfort. ‘We can't cross the Valley without him.'

Teddy hesitates. ‘Look, Danika . . .'

‘What?'

‘Well, you know.' He runs a hand through his hair, clearly struggling for words. ‘I mean, what happens if we get to the army camp and Lukas isn't there? We don't know for sure if he's gone off to stop his family. What if he's just . . .?'

‘Nicked off?' I say. ‘Abandoned us?'

‘Well, yeah.'

I feel my chest tighten. ‘Lukas wouldn't do that. He's not a coward.'

Teddy stares at me, a strange expression on his face. He's trying to read me – trying to see what lies under the bluster. ‘You really reckon he'll be there?'

I hesitate. Teddy's words have stirred something deep inside me – something I've been trying to deny. I think of Lukas stealing food from our packs. Keeping secrets. Sneaking off during the night, leaving me alone in that log. And for a terrible moment, I don't trust myself to speak.

Then I think of his letter. His star charm. Of Lukas himself. And I suddenly feel so exhausted, so sick with myself. So sick with the world. All I want is to close my eyes and make it all go away.

I look up at Teddy. My voice is barely a whisper. ‘Yes.'

‘All right.' Teddy takes a deep breath. ‘All right, Danika. I reckon you know him better than the rest of us.'

He looks ready to say something else, but then he catches my expression. He stops himself, frowns a little and places a hand on my forearm. ‘Get some sleep, all right? I reckon you need it. I'll take first watch.'

I open my mouth to deny it, to protest that I'm still strong and awake. But that would be a lie. The words stick in my throat, so I toss back the remaining handful of nuts. Syrup coats my tongue, the backs of my teeth. All I want to do is curl up and close my eyes.

‘Teddy, I . . .' I take a deep breath, and fight to summon the remains of my pride. ‘I'll take the next watch, all right?'

At first Teddy looks ready to argue, but then he shrugs. ‘Deal.' He nods towards the corner of the cave. ‘Go on, then. I'll wake you up at midnight.'

And that's the thing about Teddy Nort. Sometimes, when you least expect it, he's actually quite good at reading people.

At midnight, Teddy wakes me. I'm surprised to realise I've been in a deep sleep; he gives me an apologetic grimace when my eyes blink open.

‘Sorry,' he whispers. ‘Would've left you asleep, but I figured you might whack me in the morning if I breached our deal.'

I smile my thanks, although inwardly I'm kicking myself for volunteering to do this. Now that I've managed to fall sleep, I want nothing more than to
stay
that way for the rest of the night. My dreams were oddly peaceful. I'd expected nightmares – screams, blood, a metal boat crumpling around us – but instead, I dreamed of moonlight. That's it. Just a plain night sky, with the moon shining down. In fact, the only disturbing thing about tonight's dream was its lack of stars: just endless black stretching out to embrace the moon. But considering the more graphic things my sleeping mind could have conjured up, I'm willing to count this one as a win.

Soon enough I've swapped my dreaming moon for a waking one. I position myself at the mouth of the cave. Teddy begins to snore a few minutes later, so I know I'm the only one left awake.

The hillside is dark, but I can just make out the slosh of the river at its base. I watch the water for a while. As my eyes adjust, the scene grows clearer. It's oddly relaxing: a swish, a sway.

A shadow . . .

I jolt upright. Even in the dark, there's no mistaking it. A human silhouette just passed beneath the moonlight, blotting out a portion of the water. I glance back at my crewmates. Should I wake them? But if the figure disappears again, there's no point robbing them of sleep. I glance back down towards the river.

And the boy stares right back at me.

He can see me. Oh Taladia, he can see through my illusion. He must have watched me return to the cave earlier, after I dumped the porridge. It's the only way he could know exactly where we're hiding, and be able to see through the shimmer.