The Border Guard

The Border Guard 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 with a lie, to accustom you to the experience. Prior to being so unjustly maligned and sent here to serve penance, I, Aelik Swiftthorne, have never before visited Earth. I certainly never witnessed a Border Guard being horribly murdered mere days before said injustice. But if I had been, it might have gone something like this: Early morning in the forest. By your standard of forests, anyway. I doubt a one of the trees could be much older than a century, so barely juvenile. They’d be considered woods back in the faerie lands that are my home. But you insist on calling this a forest, so let’s go with that. It’s a relatively quiet forest that’s grown up around a circle of worn and dilapidated stones. Still in working order, though, as they get me here. I get clear of them on arrival. They’re the only easily accessible manner of travel between worlds. On worlds restricted by the council - just Earth at the moment - they’re patrolled by the Border Guards, to prevent us seeing the sights. Or to discourage more permanent hopes of settling, that’d put us beyond the control of the council. I’m only intending to sightsee. The illusory enchantments necessary to interact with humans - without the screaming and running away of one or both of us - are too expensive. As soon as I set foot outside the circle, an icy chill down my spine screams that I’m being hunted. Not an unusual response in the circumstances, but I’m convinced it isn’t just nerves. Nobody’s sure how Border Guards track their prey, but considering the number of circles they patrol, they have a high capture rate. Precautions are therefore wise. As is moving fast once you arrive, to put distance between you and them before they respond. Wasting no time as a sightseeing target, I head for the path with the most cover. Not the cleared trail. That’s too open. The talisman at my throat theoretically hides me from Border Guard magics. But it’s experimental, and I don’t intend spending the trip as a guinea pig. I’d consider an uneventful journey a success, but suspect that horse has bolted. Given how little we know of Border Guards’ powers, there’s little guarantee the talisman offers anything but false hope, so I focus on traditional methods of evading attention. I may be jumping at shadows, but the absence of bird sounds from the immediate vicinity makes it difficult to hope for that. I’m certain I’m not alone. If I’m lucky, it’s only some of your kind. But I doubt I’ll encounter that flavour of luck. With this much bad luck I could almost believe my life was still governed by the story of home - the capricious genre that rules Faerie - rather than the indifferent story of science that holds sway in your world. I’m not convinced your native hunters would be out at this hour of morning, anyway. Should I meet one, my fae appearance - taller and thinner than is normal for your kind, with more angularity of the face that marks us out as something other - may incline them to shoot first. I’m unprepared for such a meeting. Previous visits have always involved staying hidden. Maybe looking at you from a distance and purloining the occasional object for the lucrative black market in Earth artifacts. This visit I only intended to check on rumours I’ve heard of the new security measures. I take cover as soon as I find enough growth to offer it - a patch of brambles and a tall, wide-leafed grass - keeping the circle partially in sight. It’s risky to stay so close, but the main danger is being caught in your world. Staying close to the nearest escape route back to Faerie is the smart move. While fae have often been associated with forests in your tales, that’s mostly because you used to have more of them. And it’s always been safer for us in the wild shadows, the areas you’re already inclined to view warily. It isn’t necessarily a wrong view. Some of us feel more at home in the wild. Or at least self-identify as cultural tree-dwellers. Personally, I’ve always had more of an attraction to indoor plumbing - which we mostly stole from you, so thanks. Back to my point, as I’m sure I had one. Many of us do know how to hide in the forest. And other places, but forests can be more conducive to illicitness. I also have a talent for knowing when to hide, and listen, and watch. And smell. Is that burning? Not a forest fire, not yet. The faint crackling isn’t yet at that level. Still no sounds of birds nearby. Even the insects seem oddly silent. Forests aren’t usually quiet places, if you know how to listen. I hold my hiding spot for a good five minutes, calmly taking in the surroundings, all the while ready to leg it for the circle at the first sign of trouble. Not that I can necessarily outrun a Border Guard - or, worse, a Sentinel - but I don’t intend to surrender. That I don’t jump up or scramble away when