Borderlands by Skye Melki-Wegner

its name?’
    Lukas released a slow breath, looking distant. ‘My father’s not a gentle man, Danika. I learned it was best not to ask.’
    And so here we are, with nothing to go on but rumours and legends. Rumours and legends – and an army of King Morrigan’s soldiers to keep us from our destination.
    â€˜Don’t worry about them now,’ I say, when the silence stretches too long. ‘We’ve still got a way to go before we reach them, right? Let’s just focus on this swampy area, and then –’
    â€˜The borderlands,’ Maisy says, quietly.
    â€˜Huh?’
    She looks a little flustered as we all turn to her, but she takes a deep breath and explains. ‘The watery region that Lukas saw – I think it’s called the borderlands. I read a book about amphibians once, and it said most Taladian frog species lived somewhere called the borderlands, with water and land all tangled up together. I never realised it was near the Valley, but this must be it, mustn’t it?’
    Teddy nods slowly. ‘The edge of Taladia.’
    â€˜From what I read,’ Maisy says, ‘I don’t think the borderlands are a natural phenomenon. They’re a bit like the wastelands: the result of magic gone wrong. Except they were tainted so long ago, barely a century into the Alchemical Renaissance. There are no official records of why it happened. . . .’
    â€˜Or what sort of weird, alchemical dangers might be there?’
    Maisy gives an apologetic nod. ‘Exactly.’
    I suck down a sharp breath. In the wastelands, we faced quicksand, plateaus, and endless desert. None of it made geographical sense; it was the result of alchemy bomb testing. Unnatural. Twisted. Magic gone wrong.
    But if Maisy is right, the tainting of the borderlands goes back even further. The Alchemical Renaissance was centuries ago, when attempts to transmute lead into gold sparked the rediscovery of alchemy in Taladia. And it marked the end of the Dark Ages – a time of chaos and barbarism, when all knowledge of alchemy was lost.
    If this landscape was polluted in a time of such upheaval, who knows how its magic might behave?
    â€˜Great,’ Clementine says. ‘This will add a lovely footnote to the end of this trip.’ She sounds so sour that I half-expect a diatribe about letting filthy scruffers plan the route. But instead she just narrows her eyes, crosses her arms, and waits in silence for someone else to speak.
    Lukas turns towards the borderlands, and we all follow his gaze. We can’t see anything from here, of course – just trees, trees and more trees. But beyond those trunks lies a world of streams, islands, shores and lakes. Beyond that lies a growing army: a bullet in the chamber of King Morrigan’s unknown plan.
    And beyond that lies the Valley.
    There’s a moment of silence, as we all stare numbly through the trees.
    â€˜Well,’ says Teddy eventually, ‘who’s up for mushroom porridge?’

    The night is long and quiet. I volunteer for first watch, since there’s no hope of sleep with all this new information rushing through my head. The worry is like a parasite – like an infestation of nits back in Rourton. The little buggers won’t stop niggling at you, and scratching just makes them keen to return.
    I drop my head into my hands, take a deep breath, and try to refocus. I’m supposed to be watching for danger, not mentally reviewing all the possible reasons for King Morrigan to amass an army.
    After an hour or so, I jump at the sound of movement, but it’s just a figure extricating itself from my crewmates’ huddle. At first I think it must be Lukas coming to keep me company, but when she steps into the moonlight I recognise Maisy.
    â€˜Hi,’ I whisper. ‘Can’t sleep?’
    Maisy shakes her head. ‘Mind if I join you?’
    â€˜Course not.’ I scoot across and gesture for her