“Come with me,” Inspiration says and takes me by the hand. “I want to show you this really cool place I know called Bordertown.”
Inspiration and I wade through waist-high meadow grass to the crest of a hill overlooking a valley. At the bottom of the valley is a river. The top of the water ripples in the moonlight. “That’s the River Wyde,” Inspiration tells me. Across the River Wyde, there’s a dark wood. “And that,” Inspiration says, pointing towards the wood, “is the Forest Wylde.”
On our side of the river—the River Wyde—there is a town. I can see hundreds of lantern and fire lights dancing in shades of orange and yellow in the darkness. In the darkness, it looks like an large medieval town.
“Is that Bordertown?” I ask, and Inspiration nods.
I start down the hill and Inspiration puts an arm out. “You can’t go yet,” Inspiration tells me. “It’s not safe.” She doesn’t tell me what’s not safe about Bordertown, but she does give me some instructions. “You’ll need to come back in the daylight. And you’ll need to come back with friends, people that you trust.”
“How many friends?” I ask.
“More than two would be best, but no more than four. Otherwise you’ll stand out and look too suspicious.”
“I only have three friends,” I tell Inspiration. I’m a little embarrassed by this. I’ve never been one of the popular kids in school.
“That should do nicely,” Inspiration tells me. “Also, you need to come armed.”
I turn to Inspiration and stare. “What exactly am I supposed to be armed with? You know I’m only fourteen, right? Are we talking wrist rockets and pocket knives here, or am I gonna have to break into my dad’s gun safe?”
Inspiration only shrugs at this. “Whatever you’ve got should be fine, as long as you and your friends come prepared.”
“Prepared for what?”
“Prepared for everything.”
Not, ‘prepared for anything’, mind you—prepared for everything. I’m tempted to ask what that means, but I sense that Inspiration wouldn’t elaborate even if I asked.
The moon ducks behind a bush of clouds, and the valley below darkens. The trees across the river in the Forest Wylde are impossible to make out. I can’t even see the tops of the branches against the blackness of the sky right now. The lights of Bordertown stand out even brighter against the valley floor. A warm night breeze blows up over the hill and the meadow grass waves, carrying whispered secrets down into Bordertown and over the River Wyde and into the Forest Wylde.
I close my eyes and sigh as the wind blows and the grass waves and the lights of Bordertown surf the ripples of the river. I tell Inspiration, “It’s so peaceful out here.”
“That’s why you need friends and weapons. Bordertown looks peaceful; that’s what draws so many unwary people in. Alone and unarmed, you might wander down the wrong road and never find your way back again.” Inspiration turns to me and I open my eyes. She looks very serious in the brightness of the moon, which has emerged from its hiding place behind the clouds. “Promise me that you’ll never come to Bordertown alone,” she says.
“I promise.”
“And also promise me that you’ll never come unarmed, even if it’s just your pocket knife.”
“I promise.”
A moment passes, and I think about those two promises and I wonder whether I’ll actually keep them. Inspiration sounds very serious in her warning, but that’s not what makes me decide to keep the promises—it’s that Inspiration also sounds afraid of Bordertown.
I ask, “What kind of roads are in Bordertown? Where do they lead?”
“They lead every where,” Inspiration tells me. “And they also lead every when.”
“Every when?”
Inspiration nods. “You’ll understand when you see it for yourself. Bordertown sits at the edge of every where and every when. That’s what makes it so exciting. And also so dangerous.”
We’ve been on the top of the hill for some time now, staring down at the dark and dangerous Bordertown. I’ll have to be getting home soon. I have school in the morning, and it seems I have a cool new place to explore with my friends. I ask Inspiration, “Why did you bring me here?”
She smiles and her teeth gleam silver in the moonlight. “Are you afraid?” she asks, and I shake my head. “Then why not bring you here?”
It’s as good a reason as any. When you’re fourteen, it’s the only reason you really need to do anything. Why ride wheelies down the road on our bikes? Why play truth or dare with my friends on weekend sleepovers? Why watch slasher movies on Halloween night? Why not. I’ve done dumber things for less reason than that, and some for no reason at all. When I was fourteen, I still had my whole life ahead of me. I wasn’t afraid of anything. But I should have been more afraid of Bordertown that night. I should have been much more afraid.
