Vasethe is a mysterious young man on a journey into the proverbial underworld, and like any other tourist, he needs a good guide: in this case, the destroyer of empires, mistress of the dead, and keeper of the border between Ahri and the 999 demonic realms of Mkalis. Vasethe just calls her Eris. And despite his obfuscation of his purposes in Mkalis, Eris agrees to help him. These journeys are always the same after all: to find a lost loved one, to bring them back to Ahri, to undo the grief and pain they feel at their passing. However, as they navigate the eerie creatures and antiquated rules and bureaucracy of Mkalis, the seams of Vasethe’s story start to come undone—just as Eris’ past rises up from the depths to seek justice upon her. In Kerstin Hall’s Border Keeper the characters are required by natural law to tell the truth, and yet no one is what they seem. Familiar mythology is turned on its head. And ruminations on grief and healing are whispered alongside a quest narrative that is at once traditional and anything but.
If this sounds like a lot for one little novella, it is. Hall’s economy of worldbuilding is nothing less than profound. The Border Keeper, even aside from its haunting prose and memorable characters, is a wonderful example of its form. It is short, sweet, and anything but shallow.