by Ashley Capes
The Phoenix of Kiymako
(Book of Never: 6)
Ashley Capes
The Phoenix of Kiymako
(Book of Never: 6)
Copyright © 2018 by Ashley Capes
Cover: Illustration by Lin Hsiang, Design by Vivid Covers
Layout & Typeset: Close-Up Books & David Schembri Studios
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.
ISBN-978-0-6482600-5-9
www.ashleycapes.com
Published by Close-Up Books
Melbourne, Australia
For Never fans everywhere!
Prologue
The creature is dead.
It cost the Empress twenty-three of her finest men but it is done. Pieces of his body are scattered not just within the Imperial Cemetery, but beyond it too. I myself dumped a hunk of the thing’s torso in the ocean, though it turned my stomach to touch even the wrappings.
I mark these details now, here in my own journal, so that knowledge of its death is not lost. Empress Feyania wanted no official record of the man – or beast, if the truth were known – and while I agree with much of her reasoning, I must acquiescence to my fear, and act against her decree with these words.
We have done our utmost to ensure it does not rise again, but should such a dread event reoccur, let these warnings ring true: do not believe that one arrow or lunge will kill such a man. He took over a dozen of each before he fell – and prior to this, we had already managed to burn his wings to ground him. Even then, he continued his destruction for his very blood can suck the life from a man or sear flesh from bone. The creature continued to burn us until my Lieutenant severed the man’s head.
Only then did it stop.
It is a miracle that we cornered the creature in the first place. But he did have a weakness; his appetites for flesh were well known – if Sergeant Trapelo hadn’t tracked it from the brothel to the ruin we would have lost its trail once more. Among many regrets is that I cannot properly honour Trapelo’s work today, nor bring comfort to his widow.
Still, I will write this now and entrust the words to my successors.
Pacela, My Lady, please spare your golden land from another Thing such as he – if not forever, at least in my lifetime.
Hodenva
Captain of the First Imperial Guard
Signed in the Reign of the Empress Feyania of Marlosa
Chapter 1
“You’re stalling, Never. It’s obvious.”
Elina lay in the undergrowth beside him, peering between the bright green fronds of bracken toward the shaded road. Her dark hair had been pulled back from her face, tied up to prevent an enemy getting a hand-hold. The role of Princess seemed to agree with her; there was a contentedness that he hadn’t seen the last time they’d met – though a flicker of annoyance was clear too. Their mark was late – no surprise, truly; the gross tardiness of the common thief was all too predictable.
“Of course I am,” Never said with a frown. “But I think I’m being subtle enough.” The scent of damp earth was strong, almost welcome after the harsh sun of the clearings.
“Is that so? It’s been three days since you arrived,” she replied. A smudge of dirt grazed her pale cheek. “Shouldn’t you have booked passage by now?”
“Keep this up and I’ll make it three more.”
She raised an eye-brow. “You don’t have to wait for Ferne, you know. There must be half a dozen other river boats heading west you could use.”
Never opened his mouth to reply but the crack of a whip stopped him. The rumbling of carriage wheels drew near, still muffled by the dense birch, but the rogue nobleman was finally approaching. “Ready?”
Elina nodded.
“Be careful,” Never said, then stood to leap and catch an overhanging branch. The bark was smooth beneath his palm as he swung himself up, then climbed higher. He stopped at a vantage point that offered clear line of sight to the tree that they’d fallen across the road.
An obvious ploy but it would work – someone always had to get out and remove it, no-one ever turned back. And more, it’d give Never and Elina a chance to see just how many men Baronet Fabiam had along on his treasonous little jaunt into the forest.
As a dark mare drew into sight, cresting the small hill, Never leaned forward. “Hope your driver’s watching where he’s going for your sake,” he said.
A sturdy carriage followed the horse and the driver had just enough time to jerk on the reigns to prevent sending himself, his mount and carriage smashing into the fallen trunk. The mare whinnied in protest as she skidded to a halt.
The fellow was cursing from the platform as the carriage door swung open. A guard wearing the livery of the Baronet climbed free, a hand on his hilt as he surveyed the trees. The driver was calling back to the man.
“Tree on the road.”
The guard barely glanced at it; instead he continued to focus on the trees. “It could be an ambush. Get the axe.”
“Sir.” The driver hauled himself down the steps and ran around to the rear of the carriage.
A bowstring snapped.
The guard gave a shout, falling to the ground. He clutched his knee where a feathered shaft protruded. Elina was already stalking forward, pale blue cloak stirring, a second arrow set to string.
“Throw your blade aside,” she ordered the guard.
Never rolled his shoulders, letting his wings free but keeping them close to his body, waiting, ready. One heartbeat. Two. He fell, wings spreading with a snap as he swooped down to thump onto the carriage roof.
A yelp came from within, but he drew a knife and pounced upon the driver. Never swung hard, striking the man across the head with the pommel. The fellow collapsed with a groan – there was a chance he’d survive at least. Never hadn’t meant to swing quite so hard but it was best to be sure.
He charged around to the door.
Within, a fop in a yellow and black livery complete with a small, peaked hat, was cringing against the opposite door. He fumbled with the handle, his eyes wide. Never reached in, grabbed a handful of cloth and hauled.
The Baronet crashed to the road, a puff of dust following. Then he gaped up at Never’s wings.
“Stay,” Never growled.
The man flinched.
Elina was already approaching, her expression rather unforgiving. The guard was bound, his weapons beyond reach. Blood ran from the swordsman’s knee and Never ignored the way his own blood stirred at the crimson. He positioned himself between the man and Elina, allowing a clear view of both the guard and Fabiam.
“Where is it?” Elina demanded.
The man lifted a trembling hand to point at the carriage, all without taking his eyes from Never’s wings. Never flared them as wide as possible, black feathers filling the edge of his vision.
Elina ducked into the carriage, rummaged around a moment, then returned with a head-sized wooden box. From within she drew forth a bronze disc marred by patina, a clump of straw falling away. The bronze design within was a stylised image of a man rowing a boat, possibly beneath the sun or moon. Never gave a low whistle – he’d seen enough antiquities to know something truly old when he saw it. Old and valuable. Nothing that would have helped him with his old quest; it didn’t appear Amouni, but it was still impressive. Perhaps dating back to Sarann’s heyday, before the city was buried.
Nobleman Fabiam was certainly going rogue
in style.
Elina set it on the ground then drew a knife, pointing it at Fabiam. “Who are you selling this to? Answer quickly.”
“Jorga. He’s Vadiyem.”
Elina glanced over at Never. Trouble or coincidence? Vadiya involvement could be entirely incidental. It was too soon after the aborted invasion.
“He buys Hanik artefacts?”
“Yes. That’s all, Lady Elina.”
“Not a brilliant idea there, Fabiam,” Never said. “Couldn’t you find anyone else to sell to other than the country that just invaded your own? Maybe he’s selling more than artefacts. The charges of treason just keep mounting, don’t they, My Lady?” he said to Elina.
Elina nodded. “Indeed they do.”
Fabiam rose to his knees, hands pressed together. “Please, I stole the Solar Disc and the other pieces but that’s all it is. Jorga only wants trade to re-open between our nations and to have a head start when it does. And I only did it because I need the money.”
“What do you think, Never?” Elina asked, her expression unimpressed.
Never checked on the guard, who still sat bound, face white with pain, before shrugging. “I think he’s hiding something – maybe I could take him up for a little flight? We can see how high he bounces when I drop him.”
Fabiam froze, his face draining of colour. “My Lady!”
“Interesting idea, Never,” she said.
“We can bet on the outcome; it doesn’t even have to be height. How about number of bounces?”
She pursed her lips. “First, why don’t you clear the road for us.”
“My pleasure.”
Never drew one of his knives, the pattern of interlocking triangles raised against his skin. He made two quick incisions in his palms, deftly avoiding old scars. Blood welled and heat with it as the ancient Amouni magic stirred within him. Globes of flame grew, engulfing his hands in the crimson-fire.
Fabiam shrieked.
He ignored the man, instead flinging his hands at the huge tree trunk. Twin streams of blood shot forth and seared through the wood. Smoke rose from where he cut each line, working quickly. When a large, central section of the trunk thumped free, Never gave it another blast, sending the hunk rolling clear.
“There.” Never turned back to offer a quick bow.
Elina was grinning, though Fabiam was crumpled in a heap and the guard’s eyes were wide, his mouth agape. “Beautiful, Never. But before we load these traitors into the carriage I’d like you to make sure that piece doesn’t start a forest fire, if you don’t mind.”
Chapter 2
The Baronet had broken rather quickly.
Perhaps it was the dark and grime of the dungeon, the threat of plummeting to the earth, seeing the crimson-fire or Elina’s repressed anger, but Fabiam didn’t seem to have anything worse to answer for than greed. Elina was still going to chase down Jorga, of course, but it didn’t have the feel of anything larger.
“I doubt the Vadiya have the resources or the heart so soon after withdrawing,” Never said from the deep armchair he’d sprawled across. Elina was pacing before her fire, its heat not unwelcome. She stopped to lean against the mantle, toying with a dagger hilt.
“Retribution doesn’t have to come in the form of another attack, Never.”
“Assassination?”
“Why not?” she said. “We were both involved in driving them out.”
“Then how do they get messages in and out? That bronze disc wasn’t hollow.”
“It could be both; we’re searching the carriage and the other men. And remember, this isn’t the first thing he’s stolen.”
Never shifted, flipping a leg over the other arm. “True. But I still don’t know. Fabiam seems rather undermanned for another rebellion or assassination plot.”
“Let’s wait for my men to return before we call the Baronet undermanned.”
As if summoned, a knock came on the door. Elina barely answered before it swung open, revealing an old man dressed in the head steward’s green-striped robe. He was breathing hard, but his expression of concern eased when he saw Elina.
“My Lady, you gave us all a fright,” he said, his papery voice revealing a deep weariness. “Please, you mustn’t be so headstrong anymore. You are too important to the Kingdom.”
“Deyllid, everything is well, as you can see.”
“This time, yes, but you have a personal guard for a reason. We all want you safe and they want a chance to perform their duty. They train most diligently,” he added.
“Very cruel, Deyllid,” Never said. “Guilt is a dangerous emotion to bandy about like that.”
“Good evening, Lord Never,” the man said.
Elina sighed. “Deyllid, it was entirely by chance that we stumbled across Fabiam; there wasn’t time. But I promise, I’ll bring the men along next time.”
He gave a short bow. “My concern is for you firstly. And I know it might seem almost trivial, but I worry about everyone, especially after the manner in which your predecessor operated.”
Elina crossed the room to put a hand on his shoulder. “And I appreciate it. Without you to remind me, I fear much of the good work that happens here would go unacknowledged.”
The steward bowed again, it seemed from Never’s position in the chair, to conceal his smile of gratitude. “There is also the matter of the treasury meeting, Lady Elina,” he said when he rose. “It will be exhaustive.”
Now Elina smiled. “And so I’d best get some sleep is what you’re saying, I presume?”
“Trying not to say, Your Highness. It would be untoward of someone of my station to presume to do so.”
“Well, good advice is good advice,” Elina said as she thanked him. The steward excused himself and then Elina was back to pacing before the flames.
“You don’t seem very tired,” Never said.
“I can’t make a mistake. What if it’s something bigger than it seems?”
“Then you’ll find it and stop it.”
“I appreciate the confidence,” she said but her tone expressed doubt. “But I don’t know, Never. There’s so much to attend to and even though Grandfather and Deyllid help, it’s my responsibility. I didn’t ask for this but if I’m going to lead my nation I want to do it properly.”
“Like this treasury meeting?”
“Rebuilding isn’t cheap, and the money has to come from somewhere.” She shook her head. “I can’t worry about that now. I want to be sure of Fabiam.”
Never stood and stretched. It had been wonderful to fly again, even briefly, but he was feeling a little couped up in the chair. And even if Elina wasn’t tired he couldn’t deny a sluggishness to his own limbs. “Then let him free with some sort of degrading punishment, then watch him. See if he meets with this Jorga again; that way you’ll catch any conspirators,” Never said as he approached with a frown. “You are tired; you wouldn’t usually need me to work this out for you.”
Her shoulders slumped a little. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“Perhaps? I should be insulted; when have I ever been wrong?”
“Plenty of times. Never...” She paused then, meeting his eyes a moment before looking away once more. There’d been something vulnerable there and perhaps only the second time he’d ever seen such a look on her... but it was subtly different to when she’d told the story of her brother’s death. And now she was waiting, as if gathering strength to speak again... and when she met his eyes once more, she was smiling. “Thank you for today. Why don’t we both get some rest.”
“Ah, good idea.” He hesitated a moment then started across the room. At the doorway, he looked over his shoulder. Elina was already gone, the door to the adjoining chamber clicking shut.
In the hall he strode past tranquil paintings and the gleaming silver in the windows until he reached the guest wing. There, he
kicked off his boots and lay back on the soft bed. What had Elina wanted to say? And her smile when she thanked him... had it held a trace of sadness? No, regret.
Regret?
Never sat up.
“I am a damn fool.”
Something stopped her, but Elina had been going to ask him to stay... hadn’t she? He lay back down and shook his head. No. It had been something else, surely. And in the end, she’d chosen not to speak whatever had been on her mind.
Never frowned up into the darkness of the room.
By dawn, he’d not come any closer to clarity and when a servant knocked on the door to inform him that Captain Ferne had arrived, Never began to pack his belongings. Whatever Elina had decided, she’d decided last night. Stopping in City-Sedrin had always been part of his plan to reach Kiymako. Take the River Rinsa west and then travel the ocean north toward the giant island, where hopefully he’d find evidence of his father, and more importantly, his sister.
If she still lived.
And if she truly existed in the first place.
All he had was his brother’s certainty – not that Snow had often been wrong. There was the vision too; the one Never had received after drinking the vial mixed with dust from his father’s ground bones. Was it all a little thin? Well, he’d searched after thinner rumours.
Even as he walked through the quiet halls, heading for the exit, he shook his head. It was a strange kind of lie he told – it changed to suit him. In the forest, Elina had told him he was stalling and it had been true, for what if he reached Kiymako and found nothing? No trace, no clue to follow.
Or worse, if he found clues and they led to naught.
Losing the last thread of family...
Yet after last night, he was once more on the trail like a bloodhound, confidence creeping back despite how little he had to go on. “It’s just that Ferne’s finally arrived,” he muttered to himself.
And even that seemed like a lie.
Sacha’s words echoed in his head like a sharp answer.