by Ashley Capes
“You mean, we’re travelling in the river?” Muka asked. His brow had drawn together now.
“In a fashion, I suppose we will. Ready?” Never waited for them both to nod. Where Muka didn’t appear too thrilled, Ayuni’s expression was one of determination.
Never reached out and gripped the cool hand.
The Guide waited for Muka and Ayuni, then began to sink.
“Won’t the rocks –” Muka’s voice was interrupted by a void of dark water as the Guide pulled them under. Lights of vivid green and blue began to streak by, hurtling along beside them. Some twisted and jumped about and they eventually blurred together, giving the sense of vast speed – disconcerting since to Never, it felt as though his body remained motionless.
When they slowed and faded into darkness, the Guide spoke once more.
The Vestibule will be attended.
By now, the words seemed almost ritualistic, since like before, there didn’t seem to be an attendant anymore. Never found himself standing in a tiled chamber of red and white, the pattern difficult to trace.
“I’m dry,” Ayuni said from behind him, incredulity in her voice.
“Me too,” Muka added.
Never nodded as he moved to a nearby podium. He ran his hands across the wall behind it until he found the tile that depressed with a soft click. A silver light appeared in the shape of a door, sliding open to reveal a long corridor. Pale light waited at its end.
“In we go then,” Never said.
The room at the end of the corridor spread in a wide, domed chamber. It was lined with tables, stools and cabinets, along with all manner of objects he could not name. Many were crafted from silver or steel, as tall or taller than he. Some were stout chests on wheels with an odd assortment of handles. Yet more pieces appeared as fence posts with thin wire stretched between them in triangles; there were also an assortment of weapons beneath clear quartz – much like the blades found in the Amouni ruin beneath the Folhan Ranges, but axes and bows too. Muka had gone to examine them, eyes alight with interest.
“Be thankful they are locked away,” Never said. “The last pair I saw claimed the souls of those who wielded them.”
Muka nodded solemnly and moved on to a thing that seemed to be a hoe connected to wheels, hands at his sides. Ayuni was similarly enthralled by a series of paintings adorning one wall – far across the chamber. The details were difficult to make out from a distance. He didn’t join her yet; a frown had formed. Had Father truly been here?
He drifted toward a series of books that lay open on one of the tables, each bound in old leather. He lifted the first; a series of numbers and letters written in precise Marlosi. Meaningless. But the second book was more interesting, a journal open to a final entry – Amouni words seemed to sear into his mind as he read, the unfamiliar and familiar as one, and the more he studied them the clearer the account became:
I will meet with the Old Wolf for the last time, it seems. He has requested the Sparrow’s Solace due to its proximity, I suspect. By now he is surely far too ancient to help; he always claims to have known a time before even the Bleak Man, but I have no other choice. If he can only remember just one more clue, it will be enough – I am so close.
The wolfman from the vision – it had to be Father’s writings, the man had been here! Never flipped back a page, a single line only:
Yet another failure. There is something wrong with these servant-women.
He gripped the book, hard, turning the pages more swiftly now, skimming over more reports of failures of ‘servant-women’ to bear children. He also flipped by other failures – and successes – of varying natures; research into Amouni language, healing and locations of ruins, names he did not recognise until he reached the first page where the only entry was a year.
More journals waited before Never. He lifted several, checking each year until he found one that seemed old enough. His hands were shaking as he started turning the pages – until the word Quisoa leapt forth.
I have seen the Quisoan woman again; Jenisa. She is fetching in so many ways, tender but fierce, the conquest has been its own pleasure truly, but most thrilling – her pregnancy is progressing further than any since the whore in the islands. Jenisa will bear fruit; I am certain of it, she is strong enough!
Never trembled. His father was every bit the fiend Snow had claimed. Every speck of the man was filth. Yet to see Mother’s name written; how beautiful. The brief ring of her voice, humming, seemed to echo in his mind, soothing the building rage.
On the next page, another single line – this one near to gouging the parchment.
Success! The Amouni line of Ascended will live on!
He turned another page for a longer entry – only for a flat, emotionless voice to interrupt.
Master, the fuel you have generously provided is ready. We require your aid now.
Never’s head snapped up. A figure in purple robes stood before him. Her arms were bare and her head that of a serpent, flat grey eyes regarding him. Beyond the figure, an empty chamber only.
He dropped the journal and dashed several steps across the room. “Ayuni? Muka?”
Only the echo of his voice returned.
“Where are they?” Never roared.
Being prepared.
“Prepared?”
Of course. We called, and you came with fuel for the Forge, as you have always promised.
No use arguing with it. “Take me to the Forge.”
Yes, Master.
The serpent-woman glided across the chamber, heading for one of the paintings – a tall portrait of an Ascended Amouni. The figure bore radiant golden wings where she stood, her pale robe bearing the five-pointed leaf but more, a twin set of eyes on each shoulder. Her expression was haughty, a touch of scorn in her eye. The artist had rendered her well – was she Father’s fantasy or a real figure?
The Guide touched the frame and it slid aside soundlessly, revealing a short passage and a well-lit room beyond, sunlight streaming within. He strode forward; pushing past the Guide, who offered no protest.
The Forge was unlike any he’d seen before.
A giant bowl of dusky quartz dominated an otherwise empty room, reflecting the skylight, broad enough to contain an entire pond. At its base, a spout lay poised above a long trough lined with silver and marked with unfamiliar Amouni runes. A chill crept across Never as he approached. “Where are they?”
Within, as instructed. We shall call the fire now, so you can add your blood. A different, similar guide stood by a panel on the opposite wall, pressing down as it spoke.
Never whirled back to the quartz. “No!”
Master?
Above, the roof was shimmering, becoming mirror-like – yet it was no mere mirror; it seemed to hold the light, as if storing up the sun. Heat built, beaming down on the bowl.
“Stop this.”
The Forge cannot be unlit.
Never threw his cloak back and let his wings burst free as he leapt up. It only took two beats of his wings to clear the rim. Within, two figures floated in a glittering pool of water – Ayuni and Muka. Their faces were calm, but they did not move, did not react to the growing heat that even now seemed to be singeing his very wings. Were they still alive?
He swooped over the surface and reached into the water, taking Ayuni by the shoulders. The water was already warm and it seemed to cling to his skin. He pulled her free, setting her down on the stone floor. Then he leapt up again and lifted Muka out with a grunt, expending no small effort to do so.
There, he checked upon them both; faint evidence of their life was clear in the gentle rise and fall of their chests. He stood, turning on the guides. Both waited together now, both in shades of purple and wearing snake-heads. “What have you done to them?”
Only as instructed. They have been placed in a deep sleep to await a higher us
e – they always struggle less this way. He could not tell which had answered.
“Being boiled down to slush?”
The Forge must not fail; you have warned us about such a tragedy.
“Remind me.”
It must be provided with new materials at regular intervals else it loses all potency. Your absence has been significant, and your orders made it very clear what we must do.
“And the purpose.”
To render unique offerings down to their unique qualities. One gestured. It isolates and extracts.
The second nodded its snake-head. It can also be used to remove undesired attributes. It is one companion to the Hor Pyrilh.
One? How many existed? Hor Pyrilh – The Human Maps, a terrifying tome. Just where had Snow taken his copy from – not here. The archive Father had written about? “Where is the book now?”
You have taken it with you.
Good enough, perhaps. “We are leaving, wait for me at the podium,” Never commanded.
Yes, Master.
He sat between Ayuni and Muka, leaning back against the trough. The sound of their breathing was faint but steady enough. He tried shaking each gently, calling their names but nothing woke them. Would time be enough? Calling the Guides might have worked but could they truly be trusted?
Perhaps he had to – he wasn’t getting anywhere by himself.
“Guide, wake them.”
A purple figure appeared. Yes, Master. It did not speak again but after a moment it flickered from sight.
“Never?”
Never turned.
Ayuni was rising, frowning as she rubbed at her temples. “What happened?”
“The Guides were a little overzealous,” he said. “How do you feel?”
“Not quite myself somehow. Or maybe just a little unwell, I don’t know how to explain it.”
Muka stirred next. When he rose, it was with a muttering. “One of those things... where are we?” He glanced around, staring up at the quartz.
“In a chamber that Father used for unpleasant things – but I think we need to leave now, just to be safe. Can you both stand? How do you feel?” he asked Muka.
Ayuni stood slowly, Muka following. The warrior stretched his limbs and flexed his fingers. “Well enough.”
“Good.”
Never led them back into the main chamber, where he paused before his father’s journals. Taking them was a risk. They’d probably end up dry after the passage in the river, but once beyond the confines of the Amouni stronghold could they fall into the wrong hands? Could they somehow be used against him?
If he left them behind, the journals could be found again quite easily – Never had an inkling as to where he stood, and if he was wrong, all he had to do was travel to the Beshano River and call a Guide.
“Never?” Ayuni stood beside him.
“I fear what these journals contain – this entire room,” he said. “But it may include writings about his time with your mother. Do you want to search before we leave?”
She stared down at the journals a long moment before shaking her head. “Not today.”
“Truly?”
She smiled up at him. “I want to find my mother, not my father.”
“Are you certain?”
“Never, please trust me. Finding Mother is more important than unearthing his ghost, considering what I was to him.”
Was she hiding her true feelings? Not that he doubted Ayuni’s sincerity to find her mother, and he could well-understand her need, but was it a brave front? There’d been true betrayal on her face when she’d realised what Father had expected of her. Or perhaps Never was pushing his own weakness onto his sister? His own need to learn more about the man who’d provided so little, shouldn’t have mattered so.
He had to place Ayuni first.
“We should leave,” Muka said, breaking the quiet.
Never shook his head. He hadn’t actually answered her. “I believe we are beneath the strange dome near the trading corral, if you ever change your mind, since I don’t wish to take the books.”
“No. Let’s finish our journey,” she said.
“Very well, let’s return to the mountains.” He started across the stone. The journals were safe and he could return himself at any time – in fact, the moment he knew Ayuni was free from the Temple he would do exactly that.
She was his priority now.
“Will the Guides be a problem?” Muka asked. “After all, they seemed to act on their own before.”
Never shook his head. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Chapter 32
The road leading up into the Cesanha Mountains ran straight and broad, a steady incline, lined by towering green pine trees whose needles were stirred by a chill evening wind that cut across the path.
“We should make camp, darkness will come swiftly here,” Muka said.
They found a suitable grove and set up camp, eating quietly before splitting the watch – Never took the first shift.
The crackle of their tiny fire was muted where it burned fitfully in the pit, the even breathing of Ayuni and Muka faint beneath it. From his position on a rock, moonlight offered some detail to the woods, broad trunks and low-hanging branches – where he saw a small figure flitting along.
He reached for a blade, but it was only the hin with its golden glowing eyes – only now it scampered forward on all fours, appearing more like a small animal rather than a moth. When it drew close enough, its leaf-like skin became clear, gleaming beneath the moon. The golden eyes appeared larger too, especially in a face without discernible nose or mouth – yet it extended stalk-like fingers, petals drifting down to the ground as it did.
He frowned at it, why had the hin grown larger since last he saw it? Or perhaps it had grown twice already. After all, hadn’t the butterfly in Tisura been green, with two yellow markings? And like the moth, it had seemed attracted to his blood.
“Slow down, fellow,” he said softly.
The hin retracted its arm, sitting back on its haunches.
“We’ve a contract, right?”
It nodded, a solemn movement.
“Then let’s see what you can do once more, little scout. I want to know who is nearby, if anyone follows us. Can you do that?”
Another nod, more vigorous this time.
“Thank you – as fast as you can.”
The hin spun, barely stirring the leaves as it charged back into the woods. Never stared after the creature. Perhaps his blood had changed it, like it seemed to change everything else it encountered. The question was just how much and in what way?
By the time the hin returned, his watch was nearing an end.
“What did you find?”
The creature nodded, then raised both forearms, holding up first eight fingers and then ten. Next, it swung an arm sharply, single finger extended.
“Eighteen monks, all armed?”
A nod.
“Following us?”
The hin shook its head. Then it closed its eyes, tilted its head to the side and rested both hands beneath.
The monks were sleeping – good news at least. “How close are they?”
It shrugged, then blinked a few times.
Never tried again. “This side of the Beshano River?”
Now the hin nodded.
“And this side of the forked road where a tree has been struck by lightning?”
The fae creature gave a tiny jump with its nod.
“Thank you,” he said. They were still a day behind and according to Ayuni’s estimation, her village was near the same distance further up the mountain. Still, eighteen monks, while a formidable force itself, hardly made it seem as though Hiruso was worried. Why not send the Hammers? After all, they’d captured Never once already.
&nb
sp; The hin was beginning to twitch.
“Sorry.” Never drew a blade and pricked the point of his thumb. Blood welled, and he held his hand out. The hin approached, its own plant-like fingers outstretched, then latched on to him.
The hin drew his blood forth this time, golden eyes glowing brighter.
Never pulled away after just a moment, not wanting to give it too much. In the scheme of things, it was hardly an amount to concern Never – but there was always a chance it would somehow hurt the hin. Simply because nothing bad had happened to the creature yet did not prove nothing would.
“Want another task?” he asked.
The hin gave another bounce.
“Good. I want you to slow the monks down somehow.”
It blinked.
“Hmmm...” He paused to think. Could a hin influence the very forest? “Would the trees help you close or move the trail if you asked?”
The hin clapped its hands together then once again disappeared.
Would it be successful? Even a slight delay might make enough difference between recapture and escape. At least the monks were asleep. “As I ought to be.” Never woke Muka, explaining about the hin, then sought his own bedding.
At dawn he nearly sprang from his bedroll when Ayuni called his name; he’d slept far deeper than usual but rising was no chore. “So, this is what a truly restful sleep feels like – I think I’d forgotten,” he said, squinting against the rising sun. His rest suggested that at least one part of him felt that the hin had successfully delayed pursuit.
They set out to climb once more, with Ayuni mostly quiet, her attention fixed on her surroundings. Occasionally, she’d shake her head. “So little is familiar but it feels right nevertheless.”
“Trust your instincts,” Never would say, and they’d follow whatever path she chose – not all of which were well-maintained, and a few turned out to be dead ends. But by noon they crested a hill that looked down upon a wide green vale and caused Ayuni to come to a halt.
In its centre lay a wide platform that covered enough ground to stand in for a village, yet there were no buildings upon it and the boards seemed to have been built upon giant, shorn tree trunks. Instead, strange ruins littered the place – once brightly-coloured tents and pavilions, now pale echoes only of their former cheer, low steel fences surrounding nothing but debris and mighty cages gone to rust.