The Never King

by James Abbott

  ‘I used the celestial stone,’ she said. ‘It’s why nothing of him remains.’

  ‘You placed him among the stars . . .’ Birgitta said, and gave her a strange look.

  ‘You think I did wrong?’

  ‘No,’ Birgitta said. Her eyes were welling up. ‘I have just realized there is little else I can offer you now. To make a choice like that in such a situation, and to will that uncontrollable stone home . . .’ Birgitta paused. ‘Perhaps I have been wrong all along. Perhaps we do need sisters with skills like yours. Oh, the world is a strange place now. It is not for simple creatures like myself any longer. I need to sleep, sleep before I make any more decisions.’

  As the rays of the new sun cast themselves across the near-vacant city, Elysia and Birgitta sought somewhere to lay their heads.

  They were shown a house that had evidently belonged to someone of great wealth. It had been abandoned with an ample supply of firewood, so Birgitta lit a fire while Elysia lay down, clasping her father’s swords.

  *

  They slept for an entire day.

  Elysia did not realize how exhausted she had been until she awoke refreshed, in the next day’s afternoon sunlight. The doorway gave them a view of the damp stone of the city glistening, and the air smelled clean from the morning’s rain. The higher towers and spires were in shadow to her right, whilst down below to the left, along the cobbles, a couple of soldiers were throwing pieces of stale bread for a flock of gulls.

  ‘What do people do after a war?’ she asked, stretching. Her body ached all over, but it was a pleasant sensation: she had done good work, and contributed to something greater than herself, and the aches were reminders of that fact.

  Birgitta sighed and placed her hands on her hips. ‘I don’t know, if I’m honest. This has been no normal war and I do not really feel as if it has been a victory. We have merely stopped whatever it was for a moment. This is the beginning of things. So I do not think it is, strictly speaking, afterwards. Not just yet.’

  ‘We should find food and news,’ Elysia announced.

  ‘That sounds as good a plan as any, little sister.’

  The two passed a pair of soldiers as they exited, and from them they learned that Landril had ordered them to stand guard outside their house. Tylos was sitting in a wooden chair next to them, half asleep, his sword leaning up against the wall.

  ‘And where is the spymaster?’ Birgitta demanded.

  ‘Guild of masons, two streets down. To the left, ma’am,’ the taller of the two replied. ‘It’s a temporary headquarters. Commander Valderon is there with him. As is the queen of Dacianara.’

  ‘And you, Tylos?’ Birgitta asked, tapping a leg of his chair with the base of her staff. ‘What are you doing here?’

  He rose from the chair fluidly, stifling a yawn. Elysia noted how the soldiers eyed him warily.

  ‘Excuse my manners,’ he said. ‘Xavir asked me that if anything were to happen to him then I was to protect Elysia. And that is what I’ve been doing, since you retired yesterday. That chair and these gentlemen have been my companions.’

  ‘Have you not eaten?’

  He tilted his head towards the other soldiers. ‘They found a couple of apples in a storeroom.’

  ‘Let’s have none of that nonsense,’ Birgitta scoffed. ‘Notions of chivalry are well intentioned, but she is more than capable of looking after herself.’

  ‘And speaking for myself,’ Elysia interrupted. ‘Thank you, Tylos. That’s a kind gesture. Your loyalty to my father was strong. But don’t feel you have to remain longer than you must. The fighting is done for now. You can go where you wish.’

  ‘I have nowhere to go.’ Tylos smiled affably and shrugged, palms upwards.

  They started walking down the street together. Elysia noticed a sign for a bakery belonging to the guild of bakers, and smiled sadly at the memory of Xavir talking to her about them.

  ‘I am in no hurry,’ Tylos added. ‘If you need an escort, I am more than happy.’

  ‘What if I am to go on the road? Must you honour my father’s words still?’

  ‘He was an honourable man and gave me my life back. If you have plans to travel and will permit my protection?’

  ‘I don’t think we can change your mind,’ Elysia said. In a way she was glad of the offer – it was, somehow, a connection to her father; so long as Tylos was still around, it might feel as if her father was too.

  ‘Not at all,’ Tylos replied. ‘Besides, the nights remain long and you will need entertainment on the road. Perhaps some poems from my homeland?’

  ‘By the source!’ Birgitta said. ‘If you don’t shut up about the poets I’ll kill you myself.’

  *

  Valderon was sitting with his boots up on the long table, on the top floor of the guild house. Landril, Lupara and two wild-looking, face-painted Dacianarans whom Elysia had never met were seated alongside him. Jedral was standing at the back with his arms folded, a shaft of sunlight falling across his now battle-scarred face. The room was a simple, sparse meeting room with wooden floors and open shutters. Clumps of dried herbs had been nailed to the walls some time ago, but the room otherwise smelled musty. There were cups of wine on the table, along with some slabs of cheese and salted ham. In the centre of the table, Landril had placed a small bust of the Goddess, and positioned her to face himself.

  They rose when Elysia and Birgitta entered the room, a level of respect that she was not used to. Tylos came in behind them and moved to the corner.

  ‘You’ve recovered from the events?’ Valderon asked, bringing chairs for them to sit at the table alongside him.

  ‘We’re as fresh as spring lambs,’ Birgitta replied.

  ‘And you, Elysia?’ Landril asked.

  ‘Ready to do it again,’ she replied.

  Landril smiled. ‘Your father endures within your spirit, Goddess rest his soul.’

  ‘What news have you got?’ Birgitta asked. ‘We have slept for too long in such times as these.’

  ‘You earned your sleep, and the city is secure, so far as we can tell,’ Landril replied. ‘This much, we know: we have captured fifteen Voldiriks who remained hiding in the aftermath. From what I gather about their appearance and in crude communications with them, these are true, original Voldiriks. Many of those who fought on the field of battle were citizens of this very city who had been transitioned in the tanks that we have seen. Our people were spawned. Changed into things they ought never to have been. Those who resisted, or for whom the transition was not a success, were turned into greater beasts. We have spent the better part of a day killing what is ultimately our own people – although they were already dead. Somehow they were connected to the force that lived through Mardonius, and without that – when Xavir severed that connection – there was no life left within them. The Voldiriks still have access to our nation far to the north-west, at Port Phalamys. There is still work to do. We must cut that connection.’

  ‘By the source,’ Birgitta said, ‘this is a miserable state of affairs. What’s your plan now?’

  ‘We must repopulate the city,’ Landril said. Wringing his fingers, he glanced to Valderon and Lupara, both of whom waited for him to continue.

  Elysia could tell in their glances that Landril would be defining the future for Stravimon, and that he probably would not mind at all.

  ‘Yes, we must bring those who have left back into the city’s embrace. We need to create community, though that will take many months. We could destroy whatever they have set up at Port Phalamys as a first step. We must find out what force still lingers in the shadows of the city and the forests of the east and north, for their foul magics are present yet.’ Landril turned to Elysia and Birgitta, his eyes darting between the two of them. ‘We will need your help in this.’

  ‘To track down ghosts in the city?’ Birgitta asked. ‘If it needs to be done.’

  ‘I won’t do it,’ Elysia said.

  Everyone stared at her.

  ‘And what
is your plan?’ Landril asked, eyebrow raised.

  ‘The Dark Sisters,’ Elysia stated, ‘need finding, and killing.’

  ‘This is true,’ Landril said after a moment’s pause. He began to tap the table with his fingers. ‘Something is afoot with the witches. Their role in this is not entirely clear. That they have been involved in the breeding of Voldirik-like warriors is merely a part of what they have been up to, no doubt about that. But do you think you can find them on your own?’

  ‘I won’t be on my own,’ she replied and indicated the black man in the shadows. ‘Tylos will be coming with me.’

  ‘There are other sisters too,’ Birgitta added, ‘who left Jarratox when we did. They will need finding, for they will be important assets.’

  ‘So be it.’ Landril rose from his chair and walked towards the window. He looked down on the empty streets. ‘When I ventured to Hell’s Keep, I thought all of this nonsense would end with a few lost lives at most, yet it feels to me as if there is even more fighting to be done.’

  Valderon stood by and placed a heavy palm on his shoulder. ‘Xavir was right, spymaster. None of this – none of the ebb and flow of power and war – ever ends.’

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Bringing a book into the world is always a team effort, and this one is no different. But in particular, I would like to thank Julie Crisp for her never-ending belief over the years, and for making the industry more fun; and John Jarrold for his guidance over the past decade of my writing career. It’s safe to say that without them both I would not have inflicted so many words upon the reading public. And also, as ever, my wife, who has put up with me spending more evenings behind a laptop than I care to remember.

  First published 2017 by Pan Books

  This electronic edition published 2017 by Pan Books

  an imprint of Pan Macmillan

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  www.panmacmillan.com

  ISBN 978-1-5098-0313-2

  Copyright © James Abbott, 2017

  Cover Design by Neil Lang,

  Pan Macmillan Art Department

  Lettering by Stephen Raw

  The right of James Abbott to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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