The Book of Never: Volumes 1-5

by Ashley Capes

  The guard growled. Never charged and the man hesitated – it was enough. Never lashed out with an elbow, striking the man’s chin. He fell to the ground with a crash and Never kicked the man in the face.

  The fellow did not rise.

  Never knelt by the blade, scooping it up. Maybe his hands weren’t so useless. “Here.” Luis appeared beside him, holding out bound hands. Never sliced through the ropes, then Luis did the same. Within moments, everyone was free.

  “What’s happening?” Luis asked, eyes wide.

  “I don’t know. I hope it means we’re being rescued,” he said.

  Karlaf frowned. “No, lad. It’s the Bakar.”

  “What?”

  “The spirits – they are crying in memory of their lives. I cannot make out the words, they are too old.”

  Never opened his mouth to contradict the guide and yet... were there truly Hanik words within the cries? Had he only imagined the Vadiyem language? But it was enough to confuse the Steelhawks.

  “Whoever it is we have to leave,” Elina said. She dashed to the corner of the room where the packs had been placed, retrieving her bow and quiver. She tossed Luis his spear and then took her own pack and hoisted it onto a shoulder. Karlaf followed and once Never was armed and carrying his own pack, they slipped from the outpost and into the deepening shadows.

  A cry from one of the Steelhawks followed them.

  “This way,” Never shouted. He led them along the path, flashing through patches of dull orange light and then into the undergrowth and a small stand that lined the path. The faces of his companions were softened at the edges as darkness grew. Or was it the sickness? “We can ambush them,” he said, breathing hard. “We just need a vantage point. Like these trees.”

  “You up to this?” Karlaf asked.

  He nodded. “Just have to catch my breath.”

  “We should spread across the road,” Luis suggested. “Attack from both sides when they pass.”

  Never nodded. “Stay with me, I want your reach. Elina, take Karlaf across the way.”

  The screams had not halted but the cries of the Steelhawks co-ordinating their search had joined those of woman and child. Elina and Karlaf lay in the undergrowth and Never rubbed more feeling back into his hands before drawing two knives and blinking away sweat. Luis held his spear ready.

  Footsteps thundered down the road but they soon came to a halt with twin thuds.

  Never peered around the tree.

  A figure stood outlined against the last of the sunset where it strained through grey trunks. The figure paused then slipped into the trees, slender and swift. No footsteps, not even the undergrowth had heralded its departure. As it moved, there had been a hint of pale claws, soft with a wavering flame.

  Bakar.

  Chapter 13.

  “Did you see that? The Bakar?” Never asked, a blade raised. He started a slow half-circle, straining his ears as he did, yet there was naught but shadows and screams from the woman and child. Still their voices rose in the evening, echoing between the pale tree trunks.

  Luis shook his head.

  “It made no sound when it killed – it simply appeared and...”

  Two silent figures stood in the undergrowth, directly behind Luis. “Run!” Never hauled his friend aside and dived at them.

  The creatures spread their slender arms, claws glowing with pale fire. Never swung his knives but neither connected. Instead, he crashed into the cold grass. The creatures loomed over him, branches of the trees visible through their limbs and shifting faces – sometimes human, sometimes furred, with elongated jaws.

  When one bent to touch him he flinched.

  The forest exploded into white.

  All sound ceased. He floated – no, he walked, steps slow, across a clearing leeched of colour, closing in on a stump so broad that a hut had been built atop it. Steps led up to the door. Though made of wood, it too had no colour – pale streaks with dark creases only. A man stood before it, he waved Never closer.

  “Your freedom,” he said, his voice deep.

  The man’s face was heavily wrinkled, eyes almost lost beneath his brows. His skin was pale as the birch that ringed the clearing, it moved only little when he spoke. He was ancient, and the sense of his age was like a force within the clearing. Yet such age was not shown by a beard or flowing white hair – it was all in his wrinkles, which covered his bare chin and bald head too.

  His movements were graced by the faint hiss of leaves rustling or a hand running over smooth bark – the very substance his robe appeared to be made from. “We have little time.”

  “You’re the Bleak Man?”

  “Keep up, Amouni. Of course I am. We must speak of your side of the bargain.”

  “Wait.” He spun to the trees that lined the pale clearing. “What about the Bakar?”

  “I asked them not to harm your friends.”

  “You control them?”

  He chuckled. “No. But we have an understanding – when I can get them to listen. They did not wish to stray from the ruins, you see.”

  “Not truly.”

  “No matter, Never. Attend to me now. You must come to me here. I have expended too much energy wrangling the Bakar. Come to me in the ruins and help me, now that I have saved you.”

  “I may need to be healed first,” he said.

  “The Red Clove, I understand. That is well; you will find it within the walls of Sarann. Remember, east of the ruins – find Kathar and Christi, twin statues of the sun gods, I will open the way for you.”

  Darkness returned.

  He lay in the grass and Luis knelt at his side, shaking his shoulder in the quiet... The quiet? The screams had stopped. The voices of the Steelhawks were gone too.

  “I’m awake. I think.”

  “How did you do that?” Luis whispered.

  “What?”

  “Your knives struck the Bakar and they disappeared.”

  “Truly?”

  “Yes. When you hit the ground you didn’t move at first.”

  He sat up. “Whatever happened, I’m alive now.” It wasn’t the time to mention the Bleak Man. Who knew whether Harstas or any of his ilk had survived the attack? “Where are Elina and Karlaf?”

  “Here.” Karlaf led Elina across the road. “Where did the Bakar go?”

  “Never banished them,” Luis said.

  He raised a hand. “I’m not so certain of that. And we can discuss it later. I think we should flee. Harstas and his men might have survived – and I don’t want to bet on whether or not the Bakar return. Karlaf?”

  He understood the question. “Dark or not, I can find our way.”

  “Then lead on.”

  The older man took them through the darkness, staying true to the path, and despite tripping on the occasional tuft of weed, they made progress through the early evening. Only the sound of the occasional whisper or soft thud of their shoes on the earth – or a curse when Karlaf explained that he’d strayed from the path.

  Several hours passed before he brought them to a halt.

  Never rubbed at his eyes. It was getting harder to keep the damn things open. It’d been a long day; at least the sweating had eased.

  “We need to rest,” Karlaf said. “We should risk a light.”

  “Should we?” Elina asked.

  Never slung his pack to the ground. “I haven’t heard anything following us. In fact, the whole forest is silent. The Steelhawks must be finished. Or lost.”

  “I’ll take first watch,” Luis said.

  Never rubbed the blue-stone until a pale glow rose, handing it to Karlaf, who wound through the looming trees to stop at a small clearing. He pointed to a gap in the grove. “Beyond is a stream, if you listen you’ll hear it.”

  A faint bubbling in the darkness.

  �
��If we follow, it will lead to the Rinsa river and then to the north-western reaches of Sarann. By noon if I’ve calculated correctly.”

  “And the Bakar?” Luis asked.

  “We simply have to take our chances. I can teach you a Helinir prayer, if you run into a spirit, but I don’t know how effective it will be.”

  Luis nodded. “Better than nothing.”

  Never was already spreading his bedroll. “Wake me for my turn,” he said... or mumbled, because no-one acknowledged him and he was asleep the moment his head hit his pack.

  Chapter 14.

  “The trees have moved.”

  Karlaf continued to pace the clearing, morning sun brightening the silver in his hair. Two broad hazels spread their branches across smaller trees that stood together like a handful of tent poles.

  “I could not say,” Elina said.

  Never shook his head. The image of bark gleaming faintly blue was useless. He didn’t even remember taking his watch. Had anyone woken him? He stretched and rolled his shoulders. At least the fever had receded again – it was a dull pulse almost beneath awareness.

  Karlaf glared at the trees then glanced over his shoulder. “Luis?”

  “They all look the same.”

  “I pointed toward the stream. Told you all it was beyond the gap in the trees, now there’s no gap where I pointed.”

  “So long as the stream is in place?” Never asked.

  Karlaf muttered to himself but nodded. “I suppose. I’m thirsty anyway.” He stomped off along what appeared to be a game trail.

  “Any sign of Harstas?” Never asked.

  “None,” Luis said, checking the binding on his spearhead.

  “Good.” Never found an apple in his pack and bit into it. Floury. The Gods hated him after all. He chewed through the unpleasant texture and by the time he’d packed and helped clear the camp, the apple was finished.

  And Karlaf had returned. The man was shaking his head. “The stream is not there.”

  “What?” Never stood from where he’d knelt to tie the straps on his pack. “I heard it last night. That much I remember.”

  “As did I,” the guide said.

  “And I,” Elina added. Her brow was creased, the bandage on her head smudged with dirt. “Were we all wrong? I know I was exhausted.”

  “We didn’t imagine it.” Karlaf folded his arms. “Something is happening.”

  Luis glanced at the forest. “The Bakar?”

  “First I’ve heard of them hiding a stream. Or shifting a camp.”

  “What about the Bleak Man?” Never asked. It seemed like the kind of thing the old fellow might be able to pull off – the only question being why? It couldn’t have been misdirection – he wanted to meet. Protection? Was there danger at the stream?

  Elina exchanged a glance with Karlaf; both expressions of concern.

  “You seem worried,” Never said.

  Karlaf shrugged. “The Watcher is a fairy tale, Never. Why do you mention him?”

  “Have you been hallucinating?” Elina asked.

  “The man I met seemed real enough. Pale, very wrinkly. He claimed to have brought the Bakar down on the Steelhawks to save us.”

  Elina tilted her head. “You spoke with him?” Another glance at Karlaf. “Are you trying to tell me you think he’s real?”

  “When we were tied to trees and then when I’d passed out near the Bakar.”

  “The Bleak Man?” Luis asked. “Are we in danger?”

  Karlaf spread his hands. “Hard to say. The Watcher in the Wood some call him. The Bleak Man, others. In children’s tales he is the master of life and death in the forest, he slips between the trunks in a robe of birch to collect the dead, while warding the living from trouble.”

  “And in other stories he lures stray travellers into his grove and feeds them to his trees,” Elina added. Her expression suggested she found that aspect more plausible than a benign watcher.

  Luis frowned. “Never?”

  “He wants my help; no mention of feeding us to any tree.”

  “No-one knows where his home lies,” Karlaf said. The guide still appeared troubled. “You sure it wasn’t just a traveller?”

  “We also met in a white place, after I ‘banished’ the Bakar,” Never said. “He told me to look beyond the twin statues of the sun gods, Kathar and Christi.”

  “You’ve heard of them before, haven’t you?” Elina asked. “Karlaf or I mentioned them in the legend of Sarann.”

  “No.”

  Karlaf shook his head. “The Bleak Man is real.”

  “Or Never simply had a fever-dream,” Elina said.

  “I was awake the first time,” Never said. “And you don’t have to believe me to help find the Red Clove, do you?”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps it doesn’t matter.”

  Never turned to Karlaf. “Can you still locate Sarann?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Then let’s move on. We should reach it by noon, right? That should give us a few hours before nightfall to find the Red Clove.”

  “If it still exists,” the guide said.

  “The Bleak Man seemed to think so.”

  Back onto the small animal trail. The squeaking of the Baeils would rise and fall as they passed hidden nests and Never wondered whether the creatures were edible. Trail rations were growing a little dull. Time to hunt remained a luxury.

  Sweat built again – of course. The transitions were becoming shorter. A bad sign? The longer the morning stretched the more he sweated. His vision blurred then sharpened then blurred again. Muscles twitched. Blood was heating up once more but he refused to falter. Not so close to Sarann and the Red Clove.

  Karlaf stopped. “We’ve entered the outskirts of Sarann.”

  Never slowed. Was there more open space between the trees? The trail cut through tall grass and shrubs and the trunks were sparser. He left the trail, peering into the distance. A large clearing of dirt and fallen trunks lay ringed by low stone stumps.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  Elina joined him. “A place for exhibition or sparring. The stumps were once benches.”

  “A building,” Luis called softly.

  Never led Elina back to the trail where Karlaf and Luis had continued a little way. Luis pointed with his spear. Like the outpost, the building was tumbling down and covered in vines and moss.

  Within, moss-covered and chipped tiles made up the floor. A faded green, hints of a pattern were obscured by the return of the forest. In places, moss had been torn up by animals.

  “What was this building used for?” Luis asked.

  Karlaf walked to the centre. “There would have been a skylight here, so that priests could greet the sun as part of rituals for Kathar and Christi.”

  Never took a moment to snatch a drink from his flask. “Should we look for the Clove here? I see a few likely trees – it cannot be that easy, can it?” He pointed. Some of the trees were shorter than the birch with foliage a distinct red.

  Karlaf gave a brief smile. “It’s similar. But the Red Clove is more of a shrub – it’s not truly a clove either. You’ll recognise the leaf, they curl up, dark brown and red. But it wouldn’t hurt to look around. We need a good deal of it, I’d imagine. There’s no record of exactly where it lies, either. Only at Sarann.”

  “The Bleak Man told me it’s in there. Let’s begin,” Never said. He returned to the trail and froze.

  A Bakar stood on the road.

  As before, it had made no sound during its approach.

  And it did not appear to be spirit, as the others. Tall but not towering over him, soft brown fur ran along its slender body, almost feminine in shape and with a slightly disproportionate head – bear-like as Karlaf promised, only longer. The nose glistened in the noon sun. Curved, yellow fangs
were visible when it opened its mouth.

  The eyes flicked to each member of the stunned party, then it turned to walk up the road. It paused to glance back once then continued on.

  “Follow it,” Never said.

  “What?” Elina caught his arm, fingers digging in. “Is that the fever or your stupidity talking?”

  “No. It wants us to follow. The Bleak Man sent the Bakar to guide us.”

  “Into a whole nest of them.” She set an arrow to her bowstring.

  “Karlaf?”

  The old man rubbed at his unshaven chin, his eyes a little wide. “It didn’t attack. Could’ve done so.”

  “It’s disappearing,” Never said. The Bakar had turned off the path and was heading deeper into the trees, toward a distant line of what could have been more stone ruins.

  “This is madness,” Elina said.

  “It won’t hurt us,” Never replied. Hopefully – yet surely – the Bleak Man had sent a guide?

  He jogged after it, weaving through the trees and drawing nearer to a low stone wall that ran from ground to waist height, breathing hard again. Only more trees beyond the stone, but the Bakar did not pass the wall, following it deeper and deeper into the forest. The wall grew as the creature led them.

  Overhead the sun fell back behind clouds. The forest dimmed – or was that just his vision? He charged on, keeping the Bakar in sight. The rush of the Rinsa river rose again but before the Bakar reached the water that glittered between the trunks, it turned to the wall, now towering above, and slipped through a jagged hole.

  Never made to follow but a hand caught his shoulder.

  “It could be dangerous,” Luis said.

  “I have to trust it.”

  He stepped back. “Then lead on.”

  Never nodded and followed the Bakar into the shadowy opening. He climbed over cold stone and entered an enclosed space, crumbling walls rising around him. A grove lined with rows of grey shrubs, dozens of them, spread before him. Some grew white with age, others no more than black twigs. He bent by the nearest. “No.” At the base were blackened, shrivelled pods. He lifted one to his nose – no scent, no hint of moisture within. Were these the mythical Red Clove? Was the journey to Sarann for naught?