The Book of Never: Volumes 1-5

by Ashley Capes

  “Please do.”

  “Have you followed the river long on your travel?”

  “A fair time now, yes.”

  “Do you perhaps recall seeing a group of three travellers in a boat? They would not appear as fishermen.”

  “I’ve only seen fishermen thus far,” Never said. He glanced at the river, moving the hand hidden from the noble’s view to one of his knives, though he did not draw it.

  “A shame,” the man said.

  “Are they fugitives?”

  “That I cannot say.” The Hanik paused, mounting his steed, which had cooled somewhat.

  “How far to the capital?”

  “At your pace, you ought to reach it not long after dawn.”

  “Good.” Never had moved his hand from his knife. “I could use a decent meal.”

  “And I.” The man kicked the flanks of his horse, breaking into a trot. The two were soon lost to the trees and Never rubbed his stubble. Was the noble friend or foe? He’d left a little swiftly perhaps and hadn’t identified himself – something about the man was too amiable. And there was the comment about the Empress. Was it a subtle jibe; was the man working for, or was he one of the nobles Elina had warned about? Gedus or another one? Those that sought to benefit from the Vadiya invasion, those who sought the throne?

  Or a concerned ally of the king?

  In either event, word about ‘three travellers’ in a boat would have had to come from Cog or Oksar back at the inn surely?

  Never walked until nightfall, leaving the path in the dying light to find a suitable campsite. It didn’t need to be anything special; all he was going to do was lie down and sleep in it. No food and the idea of rubbing sticks together to cook a big hunk of ‘nothing’ didn’t appeal either.

  Instead, he found a space where three trees gathered and arranged some leaves before making his way to the river. There he drank once more – a futile effort to fill the now-familiar emptiness rumbling in his stomach, then started back.

  Something glowed between trees in the distance. A flicker of firelight?

  Who? The rider from earlier? Elina and Luis? He crept toward it... placing each step with some care. Still, with so little light he could not avoid breaking a twig – something which occurred mere paces from the edge of the firelight. Two figures rose, blocking the light. Never caught a glimpse of horses and other men, seemingly dressed as Hanik nobility, before torches closed in, near-blinding him.

  He spun – only to crash into something unyielding.

  Sentry!

  Never stumbled, batting away a grasping hand as he did. Someone grunted and leapt after. Hands caught Never from behind and a voice said something in Hanik, the chill of steel pressing against his throat.

  The meaning was clear.

  He remained still. “Do you speak Marlosi by chance?” he asked.

  “I do,” his captor said, and dragged him toward the firelight. Never complied. It could have been worse – they might have killed him at first sight. Two of the men pushed him down onto a log, each standing at a shoulder, while a third warrior divested Never of his knives, then bound his wrists.

  “No move,” he said.

  Never nodded. Across the fire, a tall man sat rifling through a pack. His blonde hair was orange in the firelight. He wore a small moustache, as was still fashionable among some Hanik nobility.

  “Speak, traveller,” he said, his Marlosi perfect but with a formal inflection. Not unlike the rider from earlier in the day. But the two men were clearly different – this man appeared more handsome, despite the weariness clear on his face. “Who are you and where do you go?”

  “My name is Never. I am travelling to City-Sedrin to meet my brother.”

  Something smacked into the back of his head.

  Never glanced back to one of his guards, who was frowning down at him. “Am I not permitted to have a brother?”

  The man raised his hand but a short order from across the flames stopped the fellow.

  “Enough. Let him continue, Tovin.”

  Never grinned at the man. “Tell your friend he missed one of my knives – in my left boot.”

  The man who’d been searching him for weapons grunted, retrieving another blade and dumping it into the pile he’d made. Seven, all in all. It should have been eight but he’d lost one in the river, it seemed.

  “You are well-armed, Never,” the leader said. “If that is what you wish to be called.”

  “There are dangerous times. And ‘Never’ is truly my name.”

  The Hanik noble regarded him a moment longer. Then he sat the pack aside and moved around the fire, bending before Never. A longsword was belted at his waist, its hilt and pommel covered in plain black wrappings. Concealing his crest? Or something even more telling?

  “Your true purpose, Never. Quickly.”

  “I seek my brother, Your Highness.”

  The man’s eyes widened – and then the ground rushed up to meet Never. Something heavy fell atop him, grinding his cheek into the loam. Never cursed. A good guess after all, even if they didn’t seem thrilled with his deduction.

  “Who are you?” the prince asked. The rasp of steel followed and Never twisted his neck, but all he was afforded was a slightly better view of logs burning red in the fire.

  “I am who I claim to be.”

  “Why is your brother in City-Sedrin?”

  “I go there to find out.”

  “Or perhaps you are both spies?”

  That was enough. Time to put a stop to the interrogation before they tried to get creative. “If you could help me find Elina, I’m sure she’d vouch for me. We have been travelling together for some time.”

  Silence.

  Someone hauled him up to his knees by the shoulders so he again faced the prince.

  “Where is she?”

  “On the river. We have travelled together since Lenan. We sent Karlaf ahead.”

  The men exchanged glances with Prince Jenisan. “Karlaf has not been seen. Where on the river?”

  “Ahead of me. I was thrown from our boat. She is worried about King Noak; she would have continued without me.”

  “Your Highness, he might still be a spy,” one of the men said.

  Jenisan glanced at the man. “I am aware.” To Never, “If what you say is true, you won’t mind travelling with us as our guest.”

  “I would not – but I do wish to meet my brother.”

  “If he is a patient man, you will have the chance,” Jenisan said. “But first, there is something we must attend to. You will make yourself useful.”

  “How so, Your Highness?” Never asked. He could afford to be gracious if it kept him his head, even if the prince was a little curt. Or, if Never was being honest with himself – tedious.

  “At dawn. For now, eat and rest.” The prince motioned to one of his men, who knelt to untie Never. The man jerked on the ropes, grunting as he worked.

  “Don’t think this means we trust you, stranger.”

  He grinned. “I haven’t decided to trust you either.”

  The soldier flung the rope to the ground. “Just keep your mouth shut, will you?” He stomped after his prince – no doubt to complain. Never rolled his shoulders and cast about for his knives. All gone.

  “You still might get them back,” a voice said.

  A short man sat on a log, tossing a pair of die with lazy throws. Like his fellows, the Hanik soldier was dressed in nondescript greens and browns that suited the forest, but also like the others, his weapons were wrapped by black coverings. Further, like most of his companions, this man’s Marlosi was clear.

  “That would be welcome,” Never said.

  “And don’t worry about Gnils; he’s always like that.”

  “Must be a wonderful companion to have around the campfire – I take it
he’s at least good with his bow?”

  The man grinned. “That he is.” He tucked his die away and stood. “Let’s get you something to eat then.”

  Never followed the man to his saddle bags, where he rummaged around and drew out salted beef and dark bread. “That’ll have to do for now,” he said. “Rest of us have already eaten.”

  “No trouble – it looks more filling than water and berries.” Never returned to the log and devoured the food. He’d just sat back when the prince reappeared – setting sentries and instructing the rest of the men, perhaps a dozen in all, to take their rest. There was more; the man mentioned Karlaf, but Never couldn’t understand well enough. Hopefully the prince was sending someone to look for him. It was not a good sign that Karlaf had not been seen.

  The prince continued, and the man with the dice translated for Never. “At dawn we strike; ending our long search. Be ready, for we do not stop until every last traitor is eradicated and when we return, those who assisted Gedus in any way will be put to the sword. His vassals will be stripped of their land and homes, from tailor to apprentice, no matter the role!” he finished in a near shout. He took a breath. “Now rest and be at peace with what we do, for it is the will of the true king that we fulfil tomorrow.”

  The remaining men muttered agreement.

  Prince Jenisan approached Never. “You will help us or you will be killed as a spy, understood?” The prince looked to Never’s translator. “Finn – if he gives you any reason to doubt his story kill him.”

  The man strode away.

  Finn chuckled. “Looks like I’ve got first watch.”

  Never raised an eyebrow. “Do you think he’d consider ‘falling asleep’ a reason for you to kill me?”

  “He’s in a fair mood, so probably not.”

  “Good.” Never found a patch of earth that appeared soft enough yet not so close to the fire as to steal someone’s spot, then stretched out. Branches and leaves obscured the stars above. The rustling and muttering of men seeking their rest filled the clearing, then a hiss as someone doused the blaze, dropping a darkness over them.

  The river murmured beneath the sounds and he closed his eyes to wait for sleep or dawn, whichever came first.

  *

  “Wake up, stranger.”

  Never rolled from his side, an ache in his neck easing as he did. Finn’s wide grin and unshaven face loomed over Never in the grey light of dawn. Never rose. The camp was being broken down, horses fed, bedrolls stowed away and small parcels of food handed out. Conversation remained hushed; some of the men – a dozen he estimated – were already departing. Lead scouts.

  Finn took out a honey-stick to chew on then offered Never a piece of hard, flat bread. The numbing agent brought Karlaf’s absence to mind. Finn gestured to where Jenisan approached. “He’s going to give you a few choices – don’t rush your answers.”

  The prince arrived, Gnils in tow, before Never could respond. Both men wore grim expressions. Gnils held his bow and Jenisan wore an ornate breastplate beneath his tunic. He, like the rest of the men, bore red armbands.

  “We are about to attack a rebel camp, hidden across the river. They outnumber us two to one but we intend to wipe them out nevertheless. If you truly have travelled with Elina as you say, you will have earned her trust. If so, know that her wishes are mine and further, that they serve your own nation. These traitors foster war by aiding the Vadiya in their conquest of Marlosa and seek to involve Hanik – I will not have it.”

  Never nodded. “Of course.”

  “Here then are the options I present you. Assist us. You will be given your weapons but expected to help kill all you encounter within the camp, be they man, woman or child. I will pair you with Finn, whose orders have not changed. He will kill you if you give him cause to doubt you.”

  “And my other choice?”

  “You will be given your weapons and that black,” the prince said as he pointed to a familiar horse, “and allowed to continue your journey to the city. I will not have anyone with us who is not committed to our path. However, if you are truly known to Elina, then I expect you will join us. If you cannot do as I have asked you will leave immediately.”

  It was not a subtle offer. Even if Gnils’ bow hadn’t twitched ever so slightly at the mention of the horse, Never could see the true offer. Before he took two steps toward the black the prince would have him shot. And the mare had belonged to the traveller he met yesterday, of which there was no sign, which answered the question of whether he had been friend or foe.

  The prince clearly had spies on his mind.

  “Give me my knives and I will even the odds for you,” Never said.

  Chapter 12.

  The traitor’s camp lay concealed in a deep depression beyond the Rinsa, ringed by thick stands of elm – which, from certain angles – appeared as a green wall. The rebels had fortified their camp with a ditch and a low earthen wall, caught via glimpses between the trunks. A few buildings stood to the rear, faint smoke rising from their chimneys. Men stood sentry, making periodic signals to one another with mirrors or polished steel where they’d been stationed at varying points further up the slope. These men lay in turn below Never’s own position where he crouched in the scratchy undergrowth beside Finn.

  Jenisan and the rest of his men were spread along the ridge in pairs, each waiting to perform their pre-arranged task.

  “There. Jenisan is moving,” Finn said.

  Four figures began their descent, circling the ridge to come up behind the camp. Off to Never’s left, two more men slipped toward the first sentry, red armbands flashing as they moved.

  Never wore his own, given to him by Finn. In the heat of the battle it might have been feasible for Jenisan’s men to need to identify their comrades at a glance but Never, being the only man from Marlosi, ought to have stood out anyway, for better or worse. Still, it paid to be careful now and then.

  “Hurry it up,” Finn whispered, eyes fixed on the men converging upon the first sentry. As yet, the traitor hadn’t noticed Jenisan’s man creeping closer, but it wouldn’t be long. Yet the sentry’s head turned at a sound Never couldn’t make out.

  One of Jenisan’s men stood and released an arrow, all in one motion.

  It struck the sentry in the chest and then the second raider fell upon him. Jenisan’s man snatched up the piece of polished steel and, using a tree as partial cover, angled it back toward the camp. He passed his hand before it rapidly, giving a blinking quality to the light. Emulating a distress call?

  Another sentry further down the slope raised an alarm.

  Never blinked. “What are they doing?”

  Finn slapped him on the back. “Exactly what we want. Look.” He pointed to the rear of the enemy camp. Jenisan and his men were creeping closer, benefitting from the distraction at the camp’s entryway, as more and more men came to the earthen wall, some with bows, others holding pikes.

  One rear sentry kept his post but Jenisan dragged the man to the forest floor. When the prince rose, alone, he continued toward the rear buildings, its ditch cut deep within the treeline. The four attackers were soon lost from sight.

  “Our turn,” Finn said.

  Never caught his arm. “Wait – what is happening?”

  “The prince is going to drive the Lord Gedus and his scum toward us, funnelling them through that gate, where we can pick them off.”

  “How?”

  “Fire.”

  Never stiffened. “That’s madness; he could burn half the forest.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Come on.” Finn pulled him along the ridge and down a narrow animal trail a little ways. “Here. Now we wait.”

  “For what? To be burnt to cinders?” Never asked.

  “Trust him,” was all Finn said.

  “I’m glad one of us does,” Never muttered. Yet he couldn’t simply flee – F
inn was friendly enough, but the man wasn’t going to let that happen. And any sudden movement might draw fire from the camp.

  Trapped.

  He sighed. His best chance was to win the battle – and battle tended to be one of those things he preferred to avoid, since there was an abnormally high chance of dying in them.

  Below, men were calling to the now-dead sentry, but Jenisan’s fellow simply continued to flash the signal. Finally, the second sentry began his approach, weapon drawn. A rebel from the compound dashed from the protection of the wall, taking the second sentry’s position.

  “Fool,” Finn muttered, but he was grinning.

  The traitor continued his climb, eyes roving as he neared the trap – unaware the second of Jenisan’s men had already outflanked him.

  An arrow sped across the distance between them and the rebel dropped.

  More cries of alarm came from the camp – someone shouting for Lord Gedus and another ordering men into the trees, and yet a third voice arguing with the other two. Confusion and alarm – exactly what Jenisan wanted.

  Yet it did seem like there were more than a score of traitors in the camp. Something had changed or Jenisan had made a mistake – but close to thirty men now gathered in the dirt courtyard between buildings and tents.

  Finn muttered a curse. “Can’t turn back now.”

  Black smoke billowed from the camp’s rear – rising from four positions at once. Orange tongues of flame flashed between buildings and by the time the first cry of alarm was raised, half the first building was alight with the others not far behind.

  “What makes it burn so quickly?”

  “Jenisan has pitch back there,” Finn said, slipping further down the slope. “Now it’s nearly our turn.”

  The prince’s archers were already firing on the men at the walls as a large man in heavy armour strode from one of the burning buildings, roaring orders. Lord Gedus, it seemed. Men sprang into action, some seeking water, others trying to slip around the spreading flames while yet more headed out the gate and into the trees, weapons ready.

  Never sighed. Jenisan’s ambush was sprung, but would they be able to finish what they’d started? Already smoke was spreading across the camp, obscuring their vision. Finn had angled their path toward a small group of the Hanik traitors. He led, throwing a knife into the men and then swung his sword with a battle cry.