The Book of Never: Volumes 1-5

by Ashley Capes

  The Captain bent. “Mother?”

  Never met the man’s eyes – and the fellow swallowed, a look of worry crossing his face. Then he rose. “Please look after her, Advisor.”

  “It shall be so.”

  The Captain left and Never turned to Olivor. “What just happened?”

  “I fooled him with Fear-Speak. Debuer’s mother is actually ill, of course, but he saw what I wanted him to see. And now we must hurry – no more stooping.” Once again, Olivor pulled him along. Never hobbled after, grimacing. A dozen questions swam about but he had to save his breath for walking.

  Olivor finally came to a halt in a new corridor, which met a dead end beyond an intersecting passage. The dead end was more of an alcove with a stand and a silver statue of a domed tree standing upon it. Elina’s grandfather moved the stand and traced a five-pointed leaf before the stone wall. A deep click followed and then the wall slid open silently, just as in the Amber Isle... and the Preparation Chamber.

  Darkness beyond.

  “In you go, Never,” Olivor said. “Head for the Silver Bells Inn; that is where you will find your companion.”

  “Olivor, thank you.” He shuffled forward and paused. “Will you and Elina be safe?”

  “I pray as much,” he said. “Now go, be safe yourself. I believe the world needs you, Never. You carry with you a line that will change the world for the better. Go, quickly.”

  Never moved into the shadow as the door slid shut behind him. A glow rose as he moved, similar to the Preparation Chamber. His path sloped down, tiled walls passing as he limped on.

  He paused to rest once then continued, resting again when he reached the bottom some time later. He’d lost track, with the sameness of the trip and the rising pain in his leg. But another door waited for him and this time it did not open no matter what he tried, five-leaf sign, touching, pushing, thumping but all of it for naught.

  He hung his head. Trapped within the walls of the Hanik palace. Wonderful.

  Unless...

  Never glanced around the dim chamber. “Guide?”

  A figure shimmered before him, robes of silver. Yet it did not stay; it disappeared as if banished by a wave of wind.

  “Guide? I need your help.”

  Again the figure shimmered into existence and wavered – and then it solidified.

  Yet it possessed no head.

  And the omission did not seem purposeful if the way the guide struggled to appear was any indication. Instead, its voice came from the space where a head ought to have been. Master, the way is sealed.

  “Please do unseal it.”

  You have sealed it, only you may open it, Master.

  He frowned. The other ones acted like he’d given them orders in the past too. “I cannot recall how.”

  With your blood of course – simply mark the Spirit-Leaf.

  He shook his head. Fool. Of course his blood, what else? “I see.”

  Will that be everything?

  “Yes, thank you.”

  The figure faded and Never drew his knife.

  Chapter 16.

  Never crossed the moon-lit street in a hobbling run, bent as close to the paved stones as possible. Yet no cries rose, no footfalls followed and no soldiers burst from behind, where the grinding wall had opened and closed without seam, all at the edge of torchlight cast from the main gates.

  Old magic indeed.

  But he was free. The passage leading from the palace left him standing directly before its walls, but at least he was on the right side of them. And in the shadows too, allowing him a chance to take his shambling run east toward the Silver Bells and Luis.

  But he soon slowed.

  Would Snow still be in Jyan’s temple?

  If Never delayed, Jenisan would have all the more chance to capture him. And yet; Luis was safe and could afford to wait. Would Snow wait? Never growled. He couldn’t simply leave; Snow owed him answers.

  Hurry.

  Never turned south and despite the ache in his hip, pushed himself hard. When he reached the square of fountains he had to stop to wipe sweat from his eyes. His chest heaved as he rested. As yet, the stitches he’d been administered had not broken open – he seemed to have knitted himself together well enough. He was healing too fast but it didn’t matter now.

  The pain remained and his leg was still slow to respond, healing or no.

  Dawn scratched silver fingers across the dark sky as he limped to the temple, passing the dulled bronze statue and slipping between the columns.

  Inside waited more darkness. “Why does everyone in this city loathe lamplight?” he asked.

  A hinge squeaked. Light bloomed from a lantern, revealing a figure obscured by a thick blue cloak and hood. Yet the hand that held the lamp was pale. Almost chalky white.

  Snow.

  Never tensed. A sudden fury surged but he clamped it down. He could have demanded answers about Cog, about the Bleak Man, the cemetery at the Royal City, anything at all about the years they’d spent apart. He could have accused Snow of being a fool, a thief, a liar, a killer, a dozen other things.

  And he should have.

  But it had been too long since they’d parted. Seeing his brother again... everything rushed back. Confusion. Relief, familiarity. Love. Bitterness.

  The last time they’d met, both made promises neither seemed likely to keep. In the silence afterward, Snow’s dispassionate stare and Never’s accusation echoed across the stony earth between them. Not until a soft rain started to stain the cliffs had Snow walked away, and without a single backward glance.

  And despite their parting, despite everything before and after – their bond was as strong as ever. It had connected them while apart and it remained now; the years had not thinned it at all, when people hurled stones it had been Snow who shielded him with his own body, flinching at every blow, eyes blazing with rage. Whenever men and women sneered at Snow for his pale skin or soft voice, Never put them in place with the sharpness of his tongue.

  It was Snow who cut him down from the gallows one winter and it was Never alone who had pried open the bars of a roadside cage years later, tears streaming trails in the dust that clung to his cheeks as he lifted Snow’s emaciated form free.

  Few ever stood with them, and no-one understood the bond that came from being alone together. Two cursed among a world of eyes glittering with distrust.

  Snow had saved him, as he had saved Snow.

  Never swallowed.

  “Brother.”

  It was all he could think to say.

  “Yes.” Snow pushed the hood back, revealing a smiling face of white. It was a face not unlike Never’s own, perhaps a little narrower of jaw and no hint of a beard, but no doubt Snow still continued to catch the eye of many a young lady. And unlike the albino man Never once saw in a Kiymako market, Snow’s eyes were blue. He was not truly albino, he was like Never – something else.

  Amouni, yet different again.

  Snow had aged too – but it was subtle. A deeper frown-line perhaps, more weariness to go with the chill that lay within his eyes. But Snow only gestured to a nearby bench. “Will you sit with me? Your wound must bother you.”

  Never nodded. The seat would be more than welcome but he couldn’t trust himself to speak. And he could hardly afford to show weakness before Snow either, brother or no. Something had changed – a new ruthlessness. Instead, Never simply sat and smothered a sigh as the ache in his leg eased. Finally, he said, “You knew I was on my way?”

  “Of course, Never. I knew the moment you entered the city. You need to practice the skills of our forefathers,” he said.

  “I’ve been a poor student, it seems. So your own search wasn’t for naught?”

  “No, it was not. I have learnt many truths.”

  Never closed his eyes. No doubt he had. “And a
t what cost?”

  “To me? No cost. To others, yes, there have been sacrifices, Never. It must be so.”

  “Like the king?” Never kept his voice even.

  Snow shook his head. “There are many who wished him ill but I was not one of them. Forget the king, brother. We do not have all night and there is much I can share with you.” He paused. “Even the truth about Father.”

  Never straightened, meeting his brother’s cool gaze. “Tell me.”

  “First, I must ask something of you.”

  Ah. There it was – as expected. “What?”

  “I am on the verge of creating something wondrous, brother. Resurrecting, is perhaps a more apt term. The Amouni.” He waited, gauging Never’s reaction. Never did not blink. “Then you found the Altar of Stars? Or perhaps it was the Bleak Man who told you that truth? No – it was the Amber Isle, then? The murals. Weren’t they beautiful?”

  The Altar of Stars? That was nothing he’d come across before. “Yes. The Isle. You broke them.”

  “There is knowledge I must protect.”

  “From me?”

  “From others.” Snow shrugged. “Come, you know who we are now. What we are – intermediary between man and God. So much more than humanity and beloved of the Gods before they departed.” Snow’s face was alight. A fervour resided within, a need, a furious need that his cool exterior tempered. Yet it was a wonder steam didn’t pour from his mouth when he spoke.

  Never folded his arms. Where to start with his questions? “The Gods have departed?”

  “Of course. In Ages past. All that is left of them is waiting for us to claim. They have abdicated and we must take up their burden.”

  “You and I?”

  Snow narrowed his eyes. “There may be others. I have yet to discover them if so, but I am searching. No matter whether it is two or ten, but as direct descendants of the last Amouni, it is our responsibility to take all nations under our wing.” He paused, a smile returning. “To break them down and rebuild them.”

  “To what?”

  “I spoke clearly, did I not?”

  Never caught Snow by the shoulders. “Brother, what is this madness? Poisoning the Bleak Man’s tree and stealing artefacts, twisting the man who calls himself Cog and having him pull that stunt to get me here and now this... this rambling about taking the place of the Gods – what has happened to you?”

  Snow gripped Never by the wrists, fingers digging. His eyes seemed to blaze ice. “Brother, I do not jest.” He released Never and stood, robe swirling as he began to pace. “You are caught up thinking as a human. You think too small. We Amouni cannot afford that – we must think beyond, above. Do you not see what is happening to humanity, left alone all these centuries? War, death, rape, destruction. All the bitter fruit of their inability to control base desires.”

  “And you would solve all their problems?”

  “We would.”

  “By taking their freedom?”

  Snow scowled. “Of course! What use is freedom to humanity if all it can manage is what you see out there!” He flung an arm to the opening of the temple.

  Never jabbed a finger at Snow. “We have always looked out for each other but you have never been this altruistic, brother, why start now?”

  “I never said I would pretend to find the task onerous,” he replied, with a chuckle. “I will – and do – revel in power such as none have seen in hundreds of years. You will too.”

  Never flung his arms into the air. “Enough. Tell me of Father. Or have I wasted my time tonight?”

  “Never. It is time to really listen to me now.” Snow stalked forward, stopping with his face close enough that the scent of citrus was clear on his breath. “I am offering you the birthright that was taken from us.”

  “Forget it, Snow. I don’t have to tell you I don’t want the responsibility.”

  “Bah, don’t give me that tired routine. You care about your future.”

  Never flushed. “Then let me decide what it will be.”

  “It will be a future of mud and decay if you turn away from your heritage. You are Amouni, not merely human. Let me teach you what I have discovered and we will rule together. We will bring justice and order.”

  “The will of two is not justice, justice is –”

  “Justice is no more than what we make,” he snapped. “There is no justice beyond that which we create for ourselves.”

  “That’s a delusion.”

  “No. A delusion is the belief Justice exists in and of itself. Since when did you believe the world was just? Was what happened to Zianna just?” His teeth were clenched.

  Never swallowed. “Leave her out of this.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “No, brother. Justice is what we make. It will be a reflection of what we have been chosen to do.”

  “Was poisoning the Bleak Man a reflection of what you have been chosen to do? Killing those who have borne the misfortune of encountering our curse? Was Zia another of these reflections you speak of?”

  “Yes, yes exactly that.”

  Never shoved Snow back a step. “Stop! You cannot believe that any more than I do. If Mother could hear such foolishness she would –”

  Snow’s fist cracked into Never’s cheek.

  The blow sent him crashing to the stone, where his head smacked against the floor. He gave a grunt when a heavy weight fell upon him. Snow had one hand on Never’s throat and the other pointed a shaking finger.

  “Foolishness? Foolishness? Do you think Mother was given a chance for justice? Do you think the man – the human – who dragged her behind the house and raped her while we cowered beneath her shattered bed, do you think, as you jammed your fingers into your ears and I bit through my tongue, that you felt she was afforded justice by humans?” He spat. “Do you?” Snow sucked in a great breath and burst into roaring. “Do you mean to tell me now, brother – that the pitiful sack of bone and blood had ever felt true justice? Ever dealt it? Ever even knew what it was? Well? Did either of us hunt him down and kill him? Did you? Did I? Answer me, brother!” Snow was squeezing hard.

  Bright lights burst before Never’s eyes as he beat at his brother’s iron grip but it was useless. Snow’s eyes were so wide that tears formed.

  Never thrashed, finally driving a fist into his brother’s side. Snow grunted as he fell away, leaving Never to lie gasping for air. When he could breathe properly, he rose to hands and knees, glancing over to where Snow had already risen, his face still wild. “We were children,” Never gasped out. “How could we do that? I never even saw his face.”

  “Well I did, brother. And I saw nothing worth trusting. Will you truly tell me that humans are fit to govern themselves?”

  “No.” He lifted one throbbing leg. “But neither you nor I are fit either.”

  Snow offered no answer. He had slowed his own breathing and now closed his eyes. Standing still. When he opened them, it was to push the sleeves of his robe back, revealing pale skin glittering with sweat. He drew a knife and sliced into his arm, a red line following his movement.

  He repeated the motion with his other forearm.

  Blood ran into his palms and the knife clattered to the temple floor.

  Snow exhaled. “Behold the birthright that gives us the duty to deliver justice, dear brother. Behold that which you must accept.”

  A red glow blossomed in his hands. It spread, filling the room, tinting Snow’s pale face a ghastly colour.

  Something was wrong.

  Never stood. “Snow.”

  His brother thrust both hands into the air. Blood shot forth in twin streams. It hit the roof with a mighty crack, bursting through stone. Light tumbled down with shards of rock, smashing on the floor as Never scrambled back.

  Snow remained standing, stone crashing down but not a single piece striking him as he screamed a soundless
scream – yet when he lowered his head, Never saw it was no scream but a cry of joy and exaltation.

  Ecstasy, even.

  And then the flow stopped. He lowered his arms and walked forward, boots splashing through pools of blood. Drops of red fell from the ceiling with tiny splashes. When he reached Never, he bent to one knee. Snow moved and breathed as before, no sign of the terrible blood-loss that his body had just undergone. His smile was calm. “You are beginning to see now, brother. We are as Gods in this age.” He placed a hand on Never’s shoulder, who flinched. Snow’s expression softened. “Forgive me. I see now, you are not ready to join me as yet. There is more for you to learn, more you must accept and I cannot do that for you. No-one can do that but you, brother. Go to the Altar of Stars beyond the Marlosi-Hanik border in the mountains, reach it by the new moon.”

  “Snow...”

  He stood. “Do not tarry here, Never. It may be best if you were at once to your companions at the Silver Bell. They seek you already and we wouldn’t want our old servants to grow suspicious, would we?”

  Chapter 17.

  The Silver Bell slept.

  No movement beyond the windows, no sweet light of a warm fire, just the dull, filtered light falling onto empty chairs and tables and the shadowy bulk of a bar deeper in. Each table had a small pot of sleeping flowers within.

  Never leant against the door a moment, before thumping on the wood until a large man wrenched it open with a frown. “Gods, man. I was on my way after the first one. No need to wake the entire Bell.”

  “I’m sorry,” Never said. “I did not know if there was an attendant. I need to find my friend.”

  “Do you?”

  “Truly. He is Marlosi as I.”

  The stout man folded his arms. A heavy club hung from his belt, but as yet he seemed not inclined to use it. “About anyone might say that.”

  Never sighed. He was in no condition to bully the man and deception was not required. “Why don’t you describe me to him then? Luis will recognise me.”