The Book of Never: Volumes 1-5

by Ashley Capes

“Through luck?”

  He glanced at Never. “Your blood. I could feel your blood. It was old, even to me.”

  “I’ve been told I have Amouni heritage.”

  “I suspected as much,” he said. There was no surprise in his bearing – did Darom know something?

  The man gestured up ahead, to where the path split into two stairs. One led up and the other stepped down the mountain, doubtless toward the King’s Road. “There is your path. Gather what stone you may before crossing.”

  “Thank you, Darom,” he said, Luis and Tsolde echoing his words. “Before we go, I’d like to ask one more question,” Never said after a moment.

  “Yes?”

  “You weren’t surprised to hear the name Amouni.”

  “Not truly, no.”

  “Why is that? I am searching for whatever truths about them I might find. Have you met more of my kind during your time?”

  “None. But my guess was true – few seem old to me, you understand.”

  “Ah.” Another quiver of false hope. To be expected perhaps.

  “And the Yimash?” Luis asked.

  “Yes,” Tsolde added. “Is there anything we can do if another appears?”

  He smiled sadly. “No, young lady. You are best to flee or at the least, place stone between you and the creature. They are few in number now, but should you travel the Iron Pass as you plan, you may come across one. Sometimes, I have seen them roam that far.” He glanced to the stairs leading downward. “And now I must leave; for I must do my part for my master.” He started down the steps.

  “Your master?” Never called after.

  Darom gestured to the stone around him. “I am but a cog in this great mountain.”

  “Ah.” Never started up the steps, skipping a few to catch Luis and Tsolde. And then he stopped.

  Cog.

  That word. Darom had used the word ‘cog’ to describe himself – was it a coincidence? Or something more – the man of smoke in the inn had called himself ‘Cog’. Gods, had Snow interfered here too?

  Never spun.

  The path to the King’s Road lay empty.

  Chapter 11.

  Never was still shaking his head by the top of the stair, where Tsolde had stopped to drink from the flask while Luis scouted the shadowy gorge. Had Darom’s use of the word ‘cog’ been innocent or was it something else? The man seemed honest, could he really be another of Snow’s pawns?

  When he ran his theory by Tsolde she shrugged. “It doesn’t seem likely, does it? I mean, why would your brother even want to control a man like Darom?”

  “That’s what concerns me; I have no idea.”

  “Snow might have gone crazy, from what you’ve told me about the Bleak Man, but it doesn’t seem like he’d do something for no reason. And there’s no reason to use Darom, is there?”

  “I would have thought not.” He sighed. “I’m probably just seeing his hand in everything now, warranted or not.”

  “Could be.”

  “Come and see this,” Luis called.

  Never and Tsolde joined him by the edge of the gorge. A narrow walkway of grey and purple stone extended across the dark chasm. Sheer sides led down to certain death, the floor of the gorge lost in darkness. The walkway was wide enough for one traveller at a time only – save for a central area which spread into a circle, visible at the very limits of his vision.

  Wind rushed up the sides, whistling between stone and tugging at Never’s hair when he caught the edge of his cloak.

  “What is the circular place in the middle for, I wonder?” Never asked.

  “Human sacrifice,” Tsolde said, her lips pressed together as she stared. “No-one does so anymore, but my ancestors put a stop to it when we conquered these mountains.”

  “Then we’d have a lot of company down there if we fall in,” Never said.

  “That’s not funny.”

  Luis chuckled. “Well, here are the rocks Darom mentioned. Doesn’t seem like anyone has used them for some time.”

  Twin piles of stones, from fist-sized pieces to slabs the length of his arm, sat piled near the path, pale and worn from wind and rain. “Load up your pockets and the bottom of your pant legs,” Never said. “I don’t know how much we’ll need, but make sure you can actually walk. Keep the weight toward the bottom, I don’t want either of you tipping over because you’re top heavy.”

  “We’re not stupid, Never,” Tsolde said.

  “My mistake,” he said with a grin.

  Once he finished loading himself up he lifted a leg, testing the weight. Tough, but he could move his limbs at least. The others were ready. Good. Time to find out just how strong the wind was.

  “Tsolde, you’re lightest so you’re in the middle,” he said.

  “Fine with me,” she replied.

  Never clomped onto the path. His first few steps were easy enough, despite the gaping emptiness to either side. The wind ruffled his clothing but it didn’t buffet him until much farther along, where it forced him into a crouch. He glanced over his shoulder. Tsolde had crouched too, and Luis was on one knee, his eyes wide.

  The wind continued to whistle, rising to a shriek before easing.

  Never rose to press on.

  The stones did help; they gave a little confidence but by the time he reached the circular space in the centre of the narrow way, he wasn’t convinced they were making all that much of a difference. Although the added sense of security was welcome.

  An altar sat squat in the centre of the space, dark with centuries of bloodstains.

  He moved on.

  The rest of the narrow path was easy enough to traverse – until a point two dozen feet from safety, when a gust of wind slammed into him, hard enough to tip his torso. He straightened himself and fell to the stone with a shout. “Down.”

  Wind continued to howl. It dragged at him, as if trying to pluck him from the walkway and cast him into the gaping maw. Never gripped the earth; arms aching. A shrill screech joined the howling and he shuddered. It was as though the screams of the dead echoed up from the pit of inky shadow.

  His hands grew chill.

  Would it ever ease? Still he clung to the path, fingers growing numb, not even daring to turn his head back to check on Tsolde and Luis. Any change could give the wind something additional to tear at. Instead, he closed his eyes to the stinging dust and waited.

  When the gale finally fell away he climbed to his knees, twisting his neck.

  Tsolde, her face drained of colour, was crawling forward – eyes unseeing. Luis signalled from behind her and Never nodded, crawling the rest of the way himself. On the other side, he rolled away from the edge of the chasm and lay back a moment, breathing deeply.

  “Keep going,” Tsolde said.

  He lifted his head. Tsolde was striding for a winding trail that led up to the top of the ridge – something which ought to have done a better job at sheltering them. He groaned, dragging himself up to join Luis, who walked after her.

  “Wasn’t that fun?” Never said.

  “I’m not convinced you know what the word ‘fun’ means, Never.”

  He laughed. “You’re probably right.”

  Thin, yellowing weeds lined the trail and at the top of the ridge waited another steep descent, the path tumbling down to something steel that caught the afternoon light. Beyond, the Folhan Mountains stretched on, purple beneath the black clouds spreading across the sky.

  Farther below, a haze of smoke and even the hints of darker stone from a man-made structure. A few steps down the trail and he’d see what was, hopefully, the Giant’s Bridge.

  “Bad weather out there,” Luis said. “Though it might not reach us.”

  “It’s welcome to come,” Never said.

  “Why?” Tsolde asked. She’d regained some composure and a little colour
to go with it.

  “It will shield us, keep idle Vadiya within their tents.”

  She straightened. “Vadiya?”

  “Look again,” Never said. Luis was already nodding and Tsolde’s eyes soon narrowed. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

  Never climbed cautiously down, sliding a little. “Careful,” he warned the others. Thankfully, the few stones trickled down to a natural curve in the slope. The steel he’d seen from above was revealed to be huge bolts driven into the stone – a pair of chains, each link descending down toward exactly what he’d predicted.

  Below, too distant to hear voices, the Vadiya camp spread across the stony ground before the closest side of the Giant’s Bridge. A dozen rows of tents, possibly more, were broken by evenly-spaced campfires with huge cauldrons. Other fires pumped warmth and smoke into the air. A soundless whoosh of smoke and flame flared when an armoured man dumped pine branches atop one of them.

  But above it lay the Giant’s Bridge – it still gave him pause.

  Stone pillars guarded entry to the bridge; the smaller pieces of stone larger than the wagons that should have been passing over it. Each pillar had been carved with rigid symbols unlike any he’d seen before – not those he was now coming to think of as Amouni, but more harsh. The bridge spanned a chasm, broad and solid, entryway to the nearby silver mines.

  How had it been built? And by whom... he’d shaken his head in awe upon first seeing it, years ago now. The arches beneath were magnificent in their own right – such knowledge seemed lost now.

  “Where is the garrison? We should have troops swarming over these snakes,” Tsolde said.

  “More traitors?” Luis suggested.

  She nodded, her expression dark. “They want the silver, don’t they?”

  Never exhaled. “Most likely. They have a lot of soldiers to pay.”

  “Cocky, aren’t they?” Luis pointed. “Not much in the way of defence on the permitter of the camp. Still, it looks like we need to sneak past about two... maybe three hundred men.”

  “I don’t like our chances,” Tsolde said. “Giant’s Bridge is the only path to the mines, save turning back and detouring for weeks to approach from nearer the side of the Marlosi border.”

  Never sat, untying his knapsack. No food, just his blanket. “Time I cannot afford, if I am to meet the deadline.”

  “Any ideas?” Luis asked.

  “Subterfuge. And boldness,” he said. “I have an idea but we need three things first. One is food – we hunt before we try this. Two, we need to be sure these chains are safe. And three, we need a volunteer from the Vadiya.”

  Chapter 12.

  “He’s broken his neck,” Luis said, face surprised in the growing dark.

  “Saves us doing it,” Never replied. “Hurry, help me.”

  Together they dragged the sentry off the trail and into a stand of pine where Never started on the buckles of the man’s breastplate. Luis stopped to massage his ankle, having twisted it on the way down – the iron chain had not reached the King’s Road, forcing them to drop the remaining feet.

  “How do you know so much about Vadiya war camps?” Tsolde asked without turning from the road.

  “I was held prisoner in Vadiya for over a year,” Never said.

  “Truly?”

  He started on the greaves. “One of my fonder memories.”

  “How?”

  “I got into trouble trying to steal a horse. The owner of the horse was creative enough to want a foreign slave.” He looked to Luis. “I’ll have to carry your spear and Tsolde’s knife.”

  “Shouldn’t one of us at least conceal a weapon?” Tsolde asked.

  “If you’re found with a knife we’re finished.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  Luis frowned too, but handed his spear over. “He’s right, Tsolde.”

  “Fine.” She gave her blade to Never.

  “Good.” Never switched boots, stashing his own behind a trunk with a shrug. He’d never see them again but that didn’t really matter, did it? “Vadiya have two sets of sentries, pairs close to camp and outliers like this one.” He lifted a horn. “Outliers will be spread along the back-trail and before the camp; they sound an alarm for advance warning, giving the camp more time to prepare. It’s only a few men more than many other armies, in truth. The same men also serve as advance scouts.”

  “And this one?” Tsolde asked.

  “We were lucky to surprise him – I imagine he wasn’t expecting trouble from the direction of the Bridge, too focused on the King’s Road.” Never had completed most of the transformation. When he started to strap on all the weapons, he swore. “This is ridiculous.” He dumped the bow and hatchet. Sword, daggers and spear was enough.

  “And you really think you can fool them?” Tsolde asked.

  “My Vadiyem is perfect,” he said.

  “Keep your hood raised then,” she said. “You’re not pale enough for this.”

  “It’s getting darker,” he said. “If we hit the camp before they light too many torches, we’ll be fine. Probably. Now tie the rope like I showed you, remember to keep enough hidden in your palm to tug the slipknot free if –”

  “We get it, Never,” Tsolde said.

  “Good.” He pulled on the gauntlets with a snap. “How do I look?”

  She gave him a nod. “Not bad.”

  “Ready then?” he asked.

  Luis hesitated. “You’re sure about this, Never? We’re risking a lot – if we’re caught...”

  “I know,” he said. “They won’t take prisoners if they’re trying to cover up what they’re doing here.” He flexed his hands in and out of fists. “Everything will be fine if you follow my lead. I’ve bluffed my way out of worse.” And if the Gods were kind for a change, he’d be able to do so once more.

  “Yeah?”

  “I once convinced the King of the Lappodi Islands that I was his long lost nephew.”

  Tsolde frowned. “Is that true?”

  “I’ll tell you once we reach the Iron Pass,” he said. “Now, I’m leading you so take it slow. Don’t speak to anyone, even if you’re asked a direct question. The first trick will be the camp sentries.”

  Never directed them up the road as darkness continued to fall. Luis still limped a little, but appeared to be holding up well enough. “Ready now,” Never whispered. Adrenaline surged through his body and he grinned before scolding himself. Idiot – he was on a tightrope and others depended on him.

  Ahead, two men rose from where they’d been sitting on the roadside.

  “That you, Hedyk?” one asked. His hand rested on his sword hilt and the second man had an arrow set to his string.

  “Synav,” Never answered in Vadiyem, choosing a common name. “We traded shifts.”

  The man grunted but turned his gaze to the ‘prisoners’. “What you got there?”

  “Found them trying to sneak up the road,” Never said. He nudged Luis, who did not react. “This one said something about looking for work in the mines.”

  “And the girl?” the second sentry said.

  “Same story,” Never said. “Look, I’m cold and hungry, friends. Best if I take them to see the captain, yes?”

  The bowman snickered. “Think he’ll make time for you?”

  “Doubtful.”

  The first man motioned for Never to enter the camp and the second called after. “Bring us back something hot, will you?”

  Never waved a hand in acknowledgement. He lowered his voice. “See, easy enough.”

  Neither of his ‘prisoners’ answered, which was for the best.

  Warm glows spread across the camp as braziers were lit. One near a line of stores and another at the crossroad he passed through, turning his face away from the light. Most of the men, regular soldiers rather than Steelhawks,
gave them glances only before returning to card games or idle chatter – about the weather or their commanding officer or home – suggesting that a couple of new prisoners was nothing noteworthy.

  The bridge towered over them, a black hulking thing in darkening sky, close now yet if they were caught it might as well be on the other side of the world. And beneath the bridge, difficult to discern in the poor light, a large pavilion for whoever had been given command. He squinted... slowing his step.

  A red talon flew over the pavilion.

  Never resumed a smooth gait. The Red Talon of the Isajan family. Sacha. Was she actually here? He could have screamed a curse. Of all the hideous luck. If she saw him... everything would be ruined. Sacha; her name hadn’t crossed his mind for years.

  He clenched his jaw and set a new pace, brisk but not too much so, as if hurrying to meet orders, as they passed an infirmary. Several men lay on stretchers within open tents, sleeping or dead he could not tell. A healer held one man’s arm across a bench as he sewed the wound, the soldier’s expression stoic.

  “Halt.”

  Never stopped, barking an order at Luis and Tsolde, who froze, before turning to the voice, keeping out of the light.

  A Steelhawk with a Captain’s striped insignia resting over the heart of his breastplate. The man stood expectantly, helm under his arm. His red cloak was covered in dust, as if he’d just returned to camp.

  “Captain?” Never asked, keeping his tone respectful.

  “Rank and Family.”

  “Synav, Captain. Second Ranger,” he said, again, choosing a common standing for an advance sentry, not too lowly, but not a First Ranger, either, who’d have been equivalent to a Lieutenant.

  “And these prisoners?”

  Never repeated his story. Then played his gamble. “I have orders to take them to Lady Isajan.”

  He frowned. “I have just come from her tent and I was not aware of any such orders.”

  Never affected a look of apology, hoping to convey embarrassment that a Captain had not been kept in the loop. “I see, Captain.”

  The Steelhawk swore, as if realising he was losing face before a sentry. “Get on with you then,” he said and strode away.