The Book of Never: Volumes 1-5

by Ashley Capes

  He felt her lips change shape, as though she smiled.

  ***

  Never lay in the cool dark of the tent, Sacha’s breathing washing over him where she lay across his chest.

  The brazier had died down and shadows pressed in around the red glow, as if suppressing the very embers. Beyond the canvas walls the camp lay quiet, awaiting dawn with only soft sounds, a gentle wind stirring a tent flap or a distant bird waking somewhere high above.

  He shifted his arm slightly and Sacha stirred. She had untied him after a time, thankfully, though his wrists were still a little raw. Would it have been easier to tell himself she’d given him no choice? She had been in control, any attempt at resistance would have been pointless, considering where he was.

  Yet he always had a choice – he could have fought and she would have killed him.

  But that was no choice at all, surely?

  No, the real problem was simple enough. He’d enjoyed it. Every moment was a moment of bliss. The memories of the firmness of her body, her scent, the lightness of her touch, her forcefulness, all were naught but shades compared to actually sharing her bed once more.

  And even though the last time had been years in the past now – the night before he’d taken his chance to escape her father’s keep in fact – it seemed he’d forgotten nothing by the way his senses were overwhelmed during the night, the way every emotion flooded back.

  Vivid, yet tinted with the desperation of youth.

  Things were different now.

  And what sort of night had Luis and Tsolde spent? He had to find them; there was a way out of the camp if he took the time to find it.

  “I can hear you thinking. Stop it,” she said.

  He laughed softly. “And what am I thinking about?”

  “Running away – what you always think about,” Sacha said. She rolled away from him, reaching for water. Her back was smooth in the faint light and he reached out to stroke it.

  “Are you going to try and stop me again?”

  She lay back, pulling the blanket up to cover her breasts. “I can’t let you simply walk out of my camp, Never. You know that.”

  “Then let me sneak out. Pretend you killed me, I’ll figure something out.”

  She appraised him a moment. “No. Nothing like that. Things have changed.”

  Even Sacha was echoing his thoughts. “I know you don’t plan on keeping me in your tent forever.”

  She glanced away. “No, I do not.”

  “And I assume you don’t want me to meet him, either.”

  Now she smiled. “I doubt you two would enjoy each other’s company – you’re too alike.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m like Prince Tendov?”

  “You’re both driven by something... and neither of you give up,” she said, then stood and began to dress. “Otherwise you might be opposites.”

  “Well let’s hurry. He’ll be here soon, won’t he?”

  She glanced at him, hands busy with the laces on her shirt.

  “Your guards were obviously feeling chatty while you were gone; I heard enough to know they’re afraid of him.”

  “As they should be.”

  Never stood, reaching for his own clothing. “Why don’t you have me transferred to the mines as a prisoner – it’s close to where I’m going. You can save face and I can escape – leave me one of my knives.”

  “You still wish to cross the border?”

  “Yes. There is something there, Sacha, something that will give me another clue as to my true name.”

  “You still believe that? What if you don’t ever find anything, Never – what then?”

  “I die searching.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll arrange the transfer. Dress quickly. Take my knife, hide it well because you’ll need it. I’ll be sending you to the cells bound. It won’t be a picnic.”

  “Life has never been a picnic,” he said, “though last night was pleasant enough.”

  “So it was.” She’d finished with her boots and strode out of the tent.

  Never leapt into the rest of his clothing, that which remained in one piece, and slipped the thin knife within the seam of his pants. Then he drank from her water and searched for food – how long since he’d eaten now? His hunger roared back. There was a hessian bag of apples beside her travelling chest, he took one out and bit into it.

  “What are you doing, jenaek?”

  One of her bodyguards, Fernov, stood in the entryway, a regular Vadiya soldier joining him.

  Never swallowed his mouthful. “Eating an apple.”

  The Steelhawk frowned as he strode over and held up a length of rope. “Hands.”

  After another bite, Never tossed the apple to the soldier, possibly Stasn – who caught it with a blink – then held out his hands to be bound. The Steelhawk was hardly gentle, but he didn’t take the opportunity to lay into Never out of sight of his mistress either.

  He caught Never by the shoulder. “You might not be a spy but you are a fool. Now march.”

  Never left the pavilion, the steely light of dawn covering the rows of tents. Smoke from new fires added to the grey of the world. Sacha was nowhere to be seen and a jerk on the arm from his guard didn’t give him time to look.

  He was herded to the Giant’s Bridge and then escorted across it at such a pace that he was climbing the trail beyond before he’d had a chance to adjust to the rising sun. At the top of the ridge his guards paused while one shook a stone out of his boot, tossing it into one of the wagon-ridges in the road.

  Below spread the entrance to the silver mine, bustling with activity despite the early hour. Campfires burned clean, spread around tents and wooden buildings. Dozens of Steelhawks walked the length of the mine, hands on their weapons. Hanik men in plain clothing, their faces almost black with dirt, pushed empty carts along steel rails into a gaping maw in the rock face. Lanterns disappeared within the dark slope.

  Other men pushed carts laden with grey rock onto nearby platforms where the contents were lifted by a series of ropes and pulleys and cursing men. The cart was then pushed along a constructed rail that ranged over the heads of the workers, to be tipped into something of a quarry, where men with hammers and shackles shattered the stone.

  Somewhere out of sight, the crushed rock was obviously fed into a sluice or perhaps directly into a furnace. The furnace wasn’t visible from his position, but its smoke stained the sky. Even from some distance the scent was noxious; the sooner the wind changed the better.

  “Get going,” one of his guards said.

  At the bottom of the gentle slope Never was met by a heavyset man with a large hammer swinging from his belt, a set of keys on the opposite hip. He grunted as he accepted Never, hauling him around one of the buildings and through a heavy door into a long corridor. Miner’s barracks, converted into a prison – fresh bolts and brackets affixed to each door.

  Two pair of guards stood at either end of the prison.

  “Soup, bread and water twice a day,” the jailor said when he stopped at one of the makeshift cells. He frowned when Never didn’t respond, then held up two fingers and repeated the information in broken Marlosi.

  “I speak Vadiyem,” Never said.

  “Then answer me next time – else I’ll break a leg with my hammer, got it?”

  “Yes.”

  The man grunted again, then unhooked his keys, opening the door and shoving Never into a tiny room with a cot, a bucket and nothing else.

  The door slammed shut and then the lock clicked. The heavy clank of the bolt sliding home followed.

  Trapped.

  Chapter 15.

  Two days had already passed and while he still had his knife; he’d accomplished little else. He’d only seen Luis twice and Tsolde once. Luis had been pressed into service in the mine; Never caught a glim
pse of him while being allowed to walk about in chains one noon.

  The treasure-hunter had emerged from the mine’s dark mouth, pushing a cart with another man. Never caught Luis’ eye – and hope sparkled – before Luis lowered his head as his cart passed a Steelhawk.

  Never would be heading for the mines himself soon, once he’d finished digging the new latrine behind the barracks. And less pleasant work he could not think of off-hand. Tsolde had been pressed into service as some manner of bookkeeper, it seemed from a conversation he overheard between guards. She’d held her composure when they saw each other, revealing nothing, but as she followed Bendlav the jailor back to his office, taking down the figures he barked, her shoulders had straightened.

  At least she appeared unharmed.

  “Such confidence,” he said to himself, laying atop the blankets of his cot, arms and back aching from the day’s digging. “Nice to know they believe in me.” But escape was proving tediously difficult. Opportunities were scant, and with two friends in two separate places, a clean escape was looking doubtful.

  Sacha hadn’t lied.

  She hadn’t made it easy on him. The knife was a gift but what he really needed was a thousand Marlosi Calvary. Or a precision avalanche.

  Instead, he left his empty bowl by the door and sought some rest.

  Tomorrow, he’d have a chance to plan – to get a good look at the mine, see what holes would be possible to slip through.

  When dawn came it was to the rattling of steel in adjacent cells. Luis was in one of them but Never hadn’t been able to figure out which one yet. The other prisoners were miners and a single Vadiya, a soldier who’d obviously upset his superiors in some way. The fellow had been digging latrines and was due to return to duty.

  Which was useful – it left no-one to tell tales.

  His own cell soon opened, the guard handing Never a bowl of steaming soup with a sigh – presumably a sigh of boredom. “It must be tedious, all that freedom,” Never said to him in Vadiyem, the first time he’d spoken to the fellow.

  The guard blinked, then scowled as he scooped up last night’s empty bowl and slammed the door.

  Never chuckled and blew on the soup until it cooled.

  By the time he’d been hauled off to the mines, assembled with the other prisoners before a balding Steelhawk, all Hanik men save for Luis, who stood a head taller than the rest, the meal seemed a distant memory.

  The fellow growled his orders; no talking, no-one leaves the mine until sundown, two breaks for water and one for lunch. Anywhere deeper than the statue of the Mountain God was off-limits. “The tunnels aren’t safe – we’ve already lost men there to cave-ins. Keep to the lamps.” He frowned at Never. “New man?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Work hard and we’ll let you free once we’ve emptied the mine – same deal for everyone. And keep to the areas with lamps. I have men down there with whips and chains. Don’t make them use either.”

  Never nodded.

  The Steelhawk waved his hand and men paired off, some to head into the darkness and others for the empty carts nearby. Luis drifted over and gestured for Never to follow him. He did so, heading toward the dark.

  “Did she hurt you?” Never whispered, speaking Marlosi.

  “No worse than a bar-room brawl,” he said, gesturing to a fading bruise on his cheek. “She likes her answers swiftly, doesn’t she?”

  “And Tsolde?”

  “She didn’t hurt her – but I do not know where she is.”

  “I do. The jailor is using her to do his bookwork.”

  The track that sloped down into the mine was gentle enough and steps for foot traffic ran alongside. A glow from a pair of lanterns soon appeared ahead, a single guard stationed there. Luis stopped speaking and the whispers from the other men died away when the guard appeared, then resumed once the fellow was out of earshot, the trail levelling off. Here the torchlight led to active tunnels – the others, Luis told him, were mined out, dangerous or collapsed long ago.

  “The foreman was making a poor joke, of course. Where we are now there’s enough silver for another half a lifetime. If we don’t escape, we’re dying here,” he said.

  Never slapped his friend on the shoulder. “Leave that to me. What else can you tell me?”

  “I was estimating the time it takes for a cart to reach the surface,” Luis said. “For when I figured out where Tsolde was.” He shook his head. “It would be tough, but I think no-one would miss us for most of the morning.”

  “That long?”

  “The tunnel we’re mining is deep and the carts are heavy. It takes a long time for two men to push it back out.”

  “Good, that’s something.”

  “Where we actually dig, that’s harder. We have weapons – shovels and pick axes, but the Steelhawks down here carry crossbows in addition to the whips. I don’t like our chances with a show of force.”

  “Stealth it is, then.”

  “The disused tunnels?”

  “Not something I want to explore at length, but if we can use them to divert any search parties...”

  At the next set of lights there stood a pair of soldiers and once again, the whispers died away to silence, leaving only the echoing tread of their feet

  “There’s still everyone above. And Tsolde,” he said once they’d passed out of earshot.

  Never nodded. “Let’s see what else we have to face.”

  They eventually reached the mining site, where enough lanterns hung from the walls and buttresses to set the silver ore gleaming. Not unlike the Amber Isle, after a fashion. More Steelhawks armed with crossbows waited beside sets of axes and shovels. “You know what to do,” one of them shouted.

  Luis joined the queue and Never followed, accepting an axe. Together they found a section of wall away from the nearest prisoner and began. Never swung at the wall, ignoring the shock it sent through his arms. A hunk of rock threaded with silver fell to his feet. He swung again and within moments he was sweating, despite the cold underground.

  When the Steelhawks called for the first halt he drank his ration of water greedily.

  Then it was back to digging into the bowels of the earth.

  Noon came and passed in a blur of hacking – at one point he switched to shovelling the stone into one of the carts, and then it was one more drink before heading toward the surface. His arms were near-to crumbling and new muscles – muscles that had surely not been in his body prior – had begun to ache. It was much worse than digging the latrine, and a perfect way to drain the men’s strength.

  After a day in the mine, most prisoners would barely have the strength to eat, let alone plan an escape.

  But he was not most prisoners.

  Between guards in their pools of light, Never spoke over the grinding of the cart’s wheels. “This will never work. It needs to be at night, which is your cell?”

  “Second from the western entry of the barracks.”

  “Tonight I am going to release you. We’ll take Tsolde once I have imprisoned the jailor – I think, in the dark, I can impersonate my guard, and fool the jailor.”

  “That easy, huh?”

  He grinned. “Let’s hope so.”

  “Then what?”

  “We head for the high ground. The road to the Iron Pass and the old mine lies above us – there’s no other path.”

  “This is a bigger gamble than the others. They’ll know we haven’t tried to cross the bridge.”

  “I’m betting they will but we’ll be too far ahead by then. The moon is still visible at night, we’ll be able to see well enough to travel.”

  “Do we have enough time to reach Marlosi?”

  “Let’s hope so. Just be ready after midnight.”

  After pushing their cart up the final incline and into the setting sun – more sweating and cursing a
nd now squinting too – Never and Luis were directed back to the barracks, locked up once more. With nothing else to do but rest, Never slumped into his cot, limbs like sticks of lead, and closed his eyes.

  Soon enough, he’d make his move, after which he might not sleep for days.

  Best to take advantage of the free room while he could.

  Chapter 16.

  Near midnight Never called for the guard. He’d been practicing with his blood for an hour and was finally ready. If he remained careful, no-one would have to die – or alert the others. Yet he would kill if given no choice.

  After his first call there was no answer so he called again, and then raised the pitch of his voice. Other prisoners roared curses at him but he kept on until his guard wrenched the door open, face red with rage.

  “What is it? And give the shouting a rest, damn you.”

  Never opened his mouth to answer, only to have blood spurt forth – which, with a lot of concentration, was exactly what he wanted. It splashed down the front of his tunic and filled his mouth as he hit the floor, feigning panic. “Help me,” he gurgled. “Take me to... healer.”

  The guard gaped, then knelt by his side.

  Never whipped Sacha’s knife free – holding it to the man’s throat. “Don’t move now,” he said, blood sliding between his teeth.

  The man froze, a look of horror crossing his face.

  “You’re going to go to sleep now. If you struggle, I will cut you and drain your blood, do you understand?”

  “You’re a vampire?”

  Never grinned. The fellow turned pale, then shuddered to the floor. Fainted cold. Never chuckled – that part was easier than he’d hoped. He spat excess blood then raised his voice to mimic the guard, shouting for the jailor, claiming to need help moving a sick prisoner.

  Bendlav’s keys jingled to signal his approach. Never propped up the guard and as the heavyset jailor peered inside, Never shoved the guard forward.