The Book of Never: Volumes 1-5

by Ashley Capes

  “The Night Lake that Darom warned us about?” Tsolde asked.

  “I suspect it is – I didn’t stop to name it last time I was there.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” she said.

  “We don’t have to go very close to it at all – there’s a walkway that hugs the wall. From it, we will have to climb across an underground river. The bridge was in fair condition so we’ll be crossing into Marlosa in good time at this rate. It’s a steady climb after, up a beautiful staircase.”

  Luis gestured to the wall. “Why didn’t anyone from this mine find the older one?” he asked.

  “I wondered that myself, and I suspect not just anyone can pass through,” Never said as he gestured to a point where the floor met the wall. A tiny square of stone protruded. “Luis, step on that, will you?”

  Luis did as instructed. Nothing happened. He put a little more weight on it then looked to Never. “It won’t move.”

  He waved Luis aside. “But when I do so...” He pressed down with his boot and a muted click followed. The silver outline of a door appeared as if burnt into the surface. Never squinted as he pushed it open and stepped through, turning back. “See? But we shouldn’t tarry admiring the fruits of my heritage, it doesn’t stay open long.”

  Tsolde and Luis hopped through and paused as the stone ground shut, silver light dying away. The torch revealed a wide room, empty of furniture but the floor was tiled. A pattern of darker pieces led toward another door – this one visible. The rush of moving water echoed from beneath them.

  “Come to the balcony,” Never said and pushed open the door to lead them into an enormous cavern. The faint movement of air, the dampness from the water and the echo of his steps as he moved across the steel balcony to lean on the rail, it all surprised him once again. The torchlight did not illuminate much – his blue-stone offered more during his last visit – but it was enough that Tsolde gasped.

  The surface of the Night Lake was a bare winking of slow-moving water, far below, far enough that a fall would break bones at the least.

  “Who could have built this?” Luis breathed.

  “My ancestors?” Never pointed along the wall nearest to balcony. “It rings this side of the lake and then there’s another door leading to the bridge. Once we cross the underground river it’s just the stairway. We’ll be back on the mountain top before you know it.”

  “And the lake?” Tsolde asked as they walked.

  “I’m hoping just a lake, in spite of Darom’s warning. Nothing happened last time I was here, remember that.”

  Tsolde glanced over the rail’s edge often enough but when Never followed her gaze he saw nothing. The surface, as best he could tell, remained still. When they finally reached the door to the bridge, Never stepped upon its switch. The shimmering silver followed.

  A pleasant evening for a swim, is it not?

  Never jerked his foot back.

  The same slithering voice – the same language. The word the voice had used for ‘evening’ bore a familiar echo – like estayeta, part of the phrase he saw on the river? But not quite... estay only. Eta meant something else, didn’t it? He couldn’t be sure. And the invitation in its voice... somehow it was hideous.

  Like death itself.

  “What’s wrong?” Luis asked.

  Never drew in a deep breath. If he was going to protect them they needed to know what he knew – which was nothing, truly. But one thing had been confirmed; he had not imagined the voice.

  “I just heard a voice. In my head.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “It invited me for a swim – and it spoke Amouni,” he said. “I understood it.”

  Luis blinked. “Does that mean... ?”

  “I don’t know,” Never said. He placed his foot on the switch again, the glow rising. “We have to hurry – I don’t trust it.”

  Tsolde caught his arm. “What if the owner of the voice is on the other side of the door.”

  “It’s lower,” he said. “I can feel it down there... staring up at us.”

  Indeed.

  Never shoved the door open with a shout. “Quickly.”

  Beyond, he crossed the staging area and ran to the bridge – a graceful span with a low steel rail – but stumbled to a halt. A dark mass sat in the centre, a hiss just audible over the rush of the river. Scorch marks covered the bridge where it rested – silvery light boiled beneath the greasy skin.

  Heat drove Never back a step and he spread his arms to shield Luis and Tsolde.

  “What can we do?” Tsolde shouted.

  “Back,” Never cried as he spun. Luis was already stomping on the floor before the sealed doorway. “Let me.” Never pressed the switch. Leaping through after Luis and Tsolde, he slammed the door shut just as a wave of heat hit.

  But the steel held.

  He fell back with a gasp.

  Back already?

  Never ignored the voice, casting about for anything to block the entry. Nothing. He tugged on one of the railings. Maybe he could –

  “Never.” Luis’ voice was strained.

  He spun back to the door. The steel was turning red; a pulsing light started to fill the room. The centre of the door quickly grew white.

  Isn’t the Yimash persistent? Best you hurry now.

  “Run,” Never shouted, waving them through. They charged across the long balcony, breathing hard, until a booming crack rocked the steel. A flash of white-hot pain tore into Never’s leg and he crashed to the ground with a shout.

  He rolled, gripping his bloodied calf. Fragments of hissing steel, still glowing, lay scattered across the balcony and shards were embedded in the stone wall. The Black Ember bore down upon them.

  Quickly, up you get.

  The slithering voice sounded amused. Never ground his teeth, scrambling after Luis. The spearman had already turned back, feet pounding across the steel walkway toward Never. Luis slung an arm beneath Never’s own, hauling him after Tsolde, who held the door to the empty room open. Her voice urged them forward.

  Heat bore down on his back. “Into the mine,” Never gasped at her.

  Horror covered her face as she waved them on with the torch. Never swore as heat intensified around him – they were too slow, the Black Ember would have them at any moment.

  Ahead, a figure loomed from the very wall.

  Tall, dark skin blending with the stone around him – a man... Darom!

  “Down!” the mountain man roared, his voice echoing.

  Luis dove, carrying Never. They hit the balcony and rolled apart. Never reached his elbows then froze, mouth agape.

  Darom wrested the Yimash. He’d gripped the bulk of its body, ignoring the blows its stout legs rained upon him, and was dragging it toward the rail. The man of stone grunted as he struggled with the creature. Why wasn’t Darom screaming in agony? The heat, even from where Never lay, was enough to steal his breath.

  The creature’s hiss rose to ear-splitting levels as it broke free. Darom leapt after it, beating one of the eyes until it winked out. A silver burst of blood followed and now Darom roared in pain, but he did not release the Black Ember. It continued to struggle, blackening the steel as Darom pushed it closer to the edge of the rail. Stooping, he placed a shoulder beneath its bulk then thrust upward with his legs.

  Silver light flared and limbs thrashed as the Yimash flew over the rail.

  A whistling scream rose as it fell, hurtling toward the Night Lake.

  Never crawled forward in time to see it hit the surface.

  Steam exploded.

  White and grey clouds of steam rose from the lake’s surface, a furious bubbling followed as part of the lake was set to boiling. The cloud climbed until it obscured the very rail, covering the shape of Darom, who leant against the steel, chest heaving.

  Never dragged h
imself to his feet and lurched forward but the steam seared his skin. There was no choice but to wait. He turned to Luis. “As soon as it’s safe, we check on Darom.”

  Luis nodded. “Do you think the creature is dead?”

  “Gods, I hope so,” Never said.

  The steam soon eased enough that they could reach Darom. The stone-man had slumped onto his side, stretched out across the scorched steel. His body twitched and his chest rose and fell. There was not a single burn mark upon his bare chest but the charred tatters of his clothing still clung to him.

  “Darom?” Never crouched by the man’s head. He drew in another breath. Darom’s hair had been singed to soot and eyes had simply melted away. “Can you hear me? Can we help?”

  “I’ll find water,” Luis said, slinging his pack free.

  “No need,” Darom rasped. “I have served my purpose.”

  “Darom. Why?” Never asked. “We owe you our lives, let us try and help you.”

  “I helped... because it was the right thing to do,” he said, pausing to shudder. “And because... those were my orders.”

  Never reached out to take the man’s shoulder but stopped. It would only cause Darom more pain. “Someone ordered you to watch over us?”

  Darom turned his sightless face a little. “Your brother.”

  Snow. Snow again – always Snow, using those around him for his own purpose, never caring at the cost! “Darom, I –”

  “No, I am glad,” the man said.

  Then his chest rose no more.

  Chapter 21.

  Never and Luis carried Darom to the empty room, each step a struggle. Even without an injury it would have been difficult. Not only was Darom heavy beyond a normal man but his flesh remained hot to the touch. It was as if his skin had resisted – like stone – the heat from the Yimash but his insides had not been able to withstand the onslaught.

  They lowered him then Never arranged Darom’s arms across his chest and stood. A brave man – a good man, the last of mountain blood? How had Snow controlled him?

  “Never, where is Tsolde?” Luis asked.

  He spun. An empty room, torch burning where it lay on the floor – fool! He limped over to stomp on the switch. The mine door swung open as Luis raised the torch. The stone bore no traces of her, no fallen supplies, no scrapes from boots, nothing.

  “She didn’t cry out. What’s happening?” Luis asked. “She couldn’t have opened the door either.”

  “The balcony,” Never said. Outside, steam still rose in an invisible hiss far below, but a much gentler sound now.

  No rewards for such a guess.

  The slithering voice was tight with suppressed laughter.

  “Where is she?” he roared, voice echoing across the Night Lake. Not again – he couldn’t be responsible for the death of more innocents. And not Tsolde. He’d promised her he’d get them through the mines. And worse – he’d been so sure. Too sure; the reward for overconfidence was always failure. Idiot, idiot, idiot!

  “Never?”

  “It’s the voice,” he snapped. “It’s taunting me.”

  Now, now, we can be fair too. Why don’t you cross the bridge and start on the stair. You’ll find the door that others miss. Then you can see your precious girl again. A long pause. Aren’t her curls beautiful? Not to mention all that skin and blood. And her organs, of course – we mustn’t forget those.

  “Don’t you touch her,” he screamed into the dark.

  Do hurry.

  Luis grabbed him by the shoulders. “Never, tell me what’s happening? Where is she?”

  Never slammed his fists onto the rail. He knew who – or what – owned the voice. Brushing against their minds, even in such a faint manner, was unpleasant enough. But he knew their name now, or at least, the Amouni name for them. Leschnilef. “They have her, Luis. The Leschnilef. The Grey-Faced things I saw in the Amouni book.”

  “Who?”

  “Leschnilef. It means Stone-Wraiths. And it’s a trap – they told me how to find them. They want us to chase her so they can take us too.”

  “But we’re going anyway, aren’t we?”

  “We are.” Never sped along the walkway, the pain in his leg pulsing with every step. His blood was already trying to staunch itself, like for a minor wound, but it wasn’t enough. By the door to the bridge his boot was slick with blood. He stopped, tearing at his now frayed cloak until he had enough to bind his calf.

  Then he was leading Luis over the span, the rush of water a distant sound despite its closeness. The great stairway, which he ought to have marvelled over once more, he barely saw. Patterns carved across the tread of each step, forming grand scenes of gardens in green and wondrous flowers, flashed by beneath him as he took the stairs two at a time.

  When he stumbled, Luis caught him. At the first landing he slumped against the wall, breathing hard. The next flight of stairs was carved to show a desert scene, warm and barren-seeming in the torchlight but he recalled, from his last visit, that tiny animals were camouflaged within.

  No time to seek them out now.

  “Never, where are we going?” Luis asked when he caught his breath. “You have to slow down.”

  “They said I’d find a door that others would miss.”

  “On the stair?”

  “Right.”

  “And this landing?”

  Never shook his head. “I don’t know. I just needed to rest.”

  Luis started examining the walls and steps. Never checked on his bandage before joining his friend. Nothing stood out as remarkable and after a time he swore. “It’s not here.”

  The next landing was the beginning of a seascape, blues and purples woven into the murals, all manner of fish great and small covering the steps that led up. Luis removed and lit a new torch before resuming the search. “It’s the last torch,” he said.

  Never nodded as he examined the wall, pushing and prodding odd shapes and patterns in the stone. All to no avail.

  “Never, look at this,” Luis said. He knelt before the point where the first step met the landing. Each landing had, so far, been free of coloured stone, of patterns or images. Yet here was a curved splash of blue and silver, not unlike a fish. “It’s raised against my fingertips,” he said.

  “Press it.”

  Luis paused. “It won’t be like in the Amber Isle, will it? Some sort of trap?”

  “No. They want us to find them.”

  Luis took a breath and pressed down. He waited. “Nothing.”

  “Let the Amouni try,” Never said as they switched places. “Every other door seems to need my touch.” He pushed and a deep click echoed beneath their feet. Never stood. The wall before them glowed with a silver line in the shape of a door.

  A staircase leading down.

  “In we go,” Never said, and took the first step. He gestured for the torch. “Keep that axe ready.” It was the best he could offer. He knew nothing about the stone-wraiths, save for their name and their desire for organs. And that his blood appeared to be a weapon against them – yet their grey, emaciated forms didn’t seem to possess much in the way of blood to respond to.

  And he couldn’t manage anything like Snow’s demonstration in the temple.

  The torchlight revealed a long descent into more shadow. Down he went, boots clapping against the stone, echoed by Luis’. The stairs did not deviate from their straight and steady descent. A half-hidden rushing had to be the river, but it was hard to be certain.

  “We must have reached the level of the lake by now,” Luis said.

  Never nodded. “I think –”

  A pale figure passed the very edge of the torchlight. He stopped – holding his breath. No footfalls, only Luis’ breathing. “Did you see that?”

  “I didn’t see anything.”

  “As if someone turned a corner ah
ead of us,” Never said.

  “Let’s find out,” Luis said, though his expression was set.

  But there was no corner. Only solid wall and more steps. Never glanced at Luis. “I saw something.”

  “I believe you, but where did it go?”

  “A good question. Keep going.” Never continued downward but slowed, his heart doing the same. Locating the path into the wraith’s lair didn’t mean he had to rush. Tsolde would be alive – it was still a trap after all. He had to spring it without getting snared.

  And protect Luis.

  And save Tsolde.

  And then get everyone out of the wraith’s lair and into Marlosa to the Altar of Stars before the new moon.

  Thanks for nothing, Snow.

  Finally the stairs ended in another balcony, only this one overlooked not a lake but a collection of buildings... a whole city. He exhaled. An underground city... an Amouni city? Yes. A shiver ran through his very limbs, just being near. Something about the place stirred deep, fragmentary memories.

  A word or a voice, a flash of colour, mere echoes as time continued to chew away at the lives once residing within. Naught he could truly understand, but he knew it was an Amouni place – just as he knew the Leschnilef were not welcome in the city.

  Light from soft-glowing points spread throughout the streets and atop buildings, the city sprawling across an enormous cavern. The roof was lost to darkness, as were the outer edges of the underground city, but he saw enough to know it’d take half a day to cross it end to end.

  Most buildings were shaped as circles, the stone possessing rounded edges. Windows were hard to discern. Other buildings stood taller. Most of these were typical-looking towers but others, those with bases shaped more like triangles, might have been temples. They each possessed strange, open platforms spreading from their centres, like outstretched arms.

  One temple-like building reared above the others, its arms wider than seemed safe, great, dark spheres resting at the ends. Tsolde would be held within.

  “What is this place?” Luis asked.

  “A lost Amouni city,” Never said. “And the stone-wraiths are unwelcome guests here. I can feel it. It’s as if the very streets are singing it to me.”