by Ashley Capes
The sounds of spoons in bowls ceased. All eyes followed them as they walked the aisles. Lina seemed to wilt a little but Never stared back, ignoring the muttering. So, they had learnt the truth; he was no Messenger, he was only trouble and danger. Which meant Snow had to be stopped all the more swiftly.
The kitchen bore less resentment, rows of ovens were tended by acolytes with sleeves rolled up and cheerful expressions. The scent of baking sweetbread filled the room. High Priestess Jardila herself was working dough with a worn rolling pin. Her braids had been tied up and her mouth moved as she worked, another prayer no doubt.
“My Lady?” Lina announced herself.
The High Priestess turned, her expression growing weary upon catching sight of Never. “Thank you, Lina. You are free to resume your meal.” Jardila raised her voice, turning to the other girls. “And you, quickly now.”
Once alone, she gestured that Never should take a stool. He did so. “I hope no-one was killed?”
She sighed. “Brother Mil clings to life. Worse, perhaps, is the straining of faith in the Goddess. Many have questions that I cannot answer, fears I cannot allay.”
“Such is life itself,” Never said. “Surely they don’t blame you?”
“They blame you.”
“That is fair,” Never said. “If you could be patient even longer, and protect my friends as best you can, I go next to the palace.”
She raised a feathery eyebrow. “Where you will single-handily drive the Vadiya away?”
“Where I will draw them away,” he said. “Prince Tendov seeks me but he will have to chase me.”
“Foolishness. Why would he do that, Never? You may bear Amouni blood but that does not make you a God.”
“Because I will kill him if he does not and I will kill him if he does. Either way, I will let the Vadiya know, and they will pursue me.”
“Perhaps. Or another will simply take his place. Rage alone won’t win this struggle.”
“True. But I possess a few surprises, don’t worry, My Lady.” He stood. “You will continue to care for my companions?”
“Yes. But the Spire will be sealed should you fail.”
“Sealed?”
“By my hand; I will invoke the Goddess’ Seal and then none shall enter or leave until I lift it, be they man or... whatever that man truly was. You stir unnatural forces, Never.”
“Andramir. Lina said he came.”
“Yes, as though no walls stood. No hand touched him and only the inner chambers rebuffed him, though he attempted to breech them nonetheless.”
“Inner chambers? What did he seek?” Which was the same as asking, what did Snow seek?
Jardila did not answer at first, instead regarding him for a long moment. “Meet me in my reception room shortly. I will show you.”
He bowed. “Thank you for trusting me.”
She did not answer as he turned and he was struck by an impulse – perhaps Pacela’s faithful needed something to shake their doubts. And even if he was no Messenger, he was the only thing that could stop Snow. Perhaps he could offer some hope?
In the still-hushed dining hall he climbed onto the nearest empty table, eliciting murmuring. Once he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he stretched his shoulders and let his wings unfurl, so that they snapped up behind him.
Gasps followed.
An elderly priest collapsed against one of his fellows.
“I regret that darkness has followed me into your home,” he said. “But I will go now and drive it back or perish myself. While I do this, I would appreciate anything you might do to help my friends while they are defenceless.”
He stepped down, and amongst yet more whispers and hushed exclamations, sought out Lina, who ate with two other acolytes. There, he reached up to his wing and plucked forth a black feather, handing it to her. “Perhaps now they will believe you, Lina,” he said.
Her smile beamed back up at him, and he continued along the aisles.
*
Jardila opened the door that stood beyond the tome she had shared with him earlier, again using her pendant. There she paused upon the threshold. “What lies beyond is not of Pacela, but your ancestors. It had been concealed – hidden – within these walls for hundreds upon hundreds of years before I took my role. Each High Priestess or High Priest had passed down its knowledge and been given the responsibility to exercise judgement – to reveal or hide – should a Messenger appear.”
“And you would reveal it to me?”
“The infiltration of the man called Andramir has forced my hand. I have no doubt he was seeking this and have to wonder, if he is of the Amouni, like you?”
“If so, wouldn’t he have been able to enter?”
“I do not believe so.” She paused, expectant. Waiting for an admission, it seemed.
Perhaps it was time to offer her something. “I believe Andramir has been... twisted by another Amouni.”
Jardila sighed. “I feared as much. He is known to you, this other descendant?”
“Yes; he is my enemy.” And that would be enough.
“And he leads the Vadiya?”
“Prince Tendov.”
She nodded. “Then you must stop him. Prevent him coming here.”
“I will.”
Jardila stepped into the room and Never joined her in a dim chamber, vague shapes only, visible until she raised a hand to the wall.
Blue light grew, soon surging across the walls like a river. Yet it was not so bright as to blind him when Jardila stepped back to reveal the Amouni artefact.
In the very centre of the room stood a man of silver.
He was as tall as Never and as broad shouldered but his features were vague, a smooth head and indents only for eyes and mouth, a slight protrusion for a nose. The figure stood naked but once again, only the most general features had been moulded. Despite the age Jardila claimed – which he did not doubt – the silver bore no trace of tarnish, it gleamed, a thing of beauty. And more, it responded to his mere presence, nothing beyond an awareness perhaps, yet had it eyes, Never imagined they would have turned to him.
“It is written that in the time after the Amouni disappeared that the ancient peoples gathered all artefacts and items, some to use, some to destroy and others to hold over, in case of a return. This is one such item, my predecessor said that despite years of study it has never revealed its purpose or function, never moved, never responded in any form.”
Whatever its use, Never could feel the potential.
And he knew that Snow should not have access to it, not under any conditions.
Never reached out to touch it – the surface was cold but something pulsed beneath it, just below his senses, as if he was close to understanding it... but the feeling passed and he sighed. “Prince Tendov must not ever see this.”
“Agreed,” Jardila said. “Do you know what it is? You sense something about it, don’t you?”
“Only that it has responded to me as Amouni. And that it must be kept safe.”
“So it shall be.”
Chapter 22.
Never completed his preparations as darkness fell, settling over the city without a shred of warmth. A cold wind ruffled his wings and a light rain beaded on the stone around him. When he lifted his hands from the Spire rail the stone was dry.
He vaulted onto the rail then launched himself into the night.
With only a few pumps he was high enough to simply swoop down in a long line toward the circular palace towers, all dark. The central dome itself bore light however, its windows aglow all over. Within, no doubt the Vadiya enjoyed the luxuries of the palace and for the servants, perhaps nothing had changed in their daily toil.
For a moment no more, Never hesitated in his approach.
There was hardly a need for stealth.
Diving, he hur
led a knife at the glass ceiling of the Grand Hall. Glass shattered and mere moments after, he crashed through feet first, stained glass flying. Stinging cuts appeared on his hands and face as hot blood trickled down his skin. He flared his wings and beat them with enough time to thump into the heavily-carpeted room amidst cries of shock.
Steelhawks and Vadiya nobility in their blues and whites, cowered around gilded furniture. One man was even clawing at a wall-hanging of the Marlosa Stallion, tearing the rich fabric. Glass still trickled down from the dome. A shard smashed into a server’s trolley, splattering a dish of custard.
Never folded his arms and flared his wings. “Bring me Prince Tendov, immediately,” he roared. When no-one moved he took a step toward the nearest soldier. “Now, imbecile, lest I tear you to pieces where you stand!”
The man fled, feet scrambling, as did several of the nobility but other Steelhawks lifted their crossbows and trained the weapons on him. None fired but their trembling limbs were much in Never’s awareness as he walked to the dais and waited. One man was breathing hard.
Never turned his gaze upon the fellow. “Careful with that; I don’t take kindly to being shot.”
The man flinched, getting a firmer grip on the weapon. Yet he did not lower it, nor did any of the others. Trained too well, of course, but they’d not make a whit of difference. If Snow didn’t send them away, Never would burn them to smoking piles of steel if needed.
As he stood, he became aware of the Empress’ throne lurking behind him. He glanced at it – the seat was oversized, an ornament in and of itself, the rich red colour supposedly achieved by mixing gold and the blood of the first emperor. What would Cirsina think of him bursting through her ceiling?
Possibly nothing, if it meant being restored to the throne.
Finally the muted thunder of boots on carpet came and a small squad of Steelhawks skidded into the hall. Each bore the Red Talon of House Isajan.
“Never?”
Sacha.
She tore off her helm, waving her guards back as she strode forward, her eyes wide. She was just as he’d seen her last, beautiful and fierce, her short, pale hair dark with sweat at the temples. She bore her usual longsword but her blue eyes burned with shock, curiosity and even fear, he saw when she stopped before him.
“Where is he, Sacha?”
She reached up as if to touch his wings but dropped her hand. “How can this be?”
He lowered his voice. “I’m cursed, Sacha, you know that. And I am asking you to send for the Prince and then I want you to leave, for I do not wish to hurt you.”
Sacha frowned. “Hurt me? Never, what madness is this? The Prince is not here.”
“What?”
“He comes and goes – and I would not let you attack him, or me, in any event. You had better explain or I will have my men fire.”
“Send them away and I will tell you everything.”
She put a hand on her hilt. “Tell me now.”
“He is my brother. Now do as I ask,” he hissed.
Sacha gaped, her confusion evident as she struggled to speak. Still she could not answer and her grip faltered. There was such turmoil in her eyes; he repressed a stirring of guilt. Causing her pain was not part of his plan, but even his onetime lover could not stand between he and Snow.
“Lady Isajan?” One of her Steelhawks raised his voice.
She spun on him. “Empty this room.”
“My Lady?”
“Do so or lose your rank and then your head, understood?”
He went to one knee then issued orders. The Steelhawks filed from the Grand Hall, several of them hauling babbling courtiers from where they were still curled beneath the furniture.
When the room was finally quiet Never examined Sacha once more. Tension rippled in the muscles of her neck and throat, but she was still able to maintain composure. Gods, she was still beautiful – her strength already beginning to overcome the shock. “Your King is known for adopting sons, if not daughters,” he said.
“All know that,” she snapped.
“Indeed. The man you know as Tendov is my brother, Snow. He and I parted ways many years ago, over something that came between us. We were both fools,” he said. “And now I have come to put an end to his madness.”
“That makes no sense,” Sacha said. “Why, Never? Are you angry with me for choosing another? For invading your country? That I could understand, but not this strange lie. He is Vadiyem by Sovant!”
“You yourself said we were similar.”
Sacha stalked closer. “Leave and I will spare you, Never.”
“No.”
“Leave. That is my only offer. I will not let you take what I have now, Never. I told you; he made me who I am.”
Never softened his voice. “You did that yourself, Sacha.”
She stepped back and pulled her sword free. “Do not overestimate what our past means to me.”
Never drew his knives, though with her words she had landed the first blow. Yet he’d already decided as much for himself. No matter what he and Sacha had shared in the past, Snow had to be stopped. “He has too much to answer for, Sacha.”
“Then you’ve chosen?”
“I have.”
Sacha swung her sword. He leapt back and buffeted her with his wings. She stumbled and he circled away. Could he hurt her? His rage was fading; there was no reason to kill Sacha. Landing even a single cut would be a risk, considering his own wounds courtesy of the roof. Could he control his blood? More, could he even best her? Sacha was near unmatched with a sword and she had much longer reach...
But she stood between he and Snow.
Sacha closed, slashing high and low. He deflected the first blow and dodged the second, slashing back at her – but didn’t commit to his attack. She knocked a blade from his grip with her free hand and frowned at him. “Why are you holding back?”
Taking a new knife, he drove her back with a quick succession of slices, none of which made contact. He leapt away again, wings aiding him, creating extra distance. “Because I have no quarrel with you,” he said as he landed, boots grinding broken glass into the carpet.
“Don’t insult me.” She pointed with her sword, shouting across the dais. “One of us will die, Never. Do you understand? That’s what you’ve chosen.”
“Perhaps neither ought to die,” a new voice announced.
Snow.
Chapter 23.
Snow approached, dressed in Vadiya armour and clothing, his blue and white tunic bearing the golden wolf’s head of the royal family. He carried an ornate helm beneath his arm and his gauntlets in one hand. At his belt swung a longsword, his preferred weapon when he bothered.
Sacha lowered her blade. “Then it’s true?”
“Of course. He is my brother.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“I did not know how,” Snow said, and there was pain in his eyes. He truly hadn’t wanted to hurt her. Never realised he was surprised – how easy it was to think of Snow as a monster, it made evidence to the contrary unnerving.
Still, Snow was hardly to be trusted.
“Why don’t you tell her your vision for the future, brother.” Never folded his arms. “Or show her your wings.”
Sacha’s head swivelled between Never and Snow.
Snow’s frown was swiftly replaced by a smile. “I know why you are here, Never.”
“Do you?”
Sacha strode across to Snow. “What is Never talking about? Your vision? You have wings too – how can that be? What are you both?” Her voice had grown hard, harder than Never had ever heard it.
“My wings are easily hidden.” He took her free hand. “Sacha, we will talk and I will tell you all that I’ve been meaning to share but Never and I have unfinished business.”
After a long moment
of regarding him she spoke. “Then do so, but I am not leaving and don’t expect me to watch you two fools kill each other either.” Sacha stood back but watched Snow, her sword still free.
Snow thanked her, then turned to Never. “Brother, I do know why you are here. I have spoken to Andramir and he informed me of his... adequate improvisations.”
“If you try to hurt them again –”
“That’s up to you, isn’t it?” Snow snapped, his anger rushing forth. And it was clear why he’d lost his temper, seeing as Never had ruined whatever schedule Snow had for revealing the truth to Sacha. “Enough of this time wasting. It is wearying. You have your wings, you know our history and you know our birthright. You can see that we are chosen, even among the Amouni we come from a rare line – Chosen of the Gods, Never! Take your birthright with me, finally, now that we are together again.”
“No.”
“No?” Snow spat out a curse, tossing his helmet at the throne. It clattered to the dais. “Still I cannot understand your dogged refusal. You ought to be overjoyed – your life means something, something noble, something world-changing. Why aren’t you happy? Why aren’t you at least relieved – you always feared that the lies humans told us were true. And now you have proof but you refuse it? Why?”
Never ground his teeth. “What is it you do here in Marlosa, in the palace? What is here? This is where the invasion started. This has always been your goal, hasn’t it?”
Snow shook his head, anger still evident but he exhaled before he answered. “Not precisely. There is something here, something only you can help me with. But the city is only the first step in the Empire, that you already know.”
“What is here?”
“Are you saying you want to help me now?”
Never hesitated. For the first time, it seemed he had some power in the game between them. Perhaps not much and there was still the very real risk Snow was continuing to manipulate him... but he had no choice. Luis, Tsolde and Elina, even Vantinio deserved better. Finally, he spoke. “Call Andramir here. Have him restore my friends.”