The Book of Never: Volumes 1-5

by Ashley Capes

  Snow moved to the skeleton, lifting a silver rib free. “It is my recreation – unfinished. These bones replace those that were missing when I dug him up.” He placed the rib on a nearby bench, which stood covered in shadowy objects.

  “The Gates of Ju-Anna,” Never breathed. Just as Peat had told him, on their way to the Amber Isle. “You were there.”

  “Yes, I searched the entire Imperial Cemetery. I pieced together the fragments of his life over years of searching, Never. And when I found his resting place there was only these.”

  Never drew in a shuddering breath. Had his father truly been dead for... who knew how many years? And why? How? And more importantly, could he even trust Snow’s claims? “How can you know? How can you be certain?”

  “I found records, sealed within the Empress’s chambers that spoke of a criminal who had been buried with no marker. A man who had been hunted all through the world – here, Hanik, Vadiya and even Kiymako. In all reports, written in all the languages, bearing all seals, this man was described as a vampire, one who stole the blood of his victims.” Snow paused. “Does not such an affliction sound familiar?”

  “It does,” Never admitted with a frown.

  “This man killed many in his search – mostly women. I found a reluctance within the reports, to commit his acts to writing. When he was finally captured here, he was drawn and quartered then spread across the cemetery and other places. It seemed the old Empress was advised that spreading his bones would prevent his return... but that if another like him was found, having at least parts of his skeleton on hand would help in destroying any such new creature.”

  “So some of his bones were kept in an unmarked grave, here in the city,” Never said, his voice flat. Had Father truly been a murdering coward, fleeing from land to land? It would explain why the man featured so rarely in Never’s memories.

  “Yes. When I found them, I hid them until such time as I could do further tests.”

  “Such as?”

  “Without blood, I had to see how the guides and other artefacts responded to his skull. I took a femur to the Seers in the Ramakki Islands and half a dozen other things to be sure... all told me that our father was the same treacherous scum I had long suspected. But I did not believe it still.”

  “But you do now.”

  “Not until I ground a piece of his bone to powder.” Snow paused and the icy blue of his eyes burned. “Once I drank, I knew. I saw, Never.”

  Never swallowed, even as he shook his head. “Then why this mockery before me? If he is who you say he was.”

  “Because I need more from him – his body must yield one more secret, Never. But one. He must tell me if we truly have a sister.”

  Never blinked. A sister? How and where? There were still so many unanswered questions about Father and Mother before adding that of another sibling! Never was almost numb from such revelations – yet he still reached out to grip Snow at the neck of his tunic. “Do not toy with me, Snow. If this is some elaborate web of lies I will throttle you right now.”

  Snow did not retaliate. “If you doubt me, drink of his bones.”

  “What?”

  “I can hardly blame you, since I could not accept it for myself at first. Yet you will see what you need to see and more – and you will be sorry. Or, you can take my word, allow me to shoulder the burden of truth.”

  “You would keep me in the dark, as usual,” Never said, though he released his brother. Doubt had already nestled itself deep within him; where it seemed most comfortable. Could Never face yet another disappointment confirmed? If Snow was telling the truth for once...

  “Shall I send for your vial?”

  “You have already prepared it?”

  “The base elements, yes.”

  Never frowned. How endless, Snow’s manipulation. But to what end now was still not clear. And Never did want to know what the bones could tell him; this was not knowledge he could turn aside from. Over half his life had been consumed by the search for his true heritage and it was very possible a piece lay before him now.

  “I will take the drink.”

  A touch of sadness passed over Snow’s face, but he closed his eyes and spoke – again, to someone unseen. “Bring me the silver vial from my quarters, along with the mortar and pestle.”

  Never paced while he waited, unable to halt his train of thought, the cycle of doubt, fear and curiosity. He could not look away from the skull’s eyes. Is that you, Father?

  Snow said nothing, only waited in silence.

  When someone finally knocked on the door, Snow opened it at once, exchanging few words with whoever stood outside before returning with a glass vial and mortar and pestle. Within the vial rested a silvery liquid. He handed it to Never. “It will burn a little but the other effects are worse. I would sit.” He dragged a second chair from the shadows.

  “Other effects?”

  Snow grinned. “Your wings are already awoken – I refer to the memories; they will not be pleasant.” He snapped one of the human knuckle bones from the skeleton and stood at the bench, where he ground the bone into a powder.

  So their father was the Ascended Amouni whose body – not his blood – had awoken Snow’s wings. Just how much had Cog been told? Never took the chair then lifted the vial. The silver liquid moved slowly when he tilted it. He pulled the cork free with a tiny pop. “You expect me to see what you saw?”

  “I cannot be certain but I have no doubt you bear similar questions within your heart,” Snow said as he finished his work. He strode over and added the bone powder, tipping it carefully into the vial. The powder dissolved within a moment.

  Just how much would it burn when he drank it?

  “It is ready,” Snow said.

  Never frowned at the vial a moment before lifting his chin and tipping the concoction after. Fiery liquid hit his throat but he swallowed quickly. The mixture of bone and whatever else Snow had used dimmed his vision. Not unlike whatever Cog had used in the Preparation Chamber. Never tried to speak but again, control of his own body was denied him and the whole room was smothered in blackness.

  An image resolved – a young man striding along a forested road. His features were too familiar; like seeing a younger version of Never himself, only with variations. A higher brow, a broader nose. But the eyes. The eyes were his own, the eyes were Snow’s eyes too.

  Just the man’s face was enough to shatter any doubts.

  Father.

  Never’s stomach convulsed, a faint sensation, one he couldn’t fully attribute to either knowledge or vial.

  Yet the vision was fleeting – now his father sat in a clearing, waving grass all around, two young boys at his feet. By the pale skin of one boy, it was clearly Snow, and the other boy’s skin was darker – Never himself. Their father was explaining something, laughing as he did. He wore a ragged cloak and a sword at his belt, his leather armour sported a newly repaired gash.

  And then the scene changed again, gone before Never could register any further details.

  Father sat in a dark tavern, glaring at someone sitting across from him, lost in shadow. Yet the figure leaned forward enough to reveal golden glowing eyes... somehow unnatural. The pupils appeared non-human. A clawed hand, covered in grey fur turning white, crept across the table. Misshapen, the hand was human-like yet it trembled and could not open properly.

  Once again, the image did not linger.

  A covered walkway stretched between buildings, the hand-rails made of bamboo. Mist cut across the scene, obscuring the rest of the city. Father walked along one of the walkways, pausing before what appeared to be a temple entrance, flanked by twin statues of the firebird. A tin rested before the door, which he opened, revealing white paint. He dipped his hand within and drew a symbol upon the door.

  Another change.

  A young woman sat in a kitchen, sewing a shirt
. Her foot tapped on a dirt floor, moving to a tune Never could not hear, one that she hummed. Her fair hair was cut close, in the Quisoan way but a single short lock fell over her brow to one side. Her eyes were a startling green that cut into his very heart.

  Mother!

  Distant still, Never felt hands pressing upon his shoulders.

  Father appeared in the kitchen door and Mother jumped up, backing away at the sight of him. She glanced to the window and then to another doorway, then back to Father. His appearance had changed; dishevelled hair, breathing hard, eyes wild as he cast the table aside.

  And now the thunder in Never’s chest grew strong, his pulse began to race.

  Something was terribly wrong.

  Again, Mother looked to the window and the shadow of the other room, her mouth open in a scream. Movement stirred beyond the window; a small face peered over the sill, pale, streaked with tears.

  A different voice was calling Never, frantic, barely registering at the edges of his awareness, but persistent nonetheless. Never’s body convulsed, as if he was no longer in control of it, of anything.

  Father leapt upon Mother, tearing at her robe –

  “Never!”

  The lantern-light of the room snapped back around Never – a figure looming above him, pressing down on his chest, holding him on the floor. Never’s breath escaped in ragged gasps and sweat ran down his temples to his throat.

  “Let me free,” Never shouted. “I will slaughter him!”

  Snow himself was straining to keep Never still. “You cannot, brother. You cannot.”

  Never roared, fighting to pull an arm free but Snow would not budge. Never’s throat constricted. Futile! Finally he fell limp, simply lying still to breathe, to try and ease the raging pulse that thumped in his temples.

  Snow rose and slumped against a wall.

  Never blinked away tears he did not recall weeping. The chair he’d sat upon lay near the door, whereas the silver skeleton remained untouched, illuminated from the lantern above. Its shadows were no longer unfathomable. His father – everything Snow had claimed. Everything Never had feared. Criminal, murderer, rapist.

  “You knew. You’ve always known,” Never rasped.

  Snow nodded, his jaw clenched.

  “Why?”

  “You still believed, for a time that Father would return for us. I couldn’t take that away from you, brother. If you’d known who was responsible for Mother’s death. If you’d known what he had done to her...”

  Never squeezed his eyes shut; a new tear had already escaped, running down his cheek. Not only for the mercy his brother had offered but for the vision. “I saw her, Snow. I haven’t been able to remember her face clearly, for years now. It’s like a gift... but one that he has tainted.”

  “I know.”

  “Why?” Now it was another question, but again, Snow knew exactly what he was asking.

  “I believe he was trying to sire more Amouni children. His fear that he was the last drove him insane.”

  “Were we not enough?”

  “I don’t know if he ever would have been satisfied,” Snow said, his own eyes glittering – but with resentment, not tears. “It seemed he spent most of his life trying to save our bloodline, which is no doubt why Mother cast him out; I doubt he spent more than ten days with us after we’d grown enough to talk. He could hardly have provided much of a life for her. Or us.”

  “One of the visions,” Never said. “Did you see it? He was talking to us, teaching us something on the plains.”

  “Yes. I recall. You saw the stranger in the inn?”

  Never straightened. The pupils had not been human. “A wolf in a man’s body.”

  “I have people searching but have found no trace of such a creature in any land, not history nor legend.”

  Snow’s claim about a sister had not slipped Never’s mind, but he would not mention the Kiymako temple in case it was a link. “Did you see anything else?” he asked, not having to work to let the weariness in his voice come to the fore.

  “No,” Snow said. “And despite my disappointment that your vision yielded nothing new, at least you know the truth at last.” He shrugged. “And perhaps you can further imagine why I believe humanity unfit to govern itself.”

  “But father was not human.”

  “Human blood ran in his veins, just as Amouni – yet I think we both know which strain was stronger.”

  “And we’re better than he?”

  “Assuredly.”

  Never did not continue, not having the strength to argue. He had been awake for days, eaten little but batena, had flown all over the city, had broken an attack, had helped create a quartz soldier and finally uncovered a terrible, disheartening truth about his past – all he needed now was the oblivion of sleep.

  Yet he had strength for one more question. “In my vision I heard nothing – surely Mother called for us to hide or flee. Did you hear her? Do you know our true names?”

  “No, brother. That secret eludes us yet.”

  “Then why did she refuse to name us? Why?”

  Snow sighed. “What we could not figure out together I have not discovered alone.”

  Never hesitated. Knowing what he now knew about his father... “Was it shame? Shame for what our father was?”

  “No – I have no answer better than that, Never, but I do not believe it so.”

  He nodded.

  Chapter 27.

  Never woke to thunder.

  He sat upright with a shiver – a heavy blanket lay across his legs, leaving his chest bare, as though he had thrown it aside in his sleep. But sleep he had, and when he crossed chill tiles to pull aside the heavy curtains, it was to reveal hammering rain and jagged streaks of light in the black sky.

  They lit the city, bleak white everywhere for just the blink of an eye.

  The streets were empty.

  On the second strike he saw wind hurling a rag across the cobblestones and caught a glimpse of the Spire. How did Luis and Tsolde fare? Was Vantinio still with them? And Elina, had she survived? Had she even reached Jenisan and did the Hanik king live still? Pacela would have to watch over them, despite Never’s urge to find a way to be sure.

  His task remained – but had it changed at all? Could he stop his brother without killing him? All previous encounters suggested no. Yet learning the truth about Father had woken something long-buried; it was as if a brother had been returned to him.

  A troubling development.

  Never searched for his clothes and found an Amouni robe beside them. He lifted it, the fabric smooth beneath his fingers. Long, flared sleeves and a five-pointed pattern ran along the hem. The same symbol appeared on the chest, spun in silver, just like that which Snow had worn in the mountains. Never set it aside for the moment and sought the bath he’d glimpsed before stumbling into the bed. He washed as best he could in the cold water then took razor and basin to the ornate mirror. He found scissors, needle and thread in a cupboard, but took only the scissors, and began cutting the ragged ends of his hair, keeping it long but neat.

  Next he worked on his beard, then switched to the razor.

  Sometime later, it was with an odd sense of pride that he ran a hand across his clean-shaven face. Only a single nick at the point of his jaw, near the ear, and already the bleeding was stopping thanks to his usual Amouni healing.

  He started to dress, finishing by pulling the Amouni robe over his clothes and weapons. “Why now?” But he had no satisfying answer for himself. Was it acceptance of his heritage? His broken past? Or part of preparation for his fate, whatever that would be. Whatever the reason, he was groomed and attired as he believed his forebears would have been and that was how he would face his brother too.

  Never left the room and made his way through dim corridors to the Empress’ quarters – only to be redirec
ted to one of the towers by the First Hawk standing guard. “The Master will be within, My Lord.”

  Never thanked the man and quickened his step.

  At the foot of the tower he was rebuffed by a sealed door. He thumped upon it. “Snow,” he called.

  A moment, Brother.

  Never tried the door again and this time it opened, revealing a winding staircase. He started up, wondering how Snow was able to speak into his mind, for no such option was open to Never. Or was it? He paused. He had not tried before. Was it simply a matter of attempting?

  Snow.

  He directed the thought ‘up’ or so he hoped, yet there was no response and so he continued walking.

  The open door at tower’s top revealed a sparse room lit by a blue-stone and ringed by closed windows, lightning spiking beyond. Thunder rattled the jars and pots Snow had surrounded himself with. Dressed in his own Amouni robe, Snow was painting a door on the stone wall between windows.

  The painted door was an outline, truly, the blank space inside the line of symbols representing the door. Amouni leaves were interspersed with familiar and unfamiliar symbols, yet all were linked by unbroken lines, some silver, gold and scarlet – even a bright green too. Never paused to admire the work; it was complex but not so much so as to lose its beauty.

  Words also lay within, and this time they were familiar - Amouni phrases, formal requests for safe passage?

  Snow spoke without looking up from his work. “I have only a few more to complete.”

  “I forgot how much you loved to paint.”

  “It clears my mind, Never,” he said, and by the sound of his voice he was smiling.

  He worked a little longer, dipping his brush into different pots. When he stepped back to admire his work, it was with a critical eye and finally a shrug. “I believe it will work – the final symbol is most important anyway.” He smiled at his brother. “I admit I am surprised to see you attired so, appearing so accepting of your heritage; I did not think you would welcome my suggestion.”

  Never couldn’t prevent a little frown. Still Snow saw his own hand in every action. “I am doing this for myself; there are things I would learn.”