The Book of Never: Volumes 1-5

by Ashley Capes

  “Watch Sacha; I don’t want her leaving yet.”

  “Of course.” He hesitated. “And our men?”

  “Will be pulling out.”

  “I see. On whose orders will I say this has been given?”

  “Prince Tendov. If the commanders resist... make it convincing,” Never said, certain Andramir would understand what he meant by ‘convincing’.

  He too, bowed. “Very well. I assume I will be able to find you in the Spire?”

  “You will.”

  Andramir left and Never turned to Elina. “It is done.”

  “I know. Andramir explained it to Sacha. He spoke of it as if he saw Snow’s last moments himself,” she said. An expression of concern came over her face. “How do you feel?”

  “Somehow... empty even of relief,” Never said. He shrugged; there would be time to discover what he truly felt later. He led Elina toward an exit at a stride. “I want to check the Spire, I have to know that the others are safe.”

  “We’re not flying?”

  “I don’t have the strength yet.”

  “Slow down,” she said. “What do you expect to find?”

  Never shrugged. “You know me, My Lady. I’m just used to expecting the worst. It saves time and prevents nasty surprises.”

  Chapter 34.

  The great banded doors of the Spire were gone. The very stone surrounding the space where they should have stood had been melted to a blackened maw. Despite the low hum of a city gradually stirring, preparing for a new day, a hush lay across Pacela’s temple.

  It was clear what had happened. He swore. Had Sirgeto defeated Jardila’s seal, or had she been given no warning?

  Never pointed. “I think we can guess what would melt stone.”

  Elina fitted an arrow to her bow and Cog shuddered, his eyes flashing grey. “Is it Sirgeto alone or has he found others once more?” the man asked.

  “We have to find out,” Elina said.

  “Right.” Never drew his own Amouni blade and led them into the Spire. The antechamber was empty, along with the cold altar room. He started up the stairs, checking the occasional room, but all were empty. Signs of a hasty departure were evident in the disarrayed furniture and the lack of common, small Pacela statuettes.

  “Higher,” Never said.

  In the dining hall there was naught but kindling – benches and tables smashed sometimes to splinters. Scuff marks from boots too, at a glance Never estimated a dozen men or more. But still no sign of priest, acolyte or Sirgeto.

  “They will have barricaded themselves within the inner chambers,” Never decided.

  “Will we be able to reach them?” Elina asked.

  “I’m hoping not,” he said. “Since that means Sirgeto won’t either.”

  Elina nodded. “Why is he here?”

  “I don’t know.” Never rubbed at his neck. “Can a sword crave revenge?”

  “Perhaps an Amouni one can,” Cog said.

  Never sought the main stair and pushed his weary legs into the climb, passing gashes in the masonry, from the steps themselves to the walls. At the first landing he paused to rest. While his healing continued, his weariness was not really easing off.

  But he had no choice. His friends were counting on him.

  When at last he stopped to catch his breath once more, this time beyond Jardila’s chambers, it was to the sound of something striking a hard surface and muttered cursing. Never glanced at Elina and Cog, struck by the strangeness of it all; how suddenly everything had changed now that one of his enemies fought alongside him. “If the odds are too great, I will use crimson-fire,” he said.

  “We will protect you,” Cog said.

  “Good. Ready?”

  Nods.

  Never kicked the doors open and leapt into the council room. Bodies littered the floor, yellow priests and a mixture of Marlosi men and Vadiya soldiers alike, all motionless beneath the blue glow.

  Surrounded by half a dozen men all tinted blue, the bright figure of Sirgeto hacked away at an invisible barrier that prevented him from reaching a few Priests, Luis and Tsolde. Also within the bounds of safety stood Vantinio, who held Jardila upright, her breast rising and falling in rapid breaths. Her hand was outstretched, as though she held Sirgeto back with the gesture. And perhaps she did; her face poured with sweat.

  But hope sparked in her eyes when she caught sight of Never.

  “Sirgeto, I am here,” Never shouted.

  The man spun and a frown passed over his haggard features. But he only opened his mouth, pointing his sword. Or perhaps the sword lifted his arm. No sound issued from Sirgeto’s lips, but the men with him charged, allowing the man to resume striking the barrier. Elina drew and fired, her arrow flying just wide of the lead man. Her next shot struck an arm, causing the fellow to stumble and she cursed.

  Never gave her a look as he readied his sword.

  “I haven’t been shooting much lately,” she snapped.

  Yet her next arrows felled two Marlosi in quick succession, one arrow striking a fellow in the chest and the other piercing the next man’s eye. Then the remainder were upon them. Never swung his sword, cutting one and then a second Vadiya down, his weapon shearing through steel and flesh alike.

  Never surveyed the room. Bodies collapsed around him as Cog unleashed his smoke, finishing the last of their attackers. Elina had already moved on to firing upon Sirgeto. The arrows thudded into his back but did not prevent the man hacking away at the invisible barrier. He simply kept raining blows down, arrows jutting from his body.

  And with each blow it seemed Jardila’s barrier shrank; as Sirgeto drew closer. If unchecked, he would either hem them into a corner or break through.

  Never approached from the opposite angle, allowing Elina to fire another shot. Her arrow struck the man in the back of the neck. He paused, turning once more. His eyes were black orbs within a glowing face and Never flinched back. The creature that was no longer Sirgeto opened his mouth again, this time lifting his free hand.

  Cog muttered a curse and Elina cried out.

  Bodies were stirring where they lay, both Marlosi and Vadiyem but not the priests. Elina stomped on a head and kicked at a grasping hand. Cog issued more smoke and Never sliced through every limb that stood in his path, grunting as he worked. If he stopped Sirgeto, he’d put an end to the corpses. Hopefully.

  When Never reached the creature, Sirgeto leapt to attack, swinging an overhand blow. Never caught the weapon with his own, and was driven down to one knee by the force. He winced as he unleashed a counter-slash. Sirgeto sidestepped, allowing Never the chance to regain his feet.

  Never blocked another blow and stepped closer, lashing out with his birch hand.

  Sirgeto’s head flew from his shoulders.

  It bounced from the barrier and rolled away, but Never didn’t see where it came to rest, since the body continued to attack him. He deflected a slash and pivoted, hacking through Sirgeto’s sword arm. It fell to the floor with a thud. Like the neck, it did not bleed but the sword thrashed about on the floor. Never kicked the arrow-riddled body over and stomped on the wild Amouni blade, stilling it.

  His boot began to hiss.

  Glancing up, he saw that the bodies had not come to a halt yet.

  Sheathing his own Amouni blade, Never took a dagger and sliced open his palm again, avoiding the lines of pale scars. Then he drew forth crimson-fire, letting a globe envelope his hand before gripping Sirgeto’s hilt.

  Steam rose, purple light bathing the room – but the sword was melting. Once the hilt and cross piece were no more than a liquid heap, he ran a hand across the length of the blade until all that was left of the steel was a puddle of steaming liquid. Finally the corpses grew still and the purple glow faded.

  He offered a weary smile to everyone behind the barrier. “Now, don’t be angry b
ecause we’re late.”

  Chapter 35.

  Once Never had sent Cog back to the palace to secure Snow’s rooms, and then arranged for everyone to restore the dining hall to some semblance of order, and once he had managed to organise bread, cheese and wine for everyone – even the still-weak Jardila – he had Tsolde continue her story from where she leaned against Luis’ shoulder.

  “When Sirgeto and his men broke in, waving their blue weapons, Jardila roused the alarm and we helped everyone flee the Spire,” she said.

  Jardila nodded. “I could not protect all. There is an ancient passage that leads beyond the city; you will be pleased to hear that Acolyte Lina was among those who escaped. I must send for those who are still hiding.”

  “After you eat,” Never said, pleased to hear that Lina had survived.

  The High Priestess took a sip from her wine, raising an eyebrow at him.

  He grinned back.

  Tsolde shook her empty cup at him. “Take your own advice and listen so I can finish, Never.”

  Never popped a piece of bread into his mouth and started chewing, a burst of salty olive a fair reward.

  “Some of the priests agreed to stay and help defend Jardila,” Tsolde said, her voice taking on a sombre tone. “But even were Pacela’s faithful warlike, I don’t know how they would have fared against Sirgeto’s weapons. He and his men were possessed, Never – you saw what he’d become.”

  “Why did he attack the Spire?” Elina asked.

  “We don’t know,” Luis said. “Perhaps he sought the silver man?”

  Never swallowed his mouthful. He’d wondered the same thing himself, yet what need would Sirgeto and the sword which controlled him, have of the artefact? “And so you diverted him and prepared a last stand.”

  “Yes,” Jardila said. “He brought a small force with him and we were able to reduce their numbers but I could see, even with help,” she paused to offer Luis, Tsolde and Vantinio a smile of gratitude, “we were not going to prevail. I invoked the Blessing and held it – I do not know for how long.”

  “Most of the night, Lady,” Vantinio said, respect clear in his voice.

  Just as Never had suspected – there were still mysteries to the Goddess’ power. “And Andramir? Did he return?”

  “No,” Tsolde said. “He must have been busy elsewhere.”

  “He’s busy now too,” Never said. “I have him organising the withdrawal of Vadiya forces.”

  “You do?” Luis asked. “How did you manage that?”

  “He seems to think I’m his ‘master’ now,” Never said. “Like Cog, he obeys me as Amouni, now that my brother is gone.” He caught Elina’s look; she was no doubt still thinking of their conversation at the palace wall. And she’d been right, of course. The feeling of emptiness in his heart was a reminder of that; but he offered her a small smile. Being surrounded by friends did ease the darkness.

  Tsolde reached across the table to take his hand. “No-one will think less of you if you miss him,” she said.

  “Thank you.” Snow might have been right about humans being prone to war and violence, borne of the most base motives but that was hardly the sum of humanity. “But you know I just might.”

  “Don’t try and figure it all out this moment, Never,” Elina said.

  “He was more broken by our past than I,” he said with a sigh. “I didn’t realise it at first. He always seemed the stronger one...” Never then launched into his own tale, pausing only for small bites and sips of wine – his voice still hoarse by its end. While he had left out the true details of his father’s crimes, he did not conceal the man’s attempts to sire more Amouni children. “I have no doubt I stopped my brother from bringing death and destruction on a scale that I can barely fathom... and I do take comfort in that, even if it doesn’t seem so right now.”

  The table was silent a moment, expressions reflective, sombre.

  Finally Jardila spoke. “I must thank you, Never – perhaps you are truly a Messenger,” she said, then added, “even as you are also simply a good man.”

  “Thank you, My Lady.”

  “What’s next?” Tsolde said.

  “Ever-practical, aren’t you?” he said with a smile.

  “You try running an inn without a practical nature.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He refilled his cup and tapped his finger on the rim. “Next I’m going to ensure Andramir is doing as instructed.” Which included checking on Sacha. Who knew what her grief and pride would drive her to. “I want to seal off my brother’s rooms for now and then I’m going to send word to the Empress so she can come back and clean up here.”

  “And then what?” Luis asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know... I have to think about that.” It was a daunting position to find himself in.

  *

  Never stretched his wings as he flew across the palace courtyard, pleased with how they were healing. His injured wing gave him a little trouble but he was still able to ride wind currents and eventually swoop down before a large group of Vadiya soldiers, all marked with the red talon. Sacha addressed them from where she stood, one hand on her hip.

  Murmurs rose as he landed and approached Sacha, who’d raised a hand to halt the men who’d been reaching for crossbows.

  “Why are you here?” she demanded.

  “I wanted to see you.”

  She folded her arms. “You wanted to be sure we are leaving, yes?”

  “That too.”

  Sacha strode closer and her voice dropped to a deathly whisper. “I may be leaving here now, Never, but if I ever see you after this day, you will not draw another breath. I swear it before God.”

  Never stared back at her, unable to muster any anger or outrage, despite the venom in her voice. He could not even find hurt, as there ought to have been after what they’d once shared.

  There was only regret.

  He rested a hand on the hilt of his Amouni blade, not a threat but more a promise that any such meeting would not be a one-sided affair.

  Sacha sneered as she turned back to her men, waving them toward the palace gates, the rattle of their armour as they walked in step echoing across the lawns. Never strode after, following all the way to the main gate.

  He knew Sacha would not turn and doubtless she knew he would be following to ensure that she left. As he watched, a short figure scurried from the gatehouse, joining her party. He blinked. The lad wore a motley of colours and it seemed he carried a blue-skinned puppet... could it be the young jester who’d helped him escape Harstas? Why would Temilo do such a thing?

  Never started after them but Sacha’s warning rang in his ears – it was not the best time to start a fight, in the middle of a frustrated army that had just been ordered to leave a city, to leave the spoils of a war they had won so soundly.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Temilo,” Never said as he watched Sacha’s party start along the road. Maybe Temilo did, maybe he’d found someone who valued his skills – after all, the truth was a valuable thing indeed.

  Nearby, Vadiya soldiers continued to break their camp and file onto the plains. Other groups of Vadiya were leaving too, sometimes in a less orderly fashion, with muttering and dark looks as they looted the buildings near the gate. Yet after Never melted a few groups with a blast of crimson-fire, word – and terror – seemed to spread.

  One group of Vadiya he kept, those who bore no markings of family – Andramir’s personal unit, those sworn to Snow. Those men, whose loyalty appeared to have simply been transferred as effortlessly as Andramir’s, Never had tasks for.

  *

  In the palace Never searched all of Snow’s various rooms and chambers.

  He had the materials he found within transported to the inner chamber of the Spire, unable to think of any place that was both equally safe and accessible for hi
m, since he wouldn’t have the run of the palace forever. To such items Never added much taken from the hidden Amouni chambers Snow had also used. Some of the items were made of silver, bearing the look of smaller war machines or items such as he saw in the rooms of Elina’s grandfather. Others were more innocent in appearance yet he did not know what they were.

  Beyond the door with the rune marked for Thought, waited floor to ceiling shelves crammed full of Amouni texts in the form of books, scrolls and loosely bundled parchments, heavy quartz pieces not dissimilar to those found at the Amber Isle. Of all the items that he had found and sent to be hidden within the Spire, these were the ones that he could have locked himself away with.

  But there would be time for that later.

  He also moved his father’s skeleton, though he did not know what to do with it. He should have cast it into the ocean... but could not make himself do so.

  When he’d finally done all he could bear to deal with for the day, he called Andramir and Cog to the Grand Hall where he rested on the throne, lying his head back against the seat a moment. It was, without a doubt, the least comfortable piece of furniture he had ever sat upon.

  Both men came to stand before him. Never shifted on the throne, leaning forward, meeting their eyes one at a time. Both waited with similarly patient expressions. “You must know why I have called you here,” he said.

  “I believe we do, davishca,” Cog replied, glancing at Andramir, who offered only a nod.

  “Tell me, what are you both? What did my brother do to you?”

  Andramir shrugged. “He improved me.”

  “He saved me,” Cog said.

  Never smiled. “Perhaps that is true. I mean, how did he change you? Was it with some lost Amouni lore?”

  Andramir spread his hands. “The details are unclear to me, but yes. That is the simple truth.” His expression changed to one of pride. “I was the first to survive the experiment. Before me, dozens had not.”

  “That doesn’t fill me with a feeling of warmth, you know.”

  “Your brother expected as much,” Andramir said. “Part of his orders were that I should tell you which texts to study if you were one day willing to continue his work. They are known as the Hor Pyrilh. Their bindings are green.”