The Phoenix of Kiymako

by Ashley Capes

  Never roared, even as his throw struck the monk square in the back.

  Brother Hiruso hissed as he spun – then stopped. His gaze shifted to a point beyond Never and he drew his hood, covering his face. “You have a chance to leave Kiymako, Never. Take it, for she is ours and you must realise you cannot possibly best me.”

  The old monk strode toward the opposite end of the square. When he reached the wall he leapt up, his movements once more becoming difficult to trace with the eye, and then he was gone.

  Never hauled himself to his feet and staggered to Muka’s side.

  A deep wound in the man’s chest still pumped blood. Hiruso’s strike had missed the man’s heart but Muka’s eyes were already glazing as he laboured to cling to life. Never’s own blood was stirring and he closed his fist and fought his curse, controlling his blood’s thirst.

  “What happened here?” a voice cried.

  A crowd had formed in the square. Half stared in horror at his wings, the other at Muka, covered in blood. Never shouted at them. “Find a healer. And Niswan the seamstress,” he added. The nearest man flinched, but ran off. Others drew closer, offering help. A woman was calling for a monk but it was all noise to Never.

  He had to save Muka. But how, Gods, how?

  For all his Amouni powers he was useless. All his blood could do was kill and destroy... and yet, there was a chance. If he took a dire risk, there was hope because there was one thing his blood could do better now, ever since it had been mixed with the sap of the Bleak Man’s tree.

  Never turned away from the fading Muka with a grunt, the movement sending lances of pain down his wing, and cut into his hand once more. Blood pooled and he snapped at the nearest onlooker. “Help me!”

  The man jumped forward. “How?”

  “Hold out your hands, quickly.”

  He did as instructed. Never poured the blood into the fellow’s palm, glaring at him when the man started to tremble. “Place this over his wound – now.”

  “But –”

  “Do it!”

  The man sprang into action, crashing to his knees beside Muka and placing his bloody hands over the wound. He swallowed as he did so, then fell back. Never jammed his bleeding hand beneath his arm and leant over Muka.

  “Please, Pacela,” he whispered in Marlosi.

  There.

  The man’s breathing was growing stronger already! Even Muka’s eyes started to regain focus. An arm twitched and soon after, his eyes slowly closed. His breathing continued, easy breaths, as if the man simply slept and did not have an open wound in his chest – yet the gaping hole remained. Was it enough?

  And more, what consequences would wait for Muka if he survived, now that he’d had Amouni blood forced into his body?

  “Where are the healers?” Never said, his voice rasping.

  “On their way, Lord,” a voice replied, awe clear.

  He let his chin slump onto his chest, closing his own eyes a moment as weariness overcame his own pain. “Good. Tell them to hurry.”

  Chapter 16

  In the bright lamplight, Niswan glared at him from where she leant over a garment of blue and green silk in her workshop. “He still hasn’t woken, has he?” A variety of pins and needles, along with a pair of small scissors were pinned to her apron.

  “No.” He rolled his shoulders to ease some discomfort. His own healing was doing its job well enough, but he wouldn’t be flying anywhere soon, he knew that much. Forcing his wings to fold and retract had been blinding – but once he’d managed it the pain seemed to ease, as if they would heal better within. The same Amouni magic that allowed them to somehow fit within his body was hopefully helping his already accelerated healing. “But he is getting better, the wound is smaller.”

  Tears built, and she shook her head as if to stop them. “I told you...”

  “He will wake, I am sure of it.” Never wasn’t sure yet – but he was growing more confident. A different concern lingered with the doubt. Would Muka be the same when he did?

  “He had better.”

  “He’s like family, isn’t he?”

  She nodded but did not elaborate. Instead, she tossed a spindle of green thread to the table and slumped onto her stool. “It is not safe for you here anymore, Never. Word has already spread throughout the city about the winged man. You cannot hide on the roof every time the monks visit – and they will return and be more thorough.”

  “I know,” he said. “Will you be safe?”

  “I can handle them – they won’t do anything to me, the temple relies on me for more than Ayuni’s dress.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I am.”

  “What about Muka?”

  “They’ll want to interview him if... when he wakes. He’ll decide whether he wants to speak with them.”

  “Maybe I should stay a little longer, just in case.”

  “Don’t be a fool; you’ll only bring the wrong attention – and I’ve had enough of that for the rest of my damn life.”

  She was probably right. “Forgive me for that, and please thank Muka when he recovers. He saved me from Hiruso.” The deadly monk was another reason to leave – if Brother Hiruso came looking, Never had to lead the menace away from Niswan and Muka.

  Niswan nodded. “Take whatever you need from the pantry. And if you reach Mondami, seek Pinshe in the Blue Feather. He owes me a favour.”

  “And now I owe you one, Niswan.”

  “Then you’d better survive; I want to call it in.”

  He smiled but it faded. “There’s something else.”

  “It had better not be more bad news.”

  “I don’t think so.” Would Cog or Andramir have felt that what Snow had done to them was troubling? Perhaps Cog, who’d always had a slither of Amouni heritage. But Andramir had remained adamantly proud of the changes. What would Muka think if he woke and knew something had changed within him? There was no reason to believe Never had changed the man significantly. If anything, surely, Muka might now heal a little quicker, after taking on a comparatively small amount of Never’s blood.

  “Never?”

  “Sorry. Just tell him – Muka – that my blood might have changed him. He might heal swiftly now. I can’t be sure.”

  “So be it, Never. If you did save him, it will be worth it. Now hurry.”

  Never collected a new pack – the third in a short span of time, and filled it with provisions, water and a blanket taken from one of Niswan’s shelves. She’d also given him a small salve of healing balm that smelt vaguely of lavender, and a pair of cheap daggers. Their balance was not fit for throwing but they were sharp, and it brought his total back up to comfortable levels. On his way from the kitchen he paused to offer her one more smile, and then he was striding along the passage leading to her back door.

  He raised his hood before leaving; passing through the small square and heading along a narrow side street before entering the main thoroughfare where the flow of people and small carts created a hum uncommon to early morning, but it seemed harvest was in full swing.

  But Never did not stay on the thoroughfare long, instead crossing to another shadowed side street, moving steadily north. He soon came across a busy market. Slipping through would allow him to avoid the Tower of the Heavens and the scene of his... encounter with Brother Hiruso. Even to himself, Never couldn’t call it a fight or a contest – the monk had not even broken a sweat.

  Voices called to him as he strode through the press of people, offering meat, silk, spice or jewellery but he did not turn his head or slow until a press of people arguing over prices forced him to find a new path. Never muttered a curse and backtracked a little, finding himself having to squeeze between a stall and a cart loaded with colourful vegetables.

  “You there, traveller.” A woman in a soft blue robe stepped before him.r />
  “Forgive me, I am late,” Never said as he stepped around her.

  She caught his tunic. “The monks are looking for you, aren’t they?”

  He broke her grasp and shoved his way through the crowd. Shouts rose behind him; the woman’s screeches for help mixed with complaints and swearing. Never did not turn back, he pushed on, finally breaking free and skidding into an empty alley where he paused to catch his breath.

  There was no sound of footsteps following, but the swell of voices did seem to be growing. Would they form a search party? Either way, someone would be heading for a temple by now. Maybe even the Divine Temple, which wouldn’t bode well for the Northern Gate – a problem he hadn’t quite solved yet. A bluff was unlikely. Waiting until nightfall and flying... his wings might not hold. And staying hidden so long might not be possible.

  Which left force or subterfuge.

  And the longer he delayed, the further Ayuni was taken from Takbisu.

  “You seem concerned, friend.”

  Never spun.

  A heavyset man approached from nearby; perhaps he’d left one of the buildings? His tunic was patched, and he wore a short sword but did not draw it. When he neared, a tattoo... no, a brand on his cheek became clear. This was nothing Hanael had mentioned.

  “Just catching my breath,” he said.

  The fellow paused, then smiled, the expression quite unsavoury. “That’s a fine accent you have there.”

  “A pleasure to have brought you such joy,” Never said.

  “Let me help you,” the man said. “For a price, I can sneak you from the city.”

  “Can you now?”

  His smile did not falter. “You can trust me, friend. I’d like nothing more than to thwart every last monk in that temple. Think about it, why would I of all people turn you over to those prying bastards.”

  “You?”

  “Right.” He gestured to the twin slashes branded on his cheek. “Understand yet?”

  Never raised an eyebrow. “I could guess that you didn’t earn that brand for being an upstanding citizen but beyond that, I still don’t know if I can trust you, friend.”

  “Well said. Call me Unai...?”

  “Never.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “Never, huh? That’s an odd name, even for a Marlosi.”

  “I’m pretty odd, even for a Marlosi.”

  Unai chuckled. “Well, now that introductions are out of the way let’s get down to it. I let you through the tunnel beneath the walls for a fair price or you can try your luck at the lake. You might be able to steal a boat, I don’t know.”

  Never shook his head. “Too slow, I need to go north. What’s your price?”

  “Fifty gold crescents.”

  “I have a blanket.”

  Unai folded his arms. “What?”

  “Do I look like I have any money?”

  “Then what do you have, Never? I’m going to need something if I’m going to help you.”

  “What if someone else could vouch for me?”

  “It would have to be someone impressive.”

  Never grinned. “How about Mukatagami, Sword of Stone?”

  “Ha. You do not know Mukatagami.”

  “I saved his life last night – why don’t you ask around? I’m guessing you’ve already heard about the fight near the Divine Temple?”

  “That I have.” He considered Never a moment. “New deal. You meet me before the Many Hands Inn and if your story’s true, I’ll take you through the tunnel myself.”

  “Agreed.”

  Unai turned, striding away. “And don’t rush.”

  Never moved to the mouth of the alley and paused. It was still quiet enough that few people were about here. He slipped into the street and started north once more, bypassing larger groups and once, when a pair of monks appeared ahead, he calmly turned down the nearest street – then sprinted the moment he was out of sight.

  When he finally came across the Many Hands Inn, he saw the rotund figure of Unai leaning against the wall. The man marked Never, then stepped inside without hailing him. Never followed. Cheer and chatter filled a bright common room, servers racing around the tables, but Unai had not taken a seat.

  He was holding a door open at the end of a long corridor. Never quickened his step and Unai led him through a store room, shouting from the kitchen audible as the man began moving crates and sacks of rice and wheat.

  “Going to help me then?” he asked.

  Never accepted a bag of wheat. “Sounds like you believe me.”

  He grunted as he set his load down, gesturing to the floor. A heavy steel ring was half uncovered. “Right. You saved Muka, so you pass for free – but only if you lend a hand.”

  Never helped the man finish clearing the stores then lifted the hatch. Darkness below, ladder rungs visible. Not so dissimilar to when he’d had to escape Isacina. How long ago that seemed now.

  “I’ll lead,” Unai said from where he was checking over a lantern. “This won’t take long. You’ll get out in the fields, parallel with the north highway.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Follow me, then.” Unai started down the ladder and Never gave him some room before joining the descent. The ladder soon ended, and he found himself in a dusty tunnel, wide enough for one and a half men only. Unai was already moving.

  They travelled in silence – save for Unai’s cursing when he encountered a few spider webs. Never didn’t offer to trade positions. Time wore on, but a growing excitement fuelled his steps. He was getting closer now; he knew where Ayuni was, he just had to catch up.

  And yet, doubt lingered. Brother Hiruso’s power was unfathomable... and more, he’d seemed to possess some knowledge about Father. It could have been an assumption on the monk’s part. But what if it wasn’t? Hiruso was old enough to have been an important part of the temple when Ayuni was abandoned and even now, he was keeping her prisoner.

  Using her blood for something.

  Was that the source of his power? Possible, but his abilities seemed unlike anything Never had encountered when it came to the Amouni – more likely it was the lunai Hanael mentioned. Still, it would be foolish to rule out the possibility.

  Worse would be if Father had somehow helped or approved of the temple’s actions. Not unbelievable but disturbing nonetheless.

  “Unai, what do you know about Brother Hiruso?”

  “I know that it’s best to keep out of his way.”

  “But nothing about his lunai?”

  The man shook his head. “Temple secrets, friend.”

  “Of course.” Never smothered a sigh as he walked on.

  Chapter 17

  Never crouched at the edge of the rice fields – a long, flat wetland that stretched either side of the northern highway, stepping down toward lower ground in verdant green tiers. The road was broad, well-maintained, wide enough for two wagons to pass. It stood empty now, but the fields were dotted with farmers. Not so many either, perhaps they were taking a mid-morning break.

  In any event, he had to make up for a lot of lost time. His legs were ready, even if his wings were not. Unai was already gone, all that was left was for Never to make his move. He broke into a crouching run, leaving the overgrown opening in the ground to cross the hard earth and join the road, where he straightened into a jog.

  The wagon and its heavy steel load would not have been making great time – and hopefully they’d stopped for the night the previous evening. Still, he’d have his work cut out for him.

  He alternated between jogging and walking until noon, when he leant against a stunted tree to drink and eat from the supplies Niswan provided. No sign of the wagon yet, but once his wings healed he’d make up for lost time.

  Never started out once more; approaching a sharp bend in the road. A single traveller approache
d, dragging something on a sled. Never kept a hand near a dagger as he drew near but the fellow simply nodded as he passed, neatly bundled bags of some manner of foodstuffs tied to his sling.

  Beyond the bend, Never slowed. The rice fields still stretched around the road but the path dipped before it climbed up again and within the depression, set off the highway, was a scene of wreckage – blackened debris covered the earth, ravaging even the edges of the wet crops. A mighty lightning strike?

  Two warrior monks stood before the scene, hands on their hilts.

  Beyond them, a line of charred bodies had been arranged. Six or seven... Never forced himself to walk casually. The monks had noticed him and would be watching as he passed, yet his whole body seemed to hum with tension.

  Six or seven guards?

  Ayuni...

  The human remains were little more than shrivelled limbs, features reduced to a shiny black. Not too far away, a slagheap of melted steel covered the ground and beyond that in turn, twin lumps of black. Flies hovered and the cloying scent of burnt flesh clung to the air.

  The bodies were of a size, as best he could tell.

  Ayuni did not appear to be one of them – yet what had happened here?

  “Traveller, where are you headed?”

  One of the monks was waving for him to leave the road. The distance was hardly so great that the man wouldn’t soon notice the fact that Never was not Kiymako.

  “Your way,” Never said as he charged.

  The man stumbled back half a step before tearing his sisan free. Never had already flung one of his blades, his favourite with the triangular patterns, and it thudded into the man’s thigh. He fell aside as Never sidestepped to slash at the second warrior, who deflected his blow with her sword. She followed with her own attack, chopping down from left and right as he dodged.

  Never tried to slip inside her guard but she leapt back.

  He glanced back to the man, who was circling, sword ready as he limped.

  “No time for this,” Never muttered. He sliced into the back of his hand, letting a globe of crimson-fire build. It engulfed his entire forearm as he whirled, spraying searing blood at the wounded man. The monk dived but his injured leg failed him; flames tore across his body. He crashed to the burnt earth, screaming.