by Ashley Capes
“You kept that secret well,” Never said. Though perhaps it explained why Muka had hung back before leaving that day. And considering his role in the rebellion, such secrecy was a prudent way to safeguard her true identity.
He nodded. “As much for her protection as anything else.”
“Then thank her for me.” He lifted the fang. “It is impressive magic.”
Muka wore a proud smile. “And what of your path, then?”
Never glanced to their back trail, toward the river. Father’s journals were waiting. It was something he had to do alone. “I have a task of my own to complete. If it takes longer than I expect, we may meet again soon.”
“Then may the Phoenix watch over you, Never of the Amouni,” he said. “Which I am sure she will.”
“And you, Sword of Stone,” Never replied. He repacked his flask and stretched his arms a moment before letting his wings free. Then he leapt into the air, climbing quickly and heading back toward the Beshano.
He flew swiftly and when he landed once more on the Bridge of Mist, he found he could not recall a single detail of his flight, least of all how long it had taken. But he raised his voice over the waterfall and soon a Guide was taking him beneath the river and to the tiled vestibule.
He dismissed the Amouni relic as he opened the silver door, approaching his father’s journals at a stride. Surely now, after so long, he would discover the truth. He had to. After losing Ayuni to her role as Phoenix, the Gods owed him! Just this much, just a name, his name – please.
At the bench, Never pulled a stool close and sat. He lifted the leather and found the page where he’d stopped reading, eyes hungry for the ancient words.
And as Never read, shock, the first of many emotions, rushed through him:
Jenisa refuses to call our sons the names I have chosen for them, even when I visit. She says only ‘my boys’ or ‘beloved’ or something similar in Quisoan. While it irks me to no end, it does not matter in the grand scheme of things, I am patient. Once they are old enough, I will take them with me and they will know their true names, names they will surely grow into – there is such potential swirling within their blood. I cannot be sure, but from all my research in the island archive it seems twins are exceedingly rare for Amouni, doubly so for those whose sires are already Ascended.
But that is merely another grand omen, surely.
My sons, pale Tekysar and Tekavesa so dark, together we will restore the Amouni race and the true order of the world.
Never hurled the journal into the wall. The spine cracked as it thumped against stone.
Tekysar and Tekavesa.
Amouni words... but hardly names. And hardly the choice of a loving Father: Tekysar, ‘to ruin’ and Tekavesa meaning ‘to rebuild’. He slumped into the stool, simply staring at the page, at the mere words his father gave as names, words Mother refused to use.
“By all the gods.”
Never closed his eyes.
Beneath the storm of resentment, of shock and fury, of fresh pain, a sliver of sadness ran strong. There was no way to share what he’d learnt with Snow – and it was clear now, his brother had not visited the chamber, else Snow would have revealed their names. “I am sorry, brother.”
Half his life he’d searched for his true name. He’d chased clues and rumours and hints from mouldering legends, searched everywhere from rivers, caves and mountains to libraries and palaces and it ended here at last, in the hush of an empty Amouni ruin, ending in the marks of his father’s own forceful hand.
Never gasped out half a shuddering sob – yet anger followed on the heels of his dismay, simmering swiftly to a boil. He stood and swept the remaining journals from the bench with a roar, sending them tumbling across the floor.
“What legacy is this, Father?” he shouted. His voice echoed in the emptiness. “Well? You Gods-forsaken coward!”
Snow was ‘to ruin’ and Never supposedly ‘to rebuild’. Rebuild what? The world and humanity? It was the very same Amouni conceit that supposedly ‘lesser’ people had long feared. Terrible names! Empty names too – like a final slap from beyond the grave from a man who had spared nary a thought for his sons beyond what they could do for his monstrous obsession.
Breath rasped in Never’s throat and he scrambled for the resolve he’d found at mother’s grave, clinging to it now, fists clenched. It was a resolve he’d forged for himself on that day – and even in his fury he realised, nothing had changed today.
He was not Tekavesa and nor was that ever true.
Snow had given him the only name that meant anything, and to the Burning Graves Below with Father and his poor prophecy. “I am Never.” It was name enough; it had served him nearly all his life, by Pacela, it would do for the rest.
Never exhaled heavily. Some of the knotted emotion slipped free with the breath. He folded his arms. “That is my name.”
Epilogue
Darkness cloaked Najin where Never hung from the mansion’s eaves, wings aiding his balance as he worked at the latch on the bamboo shutters. Upside down, the blood ran to his head, but he ignored the discomfort as he slid a thin piece of steel between the shutters, gently lifting the latch free.
Once it had raised from the catch he used his fingertips to pull the shutter open, slipping the steel up his sleeve then dropping down to a balcony railing. He hid his wings then climbed onto the sill, pausing to listen.
Only the faint sound of his breathing.
Good. All were sleeping, it seemed. He placed one foot within, then the rest of his body before closing but not locking the window. Then, he padded across the room by what little light slipped through the shutters, heading for Isansho Shika’s morbid gallery.
He drew the dark curtain back slowly, the brass hoops giving a soft hiss as he did, then moved within. The light was far poorer here, but he found the glass cases and paused to prick his forefinger, calling a tiny amount of crimson-fire, the red glow enough to find the display which held Hanael’s ring.
Then he paused. A few possibilities presented themselves, but he’d planned on the quietest, even though it would be clear he’d visited. But then, leaving a sign behind was not so bad as leaving a trail – something he wasn’t meaning to do.
He moved his finger over the glass and it began to melt, a hole spreading quickly. While the edges were still dripping, he reached in and lifted the ruby ring free. He let the crimson-fire die.
Then he turned and started back across the gallery floor, ignoring the paintings, and closed the curtain behind him, slowly still, since rushing out of a place was the oldest mistake.
In the room with the unlocked shutters, he pushed them open gently, letting moonlight in – then paused at the creak of wood.
“Welcome back, Never.”
He spun, knives in hand.
Isansho Shika stood behind him, arms folded. She still wore her hair shaved high and still carried twin blades... yet something about her appeared different. Was her jaw a little softer now, her eyes a little less cold? Or was it the moonlight playing tricks on him? For even as he peered closer, her features seemed to return to what he remembered.
“Lady Shika.”
“I bear a message.”
“If it’s about your dungeon I believe I can guess,” he said, blades still in hand. He could still escape easily enough but not without her raising the alarm, which would doubtless sour his plans for the harbour. Never stared a little harder at her. There was something amiss with her face, yet his mind – or his eyes – could not fathom it
“Wanatek wishes you a safe voyage – we have opened the harbour, in case you had not heard, please go with the Isansho’s blessing.” She raised a rectangular token, holding it out for him to take. “Captain Milagra has been kind enough to wait for you. You will find your possessions on board.”
And then everything fell into place.
> The Lady Shika before him was not the one he’d met after being captured. This particular woman was an imposter, doubtless planted in the mansion by Wanatek. The woman offering him safe passage from Kiymako was owner of the voice he’d overheard in Okana, crouched beneath her window.
Just where was the true Shika? Prisoner or corpse? The latter probably would be the safer choice.
He took the token. “You have my thanks, Lady.”
She nodded.
“Would you pass on a message of my own?”
“Of course.”
“Please let Wanatek know that the Great Phoenix would be most happy to meet with him and that once Muka is fully healed, I’m sure he’ll help with the journey east.”
Did her eyes widen ever so slightly? “I will.”
Lady Shika turned from the window then and Never grinned as he hopped onto the sill and leapt into the night.
Hello! While you wait for Never’s next adventure (Spectre) I thought you might enjoy my other epic fantasy series, which begins with City of Masks:
A noble daughter burdened by power she never sought.
Perched on an unforgiving coast, the city of Anaskar is under threat from enemies within. Its own royal family feuds over possession of sentient bone masks of power, leaving Sofia Falco, daughter to the city’s Lord Protector, to foil a conspiracy designed to strip her father of both his title and powerful Greatmask.
A bitter mercenary accused of murder.
Yet when disaster strikes, Sofia is forced to flee the palace and into the city where she crosses paths with mercenary Notch. But Notch has his own problems - accused of murder, he must fight to clear his name, all the while hunted by the city’s robed assassins, the very people who are now searching for Sofia...
Follow two unlikely heroes on an epic fantasy adventure where the struggle over bone masks of powert hreatens to tear their city - and kingdom - into shreds.
Visit www.ashleycapes.com to learn more!
Acknowledgements
Above all, I’d like to thank those of you who made the Phoenix of Kiymako Kickstarter campaign such a success - you are indeed quite awesome!
Joshua C. Chadd ~ Levid José de Jesús Montes Sánchez ~ Frank Martin ~ Willman Duffy ~ Dianne Ascroft ~ Liz the Lucky ~ Sarah Martherus ~ Doug Grumpy ~ Amy C. ~ Sean Klope ~ Abigail Schuyler Du Verger ~ Lee Dunning ~ Catherine Stewart ~ Rolfe Westwood ~ Duke Talon ~ Michael J. Sullivan ~ Paz ~ Therese Guerette ~ William C. Tracy ~ Tasha Turner ~ Troy Osgood ~ Robert Karalash ~ Larry Couch ~ Daryl Parat ~ Lea G. ~ Melissa Shumake ~ Charli M. ~ Jesper Pettersen ~ Vicki Krebs ~ Heather Hayden ~ John Idlor ~ Jonathan Harris ~ Roman Pauer ~ Rita Canto ~ Ron C. Nieto ~ Oliver James Milne ~ Hyrulemaster77 ~ BL Draper ~ Leron Culbreath ~ Sebastien Jobin ~ Thái Thiện ~ Mark Siegel ~ Bethani Harimon ~ Fermin Serena Hortas ~ Jörg Sonnenberger ~ Berke ~ Guta ~ 6gun Sally ~ Kenny Beecher ~ Stephanie N. Chang ~ Rhel ná DecVandé ~ Jon Repreza ~ Jeff Lewis ~ Rachel Deegan ~ Bob Griggs ~ Suzie Gies ~ Chris Webb ~ Jeff Spires ~ Laurie M Edwards ~ L Austin ~ Nicki ~ Stephen Ballentine ~ Antony Lee ~ Nikki Tran ~ Skywings14 ~ Michael Dietrich ~ Mighobbes ~ Margaret St.John ~ Peter Curd ~ GMarkC ~ I-Cheng Chen ~ Kelly G. Smith ~ Mike A. Weber ~ Andy S ~ Cristan Silan ~ Franny Jay ~ GUSTHEDOGMYDOG ~ Kyle Brackman ~ Aaron S. ~ Steve Arensberg ~ Pablo Fernandez ~ Richard Bunting ~ Jan-Henrik Wilhelm ~ Brian Griffin ~ Adam Goldstein ~ Chandler “Nikai” Hubbard ~ Olna Jenn Smith ~ Darcy M ~ Greg Tausch ~ David Queen ~ Ginea Merrill ~ Mark G Broda ~ Ashley Niels ~ SwordFire ~ Erin Himrod ~ Alyssa Staten ~ James Skala, Jr. ~ CJ Jessop ~ Brandon Carter ~ André Laude ~ Mari L. Yates ~ Riz Z ~ Daniel Lind ~ Kayla Moen ~ Belle McQuattie ~ Monica Elida Forssell ~ Sylvia L. Foil ~ Chris Vinson ~ Jenni D Strand ~ Tony Muzi ~ Mitchell Hogan ~ David Lars Chamberlain ~ Jennifer L. Pierce ~ Pierce Erickson ~ Rebecca Pendleton ~ Trava Buono ~ Sara Lundell ~ Jonathan Johnson ~ MidCity Comics LLC ~ Cheryl Caldwell ~ Lady Deborah McNally ~ Alexander Feliciano ~ Eric Krul ~ Paul y cod asyn Jarman ~ FyreSeer ~ Andromeda Taylor ~ Mitchell McLeod
As ever, my deep appreciation to Lin Hsiang for the amazing cover and also Vivid Covers for bringing everything together with the title design. Thanks also to David Schembri Studios for always making sure the formatting is spot on and of course, my editor Amanda at Phoenix Editing!
Finally, to my loved ones - thank you too!
Thanks for reading and keep an eye out for Spectre - due 2019.
Ashley
About Ashley
Ashley is a poet, novelist and teacher living in Australia. Aside from reading and writing, he loves volleyball, Studio Ghibli and Magnum PI, easily one of the greatest television shows ever made.
You can find him online at Twitter or on his fiction blog, City of Masks and at ashleycapes for poetry. As if that’s not enough, you can also sign up to his newsletter for free books, competitions, giveaways and sneak peeks of forthcoming titles!
Also by Ashley Capes
The Fairy Wren
A Whisper of Leaves
Crossings
Somnus and the March Hare
The Bone Mask Trilogy
1. City of Masks
2. The Lost Mask
3. Greatmask
Book of Never
1. The Amber Isle
2. A Forest of Eyes
3. River God
4. The Peaks of Autumn
5. Imperial Towers
6. The Phoenix of Kiymako
7. Spectre (Forthcoming)
