The Book of Never: The Complete Series

by Ashley Capes

An apt pose, little fellow.

  Never replaced the strange artefact and closed his eyes. “Wake me when it’s my turn,” he told Elina, who sat above them on first watch.

  “I will.”

  *

  Morning brought stiff limbs and a pounding headache. Never growled as he stood. He ought to have slept in the boat. Next time he would. He fumbled in his pack for water then, after drinking, lay by the crumbling edge of the bank and dunked his head into the flow.

  It didn’t banish the ache in his temples but it woke him the rest of the way.

  Luis stood nearby – he’d stopped adjusting the bindings on his spear to stare. “Never, you’re a madman.”

  “Somewhat.” He looked around. “Elina?”

  “She needed a moment to herself,” Luis said.

  “Ah.” Never began loading the boat. He shooed away a pair of dragonflies as he did. This time blue and purple. What had Elina said about them earlier? The purple ones bite. He ran through a series of stretches before returning to the boat, this time seating himself in the prow.

  Once Elina joined them Luis pushed off and the boat was soon sliding between the walls of stone once more. And soon enough they would see City-Sedrin on the banks of the river.

  And maybe answers.

  There was every chance Snow was lying, that it was a ploy to drag Never into something. And something Never would have to shield Luis and Elina from. Was it more of Snow’s thirst for Amouni objects of power? Could such amulets be the items used to change the man who called himself Cog? Too many questions. But one thing Never would bet upon – there was every chance Lord Gedus and his ilk weren’t the only ones behind the upheaval in Hanik at all. After all, Snow had caused enough trouble for the Bleak Man – why wouldn’t he poison a king too?

  Never shook his head. If Snow did know something about Father... all that was left to Never after so many years searching were the dice and his mother’s bitter words about a ‘man who fled, taking the warmth of the night with him’. She ought to have been a bard. But it left an obvious suspicion; Father had something to do with the Amouni – who else would have passed down such a curse? Quisoan blood held no such terrors and Mother had never drained a man. Her blood, whenever she cut her finger cooking, had never leapt forth, spinning and glistening in the air.

  The smart thing to do would be to snoop around the Temple of Jyan first.

  And wouldn’t Snow be expecting that?

  Was that the real reason for Cog and his dramatics? To set Never off-balance, to have him second-guess everything?

  Too long since he’d seen Snow, not since that night in the towers of the Imperial City. The last time he’d seen Zia too.

  Damn you, brother.

  He had no choice but to walk in expecting duplicity, even if Snow had no true reason to harm him. Never waved at another dragonfly that had swept over to hover near his hand. Bigger than others he’d seen; its body was black with a bright gold head. Its wings almost hummed.

  The insect flew up behind him.

  A moment passed and then a splat. He twisted.

  Elina was wiping the blade of a dagger on the gunwale. “Never, did that dragonfly bite you?”

  “No.”

  “Did it land on you?”

  “No. What’s wrong?”

  Luis had paused in his rowing. Elina stood, shielding her eyes against the sun where it bounced from the river’s surface. “They’re poisonous, worse than the purple ones. Too many bites and you could die. Their feet carry the same poison, though less.”

  “What do we do?”

  “So long as we’re not approaching a nest...” she trailed off, eyes widening.

  Never spun back to the water. A cloud of black and gold insects poured from the rocks ahead. Several smaller groups led the pack, but in all they had to total hundreds. “Gods be damned, what do we do?”

  Elina was tearing through her pack. “This isn’t their season.”

  “I don’t think they’re aware of that.”

  Finally she pulled flint and tinder. “I need the kindling.”

  “What?” Never gaped at her.

  “The smoke, they don’t like smoke.”

  The humming buzz of the swarm grew. Never turned back to Elina. “We can’t set the boat on fire.”

  “Can we just jump into the water?” Luis asked. He had one oar across his knee and the other held like a club.

  “Unless you can stay beneath for hours; they’ll just bite our heads.”

  Never growled. Cog could have used his fancy magic to deal with the dragonflies. The insects were closing in. “It’s not going to work –”

  Water exploded.

  A huge, glistening body of mud-coated gold roared from the river, twisting and snapping at the swarm. It hung in the air a moment, scales catching the sun, and then the giant fish crashed down. Waves rocked the boat and the splash dumped half the river on them.

  Never spat water and soggy leaves, blinking furiously.

  The swarm of dragonflies had fled, those that had not been devoured, black trails streaming away from the boat. Many of the insects had fallen and were struggling on the river’s surface.

  Some strayed near the boat but a trembling Luis swatted at them with his oar. Never exchanged a glance with the younger man. What had happened? Had a giant fish truly saved them? It must have taken up a third of the width of the river – the single glimpse Never got of its mouth convinced him it could have swallowed the boat whole.

  But the swarm was scattered – for now – the fish had saved them.

  Chapter 9.

  “How do we know that monster won’t return for us?” Luis asked. He glanced to the dark water often, made blacker by the tall stone around them that continued to block much of the sun. Heat still found a way down to the water; bouncing from the hard-baked rock, but after being doused with half the Rinsa, it was a welcome warmth.

  Elina continued to row, her face set. “We don’t.”

  Never sighed. “Of course we don’t. We just have to blindly keep on in hope, don’t we?”

  “No trails from here on. And a month detour to go around, maybe more,” she said. “I won’t wait that long; Noak might be dying.”

  “So might we soon,” Luis said.

  “Yes.”

  He leant back against the tiller, expression dark. Never took a swig from his flask. Hard to blame Luis for being upset. The giant could return at any time. River Rinsa remained wide and they continued to pass through a series of pools, each seemingly deep enough to hold anything.

  Never narrowed his eyes at the surface himself – had that been a flash of gold, deep down?

  “Did you see the mud? He was old,” Never said, tapping a finger against the boat.

  “Only a few more hours – we can survive this,” Elina replied.

  “Maybe he’s had his fill of insects and he won’t care to follow us?” Never continued. And perhaps he was saying it to bolster his own confidence. For truly, what could they do against such a foe? It would be exactly like the Gods to throw such a thing in his path.

  No-one answered.

  Never kept an eye on the water as the boat surged ahead. Was Elina rowing harder than usual? Good. Yet the water remained calm. The current pulled their vessel toward a shadowy part of the river and into a sharp curve, the walls almost turning in on themselves, like a horseshoe. High upon the walls dark shapes were attached – huge banks of dry mud with circular openings.

  “I didn’t think dragonflies lived in mud nests,” Never whispered.

  “The gold ones do,” Elina said, her own voice hushed as she rowed, her strokes softer through the river. Luis swallowed.

  But no insects appeared.

  Ahead, the Rinsa snaked in the opposite direction, curving like an S and then it opened up again, streaming between columns of stone that rose up from the river’s centre. Some were thin and others hogged half the river; Never worked the rudder constantly. On one of the columns lay more markings – on
ly they were Hanik writings.

  “What do they say?” he asked.

  Elina sneered as she spoke. “It’s a lie, an old lie. It says ‘Noak’s line is the line of thieves and usurpers’.”

  Never adjusted the tiller again, angling between two short stump-like rock formations. “Political adversaries?”

  “So they think themselves. But the Pathless-Ones are not in contention for the throne. They simply wish it were so. This would have been written when Noak was young.”

  “No-one thought to remove it?” Luis asked.

  “I asked the same thing of Jenisan once and he told me he believes his father lets it remain as a sign of his contempt for them. They are beneath his notice.”

  “Could they be behind Noak’s poisoning?”

  “Doubtful. They are not that resourceful; they tend to lurk beyond the city within smaller villages nowadays.”

  “I suspect we’ll find out soon enough,” Never said.

  Obstructions gradually lessened yet the river remained wide, and once, the bottom of the boat scraped something.

  “What was that?” Luis asked, his voice a little shrill. He was rowing now and Elina had taken the tiller.

  “Stone,” Elina replied. She pointed from the prow. “We’re nearing the Pool of Leaves; the river will speed up again soon. We’ll reach the city before nightfall at this rate.”

  “Good. I could use a long bath,” Never said.

  The Pool of Leaves soon appeared before them. The stone walls had begun a gradual slope and now more elms grew along the ridge, dropping more and more leaves. They littered the surface, bunching up beyond the current. The walls of stone and hills had become a line of trunks, towering over them, nonetheless.

  The pool itself was vast – almost a small lake.

  Yellow and green leaves floated across the dark surface. One spun down from a tree overhead as the boat slid into the pool. It slowed and Luis pulled a little harder on the oars. A stretch of water this size; it was the perfect home for a large fish – and with a glance at the others, it was clear; everyone was thinking as he.

  He stared into the water.

  Too dark.

  Halfway across, the boat rocked. Something had rippled the water, deep below.

  “Faster,” Elina cried.

  Luis strained at the oars but the boat rocked again; this time it tipped to one side. Never clung to the wood, countering. “We need to drive it off.”

  Gold surged up from the depths beneath them.

  Elina wrenched the rudder and the boat shifted as a scaled monster surged free, water spraying from its body. It had the look of a catfish, though its eyes were large orbs and its body was more vibrant in colour, even if its underbelly was whitened with age and remained streaked with mud. The fish completed its arc, plunging into the water, drenching them once more. The small boat was tossed about on the wave.

  Never struggled for balance. His heart thumped within his chest.

  What could they do?

  He’d barely steadied himself when the fish struck the boat another glancing blow – flinging him into the river.

  Black devoured him.

  It pressed against his limbs as he kicked for the light. The power of the monster’s passing beneath him tossed him off course. He flailed; Gods, it would eat him alive!

  Something caught his leg.

  His heart leapt against his chest as he kicked, but the fish dragged him deeper into the cold depths. The light above dwindled, receding as black swallowed it up. His lungs strained and he scrambled for a knife – and stopped.

  A bright light appeared from the black. It resolved into the shape of a woman. She wore loose yellow robes that left her arms bare but the head of a fish rested on her neck. Bubbles escaped her mouth when she reached out and took his hand. Her grip was firm and it infused him with a power that freed his lungs from the mounting pressure and cleared his vision.

  Cold vanished and his heart eased its frantic beating.

  She tugged on his arm then paused to look at him, before shooting off into the dark, dragging him along. Never kicked but it didn’t seem to help, as if he were being pulled along in an incredibly fast carriage. Streaks of light passed; the only hint at their speed. He no longer worried about the giant fish – and who was to say this new creature wasn’t the fish?

  There was no true sense of direction to the travelling, whether deeper, forward or closer to shore, he had no idea.

  We travel to the Preparation Chamber, Master. The voice spoke in his mind.

  While it appeared female, it seemed flat... the lack of emotion was complete, as if only a dry echo remained of the old words, long since lost to time.

  And yet, had she truly called him ‘master’?

  Of course, you are Master.

  Never shivered. The lights changed, darkening to purple. Were they close to the so-called Preparation Chamber?

  Yes. We have left the Birthing Pool.

  How far is the Chamber? Will my air last?

  As long as I will it, Master. Maintain your hold and you will remain safe, we are quite near.

  Never gripped her hand as they sped on. The lights were changing again, purple warming to orange. Against the black, the stripes were near-dazzling.

  What is the Preparation Chamber?

  It is the endpoint of the Causeway. You have travelled it many times.

  Truly?

  Of course. Be ready for landfall. The Vestibule will be attended.

  The darkness snapped to light and he found himself in a wide chamber lined with a confusing array of red and white tiles, set in dozens of unfamiliar patterns. While the white tiles were luminous there was not enough light to read by.

  Behind him, steps led down into black water that filled a small cave but there was no sign of his guide, nothing beyond the suggestion of yellow fading away. The fish-woman was gone; he’d have no more answers. He took a step into the room and his boots didn’t squelch.

  He patted his clothing. “Dry.” His voice echoed. He strode forward. What strange magic had he been pulled into now? The chamber was not empty, but aside from its walls and floors, there was only a thin podium that blended with the wall, decorated as it was in the same pattern. For the promised Attendant? There was nothing on the stand and pushing and pressing on it had no effect.

  No menace lurked within the place, instead, a sense of peace settled over him. More, peace and the notion that time slumbered.

  Never ran a hand along the tiles near the podium, pausing at a slight depression. He prodded the tile and a click followed. A door slid open, revealing a stair – which was, unsurprisingly, one of red and white tiles.

  It stretched up for an unfathomable distance; patterns making it impossible to judge. Surely it was a hopeful sign that it led up? He had to be beneath the river somehow. Or the earth even. And what of Luis and Elina? Were they safe? Did Guardians find them? Were they even now ascending their own stairs elsewhere?

  There was a simple way to find out.

  Never climbed.

  Muscles in his legs soon began to burn; too long in the boat. When he stumbled onto a landing it was with a sigh. Not large but home to another empty podium. And little different from the first. He moved on. Never passed two more podiums on landings before he arrived at a fifth, empty like all the rest, and slumped against a wall. He grunted. Garish, the whole damn place. He closed his eyes. He’d lost count of steps long ago; the flights were easier to keep track of, and for some of the way, he’d focused on a pattern of red tiles that looked to be forming images of hands; clasped, pointing, set in fists, opening, fully opened, gripping a variety of objects, making shapes with thumbs and other fingers; in all manner of poses, but they disappeared into the roof and ran back down the opposite wall by the third landing.

  It is time for the Offering, Master.

  “Offering?” Never rose.

  A glowing man of red stood beside the podium. Similar to the yellow guide from before, long robes left his
arms bare, but his head was not a fish. Instead, a bird of prey regarded him with sharp eyes, its smooth beak still.

  “What do you need?”

  The customary Offering is required. The man-thing’s voice was as empty as the woman’s beneath the river. The man raised a hand, palm out.

  Not unlike the Amouni mural from the Amber Isle.

  Never drew his blade and pierced the skin of his finger, then let a drop fall to the guide’s hand.

  Blood glowed then faded into the skin.

  The Offering is acceptable.

  The bird-man stepped aside and a line of bright silver appeared, as if slicing through the wall. When it opened, bright light stood in its place.

  “What lies beyond?”

  The Preparation Chamber, of course.

  “Of course,” he said, struggling to keep a certain amount of sarcasm from his voice.

  The Attendant began to fade, as if the tiles were drawing him into their mysterious shapes, leaving Never alone with the bright silver light.

  Beyond could lie anything – but if the Amouni created it, surely there would be no danger to one of their own.

  But a question remained – preparation for what exactly?

  Never stepped into the light.

  Chapter 10.

  Silver light faded.

  In its place appeared a circular, tiled chamber lined with steel tables, narrow as cots. Each sloped toward the centre of the room. The tables curved in at the top, a thin strip extending up to become a circle for a head to rest upon.

  If that was indeed the purpose.

  A wide dais waited in the centre of the room – its base lined with white tiles, each with a single rune in the centre. Some had that familiar tug at his awareness, as if he knew the language, yet no meaning followed.

  He climbed onto the dais and craned his neck. Above, a cylindrical shaft of black extended into the ceiling. It seemed to match the proportions of the dais, but beyond that, he found no clues to either’s use.

  The tables were a similar mystery. Unused for decades... longer? A thick layer of dust covered their surface, each cloaked in time’s debris – all save one. Beneath the dust was a dark stain; it lined the edges at a point where a man’s shoulders would have lain.