The Book of Never: The Complete Series

by Ashley Capes

  The fire.

  He twisted again and a flash of pain ran up his side and down his leg – radiating from his thigh. Even so, the pressure on his bindings seemed firmer than his makeshift bandages; someone had obviously cared for him. Above the trees, distant now and barely visible from his awkward vantage point, a great plume of grey and white smoke burrowed into the sky. How big was the blaze now? Had any of the traitors escaped? Finn? He glanced around – there. Finn rode off to the side, speaking with Gnils. He recognised a few other faces but not everyone had survived.

  Ahead, a woman rode with Jenisan – Elina.

  “What happened?” he asked Luis.

  “As I understand it, you saved the prince and then collapsed. Somehow Jenisan and most of his men escaped the fire. They got you downriver, which is where we met. Elina noticed the smoke and we turned back to investigate. She was fully expecting you to be involved,” he said with a laugh.

  “Only at the edges this time – the fire was Jenisan’s idea. He’s... driven.”

  “He claims not a single one of Lord Gedus’ men escaped.”

  “I can believe that.” Never peered ahead. “How close are we to the city?”

  “Not far. Want me to untie you?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know about my thigh.”

  “I think you’ll manage. Elina checked you over – said you were healing quickly. Actually, she said ‘too quickly’ but I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

  “Let’s find out.”

  Luis pulled the horse off the road and dismounted, where he started on the knots keeping Never in place. Once free, Never swung his good leg over the horse and slid down, letting Luis catch him.

  He winced at his landing but his first step wasn’t too bad. Nor the next. The stiffness and pain were enough to know he wasn’t breaking into a run anytime too soon but he could walk. He crossed the path and back and smiled to himself. “This is good.” Better than good. He was healing faster than normal – which wasn’t normal at all. In the past minor cuts had healed swiftly, all part of the curse. Yet proper wounds always behaved properly. Was the curse changing? Another question for Snow, perhaps.

  “How far to the city?” Never asked when he returned.

  “Maybe an hour. You’ll see it when the trees thin,” Luis said.

  “I can probably handle most of that,” Never said. “It’ll be good to stretch out.”

  Luis took the reins and walked their mount – the same black Never had been given – and the two set after the rear guard of Jenisan’s party.

  He took the time to craft a story of being dragged away from the Pool of Leaves by the giant fish, and driving it off with his blood. Luis had accepted that easily enough. Another lie, but even though Luis deserved the truth... it was safer for him not to know the whole truth. “When I surfaced I sought the shore and climbed free. I was lost in the hills – but I did find something I want to revisit,” he admitted.

  “Something from the Amouni?”

  “Yes. But best not discuss it here – I don’t want to concern the Hanik.” Or alert them. “How did you and Elina fare?”

  “After the boat capsized, we dove for you but there was no trace. I thought you were gone,” he said, glancing away. “We kept looking but eventually we had to continue toward the city. The boat was in one piece and Elina was sure, as Amouni, you would survive somehow.”

  “If she’s right, my cursed heritage is good for something it seems,” he said with a grin.

  By the time the city came into view Never’s thigh was aching and he had to lean on the saddle where they paused on a gentle crest. Beyond the last few trees, crouched on the banks of the now sluggish Rinsa, waited City-Sedrin; the Silver City. Its bluestone towers stretched high above the walls, black tiles on the peaks and snapping flags of green, the silver tree upon its centre. From a central tower’s balcony hung a draping of silver that shimmered in the afternoon sun.

  “The Rebirth Festival,” Luis said. “The streets are already full of performers.”

  Before the city gates old stone piers were filled with small boats and larger river craft, sails like white waves breaking slowly in a gentle breeze skipping off the water. Sweating men unloaded wares and marched it to waiting wagons, which in turn joined the flow of people passing through the gates, the huge wooden beams reinforced with steel.

  Farther on, other roads joined the path Never stood upon, and farmers and folks from the forest headed toward the city, yet others filled boats that kept a parallel course from the river. The press of green, brown and yellow clothing at the gate was visible even at a distance, spotted with the occasional white or grey of a sailor’s canvas smock.

  “Rebirth? That sounds familiar.”

  “To celebrate the rebuilding of Sedrin after it was sacked by the Vadiya’s ancestors, before your people settled in Marlosa, as I understand it,” Luis said.

  “Ah, yes. Rebuilt by King... something. Sounds like a shoe. King Sandal?”

  “Sadanal.”

  “Right. King Sandal, as I said,” Never grinned. He glanced at Luis. “You’re rather well-informed on your ancient Hanik history.”

  “Elina told me,” Luis said with a grin.

  Never chuckled, then glanced to where Elina rode beside Jenisan, seemingly deep in conversation. “Have you spoken with the prince, Luis?”

  “Little. He seems formal.”

  “That he does.” Never checked on his knives. Down to four. “I think we ought to be careful around him.”

  “What makes you say that? You saved his life; he’ll give you half the kingdom if you ask.”

  Never spread his hands. “I cannot be sure... he will not bend, that man. His orders with the traitors were beyond prudent or even vengeful. He wanted them all dead and further, those who may have helped them are to be punished also. A blacksmith and his apprentice, a wagon-driver, anyone – these people might have been unwitting accomplices in Gedus’ duplicity. Jenisan sees only one path.”

  “Then we make sure we find ourselves on the right side of him.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that simple.”

  The growing tightness in his thigh offered a clear signal that one more step would be his last for a while, so he mounted up – again with Luis’ help, and they approached the city on horseback, joining the flow of people and passing through the gates after the prince, who joined the crowd without fuss. If the gate guards recognised him – covered in soot and sweat and unshaven – they did not acknowledge him.

  Shouts and the thud of ships unloading cargo followed them in, but were quickly swallowed by hundreds of voices, visitors, locals and musicians and actors in costume. City-Sedrin was bursting with colour; yellow cloaks, red scarves, blue and green masks, purple hand-puppets on performers, all flashing between slashes of silver – many of which seemed to hang from every available surface. Even near the docks he saw them in windows or wound around gates and door handles.

  “Festive,” Never said as the horse clopped along the paved street. “Defiant or desperate I wonder?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Their king lies stricken. Perhaps, underneath the cheer there lies worry they won’t let free.”

  One tavern sported a curtain of thinly-cut strips of silvery fabric over its doorway. A sign out front boasted the best ‘Rebirth Pantomime in the city’. Skipping merchants kept trying to sell him ribbons of silver, their voices full of cheer.

  Never waved another good-natured fellow away. “I’ve never been here during the festival, Luis. Tell me this isn’t all silver?”

  Luis shook his head from where he walked beside the horse. “Most of it is painted to shine – if you look closely, there’s just not the same depth,” he said. “If you held some you’d see, the weight is a sure giveaway.”

  “Quite the expert there. More timely information from Elina?”

  Luis flushed even as he laughed. “Well, some of it. But I do have an eye for silver – I used to apprentice to a silv
ersmith.”

  “It didn’t last, I take it.”

  “No. He had a quick temper.” A hint of anger entered his voice. “One day, after he broke one of my ribs, I took his favourite toolset and cast it into the lake and left. I kissed my mother and gave her what little money I’d earned. She was heartbroken,” he said, lowering his voice. “More than I realised at the time. But she knew I had to leave, she didn’t try and stop me. I hopped onto the back of a merchant’s wagon and I haven’t returned since.”

  “When was that?”

  “Ten years ago, I suppose.”

  “And your father, what did he think? Didn’t he try and stop you?”

  “No. He was probably looking for his tools.”

  “Ah,” Never said. How often the failures of the father drive the son. “Sounds like you made the right choice.”

  “Pacela as my witness, I did.”

  Elina dropped back as the prince led the party away from the music and the colour of the main streets. In the quieter backstreets – silver still hung from most windows – the street sloped up to a row of fountains that stretched in a wide corridor, one with multiple entries and several exits. It was designed, Never was sure, to give visiting dignitaries a chance to take in the palace itself, which reared above rows of buildings with their bluestone walls and dark rooves.

  A few people – mostly visitors, perhaps fishermen from the river, even a few Marlosi citizens – stood to stare up at the palace and its glittering windows, but it seemed most of the people were watching the street performers.

  They missed the true view of beauty. Years had passed since he’d last seen the Hanik Palace but it was just as impressive as ever. It was not built for war. Bright domes rested beneath the central tower. Its graceful balconies swept up from two smaller towers, the central tower with its own walkway ringing the top. That was where his eye had been drawn in the past, where sunlight caught the silver tree atop.

  Today his eyes were drawn to the domes.

  The sparkling tops, threaded with quartz, had taken on a new familiarity. Amouni craftsmanship. Answers did lie within the palace. The library and Elina’s grandfather – answers lurked within. All he had to do was uncover them, offer Elina and her grandfather what they needed and be on his way with the answers he sought.

  Probably back to the strange tiled rooms on the Rinsa.

  The next step in discovering truth – for surely the library would speak more of the civilisation, more of their rituals, and explain at last why he was cursed.

  And then there was Snow.

  What would he have to say? Never had to meet Snow in the Temple of Jyan, but when? And how could he hide it from Luis and Elina? From Jenisan. And another concern, was it even possible to make sure Snow didn’t attack the prince too?

  Assuming he truly was the one behind the poisoning.

  What if Snow had already ransacked the library, stolen anything of use?

  “I want to thank you, Never.”

  Elina was riding beside him all of a sudden – he covered his surprise with a grin. “How sweet such words fall upon my ears.”

  She glared at him. “Let me do this, will you? The prince is important to me. To us, to the Hanik people. Saving him was like saving us all, do you understand?”

  “I think I do. Forgive me.”

  She shook her head. “I was going to tell you that I was relieved you survived but I’m beginning to regret that.”

  He shrugged. “Well, at least you’ve thanked me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Jenisan does not appear as grateful as you.”

  “If you give him a chance, his gratitude will be shown. He is much consumed by his task and worry for his father. King Noak lives yet, thankfully. But he is deathly ill. And while Lord Gedus was stopped, others certainly remain out there.”

  “And the forest, does it burn still?”

  “It will not burn forever. The prince has already arranged for a force to contain it where possible. The fire will not jump the river.”

  “So he hopes. And yet, any woodcutters or little hamlets in the trees – I wonder how they have fared?”

  She stopped. “Since when do you care for the isolated people of Hanik?”

  “Your question doesn’t answer mine, does it, My Lady?”

  “Don’t be so arrogant,” Elina said. She’d folded her arms and now controlled the horse with her knees alone. A more skilful rider than he. “Jenisan warned such people as he could find in advance – not that he needs to explain himself to you. Or me, or anyone for that matter.”

  He raised his hands. “I apologise again. He is a driven man, that is all I ought to have said.”

  Elina glared a moment longer, grabbed the reins then spurred her horse back to the front of the group.

  Luis chuckled. “You always know exactly what to say in order to land yourself in hot water with her.”

  “It’s quite a skill.” Maybe he had pushed her too hard. Jenisan might have been on the edge of madness with his hatred of traitors... but she cared about the man. For now, it did no good to put doubts into her head about the nation’s hero-prince.

  But she’d have to learn that not every hero could bear close scrutiny.

  “Well, let her be. She truly was worried about you. I was too.”

  Never sighed. “I will. And I feared the great fish had taken you also.”

  A call from ahead urged them after the party – it sounded like Finn – and Never tapped his horse’s flanks with his heels.

  At the end of the wide square, he glanced to the Temple of Jyan. The Hanik God of Spring stood before the entrance in a statue of bronze, his arms outstretched. Flowers had been planted at his feet, growing in a neat circle. His expression was unreadable from a distance but something disconcerting emanated from the figure.

  Or was it the shadows between the columns beyond the statue?

  Are you in there, brother?

  Prince Jenisan again led them along quieter streets, past two and three storey houses, fine inns and dressmakers with huge glass windows to display their delicate gowns and bakers with shelves of soft loaves and sweet pastries – City-Sedrin had long known wealth and prosperity, thanks to its docks and the export of silver from the mines in the mountains above the city.

  When they reached the palace walls, which were high but whitened with age, the prince had everyone dismount and led them to a small door of heavy iron. There was no handle or lever, only great iron studs – even the hinges were hidden.

  Jenisan thumped on the door, eliciting a deep booming.

  A moment before a voice answered. “Who seeks entry?”

  “It’s Jenisan. Open up, Patrias.”

  Bolts clanged and scraped and then the door swung inward. An older man in a silver breastplate stood aside, nodding to them as the soldiers entered. Elina followed after a word from the prince, who lingered.

  Never nodded to Luis, who led the mare inside the palace walls.

  “Give us a moment, Captain,” Jenisan told the guard.

  The man nodded and disappeared into a guardroom.

  “I am pleased to see you alive and well, Your Highness,” Never said. “I must also thank you for carrying me out.”

  He gave a short nod. “I owe you a great debt, Never.”

  Never waited – the man was not finished, rather he seemed to be choosing his words with care, a furrow in his brow.

  “My men report something... disquieting about your ability to deal death. Yet while few understand what they witnessed during the raid, I, however, am very aware. I know what you are, Never. Were it not for the debt I owe you I would kill you now to protect my people.”

  “Your Highness?” he couldn’t keep shock from his voice.

  “Instead, I will honour you as fitting and then you are not to return to this city – nor this land. Live out your life elsewhere, in a hole for all I care, but do not set foot here. Your kind is a poison, a blight, an abomination. Lady Elina and he
r fool of a grandfather may believe otherwise but my family remembers the truth.” His expression had twisted to hate. “Amouni blood will not rule here – never again will we bow to the slime of your ilk.”

  He spun on his heel and then he was gone.

  Chapter 14.

  King Noak lay to one side of a huge bed. Arranged between pillows, his face was difficult to discern in the darkened room. The room itself was vast, but all furniture had been reduced to vague shapes. Never’s footfalls were swallowed by thick rugs, the to-ing and fro-ing of servants would have been soundless too, if not for their near-panting as they worked to bring broths and draughts, water and blankets, all under the supervision of a sweating healer who paced back and forth from bedside to a nearby table.

  There, he and other servants consulted giant books in hushed tones.

  Elina and Jenisan stood nearest the king, their expressions sombre. The king spoke – voice thin – and Elina waved Never closer.

  King Noak’s gaunt face appeared to hover over the bed. Iron grey hair fell across the pillows and his clean-shaven face revealed a pallor beyond what was healthy – shadows ringed his eyes and the scent of illness radiated from him. His cheeks were sunken but his eyes burnt with a fierceness that gave Never pause.

  “You are the one?” the King’s voice was a whisper. “You saved my son.”

  “I did, Your Majesty,” Never said. “And he saved me.”

  Jenisan said nothing – no surprise there. Elina moved to kneel beside the king, gripping his hand. His fingers did not even twitch in response.

  “You have my gratitude, and that of our... kingdom,” the king managed, then closed his eyes, chest rising and falling.

  The healer moved back to the bed, waving his hands. “You’ll tire him.”

  Never retreated into the shadows and Elina followed. The prince stayed near the bed, his jaw clenched. The man was fighting his fear; as well he should. The king did not appear well at all.

  Had Snow been responsible? Noak was, by all accounts, a fine ruler – why kill him?