by Ashley Capes
Never nodded. “Possible, and that would suit him too. But I fear Elina was right to be wary of my blood. The same Amouni blood runs in his veins; he already knows so much. Snow might want the world for himself and he might be able to take it, if our ancestors are any indication of past success.” Yet still he held back his true fear – that Snow might just be able to take the world and recast humanity in his own image.
“But they, too, fell,” Tsolde said.
“Yes, and it’s my job to find out how to do the same for Snow,” Never said, flicking the die into the air and catching it. Soon he would have to confront the possibility that stopping his brother might mean killing him. Never glanced back into the restless flames. “We have to reach the Altar of Stars in time.”
“And if this trip is part of a greater ploy?” Tsolde asked. “If he wants you there for another reason?”
“No. Snow needs me to learn the truth for myself because he wants me to join him of my own accord.”
Luis gave a low whistle. Tsolde shook her head, curls bouncing.
Never couldn’t grin. “I think he needs my blood, my potential. He can’t achieve his full goal without it, I suspect. And hope.”
“If it was only about your blood he would have stolen it by now,” Luis said.
“Yes,” Never answered softly. “But I may have to take his first.”
“Can you?” Tsolde asked.
“I do not know.” He jammed the dice back into an inner pocket. “Tomorrow is soon enough – I need to sleep. Wake me for my watch,” he said.
While Tsolde and Luis discussed how to split the rest of the watch Never brushed stones clear and collected pine needles for his bed, then more fallen wood for the fire. Arms full, he started back toward the orange glow.
Come to us, Amouni.
He froze.
A slithering voice had spoken within his mind.
He turned slowly, scanning the looming shadows of the pines. Nothing. No-one near; he felt nothing, sensed nothing, not even the wind in the needles. “Who are you?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
Silence.
Chapter 20.
Never did not mention the voice.
Instead, he lay in the dark where embers lit the underside of the pine trees as he fought to decide whether he’d truly heard the voice. It had sounded awfully real – uncanny. There was something else about it too, something... not the sound of the voice, no, it was the sound of the words.
The voice had not uttered Marlosi. Nor Vadiya.
He sat up.
The words had been spoken in the Amouni tongue.
“Never?” Tsolde’s voice was tight with worry.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “An odd dream is all. Try to get some sleep.”
Amouni words. And he understood them – how? There was no answer to that question. And the call itself. Not a true welcome. If there were other Amouni or others who knew the lost tongue, they were not inviting him closer for pleasant conversation over the dinner table.
And it wasn’t Snow either, of that much he was certain.
After taking the middle watch, he lay down again and sleep eventually came. Yet it hadn’t been restful, since when Tsolde woke him to the pale dawn light he was sure only a moment had passed. He groaned but thanked her when she rose from her crouching position.
“Poor sleep?” she asked.
“Very.”
In comparison, Tsolde’s eyes were bright. She didn’t stumble on her way to the river the way Luis did. There was at least one benefit to taking last watch. If you didn’t fall asleep – you were wide awake when it was time to leave.
At the stream he splashed cold water over his face, then drank, wiping the water from his growing beard. No chance to shave – it wasn’t long yet, but it still itched his cheeks and chin.
“You look a little like a mercenary,” Luis said. His own beard was lighter, matching his hair. Added to his moustache, the man’s face had also been transformed.
“I feel about as dirty as one too,” he said.
Tsolde nodded. “You could both use a bath.”
Luis laughed. “There’s no way I’m getting into that bed of ice-water, Tsolde.”
She sighed.
Before leaving, Never collected the extra torches Tsolde had made and the few roots Luis had been able to collect. At least they had gained a little. Then it was time to light the torch, the resin burning-sweet, and head back into the mine.
The trip down the long shaft was swift. They soon strode along level ground again, heading farther – but not deeper – into the mountain. Never held the torch aloft, the heat bouncing off his face. It spread light through the tunnel and revealed a changing mine. Scarred walls and aborted tunnels still appeared but each passage grew narrower and there were fewer.
Abandoned tools appeared more often – three carts they passed, all full of stone thrust through with glittering iron and even a vein of silver. Luis trailed a hand over some and chipped a piece free with his axe, then tucked it into his pocket. “For when we get out of here,” he said with a shrug. “I know someone who can melt it down.”
Never nodded, leading them down a passage barely wide enough to swing an axe and paused at a blank wall. He slapped a hand against it. “Here is the passage. It ends in the other mine, in a... room that overlooks an underground lake.”
“The Night Lake that Darom warned us about?” Tsolde asked.
“I suspect it is – I didn’t stop to name it last time I was there.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she said.
“We don’t have to go very close to it at all – there’s a walkway that hugs the wall. From it, we will have to climb across an underground river. The bridge was in fair condition so we’ll be crossing into Marlosa in good time at this rate. It’s a steady climb after, up a beautiful staircase.”
Luis gestured to the wall. “Why didn’t anyone from this mine find the older one?” he asked.
“I wondered that myself, and I suspect not just anyone can pass through,” Never said as he gestured to a point where the floor met the wall. A tiny square of stone protruded. “Luis, step on that, will you?”
Luis did as instructed. Nothing happened. He put a little more weight on it then looked to Never. “It won’t move.”
He waved Luis aside. “But when I do so...” He pressed down with his boot and a muted click followed. The silver outline of a door appeared as if burnt into the surface. Never squinted as he pushed it open and stepped through, turning back. “See? But we shouldn’t tarry admiring the fruits of my heritage, it doesn’t stay open long.”
Tsolde and Luis hopped through and paused as the stone ground shut, silver light dying away. The torch revealed a wide room, empty of furniture but the floor was tiled. A pattern of darker pieces led toward another door – this one visible. The rush of moving water echoed from beneath them.
“Come to the balcony,” Never said and pushed open the door to lead them into an enormous cavern. The faint movement of air, the dampness from the water and the echo of his steps as he moved across the steel balcony to lean on the rail, it all surprised him once again. The torchlight did not illuminate much – his blue-stone offered more during his last visit – but it was enough that Tsolde gasped.
The surface of the Night Lake was a bare winking of slow-moving water, far below, far enough that a fall would break bones at the least.
“Who could have built this?” Luis breathed.
“My ancestors?” Never pointed along the wall nearest to balcony. “It rings this side of the lake and then there’s another door leading to the bridge. Once we cross the underground river it’s just the stairway. We’ll be back on the mountain top before you know it.”
“And the lake?” Tsolde asked as they walked.
“I’m hoping just a lake, in spite of Darom’s warning. Nothing happened last time I was here, remember that.”
Tsolde glanced over the rail’s edge often enough but when Never follow
ed her gaze he saw nothing. The surface, as best he could tell, remained still. When they finally reached the door to the bridge, Never stepped upon its switch. The shimmering silver followed.
A pleasant evening for a swim, is it not?
Never jerked his foot back.
The same slithering voice – the same language. The word the voice had used for ‘evening’ bore a familiar echo – like estayeta, part of the phrase he saw on the river? But not quite... estay only. Eta meant something else, didn’t it? He couldn’t be sure. And the invitation in its voice... somehow it was hideous.
Like death itself.
“What’s wrong?” Luis asked.
Never drew in a deep breath. If he was going to protect them they needed to know what he knew – which was nothing, truly. But one thing had been confirmed; he had not imagined the voice.
“I just heard a voice. In my head.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It invited me for a swim – and it spoke Amouni,” he said. “I understood it.”
Luis blinked. “Does that mean... ?”
“I don’t know,” Never said. He placed his foot on the switch again, the glow rising. “We have to hurry – I don’t trust it.”
Tsolde caught his arm. “What if the owner of the voice is on the other side of the door.”
“It’s lower,” he said. “I can feel it down there... staring up at us.”
Indeed.
Never shoved the door open with a shout. “Quickly.”
Beyond, he crossed the staging area and ran to the bridge – a graceful span with a low steel rail – but stumbled to a halt. A dark mass sat in the centre, a hiss just audible over the rush of the river. Scorch marks covered the bridge where it rested – silvery light boiled beneath the greasy skin.
Heat drove Never back a step and he spread his arms to shield Luis and Tsolde.
“What can we do?” Tsolde shouted.
“Back,” Never cried as he spun. Luis was already stomping on the floor before the sealed doorway. “Let me.” Never pressed the switch. Leaping through after Luis and Tsolde, he slammed the door shut just as a wave of heat hit.
But the steel held.
He fell back with a gasp.
Back already?
Never ignored the voice, casting about for anything to block the entry. Nothing. He tugged on one of the railings. Maybe he could –
“Never.” Luis’ voice was strained.
He spun back to the door. The steel was turning red; a pulsing light started to fill the room. The centre of the door quickly grew white.
Isn’t the Yimash persistent? Best you hurry now.
“Run,” Never shouted, waving them through. They charged across the long balcony, breathing hard, until a booming crack rocked the steel. A flash of white-hot pain tore into Never’s leg and he crashed to the ground with a shout.
He rolled, gripping his bloodied calf. Fragments of hissing steel, still glowing, lay scattered across the balcony and shards were embedded in the stone wall. The Black Ember bore down upon them.
Quickly, up you get.
The slithering voice sounded amused. Never ground his teeth, scrambling after Luis. The spearman had already turned back, feet pounding across the steel walkway toward Never. Luis slung an arm beneath Never’s own, hauling him after Tsolde, who held the door to the empty room open. Her voice urged them forward.
Heat bore down on his back. “Into the mine,” Never gasped at her.
Horror covered her face as she waved them on with the torch. Never swore as heat intensified around him – they were too slow, the Black Ember would have them at any moment.
Ahead, a figure loomed from the very wall.
Tall, dark skin blending with the stone around him – a man... Darom!
“Down!” the mountain man roared, his voice echoing.
Luis dove, carrying Never. They hit the balcony and rolled apart. Never reached his elbows then froze, mouth agape.
Darom wrested the Yimash. He’d gripped the bulk of its body, ignoring the blows its stout legs rained upon him, and was dragging it toward the rail. The man of stone grunted as he struggled with the creature. Why wasn’t Darom screaming in agony? The heat, even from where Never lay, was enough to steal his breath.
The creature’s hiss rose to ear-splitting levels as it broke free. Darom leapt after it, beating one of the eyes until it winked out. A silver burst of blood followed and now Darom roared in pain, but he did not release the Black Ember. It continued to struggle, blackening the steel as Darom pushed it closer to the edge of the rail. Stooping, he placed a shoulder beneath its bulk then thrust upward with his legs.
Silver light flared and limbs thrashed as the Yimash flew over the rail.
A whistling scream rose as it fell, hurtling toward the Night Lake.
Never crawled forward in time to see it hit the surface.
Steam exploded.
White and grey clouds of steam rose from the lake’s surface, a furious bubbling followed as part of the lake was set to boiling. The cloud climbed until it obscured the very rail, covering the shape of Darom, who leant against the steel, chest heaving.
Never dragged himself to his feet and lurched forward but the steam seared his skin. There was no choice but to wait. He turned to Luis. “As soon as it’s safe, we check on Darom.”
Luis nodded. “Do you think the creature is dead?”
“Gods, I hope so,” Never said.
The steam soon eased enough that they could reach Darom. The stone-man had slumped onto his side, stretched out across the scorched steel. His body twitched and his chest rose and fell. There was not a single burn mark upon his bare chest but the charred tatters of his clothing still clung to him.
“Darom?” Never crouched by the man’s head. He drew in another breath. Darom’s hair had been singed to soot and eyes had simply melted away. “Can you hear me? Can we help?”
“I’ll find water,” Luis said, slinging his pack free.
“No need,” Darom rasped. “I have served my purpose.”
“Darom. Why?” Never asked. “We owe you our lives, let us try and help you.”
“I helped... because it was the right thing to do,” he said, pausing to shudder. “And because... those were my orders.”
Never reached out to take the man’s shoulder but stopped. It would only cause Darom more pain. “Someone ordered you to watch over us?”
Darom turned his sightless face a little. “Your brother.”
Snow. Snow again – always Snow, using those around him for his own purpose, never caring at the cost! “Darom, I –”
“No, I am glad,” the man said.
Then his chest rose no more.
Chapter 21.
Never and Luis carried Darom to the empty room, each step a struggle. Even without an injury it would have been difficult. Not only was Darom heavy beyond a normal man but his flesh remained hot to the touch. It was as if his skin had resisted – like stone – the heat from the Yimash but his insides had not been able to withstand the onslaught.
They lowered him then Never arranged Darom’s arms across his chest and stood. A brave man – a good man, the last of mountain blood? How had Snow controlled him?
“Never, where is Tsolde?” Luis asked.
He spun. An empty room, torch burning where it lay on the floor – fool! He limped over to stomp on the switch. The mine door swung open as Luis raised the torch. The stone bore no traces of her, no fallen supplies, no scrapes from boots, nothing.
“She didn’t cry out. What’s happening?” Luis asked. “She couldn’t have opened the door either.”
“The balcony,” Never said. Outside, steam still rose in an invisible hiss far below, but a much gentler sound now.
No rewards for such a guess.
The slithering voice was tight with suppressed laughter.
“Where is she?” he roared, voice echoing across the Night Lake. Not again – he couldn’t be responsible for the
death of more innocents. And not Tsolde. He’d promised her he’d get them through the mines. And worse – he’d been so sure. Too sure; the reward for overconfidence was always failure. Idiot, idiot, idiot!
“Never?”
“It’s the voice,” he snapped. “It’s taunting me.”
Now, now, we can be fair too. Why don’t you cross the bridge and start on the stair. You’ll find the door that others miss. Then you can see your precious girl again. A long pause. Aren’t her curls beautiful? Not to mention all that skin and blood. And her organs, of course – we mustn’t forget those.
“Don’t you touch her,” he screamed into the dark.
Do hurry.
Luis grabbed him by the shoulders. “Never, tell me what’s happening? Where is she?”
Never slammed his fists onto the rail. He knew who – or what – owned the voice. Brushing against their minds, even in such a faint manner, was unpleasant enough. But he knew their name now, or at least, the Amouni name for them. Leschnilef. “They have her, Luis. The Leschnilef. The Grey-Faced things I saw in the Amouni book.”
“Who?”
“Leschnilef. It means Stone-Wraiths. And it’s a trap – they told me how to find them. They want us to chase her so they can take us too.”
“But we’re going anyway, aren’t we?”
“We are.” Never sped along the walkway, the pain in his leg pulsing with every step. His blood was already trying to staunch itself, like for a minor wound, but it wasn’t enough. By the door to the bridge his boot was slick with blood. He stopped, tearing at his now frayed cloak until he had enough to bind his calf.
Then he was leading Luis over the span, the rush of water a distant sound despite its closeness. The great stairway, which he ought to have marvelled over once more, he barely saw. Patterns carved across the tread of each step, forming grand scenes of gardens in green and wondrous flowers, flashed by beneath him as he took the stairs two at a time.
When he stumbled, Luis caught him. At the first landing he slumped against the wall, breathing hard. The next flight of stairs was carved to show a desert scene, warm and barren-seeming in the torchlight but he recalled, from his last visit, that tiny animals were camouflaged within.
