The Book of Never: The Complete Series

by Ashley Capes

  No time to seek them out now.

  “Never, where are we going?” Luis asked when he caught his breath. “You have to slow down.”

  “They said I’d find a door that others would miss.”

  “On the stair?”

  “Right.”

  “And this landing?”

  Never shook his head. “I don’t know. I just needed to rest.”

  Luis started examining the walls and steps. Never checked on his bandage before joining his friend. Nothing stood out as remarkable and after a time he swore. “It’s not here.”

  The next landing was the beginning of a seascape, blues and purples woven into the murals, all manner of fish great and small covering the steps that led up. Luis removed and lit a new torch before resuming the search. “It’s the last torch,” he said.

  Never nodded as he examined the wall, pushing and prodding odd shapes and patterns in the stone. All to no avail.

  “Never, look at this,” Luis said. He knelt before the point where the first step met the landing. Each landing had, so far, been free of coloured stone, of patterns or images. Yet here was a curved splash of blue and silver, not unlike a fish. “It’s raised against my fingertips,” he said.

  “Press it.”

  Luis paused. “It won’t be like in the Amber Isle, will it? Some sort of trap?”

  “No. They want us to find them.”

  Luis took a breath and pressed down. He waited. “Nothing.”

  “Let the Amouni try,” Never said as they switched places. “Every other door seems to need my touch.” He pushed and a deep click echoed beneath their feet. Never stood. The wall before them glowed with a silver line in the shape of a door.

  A staircase leading down.

  “In we go,” Never said, and took the first step. He gestured for the torch. “Keep that axe ready.” It was the best he could offer. He knew nothing about the stone-wraiths, save for their name and their desire for organs. And that his blood appeared to be a weapon against them – yet their grey, emaciated forms didn’t seem to possess much in the way of blood to respond to.

  And he couldn’t manage anything like Snow’s demonstration in the temple.

  The torchlight revealed a long descent into more shadow. Down he went, boots clapping against the stone, echoed by Luis’. The stairs did not deviate from their straight and steady descent. A half-hidden rushing had to be the river, but it was hard to be certain.

  “We must have reached the level of the lake by now,” Luis said.

  Never nodded. “I think –”

  A pale figure passed the very edge of the torchlight. He stopped – holding his breath. No footfalls, only Luis’ breathing. “Did you see that?”

  “I didn’t see anything.”

  “As if someone turned a corner ahead of us,” Never said.

  “Let’s find out,” Luis said, though his expression was set.

  But there was no corner. Only solid wall and more steps. Never glanced at Luis. “I saw something.”

  “I believe you, but where did it go?”

  “A good question. Keep going.” Never continued downward but slowed, his heart doing the same. Locating the path into the wraith’s lair didn’t mean he had to rush. Tsolde would be alive – it was still a trap after all. He had to spring it without getting snared.

  And protect Luis.

  And save Tsolde.

  And then get everyone out of the wraith’s lair and into Marlosa to the Altar of Stars before the new moon.

  Thanks for nothing, Snow.

  Finally the stairs ended in another balcony, only this one overlooked not a lake but a collection of buildings... a whole city. He exhaled. An underground city... an Amouni city? Yes. A shiver ran through his very limbs, just being near. Something about the place stirred deep, fragmentary memories.

  A word or a voice, a flash of colour, mere echoes as time continued to chew away at the lives once residing within. Naught he could truly understand, but he knew it was an Amouni place – just as he knew the Leschnilef were not welcome in the city.

  Light from soft-glowing points spread throughout the streets and atop buildings, the city sprawling across an enormous cavern. The roof was lost to darkness, as were the outer edges of the underground city, but he saw enough to know it’d take half a day to cross it end to end.

  Most buildings were shaped as circles, the stone possessing rounded edges. Windows were hard to discern. Other buildings stood taller. Most of these were typical-looking towers but others, those with bases shaped more like triangles, might have been temples. They each possessed strange, open platforms spreading from their centres, like outstretched arms.

  One temple-like building reared above the others, its arms wider than seemed safe, great, dark spheres resting at the ends. Tsolde would be held within.

  “What is this place?” Luis asked.

  “A lost Amouni city,” Never said. “And the stone-wraiths are unwelcome guests here. I can feel it. It’s as if the very streets are singing it to me.”

  “How do we find Tsolde?” Luis asked.

  Never gestured to the ladder that offered access to the ground. “We climb down and head for the largest temple in the centre.”

  “And what about the wraiths? There could be dozens down there. Hundreds, how would we know?”

  Even thousands.

  The voice was louder in his mind now.

  Never ignored it. “They don’t like my blood – we stay close together, right?”

  “No argument.”

  Never dropped the torch and stepped on it. “We re-light it on the way out,” he said. He didn’t add the following thought, the one Luis too probably left unspoken.

  If they made it out.

  Chapter 22.

  The first few buildings were sealed. No doors, no windows. Never touched the walls, but not a single silver line appeared to slice the stone into an entry, not even when he tried his blood or the five-pointed leaf symbol. The cobbled streets were paved to a neatness beyond what he’d seen anywhere else, the seams between the stones were regular and so narrow as to prevent any weeds pushing through – assuming plant life could survive so far beneath the earth.

  He glanced at one of the glowing spheres mounted on iron stands.

  It was some manner of crystal or even quartz – and the pale blue glow simply seemed to reside within. Most flickered and flared when he neared. He and Luis began to detour them, keeping to the darkness between such spheres.

  The first empty sphere they came across still stood tall but only shadows loomed within. Nearby, another bore a faint glow only, just a sheen to the crystal. How had they burnt out? Or a better question – how did the others still burn?

  Not a single building admitted him. No matter the shape or size, from tiny pods that appeared big enough to hold one person only, to the smaller temples they passed on the way toward the centre of the city. Arches supporting the great arms that towered over them as they passed beneath were thick with shadow – yet more than once, he almost pointed something out to Luis. Some sense of movement. Each time, he did not, unsure of whether he’d truly seen anything.

  The stone wraiths had not spoken for hours either. When he entered a courtyard with a huge, empty fountain and its shattered centrepiece, he found his first clue as to why. “Luis, look.”

  A corpse lay slumped over the edge of the fountain.

  Head and shoulders taller than Luis, it was thin, grey skin stretched to breaking over elongated bones and long, scraggly white hair flowered from the mottled skull.

  They had not spoken because they were few.

  Because they were dying.

  And they were planning their attack, a final, desperate attack for their own survival.

  Unable to control an expression of disgust, Never rolled the body over. A grey face, deep slits for eyes and a toothless mouth. A huge rent tore through the side, revealing a brittle ribcage.

  “How long has it been dead do you think?” Luis as
ked. His eyes searched the shadows beyond the courtyard, and he held his pick axe ready, knuckles whitening.

  “There’s no way to tell with a thing like this.” He nudged the Leschnilef with his foot. The head lolled to one side with a dry creak. “But it’s clear why they want our organs.”

  “And Tsolde?”

  “The centre.”

  Beyond the courtyard the streets continued to drive directly toward the main temple, which soared above the other buildings. Huge globes of glowing light now blazed from the arms, and doubtless below too.

  Decay swept over the buildings the nearer they came to the temple – the very stones were crumbling within. When he touched one, his fingers sunk, as if into firm sand. He pushed harder, until his hand met unyielding stone. An inner shell of protection? “Something failed here,” Never said.

  Farther along, they entered a patch of darkness where the buildings were now smeared with dark stains. Blood? Never reached out to touch a smear. Pain flashed and he flinched back.

  “Never?”

  Despite the pain, there had been a fleeting image. “I saw something, Luis.”

  “I’ll watch the streets,” he said.

  Never reached out again, placing his whole palm over the ancient bloodstain. A stabbing along his arm followed and he blinked, but held steady. “Show me,” he urged it.

  Images followed.

  Two children in light robes ran across an intersection. The crossroad was lit by the same globes as now, but these were a mixture of shades. Orange and purple, soft blues and bright greens too – they painted the very walls in a manner that added life to the underground, yet did not distort the faces of the children.

  Both smiled as they ran, chatting about how they would spend their gold.

  And the words were Amouni, clear to him but not so that he could repeat any if asked.

  Pain increased but he did not release the wall.

  The boys were still running. The blond had a handful of coins and the dark-haired lad carried a soft pouch.

  And then a light bloomed overhead and the boys skidded to a halt.

  Another stabbing jolt ran up his arm and this time the children disappeared. Never ground his teeth and pushed back. The image returned, along with a sharper pain. Light blazed, growing into a sharp blue, and the boys screamed until the light overtook them. Never screwed his own eyes shut but the glow was too strong and the throbbing ricocheted within his very skull.

  When it faded, the boys lay motionless on the stones, not a single mark upon their bodies.

  And then the vision was gone.

  Never dropped his arm to clutch throbbing temples and nodded when Luis, voice faint, asked if he was well. “I think it will pass,” he said.

  “What did you see?”

  “An enormous blue light killed a pair of Amouni boys, it bloomed over the city. I imagine it killed everyone.”

  Luis glanced around. “With no skeletons... the stone wraiths must have taken the bodies.”

  “With everyone dead, there was no-one to stop them,” Never added.

  “So what was the light?”

  Never rubbed at his temples, leaning against a patch of wall without blood. “I don’t know but I doubt it could happen again. It seemed final.”

  “Then we have to keep looking,” Luis said.

  “That we do.”

  Never pushed off into the streets once more, passing building after building rife with decay and blood. At one intersection he pointed to a light globe – shattered. The only one they’d seen broken so far.

  At the next intersection the street widened where it joined the thoroughfare leading to the huge temple. It revealed the first open doorway. Never signalled to Luis and they split apart, each taking a side of the dark egress. Never had already sliced into his hand and Luis held the pick axe ready.

  Never leapt inside.

  Empty.

  The square of light revealed a bare room only. Beyond waited a second doorway of steel, this one sealed. But when he touched it, silver light glowed and it opened, revealing a circular room lit by a pale glow from smaller spheres mounted on the walls. Two beds with thin blankets occupied each wall. A crystal cabinet stood between the beds, a pair of swords, one slightly longer than the other, were housed within.

  Both blades shone with the same glow as the spheres – only brighter.

  “Is this a barracks?” Luis asked, blinking as he shielded his eyes a moment.

  “Or a home?” Yet there was little evidence of such. Never approached the case. “Strange that the stone wraiths have not been here. Could they not open the door?”

  “Maybe only Amouni can,” Luis said.

  “And what of the crystal cabinets?” Never murmured as he reached out, placing his palm against the cool surface. The crystal slid open and he reached in to clasp a hilt. Cold. He drew the blade forth. Light, yet the balance was impressive and the strength of the blade... it poured forth, surging into his hand. The forging took it beyond what had been created by other peoples.

  He tossed the second weapon to Luis, who caught it, marvelling at the craftsmanship.

  “How are you with a sword?” Never asked. “There don’t seem to be any spears.”

  “I’ll manage,” he said as he tucked the axe into his belt.

  Back onto the street, they found several other open buildings. Some with doors that opened and others that would not, no matter what Never tried. One more had a similar sword cabinet but the others were more domestic, ornaments, usually of animals, in the place of weapons.

  A book had been left open on a bed but unlike those in the library at Hanik, he was not given any images when he lifted it. Never paused on the way out. “If the great light killed the people of this city, what happened to the bodies that would have been inside these homes at the time – those the stone wraiths presumably could not reach?” he asked.

  “Someone had to have claimed them, for ill or good,” Luis said.

  “I agree.”

  Never strode back into the street, heading for the huge temple. The answers would lie within – and more importantly, so would Tsolde. And any wraith that stood between him and her would feel the sting of his sword.

  Chapter 23.

  Never examined the temple’s base. The stone here was not like the decaying homes – it was strong where he tapped the sword’s hilt against it. But no door opened either. He circled the building, Luis close behind, until he found himself directly beneath one of the arms.

  The near-seamless pattern of stone had changed. He pushed against it and the familiar silver line of light appeared as the door swung inward.

  The temple was a shell, a perfect ruin.

  Faint blue light from the huge spheres poured in from above – the temple possessed no roof. Blackened rubble lay strewn about the floor, piled in beneath the walls, casting ugly shadows. Still clinging to the walls were twisted steel frames, burnt down to stubs, mostly. The scent of charred wood remained – and yet, how could that be so? The ruins were ancient.

  “Something was burnt here, recently,” Luis said. “Is that even possible?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t seen a single scrap of wood, have you?”

  “No.”

  “Let me check something,” Never said, drawing the marble free. The small figure within was shaking its head. Never frowned, exchanging a glance with Luis, whose expression was not one of confidence.

  “That’s clear, isn’t it?” Luis asked.

  “It is, but we don’t have a choice.”

  “True.”

  A whispering crossed the empty space between them, but no source appeared. In the centre of the huge room, stretching the limits of clear vision, rested a single stone table – someone lay upon it.

  “Luis.” Never raised his sword and advanced, flanked by his friend.

  He kicked at a piece of blackened stone as he walked, eyes roving. Still no sign of the stone wraiths. What was their game? It was a trap; it had to be, but
he couldn’t simply skulk around the buried city forever. Instead, he had to act, had to force them to make their move.

  Was it Tsolde? She was still too far away for him to be sure; the interior of the temple appeared larger than he’d have guessed from the outside.

  As Never drew closer to the still-distant table, a slight whispering joined the sound of he and Luis’ footfalls. His sword glowed brighter. Never slowed when a figure was reflected in the blade. Ghostly and pale.

  When he glanced away, nothing stood before him.

  In the blade, the figure rose through the air. “Look at your sword, Luis.” He tilted the sword, tracking the spectre’s ascension.

  Luis caught his arm. “I don’t think I need to.”

  Transparent figures were rising, leaping from equally diaphanous chairs and tables, from beds, from circles, from stone benches, rising like a thin forest of saplings. At first they rose slowly, robes still, faces serene as they passed.

  Then the ghosts began to pick up speed. They were being torn from the temple and drawn up into the darkness high above, eventually becoming faint white streaks. Never blinked.

  The past could wait; Tsolde still needed him.

  He resumed his approach. When he passed through the slower ghosts, he felt nothing but there was sadness reflected in the eyes that turned to regard him. He couldn’t fight a shiver and even the oft impossibly-cheerful Luis remained silent.

  A dozen paces from the table and the ghosts disappeared.

  Fine, let it be so.

  He had to be sure. The figure on the table... he slowed. It was small, too small. A tattered collection of rags covered a pile of stones.

  “And so the trap is sprung,” he said.

  Luis swept the stones from the table with his free arm, spinning on the temple. “Where is she? Face us!”

  Never strode forward, adding his own voice. “We are here. Come and meet your fate, you dried up worms!”

  Only silence.

  Never spun on his heel. In every shadow, behind every heap of rubble might they wait... but none came forth. He leapt atop the table and scanned the walls high above, the entrances to the arms, but still nothing.