The Book of Never: The Complete Series

by Ashley Capes

  Yet it would not be perfect. A clearing within the towering pine trees did not offer full shelter. It lay open to the elements on one side, the pines offering a screen in a half-circle only.

  “This is the place,” he said. “I cannot say why, but we are here.”

  The trunks were broad, open to the sky – branches did not begin until nearly half-way up the tree. He approached the first, placing a hand against the rough surface. There, a ridge, as if bark had closed over an old wound. Someone had sawn away the lower branches a long time ago.

  Shrubs crowded the area beneath the trunks, though some of the taller sections of undergrowth had been cleared. Again, some time ago, but far, far more recently than the shorn limbs.

  The tree second from the end seemed to have fallen prey to some manner of wood-land disease but the sixth stood tall and smooth. He slapped a hand against the wood, a smile shifting his cheeks. A good feeling. “We’re here. This is the altar.”

  “It doesn’t look like a traditional altar,” Luis said.

  “No. But this is the place. We just have to wait now,” he replied.

  “And then what?” Tsolde asked.

  “Excellent question.”

  Never helped set up camp while he waited for the new moon, shielding their small fire with the tents as best they could. Then it was simply time to sit, fire warming the night as the meat sizzled on the pot lid.

  Luis appeared happy enough, leaning back to eat with a contented smile, but Tsolde had taken little and her expression was flat. When she eventually stood to walk into the trees, mentioning something about standing watch, Never exchanged a look of worry with Luis before following. Her short figure stared across the empty road.

  “Never, I’m fine,” she said without turning.

  “So I see.”

  “No joking around, all right? I just want to be alone.”

  He checked for sap then leant against a tree. “I really should keep an eye on you, to be safe – and you don’t need to say it, I know you’re thinking you can take care of yourself. And you do, you’re good at it too.”

  She drew in a breath then nodded, her curls near-to-black in the night. A small stone clinked across the ground beyond the tree-line, illuminated by growing starlight. Tsolde threw another, then her shoulders slumped. “It’s nice to hear that, Never.”

  “Want to talk about Floriak?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  Never turned to footsteps. Luis appeared, waving his arm. “Never, something’s happening.”

  He dashed back to the clearing, nearly trampling Luis’ heels before skidding to a halt. Starlight was still splashed across the tree trunks but now something stirred in response, like the five-pointed leaf responding to the moon on the Amber Isle.

  He stepped closer.

  Images swam in fiery blue lines, as if small ghosts were trapped within. The scene was wide enough to cover each trunk, and while watching it, the thin gaps between the trees offered black lines of emptiness – and part of the scene was missing, due to the fifth tree.

  But the images were clear enough.

  War, slaughter.

  Blood.

  A swarm of armoured men hailed arrows, spears and sword blows upon a circle of robed Amouni. Where the Amouni stood, it was behind a thunderous force of blood – the torrents shattered bones and cast men aside, seared them where they screamed.

  Yet the Amouni were heavily outnumbered.

  And the armies were not without their own magics. Some hurled lightning down from the sky or threw fireballs of their own. Lightning shattered against an unseen barrier above the Amouni, others struck with explosions of dirt and limbs flickering on the tree trunks.

  Next, the scene leapt forward in time, and the leaders of the armies were sifting through the robed corpses. When they lifted their bounty from the ash and blood, it was to show a companion a jewelled amulet, sometimes a dagger or other weapon, but always the sense of power was clear. Men and women from Hanik, so it seemed, and Vadiya, Marlosa and Kiymako too, from all lands, were pilfering such objects.

  It was not long before the first fight broke out.

  Scuffling over a shining pendant, two men struggled for the treasure, shouting until they could shout no more and only knives would do.

  And then others joined the fight and more bodies piled across the plain.

  Another jump in time and the armies were disappearing in opposite directions, their spoils with them, wounds bandaged, faces grim.

  The images died away to darkness, leaving behind only the rasp of a long, slow exhale as he turned from the pale, clean trunks.

  Chapter 28.

  “So what does it mean?”

  Never cleared his throat. Had he spoken aloud? He hadn’t meant to. Luis and Tsolde were sleeping undisturbed in their tents, yet he could not join them, even were he not on watch. Instead, he paced the clearing, arms folded, cloak offering some – but not enough – protection from the cold. Even his toes wanted to curl up, hide away from the mountain chill.

  Had the Amouni left such a message behind? And if so – was it a warning not to follow in their footsteps? Not to take on folly such as that which it appeared they had done in the past, if the images in the Amber Isle were an indication, the very same folly such as Snow seemed to be embarking upon? It was clear, by their fate. Such a living memory would not have been allowed to survive without good reason. Whoever had nurtured and hidden it for so long... descendants of the Amouni?

  Or the rest of humanity?

  Never approached the smooth surface of the pine trees, resting a hand against them. Had it been their great knowledge or a great arrogance that led the Amouni to assume the mantle of rulers?

  “Neither, brother,” a soft voice answered. “Their sense of duty.”

  Never spun.

  Snow stood in the camp, his own cloak pulled around him. He did not wear his Vadiya disguise, but instead a robe not unlike that which appeared in the vision. The sleeves were long, slightly flared and a five-pointed pattern adorned the hem. A large leaf symbol was repeated on the chest, gleaming in the starlight. His expression was expectant but there were also... traces of sympathy?

  Before Never could answer, Snow turned to walk into the pines.

  Never followed and once they were out of earshot of the camp he caught Snow’s shoulder. “That is what you wanted me to see? You think that will convince me to join you in your madness?”

  “Did you not see the fools? How eager humanity was to destroy knowledge, to slaughter our forebears for mere trinkets? To shatter prosperity such as has never been seen since?”

  “At the cost of freedom.”

  “So you assume.”

  “And you know better?”

  “Of course. You think this is the only Life-Memory to have survived? I have found others, Never, yet this ought to be enough.”

  He folded his arms. “And I’m simply to take your word then?”

  “Come with me and I will show you the others. You will judge for yourself and you will come to the same conclusion I have. Humanity is not fit to govern itself.”

  Never spat. “But you and your Vadiya dupes are?”

  Snow offered a thin smile. “I’m the closest thing the world has to a god and each time I recover a piece of our heritage, I grow closer still.”

  “This isn’t who you are, Snow.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes but it faded quickly. “Who I am is unfinished.”

  “I don’t need philosophy.”

  “But you need to open your eyes, brother. I have given you chances enough. No, a better question is to ask yourself, who are you?”

  “I know who I am.”

  “You know what humanity wants you to see. You have let yourself become what they see. Freak, outcast, dangerous – riddled with guilt and fear, and all of it for naught.” He made a fist. “But you are more than that, Never. You are beyond such feeble constructions. You are Amouni. That means more. You are of a noble line; you are
all the potential that has been lost.”

  Never could not deny the momentary comfort that washed over him – Snow’s oldest belief confirmed; they were gifted. To hear such words again... it was like hearing a trusted friend speak. What comfort, their blood was no curse, they were not the butt of cruel jokes from the Gods.

  But that was not the truth. “We are not so grand, Snow.”

  “Do not believe their lies,” he cried as he charged forward, gripping Never by the shoulders. “Let me show you what I have learnt about us.”

  “About Father?”

  Snow’s arms fell away but his expression remained firm. “I know I offered that... but you do not want to learn it – I was wrong to promise as much. Come with me to Vadiya now, I will show you another Life-Memory that explains –”

  Never shoved his brother back. “No. Do not toy with me.”

  “There is no jest; I will share all.”

  “Then tell me now, here,” Never snapped. “Not weeks away in some distant city.”

  Snow laughed. “Not weeks. Let me carry you,” he said as he threw back his cloak. A pair of white wings unfurled. Their span was wide enough to smother Never in feathers, and they gleamed in the starlight, as if possessing their own luminescence.

  Never gaped. “How?”

  “Let me show you.”

  Did the wings explain how Snow had appeared soundlessly? The feather he’d mistook as being the owl’s back near the Vadiya camp? The winged shaped that covered the moon before the Marlosi attack? And further into the past – on the Carene River. Had it been Snow, the large creature with the wingspan? Watching over him?

  Or simply watching him.

  “On the river – that was you.”

  “You may not believe it, but I worry about you, brother.”

  Never shook his head. “You worry about my blood, not me. You want to know where I am because you cannot afford to lose me.”

  His wings twitched. “Do you think so little of me then?”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore – all those you’ve killed, the Bleak Man – and Darom, did you send him down there to die?”

  “He saved you and your friends,” Snow hissed. “I worked too hard on him for you to let his sacrifice be for nothing.”

  “You what?” Never frowned. “What does that mean – what did you do to him?”

  “Nothing he didn’t agree to,” Snow said. He held out a pale hand. “Come with me, Never. You must accept your legacy. I have given you time, let you discover the truth on your own but now you must shoulder the burden with me.”

  “No.”

  His brother kept an arm outstretched. “Don’t be a fool.”

  “Leave me, Snow. I don’t want what you want.”

  Snow cursed. “I’m not leaving you to ignorance, to the half-life we led before. You are Amouni. Your power – our power – was given so that we might restore the world to its former glory. I will not let you ruin that, brother.”

  Never folded his arms, jaw set.

  “I do not want to force you,” he said, and there was no anger in his voice – instead, there was sadness. Never stopped a retort of his own. Snow’s eyes were pleading, his voice trembled. “Brother, I know what they will do to you. What they did to us before, I cannot let that happen again.” He lowered his voice, almost as if speaking to himself. “I must not.”

  Sudden tears built – even as Never drew a pair of knives and spread his feet. “Then we must shed blood, it seems.”

  Snow covered his face with his hands a moment, wings twitching. When he raised his face, his eyes burned ice. “So rash, so very rash. There is no need to shed precious blood.” He glanced back toward the clearing. “But blood might be shed yet – it would only be human blood, after all. And I do think they are holding you back, brother. Perhaps it is time to remove any lingering impediments to your Ascension.”

  “No.” Never cast a knife – aiming for a wing.

  Snow twisted and the blade sailed into the night. Then he snarled, launching himself across the space between them. His wings bore him down upon Never, blocking his vision – the bright blue of Snow’s eyes continuing to bore into him.

  Never slashed with his remaining weapon.

  Snow caught his wrist. Never reached for a third knife but Snow snapped a punch across the jaw. Pain shot along his skull and Never growled, striving to get his existing blade back into play. He kicked out, connecting with Snow’s knee.

  His brother stumbled, but did not let go, dragging Never to the stone.

  They rolled, struggling for control of the blade until his brother hissed and raised his free hand – blood pooling within, to create a furious sphere.

  Something hurtled into his brother, tearing him from Never’s chest.

  Never sprang to his feet.

  Luis fought Snow, but his brother quickly overpowered the treasure hunter – lifting him above his head and casting Luis aside. Luis crashed into a tree, the snapping of bone ringing through the clearing.

  “Imbecile,” Snow roared, striding forward, wings flared as he raised a bloody hand.

  Luis struggled to rise, his face drained of colour as he clutched at his side. It was clear that whatever resistance he could manage would be as nothing before Snow.

  Never thrust himself between them, hand raised. Snow drove the blood down and it splattered as their hands met and locked.

  The drops seared Never’s skin but he did not budge.

  Snow flinched, his eyes wide. “Let go.”

  “Leave us,” Never demanded through clenched teeth. More pain shuddered down his wrist and arm, heat growing in his fingers and palm. It seared and he screamed a curse as his muscles locked into spasms.

  Snow jerked his arm back but could not break away – and the blood continued to burn. Never fought to free himself now, as his whole body shook and the pain intensified, burning his skin, flesh and very muscles until only a claw of pink bone appeared beneath the raging blood.

  And then it was over.

  Snow had fallen back, expression mortified. Tears stood in his eyes and he shivered, wings shrinking close to his body. “Never, forgive me,” he cried, his voice broken.

  “Go,” Never roared – and roared again, the pain of his throat tearing most welcome. He screamed the word until it echoed from the very trees, until Snow stumbled back, fleeing into the shadows, starlight catching on a pair of feathers as they floated down to the stones.

  Never gripped the stub of his hand and collapsed to the ground, Luis’ voice distant as the night rushed in around him.

  Imperial Towers

  Book of Never

  Five

  Ashley Capes

  Chapter 1.

  Pale morning light broke across the camp, streaming down from between mountain peaks, gleaming on the mist. There was a hush beneath the trees, as the fire slowly re-awoke, eager flames curling around the piece of wood Never had placed within the ash. No birds chattered yet and neither Luis nor Tsolde stirred within their tents.

  It should have been beautiful but Never couldn’t enjoy the peace.

  He flexed his fingers, one at a time. Each responded perfectly – no pain. His entire hand was whole, as if the terrible blood-fire had not seared it down to bone. But when he’d removed the bandages earlier, there it was.

  Healed.

  Only now, his hand was pale with black marks here and there, exactly like the bark of a birch tree. And while his skin remained smooth, it had grown hard as wood. It was a gradual change that blended perfectly into his natural, tanned complexion by the time his wrist met his forearm.

  A gift from the Bleak Man’s tree?

  Surely it was the reason he’d been healing so fast of late – the tree’s powers of regrowth had somehow melded with his own Amouni magic. Fortuitous indeed. It should have been pleasing and yet he felt no rush of satisfaction at a mystery solved, and only the barest hint of relief at the restoration of his hand.

  A grim truth could no lo
nger be denied or even half-acknowledged.

  His brother was lost.

  Never had no choice; he had to destroy Snow.

  And perhaps it shouldn’t have been so difficult to accept. After all, he’d known for a long time that Snow was unhinged. Yet it was still a shock to learn just how broken Snow had become. More so than the impossible fact that his brother had wings. Even the question of how was dampened by the chill of his newfound realisation.

  He glanced up to the sky. Gods, but you are cruel, aren’t you? He stood and walked to the broad pine where the Life-Memory had appeared in fiery blue. He rested his hand – his newly restored hand – against the bark with a sigh.

  Something stirred within him. The slow spread of wood and leaf over decades and even, it seemed for these trees, centuries. A benevolent sense of their age washed over him, bringing something more, an awareness of the earth itself. The roots of the trees ran deep and there they wrapped the relics of the past, old stone, old rivers now long since filled in, old roads broken and buried.

  But within those places echoes of the Amouni lingered.

  Somewhere beneath they had once gathered upon a podium to... travel. Far beyond and far more swiftly than what could be achieved by horse or boat. Powerful magic indeed. Yet the how was not clear from the mere traces that remained.

  “Never?”

  Tsolde stood nearby, wrapped in her blanket.

  He gave her a smile, holding up his hand. “I wonder if I could grow back a head if I needed to?”

  Her eyes widened and she strode forward, reaching out to take his hand. “It’s completely healed...” She met his eyes. “It looks like bark but it feels like skin and flesh. And it’s hard too.”

  “Quite the parting gift, isn’t it?”

  She shifted her feet. “What are you going to do?”

  “About my brother?” He leant against the tree and closed his eyes a moment. How to answer? “Kill him. But I won’t lie; I don’t know if I can.”

  “Because of his power?”

  “Because he is still my brother.”