by Ashley Capes
He crashed through with a cry. Cold water enveloped him, bubbles and splinters flashing in the dark. Never swam for the surface but the shifting roof of wood blocked him. He thrashed, tearing at the pieces but for every one he moved, another slid into place.
Something caught his leg.
He kicked it free, but the grip returned. In the dark, a sea creature loomed. It had him, both hands wrapped around one leg. Its mouth worked, gills flaring beneath a silver chain, whose star-shaped pendant caught on a shaft of light from a gap in the wood.
He frowned as the creature pushed him up, shoving from part of the reef. Never’s lungs strained as he tore at the wooden ceiling of what could become his tomb, before finally breaking the surface. A hand grabbed his own and he was pulled free, the creature giving another push from below.
It was enough to climb onto a rock, gasping and spitting water. He rolled onto his back, chest heaving. One of the sailors was speaking, face concerned. Never nodded, assuming the question was about his welfare.
Luis played on, eyes wide, but a smile of relief appeared between notes.
“Someone get Ferne,” Never said, shaking water from his ears. “I’ve had a gutful of this bloody island.”
The sailors laughed, helping him onto the longboat, where he collapsed against the bow, murmuring an apology to the man on the tiller.
Somehow, he was safe – so long as Luis played, it seemed.
Yet unease remained.
The silver necklace and pendant of Pacela. Had the creature stolen it from Spots?
Or had Spots become the creature?
Chapter 14.
The wind was brisk against his face, but he leant on the rail and closed his eyes as the White Wing cut through the glittering ocean. Captain Jonaas’ bark dominated the deck, burying the creak of ropes and thump of bare feet on wood. He was apparently well-satisfied with his payment – and none too curious about the traces of blood left on the diamonds and sapphires. It seemed the secret of the Eye would stay with Ferne, and the few jewels – still a small fortune – those that killed Ruveo and trickled into the passage beyond the pit, had been rendered as payment for passage.
“So where will you go now, Luis?” he asked.
The treasure hunter paused. “I hear Hanik is nice in summer.”
Never grinned. “With two weeks at sea, you’d miss a bit of it.”
“I can make that sacrifice.”
“You don’t want to take your share back to Marlosa and find Peat? Open that inn?”
Luis sighed. “With the Empire collapsing? I hope he’s safe but I don’t know. And I let Ferne keep my share – I couldn’t keep the jewels. Knowing what they’d been used for.”
Never gave him a look. Not something Never himself was going to do, but it was still admirable. “So you want to help me look for answers that might not exist?”
“Why not?” He slapped a hand onto Never’s shoulder, the one without a wound. “You still have to save my life at least once.”
“So getting you out of the jewel pit doesn’t count?”
“Hardly. You had to save your own skin too.”
“There are worse vices to have.” He looked across the water – in the distance dolphins were leaping into the air. “I don’t think we discovered all the secrets of that place, you know. Like the water trap – where did it all come from? It wasn’t sea-water.” And the giant five-pointed symbol glowing on the stone at midnight – that, too, a mystery.
“I don’t think we’ll find out, Never.”
“You’re probably right.” He glanced back toward the receding Isle, shrouded in sea mist. If Luis did travel with him, would the man survive whatever was to come? Could he protect Luis? Could he take such a risk with another’s life again? “Have you travelled the Hanik forests much?”
“A few times. My grandfather once told me a story about a people who hid in the forests by turning into trees. Maybe they were your ancestors? They seem to value the leaf as a symbol?”
“True. Though I wonder if we won’t have to find someone in the Silvery City to answer my questions. The royal library is said to be the greatest in the known world.”
A shout came down from the nest. “Yellow flag sighted portside.”
Captain Jonaas cupped his hands. “That blasted Vadiya ship again?”
“Looks to be, Captain. It’s giving chase. Gaining.”
Jonaas spat. “Not a chance. More sail. Move,” he roared at nearby sailors.
“That sounds like trouble,” Luis said.
“Exactly what I’m looking for after such a relaxing stay on the Amber Isle.”
The Vadiya ship was gaining, little by little.
“Definitely the same ship, Captain,” the man aloft shouted. “I see a boar on the mainsail.”
Never leant over the rail, straining his eyes. A boar? Harstas. Damn him. Never’s eyes were no match for a telescope but that was word from the nest. Had that been the same ship he and Ferne saw from the top of the Isle? Somehow, the Gods had put Harstas on Never’s tail again – even if the commander might not realise it yet. The Vadiya had been busy hunting Marlosi ships since the invasion, but what were the chances the White Wing would end up chased by Harstas’ boar? But then, it was exactly the sort of thing the gods enjoyed.
A bit of fun at Never’s expense.
He rolled his shoulders as he stared across the waves. He had to admit, life was dull when things were too easy. And maybe he now had a chance to pay Harstas back for the stunt with the poisoned assassin.
“Think that ship’s going to be a problem?” Luis asked.
“The captain believes we can outrun them.”
“Good – because I’m not a great swimmer.”
Never folded his arms, gaze still on the as-yet-distant ship. Distant for now, but Harstas was gaining. Just how fast was Jonaas’ ship? Would they even reach Hanik in one piece? “I sympathise, my friend.”
And so the tide turned against him once more.
A Forest of Eyes
Book of Never
Two
Ashley Capes
Chapter 1.
Never glared at the Vadiya ship that followed them into the Hanik port of Lenan. The warm, setting sun dusted the ship’s sails with orange – too beautiful a scene for the scum onboard. The Boar flag snapped overhead and calm water burst at its prow as it approached.
Two weeks along the Marlosi coast and then right into Hanik waters the Vadiya had pursued the White Wing, and now it looked as though Harstas would chase him into the very streets of Lenan. Of course, the commander had no way of knowing Never was aboard. He was probably chasing the first ship he saw in the vicinity of the Grey Chain, just in case.
Or maybe the man had other means of tracking?
A pair of gulls squawked overhead, fighting over some unfortunate insect or other small creature.
“Persistent, isn’t he?” Ferne said from the rail. His large, hairy forearms rested on the wood as he toyed with a small carving of a dog.
“One of his finer qualities, it seems.” Never gestured toward the green and white flags on the White Wing’s mast. “Glad we’re flying Hanik colours.”
“Which is probably why they followed us instead of attacking,” Luis said as he approached. His beard had grown in. Never scratched at his own stubble; probably time to shave. “If we’d been flying Marlosi colours we would have had to swim most of the way here.”
“Or be dead.” Never frowned at the Vadiya ship. “And I would have hated swimming just as much.”
Luis laughed and it seemed Ferne came close to his second smile – at least, the second Never had ever seen. “Sure you two don’t want to sail with me a little longer?” the treasure hunter asked. “You’ll both end up rich. Very rich.”
Never shook his head. “I’ll settle for
more answers.”
“I suspect there’s a bigger adventure to be had with Never,” Luis said. “Bigger even than sailing to the Summer Isles this late in the season.”
“For the best spice in the world it’s not too late.” He tucked the carving back into a pocket. “And bringing it back half a season before any other ship, we’ll make a killing.”
“Long trip,” Never said. “You sure the Sea King’s Eye will protect you from the maelstrom?”
“It has already shown me how,” he said.
At movement on the enemy ship, Never stepped away from the rail, moving to crouch behind a row of water barrels. Harstas had docked and was already unloading cargo onto the wharf beside the White Wing, his sailors grunting and swearing as heavily-armoured soldiers watched. More of Harstas’ Steelhawks. “Tempting, Ferne, but I have to know the truth about my curse. And in the meantime, I’m going to stay here. Let those blasted Vadiya finish up before we leave.”
“Maybe not,” Luis said. “They’re coming this way.”
Never swore. Two of the Steelhawks escorted a tall man dressed in a red robe, blonde hair shining in the sun. A sword and long parrying dagger rested in his belt and chainmail peeked beneath a black tabard.
Commander Harstas.
“Damn him. How does he know?” Never hesitated, a hand on one of his new knives. If he tried to fight his way off the ship, Captain Jonaas and his men ran the risk of being killed. Luis and Ferne too. He had to hide. “You know nothing about me. Harstas will burn the ship and kill everyone on it if he finds me,” he told them.
Ferne nodded. “Understood.”
Never slipped down the ladder and into the passage leading to Captain Jonaas’ cabin. He rapped on the door. “Captain?”
“Come in.” The man’s voice was deep, the Hanik accent light.
Never opened the door and closed it behind him. In a lamp-lit room the Captain looked up from a small desk that had been bolted to the floor. Most of his cabin was dominated by a wide bed – a luxury in a ship full of hammocks. Open chests of clothing sat on a bench beneath a porthole.
“Never?”
“Is there anywhere aboard I might stow away for a time?”
He frowned. “Why?”
“A Vadiya commander would not be happy to find me. He would most likely burn your ship to the waterline for harbouring me. You know how bloodthirsty they’ve become since the invasion.”
“I do.” He tapped a quill against an inkpot shaped as a swan. “What did you do to anger this Harstas?”
“I stole a map he wanted to steal. I may have killed ten of his men in the process.”
Jonaas grunted. “May have?”
“Well, eleven if you count the fellow who shot one of his comrades with his crossbow after I shoved him aside.”
“You killed that many men yourself?”
“I was angry; they’d murdered a lot of unlucky people in the palace. That might have added to my efforts. Captain, I’d rather not put you all in danger. Do you have a stowaway?”
He stood. “Quickly.”
Never followed him to the bench where he helped the man remove the chests. Next, Captain Jonaas depressed a switch concealed in the rim of the porthole. The benchtop opened like a lid on a spring. Within was enough room – barely – for a man to lay curled.
“Spacious.”
Jonaas grinned. “You could always cling to the anchor chain.”
Footsteps echoed down the passage outside. “This might be swifter.” He didn’t have much choice; he had to trust that everything would work out. He climbed in and hunched into a ball as the captain closed the lid.
Darkness followed, save for tiny specks of light at the corner of the box.
A knock on the cabin door followed. “Captain? A Vadiya commander is requesting to board.”
“I’m on my way,” Jonaas called. Soft thumps followed as he replaced the chests. His footfalls faded. Never flexed his muscles. His neck was hunched against the wood – at the opposite end of the box his feet hit the wall, knees pressed into his chest. Drawing a deep breath was not all that easy.
Hurry back, Jonaas.
When footsteps approached again they brought angry voices with them.
“Take my word for it, Commander. There is no such Marlosi man aboard,” Captain Jonaas said, speaking Vadiyem. “Your search is disruptive.”
“Then let my men finish quickly,” Harstas replied. Through the wood, his voice was difficult to hear. Never held his breath, straining his ears. “That way you can unload your wares and head on your merry way, yes?”
“Not so fast as if you weren’t here.”
“Well I am here. Along with my soldiers.” A pause. “Now. About this thief.”
“There is no thief aboard my ship, Commander.”
“So you have said but there is nothing to say he has not stowed away in your hold, perhaps. You sailed from the Grey Chain in Marlosi recently, did you not? He would be easy to spot – he will be ill, suffering from a fever.”
“I know my ship.”
“Of course.” Another pause. “Tell me, Captain – have you considered what future prosperity you might lay claim to by working closely with the New Vadiya Kingdom?”
“New Vadiya Kingdom?”
“Encompassing our home in the south and the former Marlosi Empire.”
“I see.”
“Your tone suggests doubt.”
“I hadn’t heard the war was finished.”
“The resistance? Disorganised rabble.”
“Then you have the Empress also?” Jonaas asked.
Harstas sniffed. “She is a thorn, admittedly, but her time is limited.”
Someone knocked on the cabin door. What now? Never smothered a groan; sweat was building again as the fever returned. How by Ju-Anna, Pacela and all the rest of the Gods did it know when to return at the most inconvenient times? Malicious. Childishly so.
“Yes?” Captain Jonaas raised his voice.
“A soldier here to see his master,” came the answer.
“Send him in.”
More footsteps, then murmured voices, hushed beyond Never’s ability to discern words. Then Harstas was making his goodbyes. “It seems you do know your ship, Captain Jonaas.”
“That I do, Commander. Let me walk you to the gangway.”
The footsteps faded and Never exhaled. Good. Now that Harstas was gone, time to get his hands on a decent healer. And then something hot to eat. Plan his next move.
Were there truly more clues here in Hanik?
There had to be.
If not, south to home? Could he track down Snow? Or risk travelling into Vadiya? The figures on the murals were pale-skinned but didn’t the green suggest Hanik? He gave a grimace. One step at a time, Never.
Someone returned and grunted as they shifted chests from the box. Never blinked against the light when the lid opened.
Jonaas grinned down at him. “Am I going to have to carry you ashore?”
Chapter 2.
Never pulled the new blue cloak around his shoulders as he and Luis strode along the wooden docks, cutting through crowds of barefoot sailors, puffing merchants and the din of shouts. His cloak wasn’t much of a disguise perhaps, but now that evening was draping itself over the place, it was something other than his usual black cloak – now rolled up and placed in a pack – also new.
There was still a chance Harstas or one of his men might chance upon him; no need to make it easy for them.
Chimney smoke and yellow blobs of light from lamps clung to the air, tangling in hazel and birch trees where they rose behind buildings – mostly warehouses of wood and taverns of stone. Maybe it was a bit early for fires, but the evening was cool and autumn would soon be closing in. Warm light glowed in the windows. Wagons and their merchants filled the s
treets. Locals in their dark greens and loose scarves hung at the neck, detoured the heavy loads of steel and grains.
“What are the scarves for?” Luis asked.
“I thought you’d visited Hanik before?”
“Not this far south.”
“Storms from the sea sometimes bring a poison wind.”
“From where?”
“No-one knows exactly. Some say a flowering plant on the coast.”
“Should we get scarves?”
“It’s usually in winter. I think the Hanik just like to wear them. A splash of colour, you see.” He gestured to a woman carrying a stack of arrows on her shoulder, pink scarf vibrant even in the evening light.
“Fashion?”
“Fashion. It seems to matter to them.” He passed the first few inns with their shouting and stomping feet, angling for a large, three-storey building at the end of the street. The Young Stag. Its top-floor windows were a glowing beacon and he actually swallowed in anticipation at the roast they’d be preparing.
So long as Odek the cook was still in charge, it’d be a work of art.
And there they could eat, rest, and call for a healer.
Never slowed at the sound of his footfalls. The streets were paved but not with stone – instead, large flags of something else were set in the gravelly earth. Squares of resin? Whatever it was, it had a deep, blood-like colour and the surface clacked beneath his boots.
“This is new,” he said.
“What is?”
Never pointed to the ground. “Bet it’s a delight underfoot in wet weather too.”
“But they’re scuffed,” Luis said.
“Well, I guess it’s better than mud.”
The Young Stag towered over them, lights blazing – not only from windows but lamps set at intervals along the walls. The only building in the port city made entirely from stone, it was an exclusive place that tolerated little foolishness. No stomping and shouting came from the common room, instead the low murmur of conversation and the soft strains of a harp.
