The Book of Never: Volumes 1-5

by Ashley Capes

  “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 asked. 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 blad
e 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.

  Movement caught his eye.

  Behind Luis, who was examining the floor for tracks, something stirred.

  Finally.

  A torso was rising from the stones, as if sitting up from a grave. Two more to the left of the first, and three more opposite them. Grey-Faces, all. They were sitting up, rising to their spindly feet.

  Never clenched his sword – the Leschnilef had been lying in wait, lying within the very stone itself. The shuffling whispers of dry skin soon filled the temple from all directions. Luis had looked up with a frown, and seeing the stone-wraiths rising, leapt to Never’s side.

  “What now?” Luis asked, eyes wide.

  “If they come close, kill them,” Never said.

  “That’s our plan?”

  “For now.”

  Most of the figures were emaciated beyond that of the vision he’d received in the Hanik Library. Skin hung from their bones in thin strips. Their narrow eyes were deep-set, a weak glow within. Few possessed a full set of intact limbs; others were missing whole arms or legs, their limping supported by crutches made from yellowed bones.

  The Leschnilef gasped and hissed with each step, as though their lungs were straining. One of the things ran a maggoty-white tongue over cracked lips.

  In the forefront stood a stronger stone wraith – taller, his grey skin taut but whole. Still not the creature of Never’s vision, but moving fluidly enough. Talons tipped its fingers. Worn leather belt and dark pants, torn to the knees, made up the only clothing – its chest was little more than a wall of visible ribs.

  “Give her to us,” Never said.

  The leader raised an arm to point. You are most welcome, young fools. Its mouth had not moved.

  “Where is she?”

  Your sacrifice will be remembered – we have waited long for this, long indeed.

  Never held the sword up to the light and the glow flared. “You will be the first to die by this.”

  So be it. The leader gestured around him. My brethren will feast upon me and then you and your friend, Amouni. We live long, on even a little of your bodies.

  “Will you?” Never raised an eyebrow. The thing was afraid, beneath the indifference. There was a hint of desperation. What could he do? His blood? But he could make no orbs, could not do what Snow had done.

  And killing them would not reveal Tsolde.

  If she lived.

  We must survive.

  Never spat. “And why is that? You are filthy scavengers, no more.”

 
How quick to judge – typical Amouni. He drew himself up. We had lived in the earth for generations before your kind came. We tended to the dark, to the great bones of the earth. Above, mankind thrived, even with our hunger. We knew when to limit the crop, how to steer them, to raise a bounty so none here would go without and yet maintain fair harvest.

  “What is he saying?” Luis asked.

  Never glared at the leader of the Leschnilef. “Fair harvest – they were lives.”

  Do you not eat?

  “That’s enough. Show us Tsolde or die. Choose quickly.”

  There is another choice. The slithering smugness of its voice returned now. It twisted its torso and flung both hands into the air. The creatures opened their mouths in unison and a deep groan rose, a hundred voices – more, he couldn’t tell.

  The sound swelled, fogging his mind.

  “Attack,” he shouted as he leapt from the table. Luis’ boots slammed after him.

  The leader fell back.

  A wraith moved to intercept Never but he swung hard and the thing’s head spun free, bouncing across the stones. The faint blue glow stayed in the air moments after Never’s swing, as if tearing at it.

  Never kicked the next thing to the ground and stomped on the chest, caving it in with a crunch. A third stone wraith lunged at him – more of a stumble, truly – and he pivoted, driving an elbow into its back, shattering the spine.

  The press of creatures grew, even as he cut them down.

  The chant continued and Luis was shouting as he swung, the sound of steel slicing through bone filling the temple. Never hacked and slashed his way to the leader, who stood in an open space, flexing his talons.

  Never broke free and charged, swinging the sword in an overhead arc.

  The wraith fell into the stone. Faster than Never’s eyes could trace, the thing was gone, swallowed by the very temple floor, though nothing had collapsed.

  An indrawn breath behind him.

  Never managed half a turn before something hard cracked into the back of his head.