Imperial Towers

Chapter 5.

Never could get a clear look at it. Made of bone?

“I don’t have a lot of leisure time, you know, Smokey.”

“Be sure to protect anything that you do not wish to become temporarily soaked,” Cog said.

Never raised an eyebrow. “You’re a patient fellow, aren’t you?”

Cog chuckled. “Does it bother you that I am not easily ruffled?”

“It certainly does.” Never secured his batena and then glanced around – there were few places to tether a horse. Best to simply let her go free. “But we won’t dwell on that now. Would you care to tell me what’s happening?” He had his own suspicions but did not volunteer anything – better to keep Cog, and therefore Snow, in the dark about what Never knew.

Or thought he knew.

“We are about to travel a great distance.”

“Very well,” Never said.

Cog turned back to the water. “Here.”

Something stirred beneath the dark surface, a golden colour grew... and a fish-head broke free, followed by a human neck and shoulders. A man-like figure, draped in deep yellow robes, soon stood on the surface.

Bare arms remained at his side, but the fish-head regarded Cog expectantly.

Just as Never had expected.

Yet how could Cog call such a figure forth? Surely he had no Amouni blood? No, the pendant. Or something Snow had taught the man – the Amouni words? Again Cog spoke, and still Never could not catch the meaning.

It shall be so, Guest. The fish-man said. To Never, he nodded. Welcome back, Master.

Never affected a look of shock, which Cog appeared to accept. “Simply take his hand when offered. We will enter the river and the guide will take care of the rest.”

“Which is?” Never asked.

“Visiting a place of great potential,” he said as he stepped into the river. The water reached his knees only. “Come quickly. Not all guides are fully present in the world after such a long time dormant.”

Never followed, grimacing at the chill river and reaching for the guide’s outstretched hand.

Do not release my hand. The guide’s toneless voice rang in his head.

Never obeyed, and gave a gasp when the guide drew him beneath the current.

Cold, blackness enveloped him.

Did even his bones shiver? Yet there was air aplenty in the darkness and the streaking colours he’d experienced on the River Rinsa in Hanik returned. Yellow and purple, orange slicing through as the inky world consumed them. Cog was nowhere to be seen, yet the guide remained close, a strong presence that only began to dwindle when the colours slowed and faded. The surface of the lake appeared above and soon the pale glow from a red and white tiled room was revealed. Surely it was the same room as he’d come across on the Rinsa? And if so, how far had they travelled, and at what speed? Were the rivers even directly connected? He couldn’t recall.

As before, when Never climbed from the pool – Cog beside him – he found his clothes drying quickly. The guide stood within the black pool of water, not a single drop of dew beading on its alabaster skin.

Cog thanked the guide – shajul – this time Never caught and recognised it, and the yellow robes faded to black as the fish-man disappeared.

“Where is this place?” Never asked.

“It is known as the Vestibule, located in Hanik,” he replied, approaching the podium. “We must complete a ceremony swiftly, for you to learn what Snow has permitted me to offer.”

“Lead on,” Never said, waving a hand.

At the podium, Cog removed a vial of blood from his pack and with careful, even reverent movements, allowed a single drop to strike the surface.

Silvery light appeared in the wall, allowing a door to open. Cog led him into a circular chamber and the sight of the strange, steel furniture confirmed Never’s suspicion. As with his last visit, Never eyed what he thought of as ‘transfer tables’. What was their true purpose? Still dust-covered, they surrounded the wide, centre-dais and each table sloped toward the tiled floor, where a central drain lay concealed beneath the tiles.

The tables narrowed even further at the top, before spreading in a circle as if for a head to rest.

A chill ran across his shoulders.

Cog gestured around him. “You now stand within one of the only Amouni spaces to survive the Eradication. Its functions remain intact – see the Preparation Tables, how they have not rusted?”

Never raised an eyebrow. So Snow had been to the Preparation Chamber. “What does this place prepare then? What have you brought me here to tell me? How will I be able to return to my friends? Via that... strange fish-man?” He had nearly said guide but it was still best to hide the extent of his familiarity, limited though it was.

“This chamber prepares the Amouni.”

Never couldn’t fight a glimmer of curiosity. “For what?”

“Flight,” Cog said with a smile. “Here, if you are willing to trust me, is where your wings, long-dormant, will finally be awoken.”

Chapter 6.

Never blinked. Wings? That wasn’t possible... even for the Amouni, surely?

Fool, of course it was.

Snow had wings and they came from somewhere. Why not an ancient Amouni preparation chamber? Yet that didn’t explain how. Or why? Apparently Cog was going to claim he knew ‘how’ at least. And more, claim that Snow wanted Never to find his wings.

Never rolled his shoulders, an itch growing in the middle of his back. Gods, did his body believe it? There wasn’t a single moment in all his life that might have hinted at the fact that he – or Snow for that matter – had wings hidden somewhere within his body.

“You don’t believe me?” Cog asked.

“It’s rather difficult to do so.”

“Understandable.”