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The Young Stag: The Book of Never, #6.5
The Young Stag: The Book of Never, #6.5
The Young Stag: The Book of Never, #6.5
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The Young Stag: The Book of Never, #6.5

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Rejoin Never in this short story as he fights to take back Tsolde's inn from the clutches of a greedy nobleman.

 

After returning from Kiymako, Never discovers that Tsolde's inn, the Young Stag, is now owned by Lord Taginus - a wastrel and a cad. Yet the man hides a troubling secret, and when Never stumbles upon it he quickly finds a far darker adversary than he first imagined.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 19, 2020
ISBN9780648770459
The Young Stag: The Book of Never, #6.5
Author

Ashley Capes

Hi, I'm Ashley, an Australian poet, novelist and teacher.I've been writing since before my teen years (as so many writers have) and started publishing in 2008, mostly in the poetry world. To date I've had six poetry collections published and released seven novels and novellas. When I'm not flat out writing, I tend to teach, usually Music Production, Media Studies and English. Teaching is a tough gig but it's meant to be - learning is a deeply complex process.Before teaching, I did a few other things - I played in a metal band, worked in an art gallery and slaved away at music retail. Aside from reading and writing, I love volleyball and Studio Ghibli – and Magnum PI, easily one of the greatest television shows ever made. I've also been enjoying Cowboy Bebop quite a lot.My first novel was an epic fantasy/adventure title called City of Masks, released by Snapping Turtle Books in 2014. We followed it with the second part of the trilogy, The Lost Mask the year after. The conclusion - Greatmask is forthcoming in 2016.In between I also released shorter novels The Fairy Wren, A Whisper of Leaves, Crossings and the beginning of 'The Book of Never' series, The Amber Isle.

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    Book preview

    The Young Stag - Ashley Capes

    The Young Stag

    Never narrowed his eyes at the Young Stag where it sat beneath the morning sun – much had changed.

    Bright bunting hung from the inn’s balconies and heavy purple drapes covered the windows – there was even a pair of statues flanking the doors, overwrought carvings of leaping stags... and none of it anything either Tsolde or Luis would have chosen.

    Something was very wrong in Lenan.

    He approached the wooden door and pushed it open; a wave of warm air and soft flute song washing over him. Heads turned, many wearing the bright scarves common to the port town, but they appeared to be almost uniformly overdressed considering Tsolde’s usual patrons. Not to say her regulars were brigands by any stretch, but this was an exclusively noble crowd now – not counting the serving girls, of course, whose expressions were barely constrained frowns.

    Suddenly, the tattered hems of his old cloak and the patches to his pant legs – not to mention his unshaven cheeks – seemed rather out of place. One woman sniffed into her wineglass as he passed; he winked at her then chuckled to himself when she flinched away. Her fop of a dining companion stood with an expression of outrage – opening his mouth to speak, but Never flipped a blade into his hand. In the same motion, he returned it to an inner-pocket.

    The man sat with a thump.

    Never continued on to the bar, tapping his fingers on the polished wood while he waited. A serving girl soon appeared, wiping strands of hair from her flushed face. Sorry, it’s extra busy tonight... sir, she said, hesitating when she finally saw him.

    No trouble. If you could tell me whether the mistress is in, I can be out of your way.

    Ah... the mistress? Do you mean, Lady Oniwyn?

    No, I mean Tsolde. The owner of this inn – she’s your employer, you know?

    Ah, no sir. Lord Taginus owns the Stag.

    Dark news. Since when?

    I’m not sure... I’ve not been here very long.

    He frowned. Do you know where Tsolde might be?

    No, sir.

    Never tapped his fingers upon the bench again. Who would know? Augim had died... had all the staff been replaced? He turned to face the diners but none of the women moving between tables were familiar. The stable? Thank you, he said, and headed

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