The Dark Ability

by Holmberg, D. K.

  “Is that why you wanted Brusus?”

  The grin changed and he nodded. “Brusus made an excellent pawn. So much about using him was perfect. Child of a Forgotten. Skills and bloodline so that he could reach the palace.” He paused. “But then I met you.”

  Rsiran took a quick breath, suddenly understanding when Josun would have learned of the sword. “You were there when Brusus brought me to the warehouse.”

  Josun laughed. “So easy to Read. And with a gift that I could use much more easily than Brusus’s.”

  “You sent the sellsword.”

  Josun shrugged. “I had to motivate you. And now here you are. I had not expected your sneak whore to lead you back to the warehouse. I thought I would have to do more work to draw you in.” He pushed harder on the knife pressing into Jessa’s flesh. “And now that I have her… Perhaps the Great Watcher indeed smiles on me.”

  As he spoke, he flickered forward toward the sword resting along the wall near the basin, moving in a blur, as if simply disappearing and reappearing.

  Josun could Slide.

  Rsiran suddenly understood the smooth way he moved in the warehouse. Josun Slid constantly. Openly. Something Rsiran had never dared.

  Josun’s smile widened when he emerged from the Slide. He wore no signs of fatigue, none of the weakness that Rsiran felt whenever he Slid.

  “For a long time, I didn’t think I would meet another with this ability. Even the first of my family found Sliding rare. And dangerous. Seers couldn’t pierce the haze Sliding creates.” His dark smile twisted. “That was why they wanted to eradicate it. First, by claiming it a dark ability. And when that didn’t work, through breeding. They never eliminated it completely.” He smiled widely. “And now? Here I am. Still able to Slide. And then I found you. Such a useful skill for many reasons.”

  Jessa struggled a moment, and Josun tightened his grip on her. The tip of the knife pressed into her side, and she gasped. Blood dripped onto the floor, no longer content to simply stain her shirt. Torn lavender flower petals clung to her boots, stuck with mud and blood.

  Rsiran took a step forward, and Josun shook his head. “I think it best that you stay where you are. The tchalit should be here soon, seeing as I signaled for them.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Rsiran asked.

  Josun tilted his head as if debating whether to answer. “Perhaps Brusus would have sent a better message. Child of a Forgotten avenging another Forgotten, but you created more opportunity, Lareth, more deniability. And with my other plans, I couldn’t have someone else Sliding through the city.”

  Jessa started to struggle to remain upright, sagging against Josun. He held her up with a look of disgust on his face. Rsiran would have to do something soon if he wanted to save her. He began thinking of how he could Slide to her and then out of the palace again. It would only work if he could Slide. Inside the palace he was not certain he could.

  Josun smiled at him, as if Reading him. “I do not think you are skilled enough to save her.” Josun shook his head. “I must admit it fascinates me that even in spite of the council’s attempt to eradicate Sliding, it still surfaces. Perhaps that is proof that the Great Watcher truly intends for us to have the ability.” He laughed, as if he had made a joke. “Now. How should we finish off your friend? Now that I think about it, she will pose more questions. I can always find another whore.” He shoved on the knife. “I could claim self-defense. Tell the tchalit that she attacked me. Or whistle dust? I believe you have enough in that pouch for what I would need. Really, though, it takes only a little once it reaches the blood.”

  Josun tilted his head as if considering the options. “Perhaps the whistle dust is best. Deflects any attention from me. We could simply claim that you intended to leave her to take the blame. No one will mourn the loss of another Lower Town whore.”

  Jessa stiffened again at the comment.

  Rsiran resisted the urge to throw himself at Josun. “She is not a whore.”

  Josun frowned. “Oh? Did she not seduce you into attacking the council? Did she not convince you that the demonstration must be done to save Brusus? Had you only known what she would lead you into. Ah, well, perhaps that is not entirely true. It was you after all who brought her here. I must admit to curiosity about that. I knew you would be able to breach the palace, but did not expect you to make it so far. And to think I had taken such care to direct the tchalit toward where you would need to enter. Tell me—how did you reach my quarters?”

  Jessa’s eyes faded, the color draining from them and her face turning a soft pale as she wilted in Josun’s grip. How much longer did she have?

  He needed to reach her, but anything he did, Josun would anticipate. Rsiran needed to block Josun from Reading him.

  With sudden inspiration, he created an image of lorcith in his mind, using that image to reinforce the barriers in his mind. There was a sense of pressure and then release.

  “Interesting,” Josun said softly.

  Rsiran knew then that he could not Read him. Maybe he would have enough time to act. Enough time to save Jessa. Perhaps even escape.

  “It was the sword.”

  With the barriers in his mind now strong, he felt the sword pulling on him, felt the knives in his pocket, felt a distant awareness of the lorcith all around him.

  “Ah, that. I must admit it is skillfully made. A shame it will disappear with the girl.”

  “It’s mine. You stole it.”

  “Stole? How can I steal what was already mine?”

  “Yours?” Rsiran readied himself for what he needed to do, readied himself to Slide to Jessa, hoping that it worked.

  “With lorcith taken from the mines of Ilphaesn. The mines are owned by the family.”

  “The sword is mine,” Rsiran repeated.

  He felt anger growing inside him. Josun wanted to use them. Planned on killing Jessa. And would leave Rsiran with the blame. What did it matter what else he did now? If he could not save Jessa, then everything else meant nothing.

  “I think it adds nicely to my collection.”

  Rage swelled through Rsiran. The lorcith blade thrummed against his awareness, pulling at him. In response, he pulled back.

  He didn’t know who was more surprised when the sword flew toward him. Rsiran caught it by the hilt.

  Josun recovered quickly. “Interesting. An ability I have not witnessed. Could it be new? Had we more time, I would try to study you, but as you are about to be taken into custody…”

  The Elvraeth tilted his head, as if listening. A moment later, a soft pounding came from the outer chamber. The guards—tchalit he called them—had arrived.

  Rsiran had to act now.

  He Slid toward Josun, sword outstretched, his other hand reaching toward Jessa. The Slide happened smoothly, none of the grating he felt when he had Slid Jessa into the room. The only thing he felt was fatigue.

  Josun seemed to have anticipated his move and Slid away, emerging near the door, still holding Jessa. “Once they reach this room, you will find it much more difficult to Slide.”

  Rsiran’s heart fluttered. Josun was right. He wasn’t skilled enough at Sliding to save Jessa that way. He needed something else.

  The lorcith thrummed against him, almost calling to him. Could he push as he had pulled the sword? Was that what happened with Haern?

  Jessa nearly fell from Josun’s grip, and he pressed the knife deeper. Rsiran had to try.

  Feeling one of the knives tucked into his pocket, he focused on the blade, focused on the lorcith. All he needed was a moment. Long enough to startle Josun so that he could rescue Jessa and attempt to get away. The knife seemed to answer, as if understanding.

  And then he pushed on it.

  The blade tore through his pants and whistled through the air. When Josun saw the knife coming at him it was too late. Though he tried to Slide away, he failed. The knife sank into his thigh. Blood bloomed around the blade.

  He dropped Jessa to grab at the dagger.


  The door slammed open. Rsiran recognized the man who entered, the thin man from the mines, the scar on his head drawing Rsiran’s eyes.

  Why would he be here? And with Josun…

  There was no time for answers, not if he wanted to save Jessa.

  Sliding to her, he emerged only long enough to snatch her hand. Then he Slid.

  Rsiran focused on a distant sense, using the awareness of lorcith outside of the palace as an anchor, the same as he had done when Sliding to the sword in the first place. He didn’t know what it was he felt, only that the awareness was there, distant and faint, but enough to hold onto, to pull himself along as he Slid.

  Something held onto him, as if he were pushing out through an opening too small to fit. He nearly screamed at the pressure. He held tightly to Jessa, afraid to let go, not certain what would happen to her if he lost his grip. Would she be lost in some place between?

  The effort was intense, more than he had ever exerted in a single Slide.

  For a moment, he feared he could not do it, that he would be stuck within, left to whatever fate Josun intended, Jessa bleeding from the knife wound to her side.

  The thought of watching her die gave him strength.

  He pressed into the Slide with every ounce of energy he could muster, pushing with every bit of anger and rage, of frustration at what his father had done to him, every bit of hope and friendship and—possibly—love that he felt from Jessa.

  He would not let Haern’s vision come true. He would not fail her.

  And then something popped.

  Rsiran emerged, Jessa’s hand held tightly.

  Fatigue overwhelmed him, and he stumbled. His vision was dark, blackened by the effort that his Slide had taken. He smelled something smoky and familiar. The muffled sound of voices came as if from a great distance. Jessa’s hand cradled his.

  He went down. Blackness overcame him.

  He did not know if the effort of the Slide had been too much, if he had pushed too hard.

  Rsiran didn’t care. As long as he saved Jessa, it didn’t matter.

  Chapter 34

  When he finally came back around, Haern looked down at him. His scar seemed to gleam.

  “Haern?”

  Haern leaned over him. His face was tight and clean, and his breath smelled of tobanash. His blue shirt was buttoned to the collar and was tucked into brown pants made of some loose fitting material. Rsiran searched quickly for a weapon, instinctively sensing for lorcith. He felt a collection of his knives somewhere nearby and the sword somewhere else, but nothing on Haern.

  Now completely awake, he looked around. He lay on a small mat on the ground in Della’s main room. A fire burned in the hearth nearby. Incense gave off a spicy scent and helped clear his head. Light filtered through windows at the front of the house, and shifting shadows played across the walls.

  The sudden fear he felt at seeing Haern cleared his mind completely. Glancing around, he saw a foldout cot set near the fireplace. Jessa’s dark hair splayed off the side. At first he wasn’t certain she still lived, but her chest rose and fell steadily. He heaved a sigh of relief and sagged back onto the cot.

  “You ignored my advice,” Haern said.

  Rsiran made a point of looking at him. “You tried to kill me.” Had he more energy, the anger he felt at seeing Haern would simmer over into his words.

  Surprisingly, Haern smiled. “Did I?”

  “Didn’t you?”

  Rsiran remembered the experience clearly, remembered the way the knife slashed toward him, almost as if in slow motion, his awareness of the lorcith in the blade he forged surging, the sudden urge to push the knife away from him… and the way the knife suddenly flung away.

  Haern only shrugged. “I seem to have a different recollection. I could See only glimpses of you, but what I saw gave me enough to know which way you needed to be pushed.” He said the last with a smile.

  “So you weren’t trying to kill me?” Rsiran asked, incredulous. The malice on Haern’s face had seemed so real.

  “Your dying would have shifted my vision for Jessa,” he said unapologetically. “She would have failed to enter the palace and return to help Brusus. The possibility of her success was minimal without help.” Haern narrowed eyes that suddenly flared a deep green. “I could not See what would happen when she returned to Brusus. Perhaps Brusus would have failed or she would have helped him succeed. Either way, they would have been farther along whatever pathway the Elvraeth had set them upon. I Saw nothing but darkness in that direction.”

  Rsiran was not sure he followed what Haern was saying. “You wanted me to try to break into the palace on my own? That’s why you tried to kill me?”

  Haern smiled. “Much like with Josun, I See very little of you, Rsiran. Something of your ability masks you. But I Saw that without any prompting, you might not learn of your other talent, the one I Saw to be essential to your success.” He watched Rsiran’s face. “On your own, you would have been captured. Possibly killed as well. And then Brusus and Jessa would have been left alone for a while. I suspect eventually Josun would have turned his attention back to Brusus.” He frowned. “There is something about Brusus that he wants.”

  “You knew Jessa would not stay behind. You knew she would force me to include her.”

  Rsiran wondered how clear Haern’s visions were. How much did he know about what would happen? Did they have any choice in what they did?

  “I knew you needed to try to leave her behind. Beyond that…” He shrugged. “I could not See. Only,” he paused and looked from Rsiran to Jessa, “that it was one of the few paths where the possibility of success existed.”

  Rsiran shook his head and closed his eyes. “I still don’t understand.”

  “In time you will.”

  “Is Jessa…”

  “She will be fine. The knife penetrated deeply, but the wound was not tainted. Della healed her. Rest is all she needs now.”

  Rsiran rolled over to look at her again. From where he lay on the floor, all he could see clearly was her hair and the outline of her body in the flickering light of the fire. The near paralyzing fear he had felt at the possibility of losing her had surprised him. Had Josun counted on that?

  “What of Josun?” Rsiran asked.

  A different voice answered. “About that.”

  Rsiran turned. Brusus stood in the doorway, a large binding wrapped around his shirtless torso. Blood stained the bandages. His face was haggard and drawn. Lines wrinkled his forehead that had not been there before. Streaks of thicker white shot through his otherwise dark hair. He held the sword Rsiran had taken back from Josun.

  He leaned against the doorway and looked relaxed, but the strain on his face told Rsiran all he needed to know about Brusus’s strength.

  “You were foolish to attempt what you did,” Brusus said.

  Rsiran nodded. Only a complete fool would try to break into the palace. “I didn’t think I had any other choice.”

  Brusus snorted. “Haven’t I shown you anything? There is always another choice.” He took a deep breath and started to sigh, but a fit of coughing interrupted him. After it passed, he shook his head. “Took nearly dying for me to see what Josun wanted. Had I only trusted Haern, I might have known sooner.”

  “Known what?” Rsiran asked.

  “I told you there were layers to him,” Brusus said. “To Josun, partly this was a game. A game he played where you were one of the pieces. Where I was one of the pieces.” He shook his head. “As far as Josun is concerned, the Elvraeth struggle for position, for power. Most of his life has been spent trying to position himself higher within the family.”

  Rsiran frowned and opened his mouth to comment on Brusus’s birth, but held back the comment when Brusus shot him a look. “He’s not the only one, Brusus,” Rsiran said, thinking of the man from the mines. Others were involved in Josun’s rebellion. And they knew of him, and what he could do. They would come for him. “There are others in this rebellion.”
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  “Perhaps,” Brusus said. “But you—and I—were but a piece,” Brusus said. “A distraction. Perhaps bait. All intended as part of his larger plan.”

  Rsiran considered arguing with Brusus, that Josun hadn’t known of Rsiran until he had gone to the warehouse. But was that even true? If Josun spoke in layers, what prevented even that from being the truth? And saying something would only risk revealing what he knew of Brusus, and he wasn’t sure Brusus wanted the rest of the group to know that secret.

  “He wanted to blame me for what he planned. He knew I could Slide.”

  Haern and Brusus looked at each other. Brusus had a worried look on his face.

  “Did he say what he planned?” Brusus asked.

  Rsiran shook his head. He licked dry lips, wishing for water. “He wanted me to poison members of the council. I thought he wanted power, but that wasn’t all.”

  Brusus closed his eyes for a moment. “His demonstration. Power for him, but revenge might be a more accurate term. His sister was exiled. I only learned about it after…” Brusus sighed. “I’ve been more a fool than I realized.”

  Exiled—Forgotten—just like Brusus’s mother.

  “Brusus,” Rsiran started, fearing what he needed to say next. “He will come after us again. The Elvraeth will come for us.”

  “No. He will not. They will not.”

  Rsiran turned back. “What do you mean?”

  It was Haern who answered. “From what I can See, Josun is dead.”

  “Dead?” The knife had only been a distraction, a way to get Jessa away from him. And it had only been his leg.

  “I can tell from your face that you didn’t know,” Brusus said.

  “He was alive when we… I… Slid us away.”

  “And it was Josun who hurt Jessa?” Haern asked. He made no effort to hide the heat in his voice.

  Rsiran nodded. “I pushed one of the knives at him. Hit his leg.”

  Brusus looked down at Rsiran’s pants. “Explains how your pants were damaged. Della fretted over a possible injury, fearing poisoning, especially with that...”