“Rsiran, you’re asking questions that won’t help you face the Hjan.”
“Fine. Then let me ask who else might be out there who could help us face them? Della suggested that we find allies to help. If they were a league of assassins, then we should be able to find people who have suffered at their hands.”
“There were many people who suffered under the Hjan,” Haern said. “But few knew that it was the Hjan. That’s the key to what they do. They hide in the shadows, working in ways that keep their identities secret. When they attack and you finally understand, it’s too late.” He shook his head. “What we’re facing is nothing like my prior experience with the Hjan. This… this is open warfare. And that makes me nervous.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s nothing like what they typically do. The Hjan—and Venass—would prefer that you not know they are coming after you. For them to face Elaeavn—and you—so openly, means either they feel they no longer have to hide in the shadows, or this isn’t their primary target.”
“What other target would they have?” Rsiran asked. “If not for the crystals, and the Elder Trees, what do you think they might be after?”
“As I said, that’s what worries me. Venass has never been open about what they pursue, not like they have been about the crystals and now you. They have demonstrated much more strength than I knew them to possess. Had I only known sooner, I would have shared my concerns with you and the others, and we could have been a step ahead.”
Rsiran Slid forward a few steps, pulling on his knives, sweeping them through the forest so that they lit the trees. “Then we need to figure out what else Venass might be after.”
“That’s just it. They have been after the same thing for as long as I’ve associated with them. It’s always been about power, getting stronger.”
“That’s what the crystals are for them.”
“Yes,” Haern started, the troubled expression still on his face, “but this is not the same.”
“Do you think they want to take over Elaeavn?”
Haern frowned. “Ruling has never been important to Venass, at least not from what I know. They have cared more for exerting their strength and not having limitations, but the actual ruling?” He shook his head. “They would leave that to someone else.”
Haern fell silent.
“Are we done?” Rsiran asked.
“I’m sorry, Rsiran.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. But I can help with whatever bothers you.”
Haern sighed. “I’m not sure that you can.” He nodded to the trees. “I think I’ll walk back, if you don’t mind.”
Rsiran nodded. “If that’s what you want.”
Haern started off without another word.
Rsiran watched him disappear. He’d have to find out from Jessa what bothered him. He hadn’t been the same since Venass attacked the city. At first, Rsiran thought it had to do with him getting injured, but the more time that passed, the more likely it was that something else troubled him. Maybe that had been it at first, but there was more to it now.
He considered returning to his smithy. Luca waited for him, and Rsiran had been gone a great deal over the last few weeks, leaving the boy he’d promised to train unsupported. Members of the guild, including Seval, also wanted to reach him. The other masters wanted to meet with him regularly, but he’d been too busy with everything he’d been working on with Valn and Sarah, too busy chasing Venass to focus on guild business, but that would have to change. He’d committed to working with the guild, and needed to be available for them.
The shadowsteel troubled him, and he needed to know more about it. If there was any secret that Venass hid, that would be it, wouldn’t it? He felt certain that the shadowsteel was the key to how they would gain the power they sought.
After considering for a moment, he Slid and emerged in the depths of the Ilphaesn mine.
He didn’t come to the mine as often as he wished he could. Now that lorcith glowed within the walls, he had none of the fear that once consumed him when he’d been here. Now he felt welcomed, not only by the stone of the mountain, but by the lorcith within.
The air smelled of the bitterness of lorcith. Whereas he had once felt the scent a reminder of his disappointment to his father, he now found it pleasing and reassuring. Heartstone once had a sickly sweet odor, but now he found it equally reassuring. Some of that came from the fact that he smelled both during his Slides, as if the Sliding itself was somehow tied to his connection to the metal, but that couldn’t be, especially since those of the Sliding Guild did not require the connection to lorcith—or heartstone—in order to effectively Slide.
Rsiran made his way through the tunnel, Sliding at times and at others, simply walking. As he did, he focused on the pull of lorcith around him. When he found a piece that called to him more strongly than others, he paused and pulled it from the walls. He no longer had need of pick or hammer to remove lorcith; that was probably the reason the Miner Guild disliked the fact that he came to the mines alone. They didn’t prevent him access, and he wasn’t sure they could if they wanted to, but he’d seen the irritation on their guildlord’s face the first time they met.
None of the convict miners worked this deep in the mine. If he focused, he could hear the miners above him, and could sense the way they chipped away at the mountain, slowly working at the lorcith. Now more often than when he had served here, the miners found larger lumps of lorcith, the restrictions that some from the guild had once Compelled now removed.
He paused as he pulled at another piece of lorcith, this one larger than any of the others he’d pulled from the mine today. It seemed to have multiple songs for him, as if it would let him use it in different ways than most of the lorcith that he found. It came away from the wall with a high-pitched squeal of metal on stone, and he caught it before it could crash to the ground and put it in his pocket.
This wasn’t the reason that he’d come here. And continuing to wander and search for lorcith didn’t give him any more answers about what Venass might want from him. What he needed was to return to the chamber where he’d discovered the fragments that he thought were based on the schematics. They seemed tied to whatever Venass intended to make, whether it shadowsteel or something else.
Rsiran Slid and emerged in that chamber. He paused and listened, focusing on the metal around him, searching for what might be out of place. He found nothing in particular. Why would Venass have come here? What was here that they couldn’t find elsewhere?
And was there anything that would tie it to the shadowsteel?
Rsiran found nothing. Scanning the area, he sought the same metal that he’d discovered before, but he’d taken that out of Ilphaesn and left it in his smithy.
Why did this have to be so hard? All he needed was to find out where Venass might create shadowsteel. If Ephram would only help, it might be easier.
He had another question that he might be able to get answered while here in the mine. Rsiran wasn’t quite sure how to ask the lorcith if his using it drained the metal of its potential, but of all places, this was the most likely one in which he would find an answer.
But not here. Where Venass had set up and forced Luca to mine seemed like the wrong place for him to search for answers, as if the metal here might have been changed by their presence. There was another place he could go, one where he knew lorcith had responded primarily to him. He Slid and emerged in the open space of the chamber at the center of the mines.
He risked the miners finding him, but it was early enough in the day that they likely were deeper in the mine. Not long ago, he had discovered massive amounts of lorcith here and had taken it to his smithy for safekeeping. He still didn’t know if the Miner Guild had pulled that lorcith from the mine, or if it had been someone else. Rsiran didn’t want to ask the guild—that risked their anger when he attempted to build a rapport with them—but his curiosity remained.
The walls glowed with a steady white light from the
potential of the lorcith, pushing back the darkness that he’d known when sentenced to serve here. A single lantern hung from a hook that had been pounded into the wall, giving a strange orange glow that contrasted with the potential from the lorcith, but only to him. He Slid away from the light where he didn’t have to risk the miners coming up from below, and where he could practically bathe in the potential from the lorcith. He listened to the song, focusing on it as it hummed around him.
How did he ask lorcith if he sapped its potential by using it?
Could he do anything like he did when he forged it?
Emptying his mind, he thought of the lorcith, even envisioning his forge, and sent the question, doing it without words but as an imagined question to lorcith.
Rsiran stood, waiting for a response.
Surprisingly, the lorcith in his pocket that he’d collected deeper in the mine answered. Maybe that shouldn’t be surprising to him. He had pulled this piece from the wall because he was more attuned to it. It made sense that it would answer him first.
The song within the metal hummed within him. As it did, he became aware of the song changing, of it shifting, growing muted, but then becoming louder once more.
What does that mean?
The metal flared again, this time vividly within his mind.
Rsiran had a vision come to him, and he didn’t doubt that it came from the lorcith itself rather than from anything that he did. The vision showed the Elder Trees, but not the Elder Trees as he knew them when he stood within the forest. This was the Elder Trees as he knew them when he Slid to the place between, when he waited, where he had healed Della, using the power of the Elder Trees that he could only see in that place.
What did the lorcith mean in showing him that?
Did the power of the lorcith come from the Elder Trees? For that matter, did his?
All his life, he had believed that his people had abilities given to them by the Great Watcher, but Rsiran had no abilities of the Great Watcher. His all came from the ancient clans, and were tied to the guilds of today. In some ways, he wondered why his eyes were even green, though they were faint compared to most, more of a gray green. As he learned about the ties to the Elder Trees, he wondered why he should be so tightly bound to them. What made him different? Della claimed that Seers of long ago saw that someone with the Blood of the Watcher and the Blood of the Elders would unify the connection, but she described it as something that would help the people of Elaeavn, and Rsiran didn’t think that his abilities were able to help Elaeavn.
The vision returned, stronger than the last time. Strangely enough, in the vision from the lorcith, all five trees glowed brightly with power.
Noise from down the mineshaft caught his attention, and he let out a deep breath as he Slid back to Elaeavn. As he did, he couldn’t shake the vision of the Elder Trees, and he couldn’t shake the sense that he needed to do more to help them.
Chapter 7
Rsiran Slid, unable to remain in Elaeavn. With every moment that he remained in the city, he felt more pressure to be doing something else, even if it was nothing more than roaming outside of the city.
Standing now within the trees of the Aisl Forest, darkness felt oppressive, and almost a living thing. An occasional howl deeper in the forest caught his attention, and he shivered, trying not to pay too much attention to it.
Thoughts raced through his mind. How would they defeat Venass when Venass seemed determined to continue to improve the types of weapons they used against him? And they were targeted at him, not at anyone else in the city, making him even more uncomfortable with doing nothing more than continuing to forge knives that he was no longer confident would be effective against Venass. Somehow, he had to continue to improve, but how would he?
The next Slide took him past Ilphaesn. He sensed it behind him, a massive weight of lorcith that he could practically feel pushing against him. Another Slide carried him farther north. Not east. East would have taken him toward the Thyrass River, and to Thyr. He feared getting close to Thyr and the heart of Venass.
Asador was another matter entirely. He didn’t fear Asador, though he had nearly died there more than once. The next Slide took him within the city. Night kept the streets dark, fitting his mood. He emerged with the next Slide inside the smithy where he’d discovered his sword when Josun had stolen it.
The smithy remained dark, and the air held a musty odor. No one had worked here in some time. Why had Josun brought the sword here? Rsiran needed some way of discovering what he intended, but other than the knife that Josun had left for him in Eban, he had nothing. A bin of metal looked untouched, a layer of dust atop the iron and steel making it clear that no one had been here in ages. The lorcith was gone, though.
He suspected that this was one of the places the Forgotten had forced the abducted smiths to work, but there were other places, as well, deeper underground where they had recovered some of the smiths.
Rsiran Slid again, this time, emerging back in the street. Here, they had faced the Forgotten, friends of his nearly killed. Many had died that day. Without Valn, Jessa would have died, and the Forgotten would not have been slowed.
Why had he come here?
This had been where he had found his father. There was a reason that Venass wanted the master smith. Maybe they had him working with shadowsteel, devising the weapons that they now used. Perhaps he was even responsible for creating the implants they used.
Would his father know who they targeted, or would he have simply done what they asked, hoping that Venass would leave Alyse alone? It was possible they had even told his father how Venass targeted Rsiran. Given that his father had no use for Rsiran and had done his best to remove him from the family, that might have been enough to get him working on their behalf.
He shook the thought away, thinking through what he needed. Della’s advice rang true in his mind, like most of what she told him. Venass had to have enemies other than Elaeavn. But how would he find them? Until all of this started happening, he had never even left the city, and knew relatively little about the outside world. What he needed was someone who did. Haern wouldn’t help, but what of Brusus?
The next Slide took him to the edge of the water. Asador, much like Elaeavn, sat on the shores of the sea. Unlike Elaeavn, the shoreline here was flat and sandy rather than the rocky shore of his home. He could just make out the dark shapes of ships moored out in the bay, outlined by the weak light from the new moon. Men and women moved along the docks, an unusual sight compared to Elaeavn where everything would be quiet at this time of night. Taverns lined the streets along the docks, at least a dozen of them, all bawdy and full of loud music. Were he more of a local, such places would be a way to get information, but Rsiran was an outsider in Asador.
But weren’t most people outsiders in this city?
He patted his pockets, ensuring he had his knives. Doing so was nothing more than reflex. The lorcith and heartstone within the knives drew on his awareness, so he always knew when he had them with him. Drawing his hood up over his head, he chose to wander the street.
As he did, he let his focus drift, looking for lorcith or heartstone or anything that might tug on his senses. Nothing really did. There were some of the metals here, but they were decorative for the most part. He found a few items that he’d made, even one knife, but nothing that would be out of the ordinary. Given that Brusus and Firell had made such an effort to ship his knives out of Elaeavn, maintaining the secrecy of their efforts, as well as trying to get as much money for them as possible, there should be things that he’d made in the city, much like he hadn’t been terribly surprised to discover something of his in Cort.
Rsiran nearly Slid away, when a particular item caught his attention.
Not another knife. He wasn’t prepared to face Josun Elvraeth tonight. But something unexpected, and an item that he hadn’t made, but one that he had held before, and had held him.
Could he be here?
Rsiran stopped at the door
to the tavern and pushed it open.
Loud music assaulted him, that of a steady rhythmic drumming and a stringed instrument that he had never seen before. A singer attempted to scream his voice above the drumming, but failed. Rsiran rubbed at his ears, fearing for the safety of his hearing, but he’d never been a Listener, so what would losing a little matter?
The tavern was full, packed with people standing at tables and mingling between them. Most had the familiar look of fishermen, the same look that he’d seen from men along the docks of Elaeavn. These were hard men, some with piercing through their ears or nose and even a few through their lips. One man had what seemed to be a fishhook through his brow.
Rsiran made an effort not to stare as he scanned the room.
Women made their way through the tavern, as well, but fewer in number. Most of the women appeared as hard as the men, many dressed in loose-fitting or practically non-existent clothing, and several with the same types of piercings as the men. They were fishers, as well, he suspected, but not the kind that came through Elaeavn. Other women had painted faces and wore tight-fitting dresses, and leaned in to whisper softly in men’s—and sometimes women’s—ears before leading them toward the back of the tavern.
He had almost given up on finding Firell when he saw him sitting at a table in the corner of the tavern, a drink clutched in his hand, another man sitting across from him. Firell tossed dice on the table, and the frown that came to his face made it clear that he wasn’t pleased with what he’d rolled. The Elvraeth chains that Rsiran detected were wrapped around his neck, hidden by the heavy cloak that he wore.
Rsiran pushed his way through the crowd, making his way to Firell. As he approached, Firell glanced up, his eyes going wide for a moment before he nodded to the man across from him. The man stood and faced Rsiran. His hand lunged toward him, catching him off guard.
Rsiran grabbed it and twisted the man’s arm behind him, forcing him into a vulnerable position that Haern had shown him. “That’s how you’ll greet me, Firell?” he asked.
The Guild Secret (The Dark Ability Book 6) Page 5