The Tower of Venass (The Dark Ability Book 3)

by Holmberg, D. K.

  His father stared at the crackling coals and said nothing.

  Rsiran stood and took a deep breath. He wouldn’t get angry—not again. “Why were you trapped there? What did they want with you?”

  Moments passed with the only sound that of the coals snapping. Finally, his father shook his head. “They wanted you.” He spoke softly and didn’t look over at Rsiran.

  “Why? What would they want with me?”

  “Because you started this. You began making weapons of lorcith again. For centuries, that had been forbidden.” He looked up, and a distant look crossed his eyes. “You think you control the lorcith? You think me cruel for forcing it to become what I want rather than letting the ore work through me? You think you have learned so much, that you know what it means to have the blood of the smiths run through you, but you are nothing more than a child playing at the forge.”

  Rsiran swallowed and leaned forward but felt Jessa’s hand on his arm. She squeezed, pulling him back before he did or said something more foolish than he’d already managed. He looked over at her, saw the way she bit her lip, her chin tilted toward her flower as she sniffed softly, and knew she’d been right. He shouldn’t have come.

  He took her hand. “This was a mistake,” he said.

  “You’ve made plenty,” his father said.

  Rsiran sighed. “Maybe I should have left you in the cage in Asador with the Forgotten. You would have been happier then, if you’ve ever been really happy. At least I wouldn’t have to wonder if I did right by bringing you back to Elaeavn.” He turned and looked at Jessa. “Let’s go.”

  She looked over at his father as if she wanted to say something but bit her lip again. She held his hand, squeezing.

  Rsiran Slid toward the door. He wouldn’t give his father the satisfaction of hiding the ability from him. Not after everything he’d been through. At the door, he hesitated. Without looking back, he said, “Alyse thinks you left her and mother. Should she think you’re dead too?”

  His father sucked in a quick breath. “You’ve seen Alyse?”

  It hurt that Alyse meant so much to him. “I’ve seen her. She works in Lower Town now.”

  “How… how was she?”

  Rsiran snorted and shook his head. Perhaps he should have started with word on Alyse. Maybe then, he would have gotten the answers he wanted. “Angry. But well.” Rsiran looked back. His father stared at the wall rather than the fire. “If I see her again?”

  “Whatever else happens to them, it’s better for them that I be dead.” He looked over to Rsiran, and his eyes softened. “Let them have that,” he begged.

  Rsiran stared, debating his answer. Finally, he nodded and then Slid past the door.

  Chapter 2

  Thom looked at Rsiran as he emerged. His brown eyes flickered from Rsiran to Jessa before looking at the door. “You left it locked.”

  Rsiran looked over at the door, cursing to himself. In his haste to leave, he’d forgotten that Jessa had locked the door. As he readied to Slide back inside, Jessa signaled him by squeezing his hand.

  “You have a key in your pocket,” Jessa said to Thom.

  A tight smile pulled at his mouth, and he nodded slightly to Jessa, the scar atop his head gleaming against the moonlight. “Sighted then?” he asked.

  Clever, Rsiran realized. Thom knew enough about Elaeavn to wonder what abilities each of them had. And by simply Sliding into the hut, Rsiran had announced his ability. At least his other skill remained hidden.

  Jessa said nothing.

  Thom fished the key from his pocket and held it up. “Wouldn’t be much use if I didn’t have a key. Gotta piss sometimes and can’t leave him there unlocked.”

  Rsiran laughed softly. “What does Brusus plan for him?” It was a question he hadn’t dared ask Brusus yet, fearing the answer. He hadn’t seen much of Brusus in the last few weeks. Safer to stay within the smithy.

  Thom shrugged. “Don’t know. Sometimes there’s different levels to what he intends, you know? He tells me one thing, but means another.”

  Rsiran couldn’t help but note how similar that seemed to the way Brusus had once described Josun. “Has Brusus been here?”

  “Not that I’ve seen. But the old man mostly just sits quietly.” He snorted. “Tried asking questions but got nowhere. One time, I asked about his family, and I had to hold him back.”

  Rsiran frowned, having a hard time envisioning that happening.

  Thom shook his head and turned to the door. As he slipped the key into the lock, he said, “The old man has got a temper with questions. Surprised he didn’t jump you too.”

  “It wouldn’t matter.”

  Thom looked over his shoulder as he twisted the key. “No. From what I’ve seen it wouldn’t.” He opened the door a crack. “So who is he?”

  Rsiran debated answering. He knew nothing about Thom, just that Brusus trusted him. Once that would have been enough. Now he wasn’t as certain. “Neran Lareth.”

  “Lareth?”

  “My father.”

  Thom smiled wide and laughed. “Strange families you have in Elaeavn.” Thom hesitated. “So have you been to my homeland too?”

  Rsiran frowned. “Homeland?” Did he mean Thyr? Or did Thom come from someplace else?

  Thom tipped his head. “Sithlan. Your father said he’d…” A smile pulled at the corners of Thom’s mouth. “No. I can see you haven’t.” He disappeared inside, closing the door behind him. The lock slipped into place with a loud click.

  Jessa stared at Thom before pulling on Rsiran’s hand. “Do you feel better that we came?”

  Rsiran frowned. What had Thom meant that his father had been to Sithlan? As far as Rsiran knew, he’d never been anywhere other than Elaeavn. Why had he never said anything about leaving the city?

  He sighed. Did it matter how well he knew his father? After everything that had happened between them, perhaps the mystery of their experiences was the difference. Rsiran had long ago given up on the idea that he might learn to understand his father, perhaps even have his father understand him.

  “Not better,” he admitted. “But I needed to come.”

  “To have him do that to you? Do you still think you deserve that? After everything your ability has let you do, you still think you deserve to be treated like that?”

  The way his father treated him went deeper than his ability. The ability to Slide had surprised and scared Rsiran. When he first awoke on Krali Rock, not knowing how he’d gotten there, he’d gone to his father for answers and hoped for support. Instead, everything changed. To his father, Sliding was a dark ability, one for thieves and criminals. And Rsiran had used it to sneak places he should not have been—places like the Elvraeth palace or Firell’s ship—but he’d also used it to help his friends. For his father, what Rsiran had done was worse than that. He’d turned away from his apprenticeship, as well, leaving no one to take over the smithy that had been in the family since the founding of Elaeavn.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think,” he said.

  Jessa punched him gently on the shoulder. “You’re still an idiot.” She pulled him along the path leading away from the wooden hut. Massive trees quickly stretched overhead, blocking much of the moonlight, leaving dark shadows hanging around them. “If you think it doesn’t matter, then it doesn’t. I think it matters. Brusus and Della too.”

  Rsiran shook his head. “Brusus hasn’t been exactly honest with us.”

  Jessa shook her head. Her short brown hair swished as she did, and she grabbed it with her free hand, pulling it back over her shoulder. “He’s got his reasons. We can’t know what it was like, what he’s gone through knowing where he came from, but unable to reach the palace. I’d think you would understand more than most.”

  Rsiran understood. Brusus thought to learn about the Forgotten, but in doing so, he’d pulled Rsiran—and Jessa—into something more.

  “I can Slide us—” He wanted to get back to the safety of the smithy. Out in the Aisl, he fe
lt safe enough, but once they reached Elaeavn, the familiar anxiety would return. Fear of what could happen—had almost happened—to Jessa.

  “Let’s walk,” Jessa said.

  Rsiran didn’t push. Besides, standing beneath the sjihn trees of the Aisl, a sense of peace washed over him, different from what he felt while in the city. Standing here, he could almost imagine what it must have been like before their people moved to Elaeavn, when they’d lived among the trees.

  “What do you think it would have been like?” he asked.

  Jessa frowned. “What?”

  “Living among the trees. In the Aisl. How would it have been?”

  Jessa looked at him, amusement twisting her face. “Cold. Wet. I’d rather have a roof over my head.”

  Rsiran considered the heavy canopy and wondered whether it would have mattered. “Sight would have been useful. Listeners. Probably Readers too.” He thought about the other abilities, but those seemed the most useful in the forest.

  “You don’t think Sliding would have been helpful?”

  He shrugged. “Sliding from tree to tree? That seems as dangerous as…”

  “Sliding onto a moving ship?”

  He laughed. That had been dangerous. But it had worked. If he hadn’t gone to Firell’s ship, he wouldn’t have found Josun. He would never have found Jessa. And he might never have learned about his ability with the heartstone alloy. “Didn’t you once tell me that sometimes you have to take risks to be rewarded?”

  Jessa slipped her arm around him and pulled him close. She laughed softly. “Haven’t I rewarded you for what you did?”

  Rsiran smiled. He loved the way Jessa felt against him, her warmth pressing through his clothes, the way her hips curved toward him. “You never can have enough thanks.”

  They reached a small clearing in the Aisl. A circle of rocks surrounded a soft mound of earth on the other side of the clearing. Grass had overtaken the mound, deep green in the daylight. At night, it looked practically black. Rsiran had first thought it strange that Brusus would build the wooden hut out here in the forest, so close to the place he’d buried Lianna, but suddenly realized why. He missed her and did what he could to be near her again.

  Jessa turned toward him and put both arms around him. She leaned into his chest and rested her head. As they stood for a moment, Rsiran smelled the clean scent of her hair, the crisp bite of the sjihn trees, and the damp earth beneath his feet. He could stay like this and be happy, he knew.

  A low howl echoed through the forest and made him jerk.

  Jessa laughed and pushed away, the moment ended. She pulled on her hair and bent her face toward the flower in the charm. “What now?” she asked. “Now that you’ve seen him. What do you plan?”

  Rsiran hadn’t thought that far ahead. Since rescuing Jessa, he’d focused mostly on fortifying the smithy, making it so he couldn’t be surprised again. During that time, she’d mostly watched him. Jessa would never admit it, but since Josun took her, something had changed in her. Some of the independent edge softened. Rather than roaming Elaeavn without him, she preferred to stay nearby. The only times she didn’t were when he Slid to Ilphaesn for more ore.

  “I don’t know. I told Brusus that he would have to explain everything he knew about the Forgotten, but he hasn’t. Not yet. We can’t be stuck in the dark, forced to wonder what might happen next.”

  Jessa shrugged. “I’m never really in the dark.”

  Rsiran wondered again what it must be like to be Sighted like Jessa. Never isolated in the darkness. With his ability to Slide, he could always escape, but he needed to know where he Slid to take the next step safely. “I know. I’m like a blind babe.”

  She laughed. “At least you finally admit it.”

  The howl came again, closer this time. This time, Jessa stiffened. From his time spent in the Aisl, the sound always came at night, never during the day. He’d never seen what made the sound, but imagined some massive wolf prowling through the treetops. Had they feared the creatures when their people lived in the trees?

  “Still want to walk back to the city?”

  She punched his shoulder. “Get us out of here.”

  He grabbed her hand, focused on the smithy, and Slid.

  Sliding into the smithy now was a different experience than it had been. Before, he’d been anchored to the smithy. With enough of his forgings there, he barely had to exert any energy to reach it. He’d managed it even when weakened and fatigued. After the fortifications he’d built around the walls, he didn’t think he could manage the same anymore, but that was just as well.

  Rather than a rush of wind and color, what he felt was more of an oozing, his body stretching as it slipped between the bars of heartstone alloy. So different from Sliding anywhere else. Not painful, but not comfortable or easy. A barrier designed to keep them safe, and similar to the one the Elvraeth used for the palace.

  They emerged from the forest to the dimly lit smithy. The blue heartstone lantern sat atop one of his long tables, the light drifting out enough to easily see everything in the smithy, especially with eyes adjusted for the moonlight. The air had the familiar bitter tang of lorcith, but after all the work he’d done, it now mixed with the strangely sweet scent of the heartstone. The alloy seemed to have no odor of its own.

  Once inside, Jessa let go of his hand. She tossed a log into the hearth built into the far wall, and flames slowly built around the dried wood. She stood staring at the flames, reminding Rsiran of how his father had looked back at the hut.

  He stepped up to the table and twisted the knob on the lantern. More of the blue light spilled into the smithy, pushing back the shadows. Except for near the hearth. There, shadows seemed to linger, almost as if swirling around Jessa. Another trick of his imagination, he figured.

  Rsiran took the knives from his pockets and set them on the table, counting as he did. He’d taken to inventorying what he’d made. After what ended up on Firell’s ship, he wanted to know where his forgings went. And he’d stopped sending knives to Brusus that he could trade for information. So far, Brusus hadn’t challenged him on that.

  Two dozen of the slender knives rested on the table. Made from only three separate lumps of lorcith, he could feel the bindings between the blades made from the same lump. The contours of the blades shared a similarity as well. Rsiran pulled on the knives, lining them quickly without ever touching them. After seeing his father, he wondered if others could push with lorcith, as well, especially those who could hear its call. The boy from the mines. His father. Other smiths.

  Had his father had a glimmer of recognition when he’d pushed on the knives? He’d certainly become more agitated at that point, and Rsiran could almost imagine he’d felt pressure on the knife, but maybe that had been just his imagination.

  In addition to the knives, Rsiran had a few other implements on the table. An iron pan. Steel tongs for holding metal he forged. His attempt at making one of the heartstone lanterns. Another failure, but he felt he was getting closer. Those were more difficult than anything else he’d made.

  “Come sit by me,” Jessa said.

  He turned, scanning the walls of the smithy. Long slender bars of heartstone alloy ran from the smooth floor planks to the ceiling every few paces, creating a perimeter. Rsiran had experimented with the spacing until he felt comfortable that another Slider couldn’t easily pass through, but ensuring he wouldn’t have to strain too hard to enter his smithy. It was a delicate balance, and one that took the better part of two weeks. Each time he forged one of the heartstone alloy bars, he found it easier to do.

  At first, he’d struggled mixing the alloy. Different from working with pure lorcith, adding heartstone to it required asking the ore to allow it. He didn’t think the ancient smiths who had made the alloy for the palace had forged it the same way, especially considering the strange forge Shael had asked him to make, but it was the only way that Rsiran knew to do so. In some ways, his method worked better. He didn’t fight with the all
oy, not as he would if he tried to force it. That was the reason that making the necklace for Jessa had gone as easily as it had.

  He couldn’t talk to anyone about the process—who’d understand that he spoke to the ore in a way?—which left him feeling more isolated than ever. Even with Jessa sitting watching him. There was a part of him that wished he didn’t have to ask such a forging of lorcith, but to keep Jessa safe, he would do what he needed.

  Rsiran made his way over to her and took a seat on the floor. She’d swept the floors clean, her contribution to keeping the smithy tidy, but they still hadn’t managed to get any chairs to sit on. The bed was little more than a low pallet with a thin straw-stuffed mattress. Neither minded so long as they were together.

  “You’re distracted,” he said. He pulled her hand into his and squeezed. Slender fingers felt so small and delicate, all the better to pick locks he suspected. An old scar worked across the top of her hand, slightly raised and smooth. He ran his finger along it.

  Jessa looked over at him. Firelight reflected in her green eyes, looking like dancing flames. “I’m not the one who’s been distracted, Rsiran.” She swallowed and leaned away from him, looking around the smithy. “This… place worries me.”

  “You shouldn’t worry. With the bars of the alloy, no Slider should be able to get in here. We’re safe here.”

  She turned back to him. “Are we? This is safe?” She shook her head and closed her eyes. “After what happened, I feel safer being with you, but this is something else.”

  “What then?”

  Jessa took a deep breath. “I know you needed to see your father. I don’t understand why, but I know you did. And I was happy to go with you, because it finally got you away from here. This smithy—everything you’ve done to it—makes it feel…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Less like we’re keeping others out and more like we’re trapping ourselves inside.”

  Rsiran frowned as he looked at the walls, thinking of the Elvraeth in the palace, the bars of the alloy over the windows. They had been there to protect the Elvraeth, hadn’t they?