The Tower of Venass (The Dark Ability Book 3)

by Holmberg, D. K.

  “What should I do?” he asked her. “I can’t lose you again. Not like that.”

  Jessa smiled and leaned toward him again, taking his hands. “You won’t lose me, Rsiran. I’m more worried about you losing yourself.”

  After chasing Firell and then Josun, Rsiran wondered if he knew who he was anymore. Once it had been a simple answer, but the days of being the son of a smith were gone. Now? Was he Brusus’s private smith or was he something else?

  “What do we do then? The Elvraeth—”

  “Not the Elvraeth. The Forgotten. And you can’t blame Brusus for what happened. You have to forgive him, and I don’t think you can move on until you do.”

  Rsiran sighed. For some reason, that had been more difficult than he expected. Secrets kept from him, secrets that had put Jessa in danger. But what else was there? Brusus had taken him in when Rsiran had no place else to go, gave him a purpose, friends.

  And if he didn’t try? What would happen with Jessa? He saw the strain on her face, the anxious way she pulled at her hair and sniffed the flower. He’d thought that was because Josun had captured her—possibly tormented her—but what if that wasn’t it. What if she worried about him? He couldn’t be the reason she was unhappy.

  Rsiran forced a smile onto his face. “Should we go to the Barth?”

  Jessa smiled and pulled him toward her. “Well… maybe not tonight,” she said. “But tomorrow. We need to see our friends again.”

  As Jessa pressed against him, he couldn’t help but feel the familiar pit in his stomach, that fear of stepping too far outside the smithy and risking losing her again. He forced it down and away as he focused on her.

  Chapter 3

  Rsiran stood on the rocky slope of Ilphaesn Mountain gripping a heavy burlap sack. Fading moonlight gave enough light for him to see. Cool mountain air gusted around him, fluttering his thin shirt and tasting of bitter lorcith and a hint of the sea. Nothing else moved around him.

  Lorcith pulled on him from every direction. It came most strongly from the mountain itself. The vast mines working through Ilphaesn were filled with ore. Some nights, Rsiran still dreamed of the way the ore pulled on him when he’d been exiled to the mines by his father. In those dreams, the steady tapping he now understood to be other miners working in the hidden section filled his head, pushing out everything else until he could think of nothing more. Those nights, he awoke soaked in sweat.

  But he felt lorcith other places as well. Standing here, away from Elaeavn, he recognized the sense of his forgings from within the city. The hidden sword tucked into his smithy pulled on him the most, even through the heartstone alloy barrier. Other forgings were scattered around the city as well. Many were knives. Rsiran had been surprised to discover that his forgings had made it into the palace until learning how Brusus traded his knives for information. Others were things like the bowl he’d once made Lianna or gifts he made for Della to thank her for all the times she’d Healed him.

  He clung most strongly to his connection to the charm he’d made Jessa. Keeping an awareness of it in his mind kept her close to him, even when he Slid elsewhere. He would not lose her again.

  Rsiran pushed away his sense of lorcith. Doing so was no longer difficult as it once had been. As he did, he felt the soft pull of the alloy. This sense was not the same as the way lorcith pulled on him. Not so much muted as harsher, as if harder. Much like the alloy itself.

  With it filling him, he recognized the bars he’d placed in his smithy and those blocking the palace. There were others, though nothing with a pattern. He had a vague sense of the necklace he’d made for Jessa, too distant to sense it well. None of that was why he’d come here.

  Rsiran turned to the closer alloy he felt. High overhead, and nearby, the bars barricaded access to the hidden mine. And, once, had prevented him from accessing them as well.

  He closed his eyes and Slid, emerging past those bars and in the mine.

  No light made it into the mine. With the sense of lorcith pushed away, he sensed another forging of the alloy. Usually when he came, he sensed it deeper in the tunnels. Tonight it was nearby.

  Rsiran turned to Josun Elvraeth and tossed the burlap sack onto the ground. “Supplies for the week,” he said. He didn’t worry about whether Josun would find it. As one of the Elvraeth, he was gifted with all the Great Watcher’s abilities. His Sight would allow him to see what Rsiran had brought.

  “What will happen when you don’t come?”

  The voice sounded as if it came from a hundred feet away, but Rsiran knew he was barely ten paces from him. A trick of the mines.

  “I will come.”

  Josun grunted. Light suddenly flared in the mine, a soft orange light from the lantern Rsiran had brought when he first visited to bring food. With the light, Rsiran saw Josun leaning against the wall. The heartstone alloy chains that had once been used on Rsiran, what he’d learned were considered Elvraeth chains, cuffed each wrist, dangling between them. His face had grown lean and haggard, a wild beard growing where none had been before. Few in Elaeavn wore beards. Dirt and debris coated his once neatly kept black hair. His deep green eyes flickered around the cave wildly.

  “And if you don’t? You would let me die?”

  Rsiran hesitated. “Yes.”

  Josun turned toward him, eyes focusing more clearly for a moment. Then he laughed. The sound filled the cave, deep and edged with anger. “You’re not a killer, Lareth. You’ve proven that time and time again.”

  “And if something happened to me?” Rsiran asked. “No one else knows you’re here. What would happen to you then?”

  Josun leaned forward, one hand touching the wall. Rsiran tensed. Even chained as he was, Rsiran prepared to Slide if needed. Josun had proven himself dangerous too often.

  “You’re not the only one who knows I’m here,” he said softly as he slowly picked up the sack of food Rsiran had brought. There were a few skins of water, as well, enough to keep him alive for the next few days. Eventually, Rsiran knew, he would have to decide what he’d do with Josun. He couldn’t leave him here forever.

  Rsiran frowned. “Who else knows?” Did he have to worry about someone coming to rescue Josun? Would he have to worry about another attack? The Forgotten who Elvraeth Josun worked for might know, but would they have any way of reaching this mine?

  Josun cackled and shook the chain connecting the cuffs. “Your girl knows.”

  Rsiran took a step forward. “You will not touch her again.”

  Josun laughed again and turned his back on Rsiran. “Or what? You’ll bring me more food? What is it this time, jerky and dried bread?”

  “You should be thankful.”

  Josun turned to look over his shoulder. Shadows swirled around his eyes as he did. “For what? That you brought me food? That you continue to let me live? I imagine you see yourself as having great compassion.” Josun turned back to the cave wall and touched it with his open hands, sliding his fingers across the rock. He sucked in a deep breath. “It would be better were you to leave me to die. That would be compassion.”

  “You haven’t earned that compassion.”

  Josun snorted. “Maybe you are harder than I realize, Lareth. Could it be you leave me here to torture me? That’s more like what one of the Elvraeth would do.” He took a few steps away, disappearing from the lantern light. “How long will you keep me here? How long before someone comes looking for me?” He smiled, and the shadows played across his face. “You know of the Forgotten now. Will you be ready when they return? Will your friends be safe?”

  “I will keep them safe.”

  Josun hesitated. “Can you?” he whispered. “Can you really keep them safe? You didn’t keep your girl safe, if I remember.”

  “I found you.”

  “You did. But I haven’t decided whether that was because of what you did or what they did.”

  Josun continued away from him and the lantern went dim, flashing out slowly and leaving Rsiran standing in the darkness.
>
  He’d let the sense of lorcith return as he spoke to Josun, and now he felt it all around him, creating the space of the cavern. Rsiran could walk through the mine without needing to see anything, but as he stood there, he feared what would happen were Josun to reappear next to him.

  “What who did?”

  Josun didn’t answer, only laughed, his voice trailing into the darkness.

  Rsiran prepared to Slide away and return to Elaeavn. As he did, he heard Josun again. “I hear it sometimes,” he said.

  Rsiran paused. “Hear what?”

  Josun laughed again, the sound carried strangely down the caverns, bouncing off the walls and mixing with the call of the lorcith, but he didn’t say anything more.

  Rsiran shivered and then Slid from Ilphaesn.

  Chapter 4

  Rsiran sat in a high-backed chair at their usual table, leaning against the brick wall of the Wretched Barth. From where he sat, he had a good vantage of the entire tavern. Jessa sat next to him wearing a pale blue flower plucked from a spindly bush outside the Barth tucked into the top of a simple dress she managed to find. As they sat there, she leaned forward and sniffed at the flower.

  Compared to the last time he’d been here, the tavern was busy. Mostly men, some wearing leathers that reminded him of Thom, others in faded and dirty shirts, all sitting in pairs or more at tables scattered around the tavern. A few sat alone along the counter near the kitchen. Tucked into Lower Town but near enough the docks to have a variety of patrons, the Barth had been like a second home to him since banished by his father. When Lianna ran the tavern, it had been a homey place where soft music and savory smells greeted him each time he came. Since her sister took over, the music remained, but the focus was more on the ale than the food. Rsiran left the steaming mug untouched in front of him.

  A stack of ivory dice sat next to Jessa, and she idly grabbed them, stuffing the dice into the leather shaker embossed with the logo of the Wretched Barth, that of a spindly old man, back bent as he leaned over a cane.

  They had been in the tavern for nearly thirty minutes but so far, no one else had come.

  “We can go,” Jessa said.

  Rsiran shook his head. “You’re right. We need to be out of the smithy more. I haven’t seen Haern in…” He thought about it, realizing it had been when they’d broken into the alchemist guild house. “A long time.”

  “You’re not even touching your ale.”

  He looked down at the mug. He wanted to take a drink, but hadn’t done more than sip. Were he honest with himself, it was because he feared dulling his senses. “It’s not the same,” he said, flicking his eyes toward the kitchen. Once, Lianna had been there, always bustling around, making certain to welcome everyone. Gillian was pleasant, but it really wasn’t the same.

  Jessa nodded, saying nothing as she took a long drink from her mug.

  The door pushed open and a gust of cool sea air whistled into the tavern. Rsiran looked over, not really expecting anyone he knew. The Barth had always been the place they congregated, but with everything that had happened, he didn’t know if any of the others had still been coming.

  Brusus walked in. Other than his dark tunic and pants, clothes more formal than usual in Lower Town, he looked mostly the same. Dark hair streaked with grey. Pale green eyes—a glamour of sorts hiding his true abilities—scanned the tavern before settling on Rsiran. A wide smile split his face.

  “Haern said you’d be here. ’Bout time you returned,” he said as he approached the table. Brusus threw himself into one of the open chairs, his back to the door, and looked from Rsiran to Jessa. One hand slapped down onto the table, the heavy ring he wore thudding against the surface. “You get your arrangements complete?”

  Rsiran let out a slow breath. Brusus knew what he’d been doing. Not surprising—he usually did—and Rsiran wondered how much he actually knew. Had he learned about the alloy? Or only that Rsiran worked to fortify the smithy? Either way, Brusus had given him space. For that he should be thankful.

  Jessa set her hand on his leg. He appreciated the warmth from it, the comfort she offered. “I just wanted to make sure we’d be safe,” Rsiran said.

  Brusus met his eyes with a solemn expression. “I’m sorry about what happened, Rsiran. Not sure I ever told you that. I should have brought you in sooner. After all that you did,” he lowered his voice, “and the fact that it was your knives I was using to get information, well… I should have told you.” He turned to Jessa. “And you. Having Josun take you…”

  Jessa shook her head. One hand pulled gently on her hair. It hung loose tonight, flowing over her shoulders. “I’m fine, Brusus. Really.”

  Rsiran didn’t know if Brusus recognized the catch in her voice. Jessa hadn’t spoken about what Josun had done to her while she was captured other than to say she was unharmed. Partly he didn’t want to know. If he did, would he have simply left Josun trapped within the second mine shaft at Ilphaesn or would he have done something more definitive? The first time he thought he’d killed Josun back in the palace had been hard, but at least then it had been self-defense. Anything he did now would be murder.

  Rsiran leaned forward and set both hands on the table. Instinctively, he checked his sense of the knives in his pockets, reassured by the connection. He took a deep breath. He didn’t want to confront Brusus, but they needed to understand what Brusus had gotten them into. Only then could they decide if they would help.

  “I need to know everything, Brusus. You can’t keep us in the dark anymore.”

  Brusus looked from Jessa to Rsiran as a young serving girl brought a mug of ale over and set it in front of Brusus. She had medium green eyes and long, wavy auburn hair. She flashed a smile at Brusus that he returned.

  When she stepped away from them, Brusus turned to Rsiran. “Dangerous topic, even for the Barth,” he whispered. “Talk of the Elvraeth, and especially the Forgotten—shouldn’t really be having those conversations here. After what happened with Jessa, I realized it was time I understood more.”

  “That’s when you realized?” Rsiran asked.

  “What can I say? I ignored the risk you both took. We all took. But I’ve been trying to correct that. Tomorrow, I’ll come to the smithy, and I’ll tell you what I’ve learned. It’s time for you to know everything.”

  “Just tell us,” Jessa said.

  Brusus shook his head. “Like I said. It’s a dangerous topic.”

  Rsiran snorted. “Why should we wait? We could go to the smithy tonight. I can assure you it’s safe.”

  Jessa squeezed his leg, and Rsiran immediately regretted pushing Brusus like that. He’d agreed they would spend the night away from the smithy, and now he suggested returning?

  Brusus’s face hardened. For a moment, his eyes flared a darker green. “That’s the problem. Nothing is really safe. Not like I thought. That was my mistake.”

  Brusus took a long drink from his ale and set it back down onto the table. He started coughing and a hint of blood streaked from the corner of his mouth. His eyes widened briefly, and he looked down at the mug, a curious expression as he stared at it.

  “Rsiran—”

  He looked over to see what had gotten Jessa’s attention. The music in the tavern had fallen silent. None of the serving staff were out on the floor as they usually were. The two men sitting at the table nearest them stood. Rsiran noticed their flint grey eyes first and the swords at their waists next.

  Brusus coughed again.

  Rsiran glanced down. Brusus’s head rested on the table. Blood pooled around his mouth.

  “Rsiran!”

  He snapped his head around. One of the men had grabbed Jessa. She kicked and jerked away, but he was stronger. The other man’s sword unsheathed, and he sliced toward her neck.

  Without thinking, Rsiran pushed one of his knives toward the man. It sank into his chest. He spun and collapsed. The other man twisted, pulling Jessa in front of him. Rsiran jerked the knife free from the fallen man and sent it fly
ing toward the other’s leg. He collapsed with a scream but still held onto Jessa.

  She kicked again, stomping on the injured leg, and he let go.

  Jessa grabbed his hand.

  Rsiran reached for Brusus with his other hand. The only thought in his mind was escape.

  Another pair of men separated from the corner table. They had no swords, but the flash of green eyes told Rsiran they were of Elaeavn. Knives appeared in their hands. Slender blades made of steel. Had they been lorcith, he could have used them against the men.

  One of the knives spun toward him.

  Rsiran Slid.

  Taking two people with him was much more difficult than Sliding with only one. The only other time he’d attempted more was when they’d buried Lianna. That had taken him the better part of two days to recover.

  He had the sense of movement, slower than usual, and the hot, bitter scent like lorcith. Color blurred past, but not quickly enough.

  Something hot and painful stuck into his shoulder.

  Rsiran cried out and ripped through the remainder of the Slide.

  They emerged in Della’s home. Fatigue washed over him, and he nearly collapsed. A small fire crackled quietly in the hearth. Two chairs angled toward the fire. The smells of mint tea and the spicy scent of jarred herbs assaulted him.

  “Della?” His voice was weak. His shoulder throbbed and spasmed. Della should have felt the ripples of his Slide. Where was she?

  Jessa screamed.

  Rsiran spun. Jessa backed toward the wall, arms pinned behind her back by the man who’d thrown the knife at them. She tripped and kicked over a stack of books, but the man held her upright. His green eyes blazed. Rsiran wondered briefly what ability he possessed.

  He let go of Brusus, focusing on Jessa. “Let her go.” His voice came out hard and angry.

  A dark smile twisted the man’s face. He had short black hair and a lean face. Heavy embroidery worked along the collar of his dark navy shirt. The forest green pants he wore were simpler, but still embroidered. Expensive clothes, Rsiran knew. Elvraeth clothes.