The Tower of Venass (The Dark Ability Book 3)

by Holmberg, D. K.

  She’d Read him. There was no other explanation for her knowing what he’d been thinking.

  He pushed up his barriers, testing to ensure they were fortified with the alloy. Satisfied they were, he let himself relax.

  “What secrets?” Haern asked.

  “Those are for Rsiran to share,” Della said. “We all have things we prefer to keep quiet.”

  “Not if it places the others in danger,” Brusus said.

  “Like how you shared with Rsiran the story behind the Forgotten?” Jessa said. She stood facing Haern, anger flashing across her face. “Or how you made clear to Rsiran what you planned when you threatened him outside the Barth?”

  Rsiran touched her arm, wanting her to relax. Getting angry didn’t help any of them. And she was tired. They both were. They needed sleep—him especially so he could Slide again if needed—but now wasn’t the time for that.

  “No, Rsiran. If Haern’s going to spout off about secrets, then he should share too.”

  “Like you have?” Haern whispered.

  Jessa glared at him. “Rsiran knows about my past.”

  Haern snorted. “I’m sure he does.”

  Della tapped her cane on the ground. It snapped loudly, cutting off conversation. Everyone turned to look at her. “Do you think this makes us stronger or weaker? Rsiran needs our support, and arguing about what we hide—often from ourselves—does nothing. Already, he has many powerful enemies. Should he have new ones from among us?”

  Rsiran looked at Jessa. Her eyes scrunched as they did when she was worried. One hand slipped to his leg, holding him. Rsiran looked at Della and saw the weariness on her face. How much longer could she hold out as she was? Like the rest of them, she needed sleep. And Brusus—injured and poisoned, barely able to sit in the chair—he seemed more concerned for Rsiran than himself. How had Rsiran ever doubted him?

  Last, he turned to Haern. Always difficult to know what went on behind his eyes. He watched Rsiran, the dronr flipping from finger to finger.

  Rsiran needed to explain to his friends. If he didn’t, how were his actions any different the way Brusus had hidden things from them?

  “There is a lorcith alloy. Mixed with heartstone,” Rsiran began. He stared at Haern as he said it. Why shouldn’t he share with them? Besides, everyone other than Haern knew already.

  “You told me of this alloy,” Haern said.

  “And how it can prevent Sliding?” Rsiran asked.

  Haern nodded. “I’ve learned much about the alloy since you told me of it.”

  Rsiran frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Haern shrugged. “That parchment you took from the alchemists?” Rsiran nodded. “I managed to have it translated.”

  Brusus looked at Haern. “You didn’t tell me this.”

  Haern watched Rsiran and shrugged.

  “What did you learn?” Rsiran asked.

  “Blocking one from Sliding is not its only purpose. But an important one. There are other uses, ones that Venass would be most interested in learning.”

  “It doesn’t block me.”

  Haern blinked slowly. “At the palace. You said you couldn’t reach Josun at first. That you had to use the sword he’d stolen from you.”

  Rsiran nodded.

  “Now you no longer have to have something you’ve made?”

  “I think of them as anchors. And no, I don’t.”

  “What of your other ability?” Brusus asked.

  In answer, Rsiran focused on the chain hanging around Jessa’s neck. As he did, he felt the hard presence of the alloy, so different from pure lorcith. He pulled on it, lifting it gently, careful to leave the lorcith charm alone.

  Haern watched Rsiran, but when he saw what he did with the necklace, he shook his head. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

  “Now you see why they would think Rsiran dangerous,” Della said.

  “With Venass involved, this has become about more than just the Forgotten,” Haern said to Della. “I had not thought that Josun was with them, but what if that was wrong?”

  She tapped her cane softly. “I’m beginning to think this has always been about more than the exiled Elvraeth.”

  Chapter 20

  Rsiran stood before his forge dressed again in the grey clothing from the mines, letting the flames lick the coals, the hot fire slowly building. Sweat slicked his brow and dripped into his eyes. He wiped it away and stood there for another moment. This close to the forge, the air smelled hot and bitter, like the lorcith itself.

  The fires of the forge welcomed him. He’d always found it relaxing to stand in front of the coals as they heated the metal, but real peace was only found when hammering the heated metal into shape. What he needed now was that peace.

  He felt rested, even though he’d only slept for a few hours. Fitful dreams called to him, threatening to pull him back into the cell in the Tower of Scholars. Each time he settled into sleep, he thought he sensed lorcith growing around him, drawing him toward it. And this time, he didn’t think he’d be able to escape.

  Part of him suspected that if he returned to the Tower, there would be no getting out. At least, not easily. The last time it had taken him sensing his lock pick and then Jessa to escape. He no longer even felt safe Sliding. What would happen if the scholars somehow pulled him as he Slid? Della had demonstrated how Sliding could be influenced. And if they could influence his Sliding—as evidenced by how they’d drawn him into the Tower in the first place, and pushed him out when he left—would he be in danger every time he tried Sliding? Would he simply appear in the Tower unintentionally?

  And then what would happen to Jessa?

  Rsiran sighed. What would happen to Jessa if he reneged on his agreement with the scholar and never returned? Would they manage to get to her, take her to their tower? Getting her out of there would be harder than saving her from Josun. At least with Josun, he thought he understood his abilities. Rsiran had no idea how the scholars manipulated lorcith as he did.

  He reached into the bin and took out a small lump of lorcith, not bothering to look as he selected it. As he pulled it out, he saw that it was a perfect size for one of his knives. With what he planned, he might need them. Rsiran regarded the lorcith and debated whether he would ask it to accept the alloy, then decided against it. Nothing could be gained by mixing heartstone into the lorcith.

  He looked around the smithy. In spite of all the heartstone alloy around him, all the effort he’d gone to in order to keep himself and Jessa safe, it seemed that he would be unable to do so. Would they ever be able to stop running? Would he and Jessa ever find peace?

  Once the lorcith reached a soft orange glow, he lifted it from the coals and set it on his anvil. Then he took the hammer he’d long ago borrowed from his father’s shop and began working the metal.

  With each swing of the hammer, he felt his mind clearing. He hammered, flattening one side and then lifting with the tongs and twisting the lump. Another swing of the hammer. It rang out loudly in the confined space, but he’d given up fearing the constables would discover his unauthorized forge. They never came through this part of Lower Town. The only people living along this street were squatters like him, men and women with no right to the buildings they occupied. They would no more go to the constables to complain than he would.

  The hammer swung again. His mind had emptied. There was nothing but the pull of the lorcith, and he let it draw him, guiding his hand. Each time, twisting and turning, slowly folding the hot metal into shape. When the lorcith cooled, he brought it back to the forge, heating it until it was workable again. If he waited too long, the metal would no longer take on the heat, instead becoming brittle, but Rsiran was a skilled smith, especially with lorcith, and knew just when to bring it back to the coals.

  He switched to a smaller hammer, this one a remnant of his time in the Ilphaesn mines. Of all the tools he used forging lorcith, for some reason, this one always helped the most. He made smaller swings now, and no longer did the
hammer ring out loudly in the smithy. Now it sounded muted. Each stroke became more deliberate now.

  Rsiran glanced at what he was making. Not a knife as he expected. Instead, the lorcith folded out flat, becoming a rounded sheet. Had he wanted a knife from it, the lorcith would have agreed. Somehow, he knew that much. But he hadn’t insisted. Because of that, the lorcith pulled itself into its own shape.

  He almost hesitated, wondering what he might be making. Then he swung the hammer again, pushing away any questions. He’d already given himself to what the lorcith wanted from him.

  Rsiran kept hammering. A shape continued to emerge from the metal as the lorcith changed from a flat sheet of metal into a curving shape, like one half of a ball. Again, Rsiran nearly hesitated, but pushed forward.

  And then it was done.

  He set the hammer down and wiped the sweat from his forehead. As the metal cooled, he studied what he had made. It was unlike anything he’d ever done before. In spite of that, it was no less exquisite. From the way the metal appeared to run, he could tell he’d folded it several times. Distantly, he remembered doing it, but the memory came as if through a fog. The metal had been folded back on itself several times and then flattened again. Each time, he’d folded it at a slightly different angle. This created a strange dimpling to the finish that had nothing to do with how he’d hammered it.

  As he looked at it, he realized it was incomplete. The half he looked at was just that—half. He would need to make the other half. One of the lumps of lorcith in the bin next to the forge called to him, like a twin of the one he’d just worked. Without touching it, he knew it would make a similar shape. But then what? What was this for?

  Rsiran carried it to his bench and set it next to the other shapings he’d made. He could study it later and try to learn why the lorcith had wanted to make this shape.

  “Something troubles you?”

  Rsiran turned. Jessa stood at the other end of the bench, watching him. He hadn’t heard her come in. He sighed. “It’s just that…” He shook his head. “If Della is right about me, you’re not safe. Not here and not with me.”

  Jessa looked at the forging he’d made and slipped around the table until she reached it. She ran her hand over the surface, as if feeling the dimples the folding had made, and then lifted it, twisting it to study it. “You can’t see what you did here,” she said, ignoring his comment.

  Rsiran shook his head. “You know I can’t. I go by feel. The way the metal folds. The way the lorcith tells me to change it.” He smiled. “Had I your Sight, maybe I’d be a better smith.”

  She pushed her fist into the curve. It fit snuggly. “I’m not so sure. If you had my Sight, you might not use the connection to the lorcith in the same way. This way, you’re forced to listen to it and not get distracted.” She set it back on the table. “Where’s the other half?”

  He pointed to the lump he’d pulled from the bin.

  “You already know?”

  He shrugged.

  “Is it always like that?”

  “Not usually. I’m not sure why the lorcith wanted me to shape it like this.”

  “Why not make a knife?” She lifted one of the smaller knives off the table and spun it briefly in her hand. Then she slipped it into her waist.

  “I was too tired to make a knife.”

  Jessa laughed. “You realize you sound crazy?”

  “Why?”

  She tapped the bowl with her knuckles. It rang with a muted sound. “What you’ve made here is much harder than the knives you make.”

  He shook his head. “Not really. Knives,” he began, trying to think of how to describe what is was like when he made knives, “are like suggesting something to the lorcith. It’s an effort of will. I push a little, they push a little.”

  “Like a negotiation.”

  Rsiran frowned. “Not like that, I don’t think. That’s more how it feels when I work with the alloy. With lorcith, I have to continue to suggest what I’d like to see it become.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  He ran his hand over the recent shaping. “Then I make things like this. Or the charm on your necklace.”

  Jessa lifted the charm and looked at it. The charm had a spiraling shape, but the bottom flattened out, widening into something that looked almost like a leaf. She had once described the striations she could see in the charm, because Rsiran couldn’t see them. He could feel them, if he listened. He wondered if that was the same thing.

  “Listening and letting lorcith guide me is easier. And sometimes I need it to help me clear my head.”

  “I understand. You think it dangerous when I sneak around through Elaeavn, but it’s relaxing to me. Sometimes, I simply sit and look over the city, watching the night move around me. When I do that, I feel like I can find peace.”

  Rsiran hadn’t known that before. “I think it’s the same when I work at the forge.”

  Jessa walked over and put her arms around him, looking up into his eyes. “Did you find answers this time?”

  He sighed. Would Jessa understand what he needed to do or would she disagree and argue? “Not the kind that I need. I don’t know when Venass might summon me. They were willing to attack Brusus to get to me.” He closed his eyes. Could they really only have wanted him? “Maybe this is just about me and my abilities, but why? What do they want from me?” He opened his eyes and looked to her. “What if it’s not only about Sliding and there’s something else that we’re missing? I can’t risk another attack on my friends. I can’t risk something else happening to you.”

  “You’re going to Ilphaesn to see Josun, aren’t you?” She pushed away from him. “You don’t think I know how you’ve been keeping him alive?”

  Rsiran hesitated. “I should have told you. It’s just—”

  “You didn’t think I’d understand?”

  “After what he did to you?”

  Jessa looked up and smiled at him. “He didn’t do anything that hasn’t been done before. At least this time, I knew you wouldn’t rest until you found me. That wasn’t always the case before I met you.”

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”

  “Yes. You should have.” She leaned toward the flower in the charm and inhaled. “What do you think he even knows?”

  Rsiran sighed. “Maybe nothing. Maybe where to find the Forgotten. Or what they’re after. I don’t know, but I’m tired of not knowing.”

  “And Venass?”

  “Venass and the Forgotten are together. I need to find one to understand the other. And I’m not risking going back to the Tower.”

  “You think the Forgotten are any safer?”

  “We have one of them trapped.”

  Jessa touched his hand. “What you’re doing might be crueler than you realize.”

  “Asking him what he knows about the Forgotten?”

  She shook her head. “Keeping him alive.”

  Rsiran turned to the table stacked with his forgings and picked up one of the small knives. He pushed on it, and it spun in his hand softly. “I can’t just kill him.”

  Jessa smiled. “I know. You’re like a babe.”

  “I thought that was because I couldn’t see in the dark.”

  She shrugged. “Partly. Keeping him trapped in the mines is no better than what he did to me.”

  “What do you suggest, then?”

  “I don’t know. I’d say to ask Brusus, but I know how he’d answer.”

  Rsiran nodded. Brusus would take the practical approach, especially after everything Josun had done to them. “If I let him go, then we have to fear him coming for us. There’s nothing else to do with him.”

  “Like I said, it would be better if you let him die.”

  He set the knife back down and looked over at Jessa. “That’s not me.”

  “I know. That’s part of what makes you unique. Even after everything that’s happened to you, somehow you still find a way to feel compassion for those who’ve harmed you.”


  “Compassion? I practically forced my father to come with us to Thyr. Then I left him there with the scholars.” Only the Great Watcher knows what the scholars would do with his father—or to him, if Rsiran didn’t return as he’d promised.

  “And saved him when he jumped along the way. And made a point to tell him about your sister.” She shook her head, her hair swishing across her face. “You’re a regular ass, aren’t you?”

  Rsiran laughed and turned to look at his forge. “It doesn’t feel like I’m compassionate.”

  “Probably not. But you aren’t a killer, either. With what they did to you—Josun especially—no one would fault you if you simply…”

  When she trailed off, Rsiran turned. “Simply what?”

  She shrugged. “Stopped taking him sacks of supplies. Or Slid him to the top of Ilphaesn and dropped him. Either way, no one would fault you.”

  Rsiran watched Jessa for a moment before shaking his head. “You would.”

  Jessa smiled. “Maybe. But I’d understand too.”

  She walked to the table and grabbed a pair of slender knives, tucking them into her pockets. She waited for Rsiran to do the same. He picked out the smaller lorcith blades, narrow bladed but balanced so they flew straight, and slipped them into his pockets.

  Then she took his hand and looked up at him. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Chapter 21

  Rsiran gripped Jessa’s hand tightly, worried how she would react. The last time she had been to the Ilphaesn mines had been when Josun Elvraeth trapped her there, preventing Rsiran from sensing the lorcith charm she still wore.

  They emerged in the mine, just inside the entrance, the bitter lorcith all around them. Rather than clearing it from his mind to sense for the heartstone alloy chains, he relied on Jessa to see if Josun approached. Had he brought a lantern, he wouldn’t even have needed that.

  Here, close to the entrance, light from the crescent moon filtered through the thick slats of heartstone alloy. With the chains Josun wore, the bars might as well have been iron. But they served a purpose in keeping out anyone else who might Slide. He didn’t know who else might come for Josun, especially considering that Della had sensed other ripples from Sliding, so the bars were his only way to ensure that Josun remained trapped.