The Heartstone Blade (The Dark Ability Book 2)

by Holmberg, D. K.

  Firell sighed again. “I been working this job for months. Taking crates of lorcith away. Asador. Nheal. Cort. Thyr. Valen.” He tapped his fingers as he named the cities. “I sailed where I was paid. And he paid well. They paid well. Shael made certain of that.”

  Rsiran frowned. Shael set up the job. But if that was the case, then it meant Shael knew from the beginning about the lorcith. Was that how Josun learned of him, or was it really only the meeting in the warehouse?

  “Didn’t know ’bout Shael?” Firell said. “Don’t feel bad. Don’t think Brusus knows, either. That’s sort of how Shael likes it. Works all angles, you see, and each side pays. Took me a long time to learn. And that’s what makes him dangerous.”

  As he said it, the door to the room burst open.

  Shael stepped inside, his massive form filling the doorway. Whatever had once seemed friendly about his face had disappeared. Water or sweat stained his bright yellow shirt and plastered down his thick beard.

  He lunged for Rsiran, faster than he should have been able to move. In that instant, he slapped a thick chain around Rsiran’s wrist, and it closed with a click. He held Rsiran by the wrist, gripping him with a strength that reminded him of the time Haern had tried to kill him.

  Just like then, Rsiran tried to Slide, tried to pull Shael with him, but could not.

  Shael’s other hand swung around and struck Rsiran on the side of the head, and he crumpled to the ground.

  Chapter 32

  Rsiran awoke with his head pounding. For a moment, he didn’t remember where he was. Pain pierced his skull like a hot lance. He tried to move but couldn’t.

  He lifted his head. Soft blue light glowed near one corner like the lantern Jessa had found in the warehouse. Something gripped his arms, encircling his wrists and ankles, pinning him painfully to the wall.

  Nausea washed over him. Where was he? A steady rocking told him he must still be on the ship, but this didn’t look like any place he’d seen. How long had he been unconscious? Moments? Hours? Long enough to chain up. But how had Shael surprised him like that?

  He needed to get away. Could he Slide out of the restraints? He’d never tried anything like it before, but he didn’t know why it wouldn’t be possible.

  Just a short Slide. Just enough to escape. Then he could return to Elaeavn and get Brusus and… then what? Still not know where Josun had taken Jessa?

  He would have to return to Firell. But he’d be ready.

  Rsiran tried to Slide and couldn’t. It was as if the ability had been taken from him.

  Unlike the barriers around the palace or Asador, rather than pushing him back, it felt as if he simply could not start the Slide.

  He was trapped.

  Hopelessness different from what he had ever known when working in the mines settled into him. At least there, he had known he could always escape. He might not have been willing to use his ability, but there had always been the sense that he could Slide away if needed.

  Now… there was nothing.

  And worse than that. He had failed Jessa.

  * * *

  A door creaked, the sound barely more than the sound of the ship groaning as it moved. Rsiran hung in place, dark thoughts the only thing keeping him company. He had drifted, losing time. No one had come to see him.

  Now soft footsteps thumped along the floor, moving steadily.

  Rsiran should be scared but did not have the energy needed to fear what came next. What energy remained, he needed keep in reserve to help save Jessa.

  And he recognized the gait. The steady sound of boots across the wood, the lumbering steps. Without looking, he knew who he would see, so he did not lift his head. There seemed no point in looking at Shael again.

  “I be knowin’ you’re awake there, Rsiran.” In spite of what he did, his voice had some of the friendly lilt to it that he’d always had.

  Rsiran worked the thick sense of cotton off his tongue. “Why did you let him take Jessa?”

  “Don’t be knowin’ that he’d take the girl. A damn shame that he did. You won’t believe this now, but I do be likin’ her more than most your kind.”

  His kind. Is that what drove Shael? “What do you want with me?”

  Shael stepped in front of him. The scent of his sweat mixed with grease. He grabbed Rsiran’s chin with a vice grip and lifted his face. “Same as I always wantin’, though you never make that forge that I ask.”

  Rsiran blinked, confused. “Forge?”

  Shael laughed softly. “Never figure out that schematic?” He leaned forward. “Guess you didn’t, else you wouldna gone to the alchemists, now would you.”

  Rsiran’s mouth felt thick. “What did you do to me?”

  Shael released Rsiran’s face. His head lolled back down, and he didn’t have the strength to fight.

  “I do know ’bout your ability, Rsiran. No one travels that I don’t know ’bout.”

  Through the thickness in his head, it took a few moments for Rsiran to understand what Shael was saying. “You feel it?”

  Shael stepped away. His boots scuffed along the ground softly. “S’pose you’d call it an ability. I never met any others with it. Jus’ know when you be steppin’ all over Elaeavn.” His eyes took on a strange tilt. Was there a faint hint of green there? “And farther.”

  Rsiran managed to turn his head enough to where he could see Shael. He stood looking out a small, barred porthole. “Why are you doing this?”

  Shael tapped on one of the bars and then turned. “Why you think, Rsiran? Why do I be doin’ anything I do? There’s coin in it.” He sniffed out a soft laugh. “And with that one, plenty of coin.”

  “How long have you worked for him?”

  “Long enough to know he pays. Not everyone pays, you see.”

  “You mean Brusus? Is that why you took me?”

  Shael laughed again. “Brusus do be a tough one. Smart, just like this other, just not quite smart enough. Mos’ of the time he be paying on time.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Not what I be wantin’. It’s what you be wantin’.”

  “I just want Jessa. Bring her safely back to Elaeavn.” He didn’t care about anything else. Brusus and his plots could be damned for all he cared. Even Josun could wander if he left them alone. All Rsiran wanted was Jessa back safely. He would do practically anything to see her safe again.

  “There no be safety in Elaeavn, Rsiran. Never been, not for a long time. That be somethin’ Brusus do keep from you. Thinks he can protect you, he does. But he knows the truth. Haern, too, though he got a different view. Comes from livin’ like he did. Things he saw and did.” Shael pushed himself away from the bulkhead and stood near him again. “You do be knowing about Haern?”

  “Brusus only tried to help me.”

  Shael snorted. “Brusus do be a fool. And that’s goin’ to get him pinched.”

  “Why has Brusus been a fool?”

  Shael laughed softly. “Brusus don’ know he be playing in a game bigger than him. Only now, it’s too late for him to understand. Now we got you and your girl. You’ll be doin’ what we need without him interferin’.”

  A bigger game. The rebellion. The exiled Elvraeth. Forgotten.

  “Doing what?”

  Shael stepped toward him, and Rsiran caught the glint of light off of metal. A distant part of him recognized it as one of the cylinders that they’d found in the crate in the warehouse.

  “Gonna help me find the rest of these, too, you are.”

  “Brusus has them. Why don’t you go get them from him—”

  Shael tapped him on the cheek with the open palm of his hand. So much like his father had slapped him.

  And just like then, he couldn’t do anything.

  Rsiran swallowed. His throat felt thick and dry in a way it hadn’t since he had been forced to work the Ilphaesn mines. And there, working at mining all day, his body ached from a day of hard work rather than the beating he’d experienced. At least in the mines,
he’d been able to Slide. At least when his father had mocked him, he’d been able to escape.

  “Why can’t I Slide?”

  Shael laughed and stepped out of sight. Rsiran’s arm suddenly jerked, pulled as if Shael meant to tear it from his socket.

  “For someone from Lower Town, you do be so sheltered. Probably not your fault here. Not sure even your Brusus do be knowin’ about these. Elvraeth like their secrets.”

  Elvraeth then. After what Della told him about the Elvraeth, and what Josun had alluded to the last time they’d met, he should not be terribly surprised, but finding something that could physically restrain him, that could prevent him from using his ability still felt strange. Did the Elvraeth have the same for other abilities? Could they wear something that prevented Reading? Limit Sight? Diminish a Listener? Or did they only fear Sliding?

  “What is it?”

  Shael stepped back around him. He leaned forward so Rsiran could see his eyes. “Chains. Best you be getting’ used to ’em.”

  “Why?”

  “Told you back in Elaeavn. You be needed.” He turned away, his feet shuffling across the wood until he reached the door. It creaked open, the sound mixing with the soft groaning of the ship. “Lucky for you that you really do be a skilled smith, Rsiran.”

  With that, he left Rsiran alone.

  Chapter 33

  Rsiran drifted again. The steady rocking of the ship lulled him. At least when he slept, he did not feel the pain throbbing in his head. At least then, he was not as aware that he couldn’t Slide. Surprising that after spending so much time wishing for a different ability, now that he couldn’t use it, he missed it as much as he did.

  But each time sleep pulled him under, dreams came. Strangely, most of the time, he dreamt about the Ilphaesn mines. The darkness and sense of lorcith all around him. The steady tapping that kept him awake. The pain in his back and neck from the attacks.

  Other dreams drifted in. Dreams he couldn’t explain. At times, he felt the distant pull of the alloy. Once he thought it came from the lantern, but he realized what he felt was larger. There was a vastness to it, a sense that he could lose himself were he to listen too long. Floating in the dream as he was, he didn’t care. Let the lorcith pull on him, draw him to it, so the muted sound came louder, closer, until it seemed all around him…

  Rsiran jerked awake. His arms and legs hurt. During the awake periods, the dull ache gradually worsened. Much longer, and he would not be able to stand on his own. Then, only the chains would support him.

  Shael had not returned. Rsiran lost track of time, the steady rolling of the ship and creak of the wooden planks his only company. Occasionally, he thought he heard voices or footsteps, but they never ventured where he could see them.

  In a moment of clarity, he listened for lorcith. If he could only pull a knife or one of his forgings to him, he might be able to work his way free. But there was nothing. As if he suppressed it, pushing the sense of lorcith away.

  More than anything, that sent shivers of fear through him. Firell’s ship carried massive amounts of unshaped lorcith. He should feel something. Or even the forgings Firell had taken from him, smuggled onto his ship. Instead, there was nothing.

  Had Shael taken him off Firell’s ship? Like Firell, Shael was a smuggler, but Rsiran had never seen his ship. It wouldn’t be impossible to think Shael could have moved him. But he didn’t think so.

  That meant that these cuffs somehow blocked his sense of lorcith.

  Only… not completely.

  As he listened, blocked from everything as he was, he recognized the distant sense of the alloy much as he had when he intentionally pushed away the sense of lorcith.

  With lorcith so completely blocked from him, he heard it clearly.

  With nothing but the steady creaking of the ship and the constant rolling beneath his feet, he listened. As he did, the sound of the alloy became clearer.

  It reminded him of his dream. Muted and steady, and both farther and closer than he’d ever felt before. Almost as if he could simply anchor to it and pull himself. Only, he’d never managed to anchor to the alloy. Even Sliding disturbed the tenuous connection he managed with it.

  He tried latching onto it as he did when anchoring, but the sense flickered and faded, disappearing into the blackness of his mind. Almost as if by reaching for it, he pushed it farther away until the sense of it faded.

  Rsiran let go. As he did, the muted sense returned.

  He remembered sitting in front of the anvil when he’d listened to the lantern. Then he’d almost had an understanding. Had he sat longer—or listened better—he had the sense that he might learn some deep secret.

  Instead of latching on, he just listened.

  For long moments, he felt nothing. But—slowly, so slowly—awareness came to him, just as it had when sitting and listening in his smithy. And he thought he knew what to do.

  This time, Rsiran didn’t reach. He pulled.

  Slowly, like a difficult Slide, the sense came closer. Yet it felt nothing like any Slide he’d ever experienced. Almost oozing toward him, the faded sense began to change, shifting into something else. No longer did it seem like it called quietly. Now it filled him.

  Different from lorcith. Where lorcith had an eager quality to it, this had an edge. Lorcith sometimes sang to him. This demanded his attention. Lorcith knew it needed him. This knew he needed it.

  Rsiran almost let go, but if he did, he suspected he wouldn’t have a chance to listen again.

  He knew he should be scared. But chained as he was, locked upright in Firell’s ship, separated from Jessa with no way to help her, at least he no longer felt alone. Whatever the strange sense of the alloy demanded, he would comply.

  His breathing eased, and he dropped his head, welcoming the sensation.

  Fatigue overwhelmed him, like after an onerous Slide, and he drifted again toward sleep.

  Chapter 34

  Rsiran awoke to the sound of footsteps on wood.

  He jerked his head up and turned to see who might be there, only he saw nothing. Even the lantern had been extinguished. Darkness swirled around him, a pure black night so much like the mines. Lorcith burned all around him…

  His heart hammered.

  Lorcith.

  This felt different from the muted sense he’d noticed earlier. That was still there, just at the back of his mind, but he could call on it if he wanted.

  For the first time, he felt the chains holding his wrist and ankles, the bars covering the porthole, the lantern across the room. And not muted, but rather as a steady call. As lorcith normally would.

  Rsiran probed the alloy encircling his wrists. It felt hot and tight, and scraped the flesh nearly to the bone. Dried blood caked along his arms. Fire burned through his skin, up toward his injured shoulder where it threatened to separate. Through it, he felt the way the chain had been forged, almost as he felt it when his own forgings called to him.

  And he knew how it had been made. That knowledge filled him in a way that he never had when working with lorcith. With lorcith, he simply let the ore take him, guide his hammer, and show him what it wanted to become. This was knowledge. The perfect combination of heartstone mixed with heated lorcith. The way to mix it together so the lorcith accepted the heartstone. The technique of shaping the chain in just such a way that when clasped and locked, it prevented Sliding. And the way to trigger the lock.

  Boots scraped on wood again. Not in the room, but just outside. A guard, or did Shael patrol?

  Rsiran sensed for lorcith. Chained as he was, he still couldn’t feel it. He had the vague sense that if he pushed hard enough, he could almost reach it. Still trapped.

  The heavy gait came closer. Almost to the door.

  Rsiran pushed on the lock of the chain, not expecting anything to happen. Lorcith only reacted to him when he had been the one to forge it. Only then did he have the connection needed to control it.

  The lock clicked.

  Rsiran p
ulled his hand free.

  Pain shot through his arm, but he still let out a soft sigh of relief. Acting quickly, he released the other locks. As he did, the sense of lorcith flooded him.

  His knives, the unshaped lumps stacked in crates, even the sword in Elaeavn. All filled him as it did when he pushed away the awareness of lorcith. That rebound sense practically filled his mind, nearly staggering him. Yet this felt different. Had the sense always been this strong or had something changed while he’d been separated from it?

  The door jiggled. Rsiran couldn’t wait any longer or risk getting caught again.

  Needing to know if he could, he Slid forward a step.

  There were colors, twisted and bright. The air smelled sharp and crisp. And then he emerged. Relief filled him. Surprisingly, the sense of the alloy remained.

  What had changed?

  It was a question for another time. Now he needed to reach Firell. Find Josun. And then Jessa.

  The chains hung from a hook on the wall. Rsiran examined them. Made of twisted lorcith that slowly spiraled around before reaching the clasps that had held his wrists. The alloy felt different from what he’d encountered so far. He listened to it—doing so no longer felt difficult or muted, no longer did he have to push away the sense of lorcith to hear the alloy—and understood that more heartstone had been used in their making than was used in the lantern, or even the bars covering the porthole. With a forge, lorcith, and heartstone, he could recreate the chains.

  The chain came off the hook easily and felt surprisingly light. Coiling it so that he could carry it easily, he slipped it up and over his arm. He removed the leg bindings from the wall and rolled them until they coiled easily to fit into his pocket. He wouldn’t leave these behind to trap someone else.

  Then he grabbed the lantern from the floor near the corner. The soft blue glow created just enough light for him to see clearly. He felt the sense of the alloy used to create the lantern. Deeper inside, heartstone burned, creating the pale glow.