The Heartstone Blade (The Dark Ability Book 2)

by Holmberg, D. K.

  With the lantern, at least he wouldn’t be stuck in darkness.

  Rsiran Slid.

  He emerged from the Slide inside the hold. For the first time, he could see what it held. The sense of lorcith all around him practically overwhelmed him. If he closed his eyes, he would see where each crate rested, where each forging he’d made hid.

  His knives were here.

  Not the knives that he’d made initially for Brusus. What he wanted were the smaller knives, those that he’d asked the lorcith to let him create. Dropped into one of the crates, he didn’t need the lantern to see that they rested atop a bowl he’d made. They would fit in his pocket, hidden away. And they didn’t take much thought to push.

  Or pull.

  Rsiran pulled them toward him.

  The knives floated up from the crate, and he grabbed them out of the air as they neared. Then he stuffed them into his pocket. A few other knives were here, as well, but he wouldn’t worry about them now. Even the unshaped lorcith, its call so loud in his mind making it so that he had to push it back, would be left behind. If everything went well, he would return for it later.

  Then he Slid.

  This time, he emerged in Firell’s quarters. The room stood empty. The small trunk where Firell stored his flagon of ale rested on the floor. The lid partially closed. Bed sheets crumpled atop the bed. Blood stained the pillow. A stack of paper rested atop the table. A knife jabbed through one corner, holding them in place. Not lorcith, but finely made.

  Rsiran pulled the knife out of the paper and twisted it in his hands. Something about it looked familiar. There seemed a sense of flow to the steel made by the folding of the metal until it tapered to a sharp point. Finely balanced, it was more functional than decorative. He set it aside.

  A series of numbers scrawled across the top page. Rsiran studied the page, reading through the tight script along the left side. A logbook, recording lorcith. Weights and quantity of lorcith delivered. But he couldn’t tell where it was delivered to. He folded the sheet and tucked it into his pocket.

  He flipped through the other pages. Some were more logs, others were notes. He didn’t have the time to sort through it all. Instead, he took the stack and rolled it, stuffing it alongside the other sheet. When he returned to Elaeavn, he would take more time to read through it. Only when Jessa was finally safe would he care.

  The door opened.

  He had expected it.

  Rsiran looked up. Shael stood in the doorway. Surprise lined his wide face. Eyes narrowed and his arms tensed.

  “Don’t know how you be escaping. Felt the traveling, though. Someone come let you out?”

  “Where’s Jessa?” Rsiran asked. The anger in his voice surprised him. So, too, did the rage. He would not hesitate to harm Shael if it meant getting Jessa back. The knives thrummed in his pocket, ready for whatever he asked of them.

  “Don’t be makin’ me hurt you again, boy.”

  Shael lunged.

  He moved quickly, but Rsiran anticipated it. As Shael came at him, he Slid and emerged just long enough to grab onto him.

  Rsiran pulled him up to the main deck of the ship. He emerged in bright sunlight. The ship rocked gently beneath him, nothing like the angry waves he’d felt before. After all the time he’d spent chained and trapped in the room, nothing but the motion of the waves for company, he did not struggle with his footing as he had initially.

  Shael staggered and Rsiran released him. He went sprawling across the deck.

  Someone leapt from a rope and landed on the deck with a thud.

  Rsiran didn’t turn to see who it was. He didn’t need to. The sense of lorcith flooded him, telling him that the attacker carried a knife, though not one of his. Strange that he should feel it so strongly. Without giving it another thought, he pulled on it and the knife went flying.

  He twisted it so that it hung over Shael, tip pointing down toward his throat. And then left it hovering there. The lorcith responded as if forged by his hand.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  Shael froze. Only then did Rsiran turn.

  Firell stood behind him. A large gash lined one cheek. Deep green eyes had reddened around the sides. He looked weary. “You continue to surprise me, Rsiran. No wonder Brusus values you as he does.”

  “Someone will tell me what they know.”

  As he spoke, he felt people moving about below deck. They carried lorcith on them or else he wouldn’t have noticed. With a pull on the lorcith, a distant moan sounded. And then silence.

  “How many others?”

  Firell’s eyes narrowed.

  “How many!”

  “Two more. But they should be sleeping. Had their shift last night.”

  “Over by Shael,” he said.

  Firell obeyed, keeping his eyes fixed on Rsiran as he made his way toward Shael, careful to give Rsiran a wide berth. “Thought you said he was restrained.”

  Shael laughed bitterly. “Thought he be. Don’ know how—”

  Rsiran pushed the knife down until the tip rested on Shael’s throat. A spot of blood bloomed where it touched. Shael stiffened but did not move any more.

  “You will tell me what you know of Josun Elvraeth,” Rsiran said. “And of the Forgotten.”

  “Rsiran—careful with what you ask. There are things you don’t know about, things Brusus has kept from you. Thinks he’s keeping you safe, but really bringing you deeper,” Firell said.

  “He’s told me what he knows about the Forgotten. And I don’t care. All I want is Jessa.”

  Shael didn’t move. “Aye, boy, but you should.”

  Rsiran surveyed the deck, making certain that no one else might attack him. Bright sun hung overhead. A strong sea breeze fluttered the full sails, sending spray up and over the deck as the ship cut through the water. In the far distance, flat land stretched out, sweeping away from the ocean in a field of gold and brown.

  Everywhere around him he felt the soft sense of lorcith.

  What had happened to him chained in the hold? Had the separation from the lorcith simply made him more aware of it now that he could sense it again, or was it something different? Had something about him changed? And why could he suddenly feel the alloy so sharply?

  “Just tell me about Josun.”

  Firell sat next to Shael, looking up at him. “You think you will find your girl. I understand that. I’ve been through it myself. But that’s not how his kind works. You’ve got to earn them back. Do their bidding—”

  “I tried that once,” Rsiran said. “It didn’t work out for either of us too well.”

  “You’re not dumb, boy. Think about what you do be doin’. What this Elvraeth be having you do. Do you really think you be getting the upper hand here?”

  “I just want to get her back. Have him leave me in peace.”

  Firell pushed himself to his feet. Rsiran turned. One of the knives hidden in his pocket flashed up and streaked toward him. Firell held his hands out in front of him, eyes wide as he stared at the knife. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Rsiran. What Brusus either hasn’t or won’t tell you. And maybe you’ve been sheltered. Most in Elaeavn are. But there isn’t peace—not really—and not where the Elvraeth are concerned.”

  “I only care about one of the Elvraeth. He’s the one who took Jessa, the one who thinks to use her to get to me.”

  Lying on the deck, knife pointing to his throat, Shael still managed to laugh. “You be thinking you the only one to be used? You do be sheltered, boy!”

  Rsiran frowned at Shael and turned to Firell. The knife hung in the air between them, just out of Firell’s reach. Who had Firell lost? How did he understand what Rsiran went through?

  Rsiran remembered what he’d overheard. Josun had taken someone Firell cared about as well. And maybe that was the reason Firell helped him smuggle. Wouldn’t Rsiran do the same for Jessa? If there were a chance that he might get her back, wouldn’t he take it?

  Except… he knew that he couldn’t trust
Josun. He’d been used once already, meant to take the blame for whatever poisoning Josun intended. As much as Firell and Shael might know of the Elvraeth, whatever Josun had over them, Rsiran would do anything to keep away from him.

  With a quick pull, he dragged the knives back to him and caught them. The smaller of the two—the one he’d asked the lorcith to let him make, he stuffed back into his pocket. The other he quickly pushed into the band of his pants.

  “Tell me, then. Tell me why I’m sheltered.”

  Shael pushed up to sit. He rubbed his neck before leaning back against the rail, not making any other attempt to move. Rsiran didn’t trust him not to attack again, but at least he knew to be ready. And now, he suspected he could pull Shael with him. If he had to, he would drop him off the rocks near Ilphaesn.

  “What do you know of the Elvraeth?” Firell asked.

  “They rule Elaeavn.”

  “And before?”

  “They were gifted by the Great Watcher with abilities granting them authority to lead.”

  Shael laughed softly. “Foolish customs,” he said. “And most you people do be believing them too.”

  “Why shouldn’t we believe?” Rsiran asked. He Slid toward him a step, and Shael’s eyes darkened.

  Firell only shifted, crossing his legs. He flexed his arms and rubbed at the gash on his cheek. “You think the Great Watcher cares who rules? They might have been gifted more strongly than the rest of us, but what gives the Elvraeth a right to rule?” Firell smiled, his mouth little more than a tight line. “Most never even question. Never question why the Elvraeth exile people from the city. But there are some who know the world is larger than Elaeavn. Who have seen beyond the Aisl and the Lhear Sea. And they know there is more than just the Elvraeth. Gifted by the Great Watcher. Perhaps that is true. Once I believed my Sight was a gift. Once I believed as you do—that the Elvraeth were given their gifts by the Great Watcher. But I see how they use their gifts. How they exile those who compete for power. How they hurt or kill their own people. And now… now that comes back to haunt them.”

  “I don’t care about your lectures. Or about who rules—”

  “Who rules be the most important, now don’t it?”

  Rsiran frowned at Shael. “Why?”

  But Shael just shrugged.

  “You should focus on what you can do, rather than what you cannot. You don’t know where she is. And we can’t help you.” Saying that seemed to pain Firell.

  Rsiran swallowed. What did Firell know? “Is she dead?”

  Emotion crossed Firell’s face. Anger? Sadness? A mixture of both? “I doubt that he’d take her from you like that. No way to motivate you otherwise. And trust me when I tell you that he wants to use you.”

  Shael had said the same thing. Had mentioned Rsiran forging. “Taking Jessa is the way to motivate me?” Rsiran Slid a step closer. “I’ve seen what happens when Josun tries to use people. It nearly killed Jessa the last time. Lianna wasn’t as lucky.”

  “Lianna?” Firell asked.

  Rsiran nodded. “Didn’t know about her? Josun killed her. Let her go above the rocks. It was Brusus who found her.”

  Firell frowned. “Lianna is gone? But it makes no sense to harm her. Doing so only aggravates Brusus and would…” He looked up at Rsiran, eyes going wide. “Listen to me, Rsiran. You must keep Brusus from getting more involved. Doing so only serves their purpose!”

  “I can’t keep Brusus from his plans any more than he can keep me from mine.”

  Firell swallowed. “Not Josun. Don’t you see, Rsiran? It’s never been about you or me or Brusus or Jessa or even Josun. It’s about the Elvraeth and the Forgotten. And they will use us however they choose all in the name of acquiring power.”

  Rsiran felt the lapping of waves as they pushed against the ship. “Just tell me when he’s meeting you.”

  “Would now work?”

  Rsiran turned. Josun Elvraeth stood leaning against the railing. A wide smile crossed his face.

  Chapter 35

  “I thought you said you had him controlled?” Josun said, his deep blue shirt open wide across the chest, with slashes of crimson ribbon lacing it together. Black pants fit tight over his boots. Rather than anger, amusement crossed his face. If he worried that Rsiran was not chained, he did not show it.

  “We do be having him chained. He escaped,” Shael said. He nodded to the chain wrapped around Rsiran’s arm.

  Josun Slid past him as another smaller wave made the ship shudder. Now he stood next to Firell and knelt. “You told me those chains were genuine.”

  Firell shook his head. “They are genuine. You said you tested them yourself!”

  Josun laughed and stood, turning to face Rsiran for the first time. “I suppose that I did. Interesting that he should escape. He continues to surprise me.”

  Rsiran shifted the chains as he listened for lorcith, curious if Josun kept any forged lorcith on him, but there wasn’t anything.

  Josun smiled and looked at Rsiran. “The blacksmith. You look different than when last I saw you.”

  “I do be saying that the last time I saw him,” Shael said. He stood and leaned against the railing of the deck just as leisurely as Josun managed. “You do be knowin’ of his knives?”

  Josun tilted his head and sniffed. “I do be knowing. I just have not worked out how.”

  “And you no be concerned?”

  Josun turned to Shael. “And why should I be concerned about Rsiran? Were he to want to harm me, he would have attempted it by now. And besides,” he went on, a dark smile deepening on his face, “if I am gone, how would he find his… friend?”

  Rsiran bit back the rage he felt, pushing it away. Hurting Josun would do nothing to return Jessa to him. “Where is she?” he asked.

  Josun looked over and shrugged. “That is not how such negotiations should go. You see, you bargain from a position of weakness. I have what you want. And she is somewhere even you will never find her.”

  With a thought, Rsiran pushed one of the knives hidden in his pocket toward Josun.

  It whistled past. Somehow, he’d managed to Slide just as a wave pushed on the ship and the knife went splashing down into the water.

  “Careful, Lareth, or one could think you don’t truly care what happened to your friend.”

  “What did you do with her?” Rsiran asked. He readied another knife. If Josun wanted to taunt him, he wouldn’t hesitate to use the knives to incapacitate him. The last time, the knife he’d used had been poisoned. This time, they were not. That didn’t mean he couldn’t still be deadly.

  Josun shook his head. “First, we will begin with what you can do for me. And then, if you complete what I ask, we will speak about what I can do for you.”

  “What is it you think I can do for you?”

  Josun leaned away from the railing. Wind ruffled his shirt and sent his chestnut hair fluttering. “I wouldn’t ask you to do anything you do not do already. A simple forging, is all.”

  “What kind of forging? You’re the Elvraeth. Why do you need me?”

  He shrugged. “There are some things even one of the Elvraeth cannot get made. And then there’s your unique ability,” he said, glancing at the knife Rsiran held. “A smith like you has uses. So first, I need a demonstration.”

  “I’ve already seen what kind of demonstration you want.”

  Josun smiled. “Nothing like that, and nothing that you would not do anyway.”

  “What is it?”

  “Just a sword. I believe you already know how to make one?” His smile twisted his mouth. “Something similar to that. Only, I would require a personal flourish. You know of heartstone?” He watched Rsiran as he asked and then nodded. “I see that you do. And as you have no doubt learned, heartstone can be worked into your lorcith. The combination is really quite beautiful. This is what I would like my sword made from. This will be your demonstration.”

  If Rsiran needed any more proof that Josun was after the alloy, this request
confirmed it. “Why do you need a sword like that?”

  His eyes hardened. “I want it so that your Jessa can be returned to you intact.” Then he shrugged. “Is that not a good enough reason?”

  Firell watched Rsiran and shook his head.

  “Not for the lorcith,” he said. Already he had the feeling that he couldn’t make such a sword. Mixing the alloy might be difficult enough. Even with the ability to listen to it, the knowledge he gained there, he didn’t know if what Josun asked was even possible, at least for him.

  “You want me to believe the metal cares what shape it takes?” He laughed, his head shaking. “You Lower Towners are so much alike. So quick to believe in such things. It really does make ruling much easier.” His laughter died, and he fixed Rsiran with a dark expression. “Now. As I have said. What I require is the sword. I believe Shael provided you plans for a way to mix the two metals?” He smiled. “Yes, you know what I mean. Once you demonstrate your ability, you will have her back.”

  Rsiran hadn’t realized that was what the plans were for, and now that he was more tightly connected to the alloy, he doubted that he would need them. “And if I can’t?”

  “Then I will take one of your lovely lorcith knives and drag it across her throat. Her last thought will be of how you failed her. And how you killed her.”

  Rsiran tensed but realized that Josun wanted him angry. “How long do I have?”

  Josun fixed Rsiran with a dark smile. “You ask the wrong question. How long does she have?”

  “How long?” he repeated.

  Josun shrugged. “Perhaps a day. Perhaps longer.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I move on. I am sure I can find other ways to motivate you. Do you think you can complete this task in time?”

  Doing so meant forcing lorcith into forgings it would not want. That felt too much like what his father did when working with lorcith, and nothing like the collaboration he had when he worked with the ore. But what choice did he have? To save Jessa, wouldn’t he do anything?

  “You will bring Jessa with you when we next meet,” he said.

  Josun frowned. “And risk you attacking like the last time? I think you will leave the sword for me, and then I will decide if your work is satisfactory. If it is not, then I might have another task for you.” Josun Slid just as the ship rocked in the waves, moving only a step. “I will find you tomorrow night, Rsiran. And you know what will happen if you are not there.”