The Dark Ability: Books 1-4

by D. K. Holmberg

  Hidden near a stilted corbal tree, he listened. And then he heard it again, the soft faded sense of the alloy, just enough to trail. He hesitated, searching for evidence of lorcith as well, and noticed it near the alloy. Lorcith would be easier for him to detect, so he followed this, hoping it led to the same place.

  Rsiran moved away from the tree and walked. Dressed in a navy shirt of decent cut and brown trousers only slightly stained from the day, his clothing wouldn’t make him stand out. Likely he’d stand out less here in Upper Town than he did at night in Lower Town.

  As he followed the sense of lorcith, the road took him past a line of taverns, some with soft music drifting through closed doors. Most had signs hanging from eaves, decorated with names like Trusted Lute or Sleepy Watcher painted with bright colors. A few smelled like bakers, their ovens now cool, but the scent of breads and sweets still drifting into the street, smells so different from what he knew in Lower Town. He passed dressmakers and candle makers and potters and weavers. All had shops better appointed than even his father’s had been, places suited for the wealth found in Upper Town. These were places Rsiran had never visited in his youth. Even then, he’d felt separated from the people of Upper Town.

  He turned, making his way onto a smaller street. Bright streetlamps still glowed here, no space along the street left in shadows. The orange light helped his eyes but from what Jessa said, wouldn’t help those Sighted, not like the blue lantern light found in the palace.

  Homes lined this street. Most were massive, rising two stories and separated from the next by stretches of green or groomed corbal trees. Some had candles glowing in their windows. A few had soft blue light. All demonstrated wealth unlike anything he could ever imagine, from the exquisite stonework of the buildings, to the way the trees were shaped, groomed into patterns.

  The muted sense of lorcith came from the end of the street. Rsiran stopped before a wide house. Nothing about it seemed different from the others along the street, other than the fact that no candles lit the windows.

  Rsiran hesitated, considering Sliding into the house, when he became aware of lorcith near him. One of his forgings.

  Rsiran turned, readying to Slide away. Haern stood in between a pair of streetlamps, watching him.

  Rsiran Slid to him. “Haern?” he asked carefully.

  Haern glanced at him before looking over at the house Rsiran had been studying. He held a slender knife—made of lorcith that Rsiran had felt—and twisted it idly in his hand. A light cloak hung about his shoulders, covering a black shirt and pants that practically disappeared into the thin shadows. If Rsiran had ever had doubts about Haern’s previous occupation, seeing him dressed like this erased them.

  “What is it you seek here, Rsiran?” Haern’s voice came out as little more than a harsh whisper.

  “How did you know I’d be here?” Haern wouldn’t have been able to follow him—not with how Rsiran had Slid to Krali Rock before Sliding toward the palace. And he couldn’t See Rsiran the same way he could others. Sliding masked him.

  “Something changed.”

  Rsiran frowned. “What changed? You can suddenly See me?”

  Haern looked over at Rsiran. Shadows caught along his eyes making his face appear darker. “Yes.”

  That troubled Rsiran. Had pushing away the sense of lorcith shifted something? “Is that why you came?”

  Haern flipped the knife so that the point faced down. “You should not have been this clear to me, Rsiran.”

  “What did you See?” He slipped back so that he stood with his back facing the row of houses behind him. The streetlamps on either side cascaded thin light onto him. Dressed as he was, he didn’t blend into the darkness nearly as well as Haern.

  “Normally, only swirls of color. Even that is muted. Most of the time, I cannot tell what that means.” He shrugged, as if that should make sense to Rsiran. “But I had a sudden sense of the colors about you coalescing. There was darkness and danger around you when before I saw nothing.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Why were you planning to enter that house?” The knife stopped moving in his hand.

  Rsiran tensed. The last time Haern had come to him like this, he had tried to injure him with Rsiran’s knife. He claimed he’d only done it to help save Jessa, but Rsiran wondered how much truth there was in that.

  Haern watched him, and a tight smile pulled at his mouth. Then he stuffed the knife into the waist of his pants, pulling his shirt up and over it. “It isn’t me you need to fear.”

  “You think I need to fear entering that house?”

  Haern looked across the street, and his eyes narrowed. “I Saw… changes for you—and others—if you do. Beyond that, I can’t tell. The fact that I can See anything worries me. What’s in there? Why have you come here?”

  How much should he share with Haern? As a Seer, if Haern saw something that might make what he needed to do easier, then shouldn’t he take advantage of it?

  “I think it’s the alchemist guild house.”

  Haern turned slowly away from the house and looked at Rsiran. “The alchemists? How could you know? I don’t think even Brusus could learn the location of their house.”

  What did it mean that Brusus was so connected throughout Elaeavn that he should be able to learn secrets from the Elvraeth, to bribe constables, and yet still not know the location of the alchemist guild house?

  “You know I sense lorcith?”

  “I think I have heard that,” Haern said. His hand moved away from the knife he carried.

  “There is an alloy of lorcith which blocks my other ability.”

  “I thought you told us that lorcith could not mix with other metals.”

  Rsiran nodded. “Until I—” He glanced up toward the palace and lowered his voice. From here, the palace did not float as it did lower in the city, but the towers still stretched high overhead, as if reaching for the Great Watcher. “Until I tried Sliding into the palace. Windows are barred with this alloy. It kept us from easily Sliding inside.”

  “But did not prevent you completely.”

  “No.” Rsiran chose not to explain.

  Haern turned and gazed back at the house. “Strange that lorcith should prevent you from Sliding.”

  “Strange? How so?”

  Haern just shook his head. “Contrasting abilities do not pair, at least not strongly. No Sighted can Listen. Readers are never Seers.”

  “But the Elvraeth—”

  “Even within the Elvraeth, there exists this balance.” Haern shrugged. “I don’t know what it means—I can’t See anything to explain it—only that it intrigues me. Perhaps Della would know more.”

  “I don’t think my ability with lorcith is the same as being Sighted or a Reader.”

  Haern looked at him, eyes arched. “No? From what I’ve seen, it’s just as useful. And likely gifted just the same as the others.”

  If that were true, then Rsiran could no longer feel as if he’d been shorted somehow by the Great Watcher. If he truly had two abilities, how was that any different from what Alyse possessed?

  “You still haven’t explained how you have come to believe the alchemists are here. Or why you would seek to find them.”

  “I wanted to understand the alloy. Something like that might help keep us safe from…” He hesitated. Did Haern know about Josun?

  “From another Slider?” Haern finished.

  Rsiran nodded. “The alchemists would know more about the alloy. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Seems to be a dangerous thing you’ve pursued. When Brusus told me about Josun, I didn’t know whether to believe him at first, but after Lianna…” He breathed out softly. “I wish I could See him more clearly. Then we could know what he was after and what it has to do with us in Lower Town.” Haern tilted his head as he considered Rsiran. “And you think to protect yourself from him. That this alloy would keep you safe?”

  The alloy could keep him safe, if Rsiran could only find a way t
o use it to block Josun. “I think I need to understand it.”

  “And the alchemists know how to create this alloy?”

  Rsiran sighed. “I don’t know. Before visiting the palace, I’d never heard of the alloy. Without the ability to sense lorcith, I don’t think I’d even know it was a lorcith mix. And my father didn’t know of it.”

  At least, he didn’t think that he did. What reason would his father have had to potentially waste lorcith trying to create an alloy without any guarantee of success? Lorcith was far too valuable to the smiths to experiment with it like that. Testing alloys could be time consuming, and sometimes, each batch required a different amount. That was the value of the alchemists.

  “A shame we cannot simply ask a master smith,” Haern said.

  Rsiran just nodded. He didn’t say anything about the fact that his father’s smithy had been abandoned. And he had no interest in searching for other smiths. Doubtless they would recognize him, but what reason could he give for asking about an alloy of lorcith? Better to seek answers from the alchemists.

  “I See that I haven’t changed your mind.”

  Rsiran just shook his head.

  Haern nodded. With a quick flick of his wrist—faster than should have been possible—the knife came out from his waist and twisted in his hand.

  Rsiran readied to push it away.

  Haern offered a tight smile. “Then I will come with you.”

  Chapter 24

  Rsiran glanced up the street just to make certain no one else approached. Then he grabbed Haern’s arm and Slid them to the edge of the house. Something about Haern’s shirt seemed to throw off the light, leaving him more shadowed than Rsiran.

  Haern held tightly to the knife. No longer did it flip softly through his hand. The lorcith of the knife pulled on him, drawing him with a gentle call. With nothing more than a nudge, Rsiran could pull the knife to him. Haern seemed to sense this and kept it in his outside hand.

  “Interesting,” Haern muttered as they emerged from the Slide.

  “What?”

  “The colors. Much like what I usually See swirling around you.”

  Rsiran nodded. The colors were there every time he Slid. That and the soft bitter odor that always reminded him of lorcith. He no longer even noticed it as he once did.

  “Why didn’t you Slide us into the house?”

  “I’m not sure I can. The alloy is there, enough that I feel it pushing against me. A barrier of sorts.”

  “And you can’t Slide through it.”

  “Not easily.” Even were he to manage to get through the barrier, getting back out would be difficult. Better to save his strength for the return Slide. At least then, he could anchor to lorcith he felt, either the sword in his smithy or one of the countless other items he had stored throughout Elaeavn.

  “Then it’s good I offered to come.”

  Haern took the lead, making his way between the neighboring houses, slipping into the shadows and quickly fading to be practically invisible. Rsiran hurried after him, wondering where Haern might lead him. Stones crunched too loudly under his boots. Each step seemed to send small debris cascading down the gentle slope that existed between the houses. The air felt heavier here, as well, and mixed with an undercurrent that seemed almost sickly sweet.

  Haern stopped near the back of the house. A flat expanse of stone and grass fitted between this house and the one behind it. Two small trees struggled to grow, strangled by the height of the houses. One bloomed with a half-dozen limp flowers, the color of the petals bleached by night and lack of sunlight. Rsiran couldn’t help but think that Jessa wouldn’t even bother with those.

  “Where are you going?” Rsiran whispered.

  “Can’t go through the front door now, can we? Raises too much suspicion if we’re seen trying to pick the lock and sneak through. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if the alchemists left some sort of surprises for anyone who tried to come in that way.”

  Haern glanced at the other houses visible to them from where they stood. No lanterns lit the homes, and no candles flickered in windows. And, hopefully, no one Sighted watched them.

  “Still certain this is the alchemists?” Haern asked.

  Rsiran listened. Since encountering Haern, he hadn’t spent as much energy trying to suppress awareness of the rest of the lorcith around him, but by not doing so, the distant sense of lorcith he’d heard had faded to little more than a murmuring, barely scratching at the back of his consciousness.

  As he had before, he focused on the sense of lorcith he felt, pushing each piece away one by one, until all he felt—all he heard—was that faint sensation of the alloy. As he did, he knew it was here, somewhere behind the walls of this home.

  “Not certain, but it’s the most likely,” he said.

  Haern nodded and then slipped away, drifting along the back of the house. Rsiran followed closely. He considered Sliding, but the lorcith warned against it, almost as if speaking to him. And then Haern stopped before a small door.

  Rsiran had seen Jessa and Brusus pick their way through locks with skill. What Haern did next looked less refined, but went more quickly than what either had managed. Taking the slender lorcith knife, he shoved it into the lock, twisted once, and shoved a shoulder against the door. It popped open.

  Neither moved for a moment, listening, but nothing came but the whispers of the hidden lorcith.

  Haern ducked inside the door. Rsiran waited for a moment before following him in. As he did, he thought he heard the quiet cry of a distant cat. He didn’t wait to hear if it repeated.

  The darkened building seemed to swallow him, even more when he pulled the door closed behind him. Haern hovered nearby, barely more than a presence, the lorcith of his knife pushing on his awareness. The heaviness he’d smelled between the buildings was thicker here, filling his nostrils with the odor.

  “Where do we start?” Haern whispered.

  Rsiran pointed down what he thought was some sort of hallway. Without any light, he didn’t know with certainty. “I can’t see much.”

  Haern sighed out a soft laugh. “My Sight is not much better. Should have brought Jessa.”

  “I didn’t want to risk her.”

  “Good,” Haern said. “Stay close to me.”

  Rsiran couldn’t tell what else might be in the building. For all he knew, they might be surrounded by dozens of people, or it could simply be an empty house. Haern let Rsiran lead as they moved deeper into the house. Rsiran held onto the muted sense of lorcith he felt and let it guide him as he made his way down the hall.

  As he drew nearer, he felt aware of something else. Only when he reached a door blocking him from going any further did he notice what he felt. Unshaped lorcith.

  “What is it, Rsiran?” Haern whispered.

  “Something changed.”

  “What?”

  Haern slipped to stand alongside him. Rsiran felt the knife in Haern’s hand pointed toward the door.

  “I feel lorcith. Different from before.”

  “Do you think someone else is here?” Haern asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Haern turned toward him. He felt it more as a shifting of his cloak, the soft fabric rustling quietly as he moved. Haern grabbed his shoulder and pulled him gently until the wall pushed back against him.

  “Wait.”

  Haern reached for the door and twisted, pushing it open just enough for him to slip through. He didn’t close it completely. Cool air breathed out through the crack.

  And, suddenly, he no longer sensed Haern’s knife.

  Rsiran pushed back against the wall. Haern couldn’t have simply disappeared. The distant sense of lorcith stayed with him, and he let it go, drawing on other lorcith around him, listening for Haern. At first, it came back to him faintly, hidden and soft. Then he felt it more strongly. Only it didn’t move.

  He waited, but still the sense of the knife didn’t change. Had Haern dropped it? That seemed unlikely. Haern had gripped it
tightly as he made his way through the door, not to mention that he was a skilled assassin. Losing his weapon didn’t seem likely.

  The only other thing he could think of was that Haern was in danger.

  Haern wouldn’t be here if not for him. He wouldn’t have followed him into the house, risked angering the alchemists, if not for Rsiran. All the time he’d wondered where Haern’s allegiance really lay, and now he might have sent him into danger.

  Rsiran stepped through the door. A whistle of bitter air hit his nose, and for the briefest second, colors seemed to swirl. Then past the door, he saw nothing. A soft shimmering crossed over his skin, like a tingling cool touch. For a moment, he wondered if water dripped across his skin but didn’t feel anything else. The sensation passed, but left a knot of nausea in his stomach.

  Darkness surrounded him. But through it, he felt lorcith all around him. Just as he had in the mines, Rsiran used that sense to navigate through this space, sensing for voids in the lorcith to move carefully.

  Where was Haern?

  He didn’t sense the knife. Rsiran hesitated and listened again. Distantly, the knife called to him, as if recognizing he sought it. But from what he could tell, there didn’t seem any way to reach it. Walls of lorcith blocked him.

  If he couldn’t reach him, he couldn’t help Haern. Rsiran did the only thing he could think of. Anchoring to the knife, he Slid.

  He emerged in a flat, open area. Blue light from four lanterns on the walls lit the space. Walls were smooth stone, not lorcith or the alloy but something different, and not simple rock. It took him a moment to realize that the ground under his feet was made of large sheets of the alloy, hammered flat and pieced together. There seemed a pattern, but he couldn’t tell what it might be. The air in the room tasted stale and still.

  Haern lay on the floor, unmoving. The knife he carried had fallen just out of reach.

  Muted voices drifted as through a thick door, though he saw no sign of a door. As far as he could tell, no one else was in the room with them.