The Dark Ability: Books 1-4

by D. K. Holmberg

  That would not be Jessa.

  He pushed away the twinge of hope. It did no good, not with what he needed. Or with what might be necessary.

  And what he planned was risky. Della had been right about that.

  For Jessa, he would take any risk.

  Opening his eyes and clinging to the lorcith, he Slid.

  Distance blurred past him. Sounds and colors mixed with the familiar bitter scent of the Slide. And then he emerged.

  At once, he knew he stood in the hold on Firell’s ship.

  Waves rocked against the ship, sending him sliding across the slick deck of the hold, crashing painfully against one wall. Rsiran bit back a cry of pain and held onto his shoulder, wincing.

  Again there was no light in the hold, and he felt a moment of fear at the darkness. But he had known the dark, and here in the hold, it was not dark, not like he’d known. All around him came the awareness of lorcith.

  As before, he used this to know where he stood, feeling for the void in the darkness where no lorcith existed to find the door.

  When he reached it, he flexed his injured arm. Nothing appeared broken, but it throbbed with a steady pain. This kind of pain he could tolerate. And strangely, pain in the darkness like this felt familiar to him. At least he had not been poisoned as he had in the mines.

  Rsiran checked his knives. Three and each small, meant for pushing rather than throwing. Other knives were stacked inside some of the crates. He thought for a moment about grabbing those, before deciding against it. He would not harm Firell unless he had to. All he wanted was answers.

  And then he would Slide away—hopefully, to Jessa.

  The cold metal doorknob slipped beneath his hand. Rsiran turned it, prepared for whoever might be out in the hall.

  Lantern light streamed through the cracked door. A single orange lantern hung along the wall, the same kind as found in the mines. The steady light brought back unwelcome memories. His heart fluttered, and a surge of anxiety twisted his stomach.

  He needed to control those emotions to help Jessa.

  He stepped into the hall. The ship rocked under him and he swayed with it. One hand trailed along the smooth wooden wall to keep balance. At the first door, he paused, listening for any voices. Unlike the last time he’d been aboard the ship, he heard nothing.

  He continued onward and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

  Lantern light behind him made it difficult to see out into the darkness. The ship creaked and someone clomped across the deck. Wind snapped against the sails, whistling loudly. Soft patters of rain or spray splashed down the stairs. Rsiran tensed, considering Sliding onto the deck before deciding against it.

  He started up the stairs, taking each step carefully. The second step creaked loudly, and he froze. For a moment, he thought he heard someone coming. But then nothing more.

  By the time he reached the top of the stairs, tension made his shoulders ache. The last time he’d been on the main deck had been with Jessa. Then, lines had been coiled against the rails. Sails were rolled and tucked. Wooden planks underfoot had been dry.

  Now the lines were pulled taught as wind filled the sails. The ship swayed more violently here, and Rsiran struggled to keep his feet. Rain splashed down, striking his face like sharp needles.

  Footsteps hurried across the deck. Rsiran crouched in the shadows, hoping to stay hidden. One of Firell’s sailors, a man named Tagas who he’d met before, grabbed a coil of line and threw it over his shoulder before hurrying out of view again.

  Rsiran didn’t know anything about sailing. How many men would be on the ship? Firell certainly. And Tagas. But who else did he sail with? How many others would he find?

  “What is this?”

  Rsiran stiffened as the voice boomed behind him.

  He turned, prepared to either Slide or push his knives, whatever it took to escape if needed. Firell stood at the bottom of the stairs. Shadows obscured his usually affable face. Deep green eyes flickered. His hand slipped to the knife at his waist.

  One of Rsiran’s.

  Footsteps thundered across the deck of the ship. Toward him. Tagas had heard.

  Without waiting, Rsiran pulled on the knife. It jerked free and flew across the distance. Rsiran grabbed it out of the air.

  He Slid to the bottom step and grabbed Firell, turning him toward the knife.

  Firell watched him with less uncertainty than Rsiran expected, especially after he’d just demonstrated rare abilities.

  Rsiran pointed the knife toward Firell and glanced up the stairs. Tagas looked down, watching with a tight expression. Firell shook his head and Tagas disappeared.

  “Brusus send you after realizing that crate on the dock was mine?” Firell asked. Somehow he didn’t seem surprised to see him.

  It wasn’t the question he’d expected. Firell didn’t seem surprised. “No. He didn’t want me to come.”

  Firell pointed down the hall. “Might as well put that knife down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  His voice seemed so different than the Firell he’d known. “I don’t think you can. And I have questions.”

  “Of course you do. That’s why you’re here. But we can at least sit and share a mug of ale while we talk.” Firell didn’t wait for his answer. He started down the hall, pausing briefly at the door of the room where Rsiran had overheard him the last time. “Come on. Rain is picking up. You don’t want to be out there when it really starts. No sea legs. Might get nasty. Ale will help calm your stomach.”

  As he said it, the ship swayed again, throwing Rsiran against the wall. A tight smile crossed Firell’s lips.

  Rsiran made his way down the hall after him and entered the room on edge.

  He needn’t be. Firell stood with his back to him, facing a long table. A low bunk rested against the far wall. A small trunk rested on top of the table, and Firell twisted, showing him a small flagon before pouring it into a metal cup. The room stunk of faded perfume and bitter ash.

  Rsiran shook his head. He had not come to drink.

  “Go on. Ask your questions. Then it’ll be my turn.”

  After closing the door—he didn’t need Tagas or one of the others surprising him—he moved toward the bed. “Why do you have lorcith? Are you working for Josun? For his—” he almost said rebellion, but he knew that wasn’t right anymore “—for the Forgotten?”

  Firell took a long swig of ale before answering. “The lorcith was the job, Rsiran. Some of it went into town like that crate Lianna saw. The rest goes out. Didn’t Brusus take enough for you to use?” When Rsiran hesitated answering, Firell laughed. “I know Brusus was here. Not much happens on my ship that I don’t know about.”

  He said it so off handedly that Rsiran almost missed it. But he recognized the implications. Firell knew that they’d been to his ship. “I know about the lorcith. That you have some of my work that Brusus hadn’t asked you to move. Where did you get it?”

  Firell laughed again. “That girl of yours isn’t the only one who can sneak.”

  “You?”

  He shook his head. “Not my gift,” he said, but he didn’t elaborate more.

  Shael, then. The man had proven capable of sneaking into the smithy, so why wouldn’t he have been the one to take some of Rsiran’s forgings? “You didn’t answer the second questions. Who asked you to gather lorcith?”

  Firell’s eyes tightened. He took another drink of ale and refilled the mug. “So many questions. Don’t I get to ask any?”

  “No.”

  Firell looked at the knife Rsiran still held out toward him. His eyes danced dangerously. “Fair enough. For now. But I’ll have answers before you leave.”

  Rsiran didn’t intend to stay on Firell’s ship long enough to answer his questions, but he didn’t argue. “Who has you gathering lorcith from the mines?”

  Firell studied him, his eyes flickering a deeper green for a moment. “I see you already seem to know.”

  Rsiran tensed. Did Firell Read him? He hadn
’t worked out his ability yet. He should have asked Brusus. Likely he’d know. But the lorcith-fortified mental barrier he managed to keep in his mind kept most Readers out. All except Della, and he began to think her abilities were somehow different from most.

  But no. There had been no sense of someone trying to crawl through his mind. He’d met delicate Readers—Della Read him without him knowing—but that wasn’t it.

  If not a Reader, what did that make him?

  “I heard you talking to someone on your ship,” Rsiran admitted. “Warning you to continue with your job.”

  His eyes flicked past Rsiran and toward the door. “You were here.”

  At least Firell hadn’t known that he had been on the ship a second time. Perhaps he didn’t know everything that happened on his ship as he claimed. “I was here.”

  Did it matter if Firell admitted that Josun had him smuggling lorcith? Rsiran already knew Josun was the reason Jessa went missing. He needed Firell to help find him.

  “Then you know I don’t have much of a choice, don’t you?” Firell asked.

  “He took someone you care about, didn’t he?” Rsiran asked again. He finally lowered the knife. If Firell came at him, Rsiran would have to push the ones from his pocket. He hoped it didn’t come to that. “Or did you do this only for money?”

  Firell took another drink of ale. Something in his voice changed. “If you overheard him, you already know. Don’t play the fool, Rsiran. It does not suit you.”

  The comment reminded him of one Della had made. Just like that one, he ignored it. “You have lorcith you are getting from the mines. More than the city has seen in quite some time. Why does Josun have you taking lorcith away from the city?”

  Firell refilled his mug. Then he set down the flagon of ale, pulled the sole chair in the room out from the corner, and sat, lounging with his legs kicked out. He sighed deeply. “I wondered at that for a long time. Couldn’t understand why he’d want the ore taken away from the city. After all, not many who know how to work with it.” He nodded toward Rsiran and tipped his mug. “Though to be honest, I didn’t really know who I worked for.” Firell shook his head, and Rsiran frowned at him. “Don’t look at me like that. In my line of work, that’s not uncommon. You ever ask who Brusus be sending those knives of yours off to?”

  He hadn’t. Not as he should have been, especially when the demand continued to increase. Now that he knew about the Forgotten Elvraeth, he wondered what questions he should have been asking.

  Rsiran sank onto the only other surface available—the bed. “When did you learn who it was?”

  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. “Wh
y 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.