The Dark Ability: Books 1-4

by D. K. Holmberg

  “How do you know Brusus?”

  The man tilted his head, considering him a moment. “We’ve worked a few jobs together.”

  “In Elaeavn?”

  The man shook his head. “Mostly in Thyr.”

  Rsiran tried to hide his surprise. Thyr. One of the great cities, though far enough away he’d never thought to be able to visit until he learned he could Slide. Rsiran knew little about the great cities. He’d only Slid to Asador once, and that was because he searched for Jessa. Like Asador, Thyr was home to a university. This man looked nothing like a scholar. But how had Brusus managed to reach Thyr? He couldn’t Slide like Rsiran, which meant he had to travel using more conventional methods. He’d never heard Brusus mention leaving the city before.

  “What’s your name?” He wanted to know who Brusus assigned for this duty. Until recently, he’d felt removed from Brusus’s work. Even now, he didn’t think he fully understood everything Brusus had in motion.

  The man tipped his head slightly, revealing more of the scar. It stretched from the top of his forehead all the way back along his skull.

  How had he survived a blow like that?

  “Thom L’alin.” The man waited, as if expecting Rsiran to recognize his name. When he said nothing more, the man chuckled again. “And you must be Rsiran Lareth.” He turned, eyes slipping over Jessa. “Jessa?”

  Rsiran frowned. How much had Brusus shared with Thom about Rsiran? Enough to know he could Slide. To Thom, it would appear as if Rsiran simply appeared in the room. Had Brusus said anything about Rsiran’s other ability?

  “I’d like some time alone here,” he said to Thom.

  A dark hunger shone in his eyes as he looked at Jessa. “Guess we’ll be going then?”

  She shook her head. “I stay.”

  Thom shrugged. “Tell me when you leave.”

  Rsiran nodded and Thom turned to the door, twisting the lock quickly and slipping outside. Jessa released Rsiran’s hand long enough to hurry to the door and lock it again.

  Now they were alone with his father. Perhaps Jessa was right—maybe he shouldn’t have come.

  “You finally come to finish me?”

  Rsiran turned and looked at his father. He stared at the glowing embers. His face appeared long and gaunt, wasted compared to the muscular man Rsiran knew, but the beard that had been there the last time he’d seen him—the beard that prevented Rsiran from recognizing him—was gone. Lantern light reflected off eyes that had once been a brighter green.

  “Finish you? I’m the one who brought you out of Asador,” Rsiran said, Sliding forward a step. “I saved you.”

  His father still didn’t turn. “You should’ve left me there. Then I wouldn’t have to see what you’ve become.”

  Rsiran blinked slowly, hating how his words could still sting, even after all this time. “I’ve become what you made me. What the Great Watcher made me. Nothing more.”

  His father finally looked toward him. His eyes were deep hollows. “If that’s what you wish to believe, but don’t think to lie to me. I’ve seen your work. The forgings you made. Dark works, things the Great Watcher never intended a smith to make with lorcith.”

  Rsiran tensed. How had his father seen his forgings? “I make what the ore requests.”

  He snorted and looked back toward the fire. “You should be better than that, but I’ve seen what you’ve made. Was forced to study it. ‘Recreate it,’ they said.” He shook his head. “Lorcith never calls like that unless you want it. Had you stayed and learned, you’d have understood.”

  Without thinking, Rsiran Slid forward to stand in front of his father. He would make him look at him. He felt Jessa as she neared, the lorcith charm pulling on his senses. Even the heartstone chain around her neck pulled at him, though its call was soft, and barely there. He had to focus on the heartstone to hear it fully.

  “Anything I learned of lorcith, I learned by working with it. Had you only been willing to listen, you might have understood how I made my forgings. The lessons the ore taught—”

  “Dark lessons,” his father snapped. “Dangerous and forbidden.” His eyes looked past Rsiran and over at Jessa, lingering on the heartstone chain. They widened slightly.

  “Forbidden by who? The Elvraeth? Or the Great Watcher?”

  He looked back at Rsiran. “Yes.”

  Rsiran shook his head. Why did he let his father push him like this? “The Elvraeth only want to keep power. That’s why they control the lorcith so tightly. That’s why they created the myth of the dark ability.” He Slid forward, just a step, remembering when Josun told him how the Elvraeth worked to eliminate Sliding. Identifying the ability as a curse went a long way toward that end. Rsiran had lived nearly a year thinking he needed to hide what he could do… and when his father had learned of it, he punished him. “I’ve learned much since you banished me.”

  His father blinked. “And forgotten much, as well, it seems.”

  “What does that mean?” Rsiran heard the word “forgotten” and thought of everything he’d feared since learning of his ability. Banishment from the city, sent away from everything he knew. But by sending him to work in the mines, it was his father who had banished him, not the Elvraeth council. Exiled from everything he’d ever known. Forgotten, just as much as if he’d been sentenced by the council, until he’d decided he wouldn’t accept the exile.

  More than that, he thought of the Forgotten. He knew little about them other than that they were out there, searching for a way back into Elaeavn and back into power. Josun had worked with them to achieve their goals, until Rsiran left him in the mine he and Jessa had discovered on the other side of Ilphaesn, chained, unable to escape.

  His father leaned forward. Once thick arms had lost much of their muscle. Skin seemed to hang where before it had been taut and youthful. “You reach too far, Rsiran.” Was that a note of concern in his voice? “There are things we weren’t meant to make. Had you chosen to listen—to learn—rather than being so stubborn, you might have understood. Instead…” He shook his head and turned his eyes back to the fading fire.

  Rsiran sighed. Arguing with his father would not get him the answers he sought. Better to confront him directly. Rsiran no longer needed his approval.

  Drawing on the sense of the lorcith knife in his pocket, he pushed it out and hung it suspended over the fire. The knife was simply made, the blade solid lorcith and forged in such a way the dull grey metal still appeared liquid. The knives he carried with him were weighted for pushing. Small enough to flick with a thought but dangerous enough to harm.

  “Could you teach this?” he asked his father. Rsiran knelt, leaning so his father had to meet his eyes. “Did you keep this secret from me?”

  His father blinked. For a moment, Rsiran thought he felt pressure on the knife, but maybe that was simply his imagination. Then his father’s eyes flickered up to Jessa, brighter than they’d been before. “You’re with him?”

  The question carried a certain weight, but Jessa didn’t hesitate as she nodded.

  “Then it falls on you to keep him safe.” He looked at the knife but made no other movement.

  “From who?” Jessa’s voice came out like a whisper. Rsiran heard the uncertainty in it.

  “From himself.”

  Rsiran pulled the knife back toward him and snatched it out of the air. He thumbed the smooth edge of the blade, running his finger along it. Why had he come here? To taunt his father? To find the answer why he’d been pushed away from his family? He glanced at Jessa. Those answers didn’t matter anymore. Not like they once had.

  But there were other answers he did need.

  “Who took you to Asador?” Rsiran asked, wanting confirmation that it was the Forgotten. He slipped the knife back into his pocket, feeling foolish for letting his emotions get the best of him. Seeing his father took him back to all the times spent within his smithy, times when he’d feared making any wrong move while hoping to impress him enough that he’d allow him to work
the forge. Now it didn’t matter. Rsiran had his own forge and access to a supply of lorcith his father once would have longed for.

  His father stared at the crackling coals and said nothing.

  Rsiran stood and took a deep breath. He wouldn’t get angry—not again. “Why were you trapped there? What did they want with you?”

  Moments passed with the only sound that of the coals snapping. Finally, his father shook his head. “They wanted you.” He spoke softly and didn’t look over at Rsiran.

  “Why? What would they want with me?”

  “Because you started this. You began making weapons of lorcith again. For centuries, that had been forbidden.” He looked up, and a distant look crossed his eyes. “You think you control the lorcith? You think me cruel for forcing it to become what I want rather than letting the ore work through me? You think you have learned so much, that you know what it means to have the blood of the smiths run through you, but you are nothing more than a child playing at the forge.”

  Rsiran swallowed and leaned forward but felt Jessa’s hand on his arm. She squeezed, pulling him back before he did or said something more foolish than he’d already managed. He looked over at her, saw the way she bit her lip, her chin tilted toward her flower as she sniffed softly, and knew she’d been right. He shouldn’t have come.

  He took her hand. “This was a mistake,” he said.

  “You’ve made plenty,” his father said.

  Rsiran sighed. “Maybe I should have left you in the cage in Asador with the Forgotten. You would have been happier then, if you’ve ever been really happy. At least I wouldn’t have to wonder if I did right by bringing you back to Elaeavn.” He turned and looked at Jessa. “Let’s go.”

  She looked over at his father as if she wanted to say something but bit her lip again. She held his hand, squeezing.

  Rsiran Slid toward the door. He wouldn’t give his father the satisfaction of hiding the ability from him. Not after everything he’d been through. At the door, he hesitated. Without looking back, he said, “Alyse thinks you left her and mother. Should she think you’re dead too?”

  His father sucked in a quick breath. “You’ve seen Alyse?”

  It hurt that Alyse meant so much to him. “I’ve seen her. She works in Lower Town now.”

  “How… how was she?”

  Rsiran snorted and shook his head. Perhaps he should have started with word on Alyse. Maybe then, he would have gotten the answers he wanted. “Angry. But well.” Rsiran looked back. His father stared at the wall rather than the fire. “If I see her again?”

  “Whatever else happens to them, it’s better for them that I be dead.” He looked over to Rsiran, and his eyes softened. “Let them have that,” he begged.

  Rsiran stared, debating his answer. Finally, he nodded and then Slid past the door.

  Chapter 2

  Thom looked at Rsiran as he emerged. His brown eyes flickered from Rsiran to Jessa before looking at the door. “You left it locked.”

  Rsiran looked over at the door, cursing to himself. In his haste to leave, he’d forgotten that Jessa had locked the door. As he readied to Slide back inside, Jessa signaled him by squeezing his hand.

  “You have a key in your pocket,” Jessa said to Thom.

  A tight smile pulled at his mouth, and he nodded slightly to Jessa, the scar atop his head gleaming against the moonlight. “Sighted then?” he asked.

  Clever, Rsiran realized. Thom knew enough about Elaeavn to wonder what abilities each of them had. And by simply Sliding into the hut, Rsiran had announced his ability. At least his other skill remained hidden.

  Jessa said nothing.

  Thom fished the key from his pocket and held it up. “Wouldn’t be much use if I didn’t have a key. Gotta piss sometimes and can’t leave him there unlocked.”

  Rsiran laughed softly. “What does Brusus plan for him?” It was a question he hadn’t dared ask Brusus yet, fearing the answer. He hadn’t seen much of Brusus in the last few weeks. Safer to stay within the smithy.

  Thom shrugged. “Don’t know. Sometimes there’s different levels to what he intends, you know? He tells me one thing, but means another.”

  Rsiran couldn’t help but note how similar that seemed to the way Brusus had once described Josun. “Has Brusus been here?”

  “Not that I’ve seen. But the old man mostly just sits quietly.” He snorted. “Tried asking questions but got nowhere. One time, I asked about his family, and I had to hold him back.”

  Rsiran frowned, having a hard time envisioning that happening.

  Thom shook his head and turned to the door. As he slipped the key into the lock, he said, “The old man has got a temper with questions. Surprised he didn’t jump you too.”

  “It wouldn’t matter.”

  Thom looked over his shoulder as he twisted the key. “No. From what I’ve seen it wouldn’t.” He opened the door a crack. “So who is he?”

  Rsiran debated answering. He knew nothing about Thom, just that Brusus trusted him. Once that would have been enough. Now he wasn’t as certain. “Neran Lareth.”

  “Lareth?”

  “My father.”

  Thom smiled wide and laughed. “Strange families you have in Elaeavn.” Thom hesitated. “So have you been to my homeland too?”

  Rsiran frowned. “Homeland?” Did he mean Thyr? Or did Thom come from someplace else?

  Thom tipped his head. “Sithlan. Your father said he’d…” A smile pulled at the corners of Thom’s mouth. “No. I can see you haven’t.” He disappeared inside, closing the door behind him. The lock slipped into place with a loud click.

  Jessa stared at Thom before pulling on Rsiran’s hand. “Do you feel better that we came?”

  Rsiran frowned. What had Thom meant that his father had been to Sithlan? As far as Rsiran knew, he’d never been anywhere other than Elaeavn. Why had he never said anything about leaving the city?

  He sighed. Did it matter how well he knew his father? After everything that had happened between them, perhaps the mystery of their experiences was the difference. Rsiran had long ago given up on the idea that he might learn to understand his father, perhaps even have his father understand him.

  “Not better,” he admitted. “But I needed to come.”

  “To have him do that to you? Do you still think you deserve that? After everything your ability has let you do, you still think you deserve to be treated like that?”

  The way his father treated him went deeper than his ability. The ability to Slide had surprised and scared Rsiran. When he first awoke on Krali Rock, not knowing how he’d gotten there, he’d gone to his father for answers and hoped for support. Instead, everything changed. To his father, Sliding was a dark ability, one for thieves and criminals. And Rsiran had used it to sneak places he should not have been—places like the Elvraeth palace or Firell’s ship—but he’d also used it to help his friends. For his father, what Rsiran had done was worse than that. He’d turned away from his apprenticeship, as well, leaving no one to take over the smithy that had been in the family since the founding of Elaeavn.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think,” he said.

  Jessa punched him gently on the shoulder. “You’re still an idiot.” She pulled him along the path leading away from the wooden hut. Massive trees quickly stretched overhead, blocking much of the moonlight, leaving dark shadows hanging around them. “If you think it doesn’t matter, then it doesn’t. I think it matters. Brusus and Della too.”

  Rsiran shook his head. “Brusus hasn’t been exactly honest with us.”

  Jessa shook her head. Her short brown hair swished as she did, and she grabbed it with her free hand, pulling it back over her shoulder. “He’s got his reasons. We can’t know what it was like, what he’s gone through knowing where he came from, but unable to reach the palace. I’d think you would understand more than most.”

  Rsiran understood. Brusus thought to learn about the Forgotten, but in doing so, he’d pulled Rsiran—and Jessa—into
something more.

  “I can Slide us—” He wanted to get back to the safety of the smithy. Out in the Aisl, he felt safe enough, but once they reached Elaeavn, the familiar anxiety would return. Fear of what could happen—had almost happened—to Jessa.

  “Let’s walk,” Jessa said.

  Rsiran didn’t push. Besides, standing beneath the sjihn trees of the Aisl, a sense of peace washed over him, different from what he felt while in the city. Standing here, he could almost imagine what it must have been like before their people moved to Elaeavn, when they’d lived among the trees.

  “What do you think it would have been like?” he asked.

  Jessa frowned. “What?”

  “Living among the trees. In the Aisl. How would it have been?”

  Jessa looked at him, amusement twisting her face. “Cold. Wet. I’d rather have a roof over my head.”

  Rsiran considered the heavy canopy and wondered whether it would have mattered. “Sight would have been useful. Listeners. Probably Readers too.” He thought about the other abilities, but those seemed the most useful in the forest.

  “You don’t think Sliding would have been helpful?”

  He shrugged. “Sliding from tree to tree? That seems as dangerous as…”

  “Sliding onto a moving ship?”

  He laughed. That had been dangerous. But it had worked. If he hadn’t gone to Firell’s ship, he wouldn’t have found Josun. He would never have found Jessa. And he might never have learned about his ability with the heartstone alloy. “Didn’t you once tell me that sometimes you have to take risks to be rewarded?”

  Jessa slipped her arm around him and pulled him close. She laughed softly. “Haven’t I rewarded you for what you did?”

  Rsiran smiled. He loved the way Jessa felt against him, her warmth pressing through his clothes, the way her hips curved toward him. “You never can have enough thanks.”

  They reached a small clearing in the Aisl. A circle of rocks surrounded a soft mound of earth on the other side of the clearing. Grass had overtaken the mound, deep green in the daylight. At night, it looked practically black. Rsiran had first thought it strange that Brusus would build the wooden hut out here in the forest, so close to the place he’d buried Lianna, but suddenly realized why. He missed her and did what he could to be near her again.