The Dark Ability: Books 1-4

by D. K. Holmberg

  Jessa turned toward him and put both arms around him. She leaned into his chest and rested her head. As they stood for a moment, Rsiran smelled the clean scent of her hair, the crisp bite of the sjihn trees, and the damp earth beneath his feet. He could stay like this and be happy, he knew.

  A low howl echoed through the forest and made him jerk.

  Jessa laughed and pushed away, the moment ended. She pulled on her hair and bent her face toward the flower in the charm. “What now?” she asked. “Now that you’ve seen him. What do you plan?”

  Rsiran hadn’t thought that far ahead. Since rescuing Jessa, he’d focused mostly on fortifying the smithy, making it so he couldn’t be surprised again. During that time, she’d mostly watched him. Jessa would never admit it, but since Josun took her, something had changed in her. Some of the independent edge softened. Rather than roaming Elaeavn without him, she preferred to stay nearby. The only times she didn’t were when he Slid to Ilphaesn for more ore.

  “I don’t know. I told Brusus that he would have to explain everything he knew about the Forgotten, but he hasn’t. Not yet. We can’t be stuck in the dark, forced to wonder what might happen next.”

  Jessa shrugged. “I’m never really in the dark.”

  Rsiran wondered again what it must be like to be Sighted like Jessa. Never isolated in the darkness. With his ability to Slide, he could always escape, but he needed to know where he Slid to take the next step safely. “I know. I’m like a blind babe.”

  She laughed. “At least you finally admit it.”

  The howl came again, closer this time. This time, Jessa stiffened. From his time spent in the Aisl, the sound always came at night, never during the day. He’d never seen what made the sound, but imagined some massive wolf prowling through the treetops. Had they feared the creatures when their people lived in the trees?

  “Still want to walk back to the city?”

  She punched his shoulder. “Get us out of here.”

  He grabbed her hand, focused on the smithy, and Slid.

  Sliding into the smithy now was a different experience than it had been. Before, he’d been anchored to the smithy. With enough of his forgings there, he barely had to exert any energy to reach it. He’d managed it even when weakened and fatigued. After the fortifications he’d built around the walls, he didn’t think he could manage the same anymore, but that was just as well.

  Rather than a rush of wind and color, what he felt was more of an oozing, his body stretching as it slipped between the bars of heartstone alloy. So different from Sliding anywhere else. Not painful, but not comfortable or easy. A barrier designed to keep them safe, and similar to the one the Elvraeth used for the palace.

  They emerged from the forest to the dimly lit smithy. The blue heartstone lantern sat atop one of his long tables, the light drifting out enough to easily see everything in the smithy, especially with eyes adjusted for the moonlight. The air had the familiar bitter tang of lorcith, but after all the work he’d done, it now mixed with the strangely sweet scent of the heartstone. The alloy seemed to have no odor of its own.

  Once inside, Jessa let go of his hand. She tossed a log into the hearth built into the far wall, and flames slowly built around the dried wood. She stood staring at the flames, reminding Rsiran of how his father had looked back at the hut.

  He stepped up to the table and twisted the knob on the lantern. More of the blue light spilled into the smithy, pushing back the shadows. Except for near the hearth. There, shadows seemed to linger, almost as if swirling around Jessa. Another trick of his imagination, he figured.

  Rsiran took the knives from his pockets and set them on the table, counting as he did. He’d taken to inventorying what he’d made. After what ended up on Firell’s ship, he wanted to know where his forgings went. And he’d stopped sending knives to Brusus that he could trade for information. So far, Brusus hadn’t challenged him on that.

  Two dozen of the slender knives rested on the table. Made from only three separate lumps of lorcith, he could feel the bindings between the blades made from the same lump. The contours of the blades shared a similarity as well. Rsiran pulled on the knives, lining them quickly without ever touching them. After seeing his father, he wondered if others could push with lorcith, as well, especially those who could hear its call. The boy from the mines. His father. Other smiths.

  Had his father had a glimmer of recognition when he’d pushed on the knives? He’d certainly become more agitated at that point, and Rsiran could almost imagine he’d felt pressure on the knife, but maybe that had been just his imagination.

  In addition to the knives, Rsiran had a few other implements on the table. An iron pan. Steel tongs for holding metal he forged. His attempt at making one of the heartstone lanterns. Another failure, but he felt he was getting closer. Those were more difficult than anything else he’d made.

  “Come sit by me,” Jessa said.

  He turned, scanning the walls of the smithy. Long slender bars of heartstone alloy ran from the smooth floor planks to the ceiling every few paces, creating a perimeter. Rsiran had experimented with the spacing until he felt comfortable that another Slider couldn’t easily pass through, but ensuring he wouldn’t have to strain too hard to enter his smithy. It was a delicate balance, and one that took the better part of two weeks. Each time he forged one of the heartstone alloy bars, he found it easier to do.

  At first, he’d struggled mixing the alloy. Different from working with pure lorcith, adding heartstone to it required asking the ore to allow it. He didn’t think the ancient smiths who had made the alloy for the palace had forged it the same way, especially considering the strange forge Shael had asked him to make, but it was the only way that Rsiran knew to do so. In some ways, his method worked better. He didn’t fight with the alloy, not as he would if he tried to force it. That was the reason that making the necklace for Jessa had gone as easily as it had.

  He couldn’t talk to anyone about the process—who’d understand that he spoke to the ore in a way?—which left him feeling more isolated than ever. Even with Jessa sitting watching him. There was a part of him that wished he didn’t have to ask such a forging of lorcith, but to keep Jessa safe, he would do what he needed.

  Rsiran made his way over to her and took a seat on the floor. She’d swept the floors clean, her contribution to keeping the smithy tidy, but they still hadn’t managed to get any chairs to sit on. The bed was little more than a low pallet with a thin straw-stuffed mattress. Neither minded so long as they were together.

  “You’re distracted,” he said. He pulled her hand into his and squeezed. Slender fingers felt so small and delicate, all the better to pick locks he suspected. An old scar worked across the top of her hand, slightly raised and smooth. He ran his finger along it.

  Jessa looked over at him. Firelight reflected in her green eyes, looking like dancing flames. “I’m not the one who’s been distracted, Rsiran.” She swallowed and leaned away from him, looking around the smithy. “This… place worries me.”

  “You shouldn’t worry. With the bars of the alloy, no Slider should be able to get in here. We’re safe here.”

  She turned back to him. “Are we? This is safe?” She shook her head and closed her eyes. “After what happened, I feel safer being with you, but this is something else.”

  “What then?”

  Jessa took a deep breath. “I know you needed to see your father. I don’t understand why, but I know you did. And I was happy to go with you, because it finally got you away from here. This smithy—everything you’ve done to it—makes it feel…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Less like we’re keeping others out and more like we’re trapping ourselves inside.”

  Rsiran frowned as he looked at the walls, thinking of the Elvraeth in the palace, the bars of the alloy over the windows. They had been there to protect the Elvraeth, hadn’t they?

  “What should I do?” he asked her. “I can’t lose you again. Not like that.”

  Jessa
smiled and leaned toward him again, taking his hands. “You won’t lose me, Rsiran. I’m more worried about you losing yourself.”

  After chasing Firell and then Josun, Rsiran wondered if he knew who he was anymore. Once it had been a simple answer, but the days of being the son of a smith were gone. Now? Was he Brusus’s private smith or was he something else?

  “What do we do then? The Elvraeth—”

  “Not the Elvraeth. The Forgotten. And you can’t blame Brusus for what happened. You have to forgive him, and I don’t think you can move on until you do.”

  Rsiran sighed. For some reason, that had been more difficult than he expected. Secrets kept from him, secrets that had put Jessa in danger. But what else was there? Brusus had taken him in when Rsiran had no place else to go, gave him a purpose, friends.

  And if he didn’t try? What would happen with Jessa? He saw the strain on her face, the anxious way she pulled at her hair and sniffed the flower. He’d thought that was because Josun had captured her—possibly tormented her—but what if that wasn’t it. What if she worried about him? He couldn’t be the reason she was unhappy.

  Rsiran forced a smile onto his face. “Should we go to the Barth?”

  Jessa smiled and pulled him toward her. “Well… maybe not tonight,” she said. “But tomorrow. We need to see our friends again.”

  As Jessa pressed against him, he couldn’t help but feel the familiar pit in his stomach, that fear of stepping too far outside the smithy and risking losing her again. He forced it down and away as he focused on her.

  Chapter 3

  Rsiran stood on the rocky slope of Ilphaesn Mountain gripping a heavy burlap sack. Fading moonlight gave enough light for him to see. Cool mountain air gusted around him, fluttering his thin shirt and tasting of bitter lorcith and a hint of the sea. Nothing else moved around him.

  Lorcith pulled on him from every direction. It came most strongly from the mountain itself. The vast mines working through Ilphaesn were filled with ore. Some nights, Rsiran still dreamed of the way the ore pulled on him when he’d been exiled to the mines by his father. In those dreams, the steady tapping he now understood to be other miners working in the hidden section filled his head, pushing out everything else until he could think of nothing more. Those nights, he awoke soaked in sweat.

  But he felt lorcith other places as well. Standing here, away from Elaeavn, he recognized the sense of his forgings from within the city. The hidden sword tucked into his smithy pulled on him the most, even through the heartstone alloy barrier. Other forgings were scattered around the city as well. Many were knives. Rsiran had been surprised to discover that his forgings had made it into the palace until learning how Brusus traded his knives for information. Others were things like the bowl he’d once made Lianna or gifts he made for Della to thank her for all the times she’d Healed him.

  He clung most strongly to his connection to the charm he’d made Jessa. Keeping an awareness of it in his mind kept her close to him, even when he Slid elsewhere. He would not lose her again.

  Rsiran pushed away his sense of lorcith. Doing so was no longer difficult as it once had been. As he did, he felt the soft pull of the alloy. This sense was not the same as the way lorcith pulled on him. Not so much muted as harsher, as if harder. Much like the alloy itself.

  With it filling him, he recognized the bars he’d placed in his smithy and those blocking the palace. There were others, though nothing with a pattern. He had a vague sense of the necklace he’d made for Jessa, too distant to sense it well. None of that was why he’d come here.

  Rsiran turned to the closer alloy he felt. High overhead, and nearby, the bars barricaded access to the hidden mine. And, once, had prevented him from accessing them as well.

  He closed his eyes and Slid, emerging past those bars and in the mine.

  No light made it into the mine. With the sense of lorcith pushed away, he sensed another forging of the alloy. Usually when he came, he sensed it deeper in the tunnels. Tonight it was nearby.

  Rsiran turned to Josun Elvraeth and tossed the burlap sack onto the ground. “Supplies for the week,” he said. He didn’t worry about whether Josun would find it. As one of the Elvraeth, he was gifted with all the Great Watcher’s abilities. His Sight would allow him to see what Rsiran had brought.

  “What will happen when you don’t come?”

  The voice sounded as if it came from a hundred feet away, but Rsiran knew he was barely ten paces from him. A trick of the mines.

  “I will come.”

  Josun grunted. Light suddenly flared in the mine, a soft orange light from the lantern Rsiran had brought when he first visited to bring food. With the light, Rsiran saw Josun leaning against the wall. The heartstone alloy chains that had once been used on Rsiran, what he’d learned were considered Elvraeth chains, cuffed each wrist, dangling between them. His face had grown lean and haggard, a wild beard growing where none had been before. Few in Elaeavn wore beards. Dirt and debris coated his once neatly kept black hair. His deep green eyes flickered around the cave wildly.

  “And if you don’t? You would let me die?”

  Rsiran hesitated. “Yes.”

  Josun turned toward him, eyes focusing more clearly for a moment. Then he laughed. The sound filled the cave, deep and edged with anger. “You’re not a killer, Lareth. You’ve proven that time and time again.”

  “And if something happened to me?” Rsiran asked. “No one else knows you’re here. What would happen to you then?”

  Josun leaned forward, one hand touching the wall. Rsiran tensed. Even chained as he was, Rsiran prepared to Slide if needed. Josun had proven himself dangerous too often.

  “You’re not the only one who knows I’m here,” he said softly as he slowly picked up the sack of food Rsiran had brought. There were a few skins of water, as well, enough to keep him alive for the next few days. Eventually, Rsiran knew, he would have to decide what he’d do with Josun. He couldn’t leave him here forever.

  Rsiran frowned. “Who else knows?” Did he have to worry about someone coming to rescue Josun? Would he have to worry about another attack? The Forgotten who Elvraeth Josun worked for might know, but would they have any way of reaching this mine?

  Josun cackled and shook the chain connecting the cuffs. “Your girl knows.”

  Rsiran took a step forward. “You will not touch her again.”

  Josun laughed again and turned his back on Rsiran. “Or what? You’ll bring me more food? What is it this time, jerky and dried bread?”

  “You should be thankful.”

  Josun turned to look over his shoulder. Shadows swirled around his eyes as he did. “For what? That you brought me food? That you continue to let me live? I imagine you see yourself as having great compassion.” Josun turned back to the cave wall and touched it with his open hands, sliding his fingers across the rock. He sucked in a deep breath. “It would be better were you to leave me to die. That would be compassion.”

  “You haven’t earned that compassion.”

  Josun snorted. “Maybe you are harder than I realize, Lareth. Could it be you leave me here to torture me? That’s more like what one of the Elvraeth would do.” He took a few steps away, disappearing from the lantern light. “How long will you keep me here? How long before someone comes looking for me?” He smiled, and the shadows played across his face. “You know of the Forgotten now. Will you be ready when they return? Will your friends be safe?”

  “I will keep them safe.”

  Josun hesitated. “Can you?” he whispered. “Can you really keep them safe? You didn’t keep your girl safe, if I remember.”

  “I found you.”

  “You did. But I haven’t decided whether that was because of what you did or what they did.”

  Josun continued away from him and the lantern went dim, flashing out slowly and leaving Rsiran standing in the darkness.

  He’d let the sense of lorcith return as he spoke to Josun, and now he felt it all around him, creating the space
of the cavern. Rsiran could walk through the mine without needing to see anything, but as he stood there, he feared what would happen were Josun to reappear next to him.

  “What who did?”

  Josun didn’t answer, only laughed, his voice trailing into the darkness.

  Rsiran prepared to Slide away and return to Elaeavn. As he did, he heard Josun again. “I hear it sometimes,” he said.

  Rsiran paused. “Hear what?”

  Josun laughed again, the sound carried strangely down the caverns, bouncing off the walls and mixing with the call of the lorcith, but he didn’t say anything more.

  Rsiran shivered and then Slid from Ilphaesn.

  Chapter 4

  Rsiran sat in a high-backed chair at their usual table, leaning against the brick wall of the Wretched Barth. From where he sat, he had a good vantage of the entire tavern. Jessa sat next to him wearing a pale blue flower plucked from a spindly bush outside the Barth tucked into the top of a simple dress she managed to find. As they sat there, she leaned forward and sniffed at the flower.

  Compared to the last time he’d been here, the tavern was busy. Mostly men, some wearing leathers that reminded him of Thom, others in faded and dirty shirts, all sitting in pairs or more at tables scattered around the tavern. A few sat alone along the counter near the kitchen. Tucked into Lower Town but near enough the docks to have a variety of patrons, the Barth had been like a second home to him since banished by his father. When Lianna ran the tavern, it had been a homey place where soft music and savory smells greeted him each time he came. Since her sister took over, the music remained, but the focus was more on the ale than the food. Rsiran left the steaming mug untouched in front of him.