The Dark Ability: Books 1-4

by D. K. Holmberg

  Jessa looked at the forging he’d made and slipped around the table until she reached it. She ran her hand over the surface, as if feeling the dimples the folding had made, and then lifted it, twisting it to study it. “You can’t see what you did here,” she said, ignoring his comment.

  Rsiran shook his head. “You know I can’t. I go by feel. The way the metal folds. The way the lorcith tells me to change it.” He smiled. “Had I your Sight, maybe I’d be a better smith.”

  She pushed her fist into the curve. It fit snuggly. “I’m not so sure. If you had my Sight, you might not use the connection to the lorcith in the same way. This way, you’re forced to listen to it and not get distracted.” She set it back on the table. “Where’s the other half?”

  He pointed to the lump he’d pulled from the bin.

  “You already know?”

  He shrugged.

  “Is it always like that?”

  “Not usually. I’m not sure why the lorcith wanted me to shape it like this.”

  “Why not make a knife?” She lifted one of the smaller knives off the table and spun it briefly in her hand. Then she slipped it into her waist.

  “I was too tired to make a knife.”

  Jessa laughed. “You realize you sound crazy?”

  “Why?”

  She tapped the bowl with her knuckles. It rang with a muted sound. “What you’ve made here is much harder than the knives you make.”

  He shook his head. “Not really. Knives,” he began, trying to think of how to describe what is was like when he made knives, “are like suggesting something to the lorcith. It’s an effort of will. I push a little, they push a little.”

  “Like a negotiation.”

  Rsiran frowned. “Not like that, I don’t think. That’s more how it feels when I work with the alloy. With lorcith, I have to continue to suggest what I’d like to see it become.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  He ran his hand over the recent shaping. “Then I make things like this. Or the charm on your necklace.”

  Jessa lifted the charm and looked at it. The charm had a spiraling shape, but the bottom flattened out, widening into something that looked almost like a leaf. She had once described the striations she could see in the charm, because Rsiran couldn’t see them. He could feel them, if he listened. He wondered if that was the same thing.

  “Listening and letting lorcith guide me is easier. And sometimes I need it to help me clear my head.”

  “I understand. You think it dangerous when I sneak around through Elaeavn, but it’s relaxing to me. Sometimes, I simply sit and look over the city, watching the night move around me. When I do that, I feel like I can find peace.”

  Rsiran hadn’t known that before. “I think it’s the same when I work at the forge.”

  Jessa walked over and put her arms around him, looking up into his eyes. “Did you find answers this time?”

  He sighed. Would Jessa understand what he needed to do or would she disagree and argue? “Not the kind that I need. I don’t know when Venass might summon me. They were willing to attack Brusus to get to me.” He closed his eyes. Could they really only have wanted him? “Maybe this is just about me and my abilities, but why? What do they want from me?” He opened his eyes and looked to her. “What if it’s not only about Sliding and there’s something else that we’re missing? I can’t risk another attack on my friends. I can’t risk something else happening to you.”

  “You’re going to Ilphaesn to see Josun, aren’t you?” She pushed away from him. “You don’t think I know how you’ve been keeping him alive?”

  Rsiran hesitated. “I should have told you. It’s just—”

  “You didn’t think I’d understand?”

  “After what he did to you?”

  Jessa looked up and smiled at him. “He didn’t do anything that hasn’t been done before. At least this time, I knew you wouldn’t rest until you found me. That wasn’t always the case before I met you.”

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”

  “Yes. You should have.” She leaned toward the flower in the charm and inhaled. “What do you think he even knows?”

  Rsiran sighed. “Maybe nothing. Maybe where to find the Forgotten. Or what they’re after. I don’t know, but I’m tired of not knowing.”

  “And Venass?”

  “Venass and the Forgotten are together. I need to find one to understand the other. And I’m not risking going back to the Tower.”

  “You think the Forgotten are any safer?”

  “We have one of them trapped.”

  Jessa touched his hand. “What you’re doing might be crueler than you realize.”

  “Asking him what he knows about the Forgotten?”

  She shook her head. “Keeping him alive.”

  Rsiran turned to the table stacked with his forgings and picked up one of the small knives. He pushed on it, and it spun in his hand softly. “I can’t just kill him.”

  Jessa smiled. “I know. You’re like a babe.”

  “I thought that was because I couldn’t see in the dark.”

  She shrugged. “Partly. Keeping him trapped in the mines is no better than what he did to me.”

  “What do you suggest, then?”

  “I don’t know. I’d say to ask Brusus, but I know how he’d answer.”

  Rsiran nodded. Brusus would take the practical approach, especially after everything Josun had done to them. “If I let him go, then we have to fear him coming for us. There’s nothing else to do with him.”

  “Like I said, it would be better if you let him die.”

  He set the knife back down and looked over at Jessa. “That’s not me.”

  “I know. That’s part of what makes you unique. Even after everything that’s happened to you, somehow you still find a way to feel compassion for those who’ve harmed you.”

  “Compassion? I practically forced my father to come with us to Thyr. Then I left him there with the scholars.” Only the Great Watcher knows what the scholars would do with his father—or to him, if Rsiran didn’t return as he’d promised.

  “And saved him when he jumped along the way. And made a point to tell him about your sister.” She shook her head, her hair swishing across her face. “You’re a regular ass, aren’t you?”

  Rsiran laughed and turned to look at his forge. “It doesn’t feel like I’m compassionate.”

  “Probably not. But you aren’t a killer, either. With what they did to you—Josun especially—no one would fault you if you simply…”

  When she trailed off, Rsiran turned. “Simply what?”

  She shrugged. “Stopped taking him sacks of supplies. Or Slid him to the top of Ilphaesn and dropped him. Either way, no one would fault you.”

  Rsiran watched Jessa for a moment before shaking his head. “You would.”

  Jessa smiled. “Maybe. But I’d understand too.”

  She walked to the table and grabbed a pair of slender knives, tucking them into her pockets. She waited for Rsiran to do the same. He picked out the smaller lorcith blades, narrow bladed but balanced so they flew straight, and slipped them into his pockets.

  Then she took his hand and looked up at him. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Chapter 21

  Rsiran gripped Jessa’s hand tightly, worried how she would react. The last time she had been to the Ilphaesn mines had been when Josun Elvraeth trapped her there, preventing Rsiran from sensing the lorcith charm she still wore.

  They emerged in the mine, just inside the entrance, the bitter lorcith all around them. Rather than clearing it from his mind to sense for the heartstone alloy chains, he relied on Jessa to see if Josun approached. Had he brought a lantern, he wouldn’t even have needed that.

  Here, close to the entrance, light from the crescent moon filtered through the thick slats of heartstone alloy. With the chains Josun wore, the bars might as well have been iron. But they served a purpose in keeping out anyone else who might Slide. He didn’
t know who else might come for Josun, especially considering that Della had sensed other ripples from Sliding, so the bars were his only way to ensure that Josun remained trapped.

  Waves crashed along the rocks far below them. Rsiran remembered the time he discovered the opening for this cave, how he’d attempted to Slide here with Jessa, but the alloy had blocked him, nearly tossing them into the sea. At least now, he might be able to save them if that happened. After what he’d discovered in Venass, how he’d managed to Slide without moving, he thought he might be able to escape anything. It would be a useful skill.

  “Where is he?” Rsiran asked.

  “I don’t see him.”

  Rsiran followed his sense of lorcith down into the mines. With Jessa next to him, he had the advantage that her Sight would protect them. And by keeping his connection to the lorcith, he could use his knives if needed.

  Jessa held his hand, squeezing it tightly as they made their way into the darkness.

  Lorcith all around him guided his steps.

  “Up ahead,” she whispered.

  She pulled on his hand and slowed him. Rsiran waited, knowing Josun would come to them once he saw they were here. As he waited, he pushed away all sense of lorcith, clearing it from his mind. The more often he attempted to clear his mind like that, the easier it became. Each time, he managed to push the soft call of the lorcith more quickly than before. Now he managed it within a few short breaths.

  Then, free of the lorcith, the alloy called to him.

  Rsiran felt it moving toward him. Still chained to prevent him from Sliding, Josun walked toward him. With Jessa along, Rsiran considered pushing on the chains to keep Josun from getting too close, but decided against it and wasn’t certain that he even could.

  He needn’t have worried.

  Jessa let go of his hand, leaving him standing alone in the dark and unable to see her.

  Then he heard a low grunt. The chains dropped toward the floor, rattling against the stone in the strange, muted way they had.

  Jessa grabbed his hand again. Tension working through him eased as she did.

  Josun laughed. Rsiran felt it as the chains moved, rising from the ground as he stood. “I deserved that. And that’s more than Rsiran ever did to me.”

  Rsiran felt Jessa stiffen and wished he’d brought his own lantern so that he didn’t have to depend on Josun lighting it.

  With the thought, the orange glow flickered into view. Rsiran slammed his barriers into place, fortifying them with the heartstone alloy, remembering all too well how easily Josun managed to Read him.

  Josun laughed again. “So predictable,” he said. He stepped back against the wall of the cave, the lantern sending dark shadows flickering up and down the cavern. Josun moved the lantern so it rested between them. “But then… not.” His eyes narrowed, and the shadows filled the hollows below them. “No bag of supplies. And you brought her.” He frowned. “Why are you here?”

  “Answers,” Rsiran said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Josun smiled. “You’ve always wanted answers, Lareth, but you’ve never asked the right questions.”

  “Are you from Elaeavn?” Rsiran asked.

  The smile on Josun’s face faltered for a moment. “You came to me in the palace. You know I am Elvraeth.”

  “But not of Elaeavn,” Rsiran repeated. “You’re one of the Forgotten?”

  Josun’s hands twitched, twisting the chain between them, as if he hoped to pull it off. The smile turned into a sneer. “If I had been exiled, would I have been allowed in the palace?”

  No, Rsiran realized. He wouldn’t. “But you support the Forgotten.” He waited and Josun didn’t deny it. “Someone you care about. Who?”

  “You say that word as if you understand what it means. Can you truly understand what it’s like to be exiled from your home, from everything you’ve ever known? Can you understand what it’s like to be suddenly less that what you are?”

  “Yes.”

  Josun studied him. Then he laughed again, a harsh and angry sound. “You think your exile is the same? You were sent to the mines by your father to work, but you were never really in any danger, were you? With your gifts, you could always escape and return. The exile you ask me about is different. There is no return.”

  “You weren’t exiled,” Jessa said. “You have no idea what it’s really like, either. You made a choice to leave the city.”

  Josun leveled his gaze on her, studying her. Then he rattled his chains violently at her.

  Jessa didn’t move.

  “Why did you help them?” Rsiran asked.

  As Josun leaned against the wall, wild hair resting against the stone of the mountain, Rsiran didn’t think Josun would answer. His fingers drummed over the top of the cuffs, slipping up to the chains. “You get used to them after a while. Is that how it was for you?”

  Rsiran frowned. “What?” he began, but realized what Josun asked. His eyes drifted down to the chain stretched between the cuffs on his hands. The dull metal had a muted gleam in the soft orange lantern light. “I never got used to them.”

  And he never wanted to. Thankfully, he hadn’t worn them for long. After Shael had captured him and put the ancient chains on him, Rsiran had learned how to release himself, enough that he hadn’t been tormented by losing his ability to Slide for nearly as long as Josun had suffered with it.

  Losing the ability to Slide had been only a part of what the chains suppressed. He wondered if Josun learned about their other impact, but decided he probably hadn’t. Josun couldn’t hear the soft call of the lorcith, and would have no idea how it pulled on him. To have it suddenly silenced wouldn’t bother him nearly as much as it had Rsiran.

  Josun sneered at him. “That’s right. You managed to escape. How was it you accomplished what no Elvraeth has ever managed? How was it that a smith”—the title dripped derisively from his tongue—“managed to escape the ancient heartstone chains?”

  Rsiran thought about answering, but Josun would never understand: Rsiran had listened to the call of the lorcith and surrendered to it. “Tell me why you returned to Elaeavn. Why did you want the lorcith? Where were you sending it?”

  Josun shook the chain again, looking from Rsiran to Jessa for reaction. “You already know, it seems.”

  “Know what?”

  He turned, leaning his head against the wall. As he did, he looked smaller, broken somehow. Rsiran felt a pang of guilt for leaving him locked in the tunnels as he was. There had to be another way, a different place. With the Elvraeth chains, he couldn’t Slide anywhere. Could he return Josun to the city and entrust his care to Brusus?

  Not until after he determined what the exiled Elvraeth wanted from him. What the scholars wanted from him. Only then would he consider an alternative for Josun.

  Josun looked over, a dark gleam to his eyes. “You know about the exiles, but you will never understand what they desire. The son of a smith could never understand. And you can never understand why I would want to help, or how I could help.” He laughed in a dangerous and deranged way.

  Rsiran kept his expression neutral, not wanting to give Josun any insight about what he needed from him. “What did you want in the palace? Did the scholars send you back?”

  Josun grunted. “There were many reasons for me being in the palace.”

  “Why the lorcith sword?”

  Rsiran hadn’t worked out why Josun wanted the sword, but there must be some reason. And having learned that his father had been abducted and taken to Asador to study Rsiran’s forgings meant there was more to that than what he had learned.

  “The sword…” Josun looked as if he tried looking past them. “I still can’t believe you made that. An apprentice, and not even Elvraeth born. But you don’t even know what it is, do you?” Josun blinked and turned to look at Rsiran. “You don’t realize what that blade could be, what it symbolizes?” He watched Rsiran, tilting his head strangely as he did, twisting as if trying to understand a puzzle. “No. I see y
ou do not.” Josun laughed again and slapped a hand against the stone. “And I thought you did. I thought that was the reason you chased it instead of her.” He pointed to Jessa. “But you didn’t chase the sword at all. Not at all.” He frowned. “Then what is it? How did you learn how to make a blade like that?” He asked the question aloud but seemed to speak mostly to himself.

  Rsiran glanced at Jessa. “This was a mistake,” he whispered.

  Josun darted forward, tipping the lantern over as he did.

  In a flash, Rsiran pushed three knives from his pocket so they suspended in the air, pressing toward Josun, pushing him back toward the wall of the cavern.

  Josun put his hands up, the heartstone alloy chain linking the cuffs clinking across his head. “Ah… I forget about that particular ability of yours. So useful. So useful. Only, I know you won’t do it, Lareth. Haven’t I told you that you’re not a killer? You don’t have that in you.”

  Rsiran gritted his teeth and glared at Josun. With the lantern tipped, the shadows in the cavern looked different, stretching long toward the mouth of the cave. “Try me.”

  He pushed the blade forward slightly, surging it toward Josun’s neck. His deep green eyes followed the trail of the knives unflinchingly. As they neared, Josun leaned forward, pressing his bared throat against the tips of the blades.

  “All I have to do is push. Or fall. And then you’ll see what you could be. You would be surprised at the freedom, Lareth, when you no longer fear taking a life.”

  Josun smiled and twisted as if to slice his neck against the knives Rsiran held in the air.

  With a sigh, he pulled them back to him and caught them, stuffing them back into his pockets. “I won’t give you that satisfaction.”

  “You’ve already given me much satisfaction. Now leave me. Unless you’ve brought more food and water.” He looked and saw their empty hands and shook his head. “Oh, right. That’s not why you came. You thought I’d share the plans of the Forgotten. Why else would you have come, and without supplies for me, I might add. Well, even if I knew I wouldn’t share their secrets, or their location. Yes, I of course know of their interest in you, but that’s all I know. You see, I haven’t been Forgotten, so they do not even claim me.” He laughed bitterly.