The Dark Ability: Books 1-4

by D. K. Holmberg

  “Do you think reaching the exiles might help you find your mother?” Rsiran asked.

  Brusus rubbed a hand across his face. “I don’t know. She could have gone and hidden in some small village somewhere for all I know. Or maybe she went to one of the greater cities where the other Forgotten can be found and I just didn’t see her.”

  “You don’t think she did.”

  “I don’t think she did.” Brusus shook his head. “Every time I’ve tried getting close to them, someone has gotten hurt.” He sighed. “After Jessa was taken, I realized everything I did put us all in more danger.”

  “You didn’t think that after what Josun did to Lianna?” From the hurt look on Brusus’s face, Rsiran immediately wished he hadn’t said it. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out how I meant it.”

  Brusus sniffed. “What Josun did to Lianna was done as a message to me. What he did with Jessa involved you. There’s a difference to me.”

  Rsiran frowned. “Not to me. He killed one of us. And tried to take another. Sometimes I think I should let him die trapped in the mines.”

  Brusus’s head snapped up. “Josun lives?”

  Rsiran nodded.

  “After what he did to Jessa… the way you said you found her, hidden within Ilphaesn… you let him live?”

  “I should have told you,” Rsiran said. “I didn’t know how, and honestly, I hadn’t decided what I was going to do with him.”

  “He can’t escape?”

  “Not while wearing the Elvraeth chains.”

  A dark smile slipped across Brusus’s mouth. “He could be useful to us. And not just to me. He might be able to—”

  “I’ve already gone to him to ask what he might know.”

  “And?”

  Rsiran shook his head. “He says he’s not privy to where the Forgotten are, because they do not claim him as one of them. If he is to be believed, he seems his attempt to poison the council was simply to gain favor with them. Maybe sending the lorcith too.” Rsiran was less certain about that part.

  Brusus sighed. “Just as well. Knowing Josun, he’d stab me in the back as soon as he had the chance.”

  “Don’t give him the chance.”

  Brusus picked up the forging of the half-formed ball and twisted it in his hands. “If Josun can’t find them, I don’t think we will have any better luck.”

  “And he wasn’t any help regarding Venass, either.”

  “He’s Elvraeth born, Rsiran. He probably doesn’t even know about the Forgotten Venass claimed and the Tower of Scholars.” Brusus set the forging down and clasped his hands together. “We’ll keep you safe.”

  “That gets harder now, doesn’t it? The Forgotten and Venass are not the only ones after me. The guild. The palace Elvraeth. It would seem I’m quite popular.”

  Brusus surprised him by laughing. “Yeah, you’ve got yourself into some trouble, haven’t you? And you thought living with your father was bad!” He clasped Rsiran on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to protect you.”

  Rsiran wasn’t certain that Brusus could, even though he would want to. Rsiran recalled how difficult it had been to escape Venass. He’d very nearly been trapped by the guild. And if the Elvraeth came for him… Though his abilities were growing stronger, he feared there was nothing that he could do to keep himself safe, let alone Jessa, when the next attack came. And with what Josun had said, he was certain the Forgotten—either exiled Forgotten or Venass—would come after him again.

  Chapter 23

  Rsiran sat along the docks in Lower Town, staring out over the water. The sun shone brightly overhead, the first time he’d seen it in several days. The air carried the scent of the sea, that of salt mixed with fish coming off ships, as well as an undercurrent of rot that seemed to permeate everything in Lower Town. Still, Rsiran felt comfortable here.

  Wind whipped in from the north carrying a hint of lorcith from Ilphaesn. He suspected he was the only one who would notice it. As usual, he felt drawn toward Ilphaesn.

  Behind him came the sounds of the streets. At this time of day, Lower Town was awash with people. Many came down from Upper Town to trade at the docks or pick up the fresh catch. The rich—and those living within the palace—sent carters to the docks so they wouldn’t have to come to this part of the city. Even when he’d lived with his parents in the middle of the city, Rsiran had never understood the reluctance.

  A few ships moved in the distance. Massive sails swelled with the wind, pushing them onward. A sleek, twin-masted ship with a hull painted crimson sailed out of the bay, slowly making its way north. Another ship, this smaller and with a single mast, worked toward the shore. Rsiran didn’t know enough about markings to know where either ship came from. Neither looked anything like Firell’s ship. Since he’d escaped, Rsiran had wondered what happened with Firell. Likely, he’d taken his store of lorcith to Asador as he’d said. And from there? Firell could be anywhere. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Josun anymore.

  “Might be others to worry about.”

  Rsiran jumped, realizing his mental barriers were down and slammed them into place. Brusus stood behind him, dressed in a navy tunic and dark brown trousers. A matching cloak hung off one shoulder. Dressed as he was, Brusus could fit in Upper Town. Down in Lower Town, he seemed out of place.

  “Brusus.”

  He tilted his head. “You need to be careful with your thoughts. You can be… loud… sometimes.”

  Rsiran frowned. “Loud?”

  Brusus shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it any better than that. Some people’s thoughts are like that. Yours were never quiet, but over the last few months, they’ve gotten louder. Most of the time, you’re shrouded, like nothing is there, but when you forget to shroud your thoughts…” Brusus shook his head. “It’s like you’re screaming.”

  “Can everyone hear them?” The idea horrified him and made him realize he needed to be more careful.

  Brusus shrugged again. “I don’t know. I’ve got some skill with Reading, you know. Perhaps it’s just me.” He took a seat on the narrow bench overlooking the dock and stared out at the water. “You worry about Firell?”

  Rsiran stood, making certain his barriers were in place as he considered how to answer. With what had happened, anything he said might not make much sense. “We know that Firell and Josun worked with the Forgotten, probably shipping lorcith to them. When he captured me, I got the sense that Firell only did what he had to do.”

  Brusus nodded. “That would be Firell. Practical like that. Ship captain has to be, I suspect.” He sighed. “And I’m sorry about Shael. Were it not for me, he’d never have met you. He always did seem too eager to know what you were forging, always trying to suggest things for you to make. I thought he just wanted coin.”

  “He worked for Josun and wanted something made. A forge of sorts, only one that would force heartstone into lorcith. It’s probably a good thing I wasn’t able to make it.”

  Brusus gave him a strange look. “You sound disappointed.”

  “Not disappointed. There is so much I could have learned had…”

  “Your father?” Brusus asked.

  “I’ll never learn from a master smith. Not what I need to know.”

  Brusus laughed softly. “You sell yourself short. I’m not sure I’ve seen metalworking skill such as yours before.”

  Rsiran didn’t deny that he’d gained skill. Lorcith had taught him how to be a smith. But there were parts of being a smith he still didn’t know. And now, never would.

  “You still wish you could learn from him.”

  “He is—was—one of the finest smiths in Elaeavn.” And now Venass held him. Rsiran knew he should care more about that, but it was hard for him to find it within himself. “But that’s the only reason I would help him now.”

  “Jessa told me how you Slid after him when he jumped toward the Thyrass River.”

  “We needed him.”

  Brusus frowned. “Is that the onl
y reason?”

  Rsiran grunted. “The only one that matters. I thought I was finding an antidote for you. Had I known what I was getting into…”

  “Had you told Della what you planned, it wouldn’t have been necessary.”

  “I had to make a decision. If I hadn’t and Della hadn’t Healed you, you would have been lost.”

  Brusus smiled at him. “You’d do it again?”

  “If it meant saving you.”

  “Even knowing what you know now?”

  “That’s just it. What do I really know now? That the scholars in Venass are something to be feared, and probably Forgotten. I already feared the exiled Elvraeth, what’s another group chasing me?” he said bitterly.

  As he said it, he realized it was true. He’d wanted to do everything he could to keep Jessa and the others safe, but he couldn’t prevent everything from happening to them. Hadn’t what had happened with Lianna taught him that?

  “I don’t think I can just sit around and wait for the next time someone comes after me,” he told Brusus.

  “I still have some connections in the city,” Brusus said.

  “Including the palace?” Rsiran asked.

  “Some.”

  Hopefully Brusus’s connections in the palace would give him warning if they had recognized Rsiran. “Then there’s the guild…”

  “They’ve been silent. No word on a break-in.”

  That didn’t mean they didn’t know about Rsiran, though. “We’ll have to cross that bridge eventually,” he said. “But for now, I think keeping aware of them is the most important thing. But the Forgotten… we don’t know anything about their connection to Venass, other than our conjecture that the Forgotten who attacked in the Barth were sent by Venass.”

  “You think to find more information, but how will that change anything?” Brusus asked. “Other than you once again heading toward danger?”

  “It probably won’t change anything for me. From what I can tell, the Forgotten Josun sought already know about my abilities and want to use me. Whether as a smith or for my ability to Slide.” He still didn’t know if any other than Josun knew of his ability to push on lorcith. Had he been smarter, he might have hid that ability better. “And now Venass wants to study me, probably for the same reasons. They’re connected, Brusus. We have to know how. And I can’t wait for them to find me.”

  Learning more might even keep him safe. If he could learn what they wanted, he might be able to use it to keep them from attacking him or his friends.

  “I’m not so certain of that, Rsiran. Anything you do only draws more attention to you. There are certainly others—some worse than Josun—who can hurt you.”

  “They’ve already come after us once. What happens when they do it again? How many attacks can we survive?” That had been the only thing he’d learned from his conversation with Josun—that they would, indeed, come. Rsiran turned toward the water, steadfast in his resolve. “I think it’s time we know more about them.”

  “And then what? You think to request a meeting with the Forgotten and Venass? Tell them both to please leave you alone? Maybe you think you can convince them to stop seeking to regain power, because from I can tell, that’s what they ultimately want. And if they have indeed joined forces, it’s possible we won’t be able to stop them.”

  Rsiran started up the street, walking along the shoreline. Not far in the distance, the row of warehouses began. In there was the warehouse where everything really began for him. Where he’d exposed his ability to Slide to Brusus. Where he’d first met Josun. Where he’d seen the excess the Elvraeth possessed and did nothing but collect. Other than what Brusus had taken from there to sell, most of it still sat in the warehouse collecting dust.

  Without meaning to, he started toward the warehouse. Brusus followed after him, waiting for Rsiran to respond. “They’ve been after something else,” he said, realizing a connection between the Forgotten and Venass that he hadn’t made before. “And not only lorcith.”

  “What?”

  The warehouse. Josun had been there the night he and Jessa had gone to look at that crate—a crate with wood much like what he’d seen in Venass. There was something in the warehouse the Forgotten wanted that was tied to Venass, but what?

  Rsiran stopped in the middle of the street. A carter walking behind them had to swing wide around them so he didn’t collide with them. What was in the warehouse that they would have wanted? They hadn’t moved anything from the warehouse that was of any real use, nothing… but the strange box full of the cylinders.

  “What did you do with the cylinders?” he asked Brusus.

  Brusus frowned. “What?” He shook his head, realization dawning on his face as he glanced in the direction of the warehouse. “Why are you asking about them?”

  “Do you still have them?”

  Brusus shrugged. “Most of them. Some were sold. The metal too valuable to simply leave useless like that.”

  Rsiran shook his head, starting toward the warehouse. “What if they’re not useless?”

  “We don’t even know what they were for. They were shipped here years ago. Likely some sort of gift for the Elvraeth. Rsiran?”

  He paused and looked back. Brusus stood at the edge of an intersection in the street, looking at him with worried eyes. He flicked his gaze past him, looking down the row of warehouses and toward the shadows stretching there. Rsiran turned and followed his gaze. A sellsword slipped into the shadows, disappearing. Brusus knew firsthand what could happen were they to get too close to the sellsword.

  Rsiran turned away from the street, but not before seeing the sellsword slipping along the edge of the buildings, slowly oozing toward them. Only when he was back on the Bay Road did the sellsword stop following him. Even then, he stood at the edge of the shadows, staring toward him. Had he recognized them?

  Brusus said nothing as they made their way up the street, toward his smithy. Rsiran could have Slid into the warehouse—and likely would when Jessa was with him—but not yet.

  “What were you thinking?”

  Brusus glanced around and pitched his voice low as they made their way along the street. One of the ships settled against the dock as they walked, and nearly a dozen dock workers scurried into action, catching lines and tying them off or hoisting a plank to unload the day’s catch. Carters lined up along the dock, waiting to purchase fish fresh off the ship.

  “If you wanted to go to the warehouse, just Slide there.”

  Rsiran glanced over his shoulder. He had the creeping sensation that the sellsword still watched him, though he couldn’t see him anywhere. If he had Sight like Jessa, he might be able to. “Why would the Forgotten suddenly come out of hiding after all these years?”

  “You think it’s the warehouse?”

  “Not the warehouse. At least, not entirely. We’ve found heartstone there, but we’ve also found those strange cylinders. That’s what helped me make the connection. Venass and the exiled Elvraeth. There’s got to be more to them than we know.”

  Brusus flicked his gaze toward the warehouse. “We could gather the cylinders…”

  They started up the slope, working their way toward the smithy. Once they reached an alley, Rsiran would Slide them the rest of the way. “That still won’t answer how they’re connected. And Josun doesn’t seem to know where to find the exiled Elvraeth, but there’s one who does. And maybe if I find him, we can get a step ahead. Figure out why Venass would be interested in me.” And find a way to avoid their summons. Maybe even figure out a way to get his father back.

  Brusus watched him, understanding settling in his faded green eyes. “It’s a terrible idea.”

  “You’re not going to try and talk me out of it?”

  “Would it make any difference? You’re still going to try and find him anyway.”

  “Who?” When they’d turned off the street and onto the alley leading toward the smithy, Rsiran felt Jessa approach by the charm she wore. “Who is Rsiran going to try and find?”


  “Shael. Damn idiot wants to find Shael.”

  Chapter 24

  Rsiran hunched over a scrap of oiled wood, staring at the markings etched along the slick surface. He worked a fingernail into the layers of wood, peeling it back. Jessa sat next to him, studying him in the flickering light of the hearth flame. She hadn’t said anything since they returned from the warehouse.

  “These are the same markings I saw in Venass,” Rsiran said, breaking the silence. “Same wood too. I’m sure of it.”

  Jessa leaned over the scrap and frowned. “Are you certain? I don’t remember seeing anything like them.”

  He closed his eyes, visualizing the way the symbols had been etched into the lorcith-infused stone. At the time, he hadn’t known what they meant. Still didn’t, but he began to realize they were the same language.

  “They were on the wall in the room I was in. I remember seeing them, but not what they meant.”

  “They could mean anything. Or nothing at all.”

  The same thoughts had crossed his mind. “What if they’re connected? What if these crates came from Venass?”

  “Why would Venass send crates to the Elvraeth?”

  Rsiran didn’t know. “And why would the Forgotten be interested in them?”

  Her hand slipped onto his leg and she leaned toward him. She smelled of the fading lilac she wore today. “There’s probably nothing to any of it. These crates are hundreds of years old.”

  Rsiran nodded. “Probably.”

  “But you think the Forgotten and Venass are working together. And if that’s the case, then I don’t think we should be trying to find anything that Venass might want. We’ve already seen that the scholars can do things they shouldn’t be able to do. What if this device lets them do something like that? Why get in their way?”

  Rsiran laughed, though an edge of nervousness flowed through him. “What do you think the cylinders will do? Let them Slide to Elaeavn? If they could do that, there’s nothing stopping them anyway.”