Rsiran blinked. Beyond what had happened in the palace and the attack afterward, he’d promised Brusus he would help him find the Forgotten. Brusus wanted to find his mother, but attempting to find her exposed him to capture by both the Forgotten and Venass. Whatever Della might say, he wasn’t as convinced he could escape if they managed to catch him again.
Finally, the lock turned and the door opened. Jessa slipped in followed by Brusus. Haern came in a moment later. Once through, Jessa slipped the lock back into place.
Haern approached slowly. The long scar across his cheek seemed tight and twisted as he made his way toward him. The blue lantern light reflected off the scar, sending shadows streaking down his face.
He stopped a couple of paces from Rsiran. “Need to apologize for what happened.”
Rsiran shook his head. “I don’t think you do.”
“You brought me out. You could have left me.”
“No. I couldn’t.”
Haern grunted. “Wish I could See you better, Rsiran. It would make all this easier for me, knowing what’s to happen. Maybe then I would have been able to avoid Thom’s control.”
Rsiran watched Haern and came to a realization. “It’s happened to you before, hasn’t it?”
Haern blinked. One hand fumbled with a dronr, flipping it from finger to finger. He had the other hand behind his back. Finally, he nodded. “You remembered what he said.”
Rsiran nodded.
Jessa came alongside Rsiran and put her arm around his shoulders. “What did he say?”
Rsiran kept his eyes on Haern. “Haern studied with the scholars. And so did Thom.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Rsiran saw Brusus near the long table covered with his forgings. He stiffened with the question. Brusus already knew.
“What is it, Haern? More than just scholars there, isn’t it.”
He swallowed and then nodded. “More than just scholars.” The dronr paused along his knuckles. “I wasn’t born in Elaeavn, not like the rest of you. Not Forgotten either, but a generation removed. Venass keeps an eye out for those like me. Most of us want nothing more than to understand our abilities. When you don’t grow up in Elaeavn, you don’t really understand why you have these visions or this sight or…”
Rsiran nodded. “They offer to teach you.”
“They offer to teach. But there are conditions attached. Some are born with abilities. Others get them over time. But even those with abilities can have them strengthened, augmented if you will.”
“That’s why you’re such a strong Seer,” Rsiran said.
Haern nodded.
“What did they do to you?” he asked.
“Not a what, so much as why,” Haern began. “Forced me into lessons, always giving me more and more to learn, assignments that were increasingly difficult. Taught me about poisons and tactics and…” He touched his forehead as he frowned. “Don’t matter anymore. That’s behind me. Or was.”
Rsiran thought of Thom and the heartstone that he’d sense within him. “Did they…” He hesitated, uncertain how to finish the question.
Haern tapped his scar. “Tried. Maybe it worked, but what do I know?” he asked. He fell silent and glanced over to Brusus. “Thought this was all gone. That I wouldn’t have to think about this anymore.”
“So did I,” Brusus said.
“What does it mean?” Rsiran asked.
Neither answered. Rsiran realized that neither had an answer. That troubled him more than anything.
Rsiran emerged from his Slide with Ilphaesn rising above him. The sense of lorcith swirled all around him, stronger than it had been before. Distantly, he felt other collections of lorcith. From the vision he had while holding the crystal, he could close his eyes and know where they were.
Other senses tugged at him, as well, ones he’d once had to clear his mind to focus on. Now he felt them easily. Heartstone, both pure and in the alloy. That was the other vision gifted to him by the Great Watcher.
But why?
Rsiran didn’t have the answer. And maybe that was the point.
He inhaled deeply of the salty air, gripping the canvas sack of jerky and bread he’d brought for Josun. He’d debated leaving him trapped within the mines but decided that was no different from the torture the Forgotten had inflicted upon him. Rsiran would not be like them.
Jessa waited for him back in the smithy. He felt the lorcith charm she wore hanging from her neck. Had he wanted, he suspected he could pull on it from here. Strange how attuned to lorcith he now felt. And he had thought his connection strong before.
Rsiran Slid, emerging in the mine.
He looked around. Since holding the crystal, his Sight had improved. Now, along with the maze of lorcith he sensed within the walls of the tunnels, he saw shades of grey. Not as sensitive as what Jessa managed, it allowed him to see enough in the darkness that he could move safely through the tunnel.
Rsiran made his way toward where Josun would be hiding. As he did, he realized something was off. Heartstone alloy didn’t pull on his senses.
As he reached the end of the tunnel, he looked around. Josun was gone.
Rsiran didn’t bother searching the tunnels for him.
He Slid to the peak of Ilphaesn and looked out, listening for the alloy of the Elvraeth chains. He felt it distantly, like a bell tolling on his senses.
Without hesitating, he Slid.
When he emerged, he stood atop the deck of a ship. Wide sails swept open, the wind gusting against them. Spray spit over the bow, slicking the decking.
Firell.
“I’m sorry, Rsiran.”
He turned and saw the smuggler looking at him. His face had changed during his time in captivity. Now it was drawn and worn under a stubbled beard. One eye streaked with red. A steel sword hung from his waist.
There was no lorcith on his ship. Only the chains.
Rsiran pulled them to him. They slipped across the deck, and he grabbed them from the air.
Firell’s eyes widened.
“You released him.”
“He gave me Lena back.”
Firell nodded toward something behind him, and Rsiran looked over his shoulder to see a young girl, probably no more than twelve or thirteen, standing on the deck of the ship. She smiled as she stood with the air blowing against her face, her dark black hair fluttering in the wind.
“Do you know where he went?”
Firell shook his head. “I promised him the chains again if he ever came after me.”
Rsiran didn’t know if Firell could capture Josun to place him in chains, but smiled. Then he pushed the chains back to him. “Keep them. You need them more than I do.”
“You’re not angry?”
Rsiran shrugged. He could sense Jessa still in his smithy. Even if he couldn’t, they had to make their own choices, as Firell had made his. “I’m glad you chose your family.”
Firell looked back at Lena. “What are you going to do now?” Firell asked.
Rsiran could feel the pull of lorcith and heartstone. They glowed all around him in his mind. Then there was the change to his ability to Slide. He didn’t understand what it meant—not yet—but he began to think that he would.
“They think they can use me,” he started. “But they will find that I am not going to be drawn into their fight.”
Firell glanced to Lena. “If only it were that simple, Rsiran.”
“What do you mean?”
Firell sighed and shook his head. “With everything you’ve done… the palace, the smithy, the lorcith… the Great Watcher knows I probably don’t know the half of it.”
“What are you saying?”
Firell smiled sadly. “You don’t see, do you? It’s more than just a simple fight. War is coming. And you’ve already been pulled into it.”
Book 4 of The Dark Ability: Blood of the Watcher
Trapped by Venass. Tormented by the Forgotten. And both desire the very ability that allowed his escape.
Chase
d through the city by someone able to influence his Sliding, Rsiran and his friends prepare for the next attack, uncertain whether the Forgotten or Venass will move first.
When Rsiran learns that his sister was abducted, he must decide whether to help a family that abandoned him. If he does not, Alyse might suffer a fate worse than any torment he has already endured.
Finding answers leads him to discover a secret about his family, and himself, that changes everything that he believes, making him question who - and what - to support.
Also out now, book 1 in a brand new series, The Endless War: Journey of Fire and Night
A warrior who cannot die. A water seeker who wants only to save her people.
Jasn, a warrior known as the Wrecker of Rens, seeks vengeance for the loss of his beloved to the deadly draasin during the Endless War, wanting nothing more than to sacrifice himself in the process. When an old friend offers a dangerous chance for him to finally succeed, the key to understanding what he finds requires him to abandon all that he believes.
Ciara, a water seeker of Rens living on the edge of the arid waste, longs for the strength to help her people. When the great storms don't come to save her people, she will risk everything for her village on a deadly plan that could finally bring them to safety.
As the Endless War continues, both have a part to play in finally stopping it, but Jasn must discover forgiveness and Ciara must find her inner strength if they are to succeed.
Blood of the Watcher
Chapter 1
A sliver of moon peeked out from behind a thick bank of clouds. Gentle rain drizzled down, leaving the stones in this part of Lower Town slick beneath his boots. Rsiran shifted the sword still sheathed at his side, a flush of embarrassment coursing through him that he still carried it with him. He had no ability with the sword, and if it came to actually using a sword, he would be in more trouble than if he were to simply Slide away.
Jessa stood at his side, holding tightly to his hand, as if she were concerned that he might leave her behind. He suspected that she’d seen something on his face, maybe the tension as his jaw muscle twitched, or the fact that he continued to check his knives to make certain they were still there.
The darkness in Lower Town didn’t bother him as it once did. There were shades present that had not been there before, and a certain clarity that he wasn’t accustomed to seeing. Once he would have been thankful for such a change, now he only worried about why it had.
A single cat yowled down a distant alley. He didn’t wait to see if it would repeat.
“I heard another,” Jessa said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Rsiran answered.
“Of course it matters.”
He shook his head. He hadn’t managed to shake the foul mood he’d been in for the last few weeks. They had walked along the docks, Jessa guiding him and likely knowing that he normally found the waves crashing along the shore soothing. Not today. Now with each wave, he felt a surge of anxiety, as if the water simply served to remind him of how much danger he posed to his friends.
“Brusus wanted us to meet him here again tonight,” Jessa said.
The Wretched Barth had once been a place of safety to them, a place where they could meet, and dice, and discuss plans, all with some semblance of comfort. That had been before Lianna had died, and before everything that Rsiran did drew them ever deeper into the plans of the Forgotten and Venass. Now the pub held nothing but memories of Brusus’s attack, and when Thom had Compelled Haern to attack them.
“What was he thinking having us come here?” Rsiran asked.
Jessa pulled the door open—he could tell from the brief widening of her eyes that she hadn’t been certain whether she could without having to pick the lock—and stepped into the tavern.
The soft sounds of a lute played near the far end of the tavern, though Rsiran saw no one there. A fire crackled in the hearth, giving a warmth to the place. The scent of roasted meat and hot ale filled the tavern.
“I thought the Barth was closed,” Rsiran said, confusion replacing some of the worry he felt. After the attacks, the tavern had been shuttered. What would make anyone want to return here?
Brusus came from behind a door that led to the kitchen and saw them. He carried a mug of ale in one hand, and when he saw them, a wide smile spread across his face. “Ah, finally you’ve come!”
Rsiran glanced over at Jessa and she shrugged.
“Brusus?” he asked.
He tipped his head in a nod. “Thought some ale might cheer us all up.”
“What are we doing here?” Rsiran asked.
Brusus’s brow furrowed and he gave a puzzled smile. “What do we always do here?”
He sat at a table, pulled a packet of ivory dice from his pocket, and set it on the table next to his mug of ale. As he did, the door opened and Haern entered. His eyes took in the tavern with a quick sweep and then he grunted, flopping himself onto a stool.
“You’re going to have to get your own ale,” Brusus said to him.
Haern studied Brusus’s face for a moment, and then he shrugged and made his way into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a full mug.
“You two going to just stand there or are you going to join us and dice? I admit, it might not be as spirited as when Firell joined us,” he said, his face clouding for a moment, “but I think we can all admit that it’s been too long since we took the time to sit together and simply relax.”
“The Barth is closed,” Rsiran said.
Brusus looked around and laughed softly. “Closed? Looks like we’ve got it open, doesn’t it, Haern?”
Haern grunted. A coin flipped between the fingers of his left hand while his right hand traced over the scar that ran along the side of his face. “Open enough.”
Jessa shrugged again and took a seat next to Haern.
He glanced at her, tipping his head to the side, and his eyes went distant for a moment as they often did when he attempted a Seeing. When they came back into focus, he nodded to her. “You’re still well.” It came out as a statement, rather than a question.
Jessa patted him on the shoulder and smiled. “Still well, Haern.”
Rsiran shook off his confusion and took a seat. Brusus rolled the dice across the table and nodded toward the kitchen. “You might want to get yourself a mug of ale.”
“Since neither of you two was accommodating, I’ll get us each one,” Jessa said.
She made her way to the kitchen, and Rsiran watched her go before turning his attention back to Brusus.
“What is this?” Rsiran asked. “I thought Karin closed the Barth after the attack and put it up for sale.”
Brusus nodded. “She did. And it sold.”
It took Rsiran a moment to make the connection. “You?”
“Of course me. Who else were you thinking?”
“You’re not concerned about what happened here?” Rsiran asked.
Brusus waved a hand as he took another drink. “What’s to worry about? The Forgotten got what they were after, and as far as they know, I’m dead.”
“They weren’t after you,” Rsiran said.
“Maybe not. Either way, they think I’m gone.”
“But the tavern—”
“Was bought by a certain Tolstan Imolat.”
Rsiran looked from Brusus to Haern, frowning as he did. “Who is Tolstan Imolat?”
Haern started shaking his head. “Damn fool, that’s who he is,” he said. The coin that he flipped between his fingers continued to move, spinning atop his knuckles. When it came to rest, he slapped it onto the table and picked up the dice, shaking them in his hand.
“You?” Rsiran asked Brusus.
He shrugged. “Thought I needed to take on a different name, especially after what happened to me. Can’t have the Forgotten hearing my real name bandied about. Kind of ruins the ruse.”
“But it wasn’t the exiled Elvraeth who attacked you,” Rsiran reminded.
Brusus looked around the tavern, h
is eyes darting toward the door to the kitchen. It still felt strangely empty in the Wretched Barth without Lianna, as if the spirit of the place had changed when she had died. Then it had been a place of safety, where they hadn’t needed to fear attack or poisoning, but after Lianna’s death, Brusus had been poisoned and Rsiran and Jessa nearly killed.
“It wasn’t only Venass, either,” Brusus said.
Jessa pushed open the door to the kitchen, walking stiffly. For a moment, Rsiran worried that something had happened to her while she was there, but she came out carrying two large mugs of steaming ale. She smiled broadly as she weaved around the tables in the tavern, making her way to where they sat, and managed to set them down without spilling any.
“Looks like someone could use a job,” Brusus said.
Jessa punched him on the shoulder. “You hire your own help if you’re intent to run this place.”
“You knew?” Rsiran asked.
She shrugged. “When he asked us to come here, I suspected. I’d heard that the Barth had sold, but I didn’t recognize the name. A little digging, and it seems no one recognized the name. Figured his invitation to meet here was too much of a coincidence to be only that.”
She dropped a hand to his shoulder and leaned into Rsiran’s ear to whisper. “Besides, it’s good to give him something else to worry about, you know? Everything else that’s going on, he’s starting to feel helpless.”
Brusus tossed a handful of coin on the table. “You know, I can hear you.”
Jessa twisted to look over at him. “Why else would I have said it?”
Brusus slapped Haern’s hand, and the dice went spinning across the table. “Now you’re only being mean. Besides, I thought you’d want to have someplace safe for us to meet.”
Jessa took a seat and spun to face Brusus. “This isn’t safe. They know that this has been our place. What happens when the Forgotten come after us again?” she asked, lowering her voice as she did, even though they were the only ones in the tavern. She turned to Haern. “What happens when Venass makes a play at us again? You know what they’re after—”
The Dark Ability: Books 1-4 Page 83