“You’ve been to Cort?” Sarah asked.
“That’s where I came across this,” Rsiran said, pulling out the medallion that he’d taken to carrying with him.
“What is it?” Sarah asked.
Rsiran had wanted to ask her about it when he’d seen her the last time, but had been distracted by the trip to the Elder Trees. “One of the master smiths claims that it’s my grandfather’s.”
Sarah studied the medallion before passing it back to him. “From what you’re saying, there’s something important about it, isn’t there?”
“You see the fox head?” he asked. She nodded. “There is another shape buried beneath that. Something like a serpent.”
“A serpent?” Sarah repeated, looking over to Ephram.
There was something about the way she said it. “Is that important for some reason?”
Sarah started to turn away. “Maybe it doesn’t matter. If it was your grandfather’s, it would have been so long ago…”
“It matters,” Ephram said. He leaned toward Rsiran. “You’ve shown this to the guild?”
“To Seval.”
Ephram scratched his chin. “What does he think he’s doing not telling you?” The question seemed asked mostly to himself.
“What?” Rsiran asked.
“The serpent,” Sarah started. “Long ago, there were those who knew the serpent as a sign. The meaning has been lost over time, faded like so much of our history that we lost moving to the city, but there are those who know it ties into the ancient clans. That your grandfather should have one…”
Jessa stood, slipping her knife back into her pocket when Sarah’s eyes widened. “If the meaning has been lost, how is it that you know, then?”
Sarah reached into her pocket and pulled out a silver medallion. On it, shaped much like the lorcith that Rsiran sensed beneath the fox head, was the shape of a serpent. “Because I have one as well. And my father. It’s the mark of the guildlord.”
Chapter 22
Rsiran stood in the emptiness that had once been his father’s smithy, struggling with what he had learned. Just when he thought he was beginning to understand parts of himself, and of his family, it suddenly was turned upside down, forcing him to look at it differently.
He stood in front of his father’s forge, blackened and cold for far too long. This had been the smithy of the Lareth family, one that he had once believed he should inherit, but now… now it was nothing more than an empty building. But the Lareth family had secrets that he had not known. His father had grown angry with him, seemingly for his ability to Slide, but that hadn’t been what truly angered him and had him sentenced to the mines. That had been because of his willingness to listen to lorcith. Or maybe more specifically, his refusal not to listen.
Holding the medallion, he couldn’t help but think that his grandfather must have listened to lorcith. How else would he have managed to bury a shape inside of another?
But that didn’t make sense, given what Rsiran knew of his father. His mother claimed that his father had been sent from the city as a way to ignore the call of the lorcith.
He sighed. Of everything that he’d learned, trying to understand the smith side of him had seemed the least important. Rsiran had known that he had smith blood from the moment that Della explained what it meant. Once he gave in to the lorcith and became willing to listen to it, everything had changed for him. Not only did he learn to forge metal more completely than he had ever learned before, but he had learned to master Sliding, and discovered that he had a certain control over the lorcith. It all had to be related, didn’t it?
Shifting the bracelets that he wore, no longer aware of the solid weight from them, he took another deep breath. The medallion would have been made here, forged in this smithy by his grandfather. Which meant his grandfather had been the guildlord. But how had it found its way to Cort? And why had the symbol been hidden beneath the fox?
He took a breath and then Slid, moving down the street and emerging inside of Seval’s smithy.
Early morning, he hadn’t expected anyone to be there. All that Rsiran had wanted was to leave a note for Seval so the man would come find him. Instead, Rhan stood in front of the coals and glanced up when Rsiran emerged in a corner toward the back of the smithy, almost as if he knew he was coming.
Rhan stiffened as Rsiran took a step forward. “You hear it, don’t you?”
Rhan gripped a long shovel that he used to mix the coals so that they grew hotter. “How did you get in here?”
“I Slid.”
Rhan glanced to the door and then back to Rsiran. “What does that mean?”
Rsiran took another step toward Rhan. He must have heard the lorcith on him. “It means that I have a different ability than most. But you… you can hear it.”
Rhan rubbed the back of his neck as he often did. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rsiran glanced around the smithy. The door to Seval’s office—one much like Rsiran’s father had in his smithy—was closed. A darkened window set in the door told Rsiran that Seval wasn’t here.
“You hear it, but why haven’t you told him?”
Rhan’s eyes widened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said again.
Rsiran Slid to the bin of lorcith and pulled on a piece that sang most strongly. “What do you hear?”
“You shouldn’t be here. Master Seval—”
“Knows what I can do. But he doesn’t know about you, does he?” Rsiran asked, realizing that Rhan hadn’t shared that with Seval. “Tell me, what do you hear?”
Rhan shook his head. “Nothing. This is lump lorcith. I hear nothing.” The journeyman’s eyes drifted to Rsiran’s bracelets and he winced.
Rsiran suppressed a smile. “You will find that I’m not so easy to Read. There is more to you than what you let on. I think...” Rsiran started in a slow circle around Rhan. The other man simply stood, eyes tracking him as he did. Rsiran resisted the urge to Slide away. “Seval tells me that you’re not as skilled as he was accustomed with his journeymen.” He paused, wondering if he’d see any reaction on Rhan’s face. “But if you hear the lorcith, you would be more skilled than most, especially if you were willing to listen. That tells me that your talent is something else.”
Rhan pulled his eyes from Rsiran’s bracelets and met his eyes.
“You knew that I’d emerged, and if you really don’t hear the lorcith, then either you heard me Slide,” which he thought unlikely; when he Slid, pulling himself forward, there was no sound, and even those who could detect Slides, like Sarah, couldn’t hear him, “or you are aware of the lorcith in a different way.”
There was only one other way Rsiran could think of that Rhan would have been aware of him, but that meant that he could detect the lorcith in a different way.
“Maybe you don’t hear it at all,” Rsiran wondered. “Do you see it?”
Rhan stiffened. “I’m a smith. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rsiran stopped at the bin of lorcith and tossed the piece that he’d taken back onto the top of the pile. “If you see it, that means you’re one of the alchemists, but why would they have placed someone with Seval? Why would the guilds spy on each other?”
Rhan dropped the shovel that he used, and it fell to the ground with a clatter. He faced Rsiran, the surprise fading from his eyes.
The hard expression that replaced the surprise took Rsiran aback. “You’re not from the guilds at all, are you?” Rsiran asked. He pulled on a pair of knives, readying them.
Faster than Rsiran could see, Rhan grabbed something from his pockets. The lorcith allowed Rsiran to know that they were circular shapes, something like balls, but there was something else about them—something wrong.
Rsiran pushed on whatever Rhan held in his hand, but for the first time with lorcith, it failed.
Rhan shook his head. “You think that I’m the only one in this city?”
“Venass. You’re with Vena
ss.” The way that Rhan often rubbed his neck suddenly made sense. Lorcith or heartstone must have been placed there.
Rhan started to bring his hands together. As he did, Rsiran recognized the potential in the lorcith shift, the song changing.
“You speak of Venass as if someone like you could ever understand.”
The metal balls touched.
Power exploded from Rhan.
Rsiran flew back from the strength of the explosion. Pain surged through him, and he was distantly aware of lorcith piercing him.
He heard the lorcith change again, and felt the potential shift.
Rsiran pushed on the lorcith knives tucked into his waist, sending them toward the balls.
He wasn’t fast enough. The explosion struck harder than the last.
Again Rsiran was thrown back and struck the wall. Pain bloomed through him anew. His head began to swim, and he focused on lorcith, on anything that he could detect, trying to find a way to slow Rhan, or at least get himself to safety.
With the next explosion, Rsiran felt it too late.
The wall behind him cracked. Or maybe it was him that cracked.
With it, he lost all sense of lorcith. There was nothing, not even the sense of the pieces he carried. The changing potential sizzled in the air, but he couldn’t hear it.
Rsiran tried moving, but his arms and legs didn’t seem to work as they should. Wetness ran down his arms and face, and he licked his lips, tasting the warm bitterness of his own blood.
A sound shuffled toward him. Rsiran heard it only distantly.
“Venass has studied far longer than you can imagine,” Rhan said. His voice sounded as if it came from a great distance, echoing toward him. “They will be pleased to know that even you can be subdued.”
Rsiran felt something in front of him, but didn’t know if it was Rhan.
If he waited, Rhan would take him. Rsiran had no illusions about his ability to get free from Venass again, especially not after what he’d found in the Forgotten Palace.
He would never get free, and Jessa would never know what happened to him.
Rsiran tried pushing on lorcith, but the sense of it was gone. He prayed to the Great Watcher that whatever had happened was temporary, but if it was not, then it was even more certain that were he trapped, he wouldn’t be able to get free.
Could he Slide?
He focused on a place that he knew well, one that he’d been so often that it was home to him, and attempted to Slide.
Rhan moved closer. Rsiran could feel heat coming from him. Or maybe it was heat from Seval’s forge. It burned.
He attempted to push again, and again he failed.
Pain burned through him. As it did, a surge of light exploded around him, almost like when he held the crystal. It filled his vision, and his head throbbed, feeling as if it might explode.
Heat and fire pressed on him.
What was Rhan doing to him? Would he be dragged from Elaeavn? But he felt no sense of movement. Nothing but the fire in him. His wrists burned most of all.
Light exploded around him again. Rsiran saw nothing else, knew nothing else.
He tried rolling, but his body didn’t respond as it should.
The air sizzled with power, and he feared that Rhan intended to bring the paired lorcith together again. If he did, and if it exploded again, Rsiran didn’t think he’d survive.
Somehow he had to Slide.
He focused, holding the image of Della’s home in his mind.
If he survived, he would need her Healing.
Since he couldn’t move, and had no sense of lorcith to pull himself, he visualized the Slide, praying that somehow he would have strength enough to reach her.
The power around him exploded.
Everything went dark.
Chapter 23
Rsiran knew pain, but that was the only thing that he felt.
Fire burned in his veins, and his entire body throbbed. He wasn’t dead, but he didn’t know where he was, either. Had he made it out of Seval’s smithy? Had Rhan followed him?
It hurt even to think. His mind didn’t work as it should, even though he struggled to make sense of what had happened. He remembered the light, and the sudden darkness.
Wetness lapped over his arm. A soothing voice murmured somewhere nearby. Rsiran tried opening his eyes, but couldn’t.
Where was he?
He reached for lorcith and held his breath, fearing that he’d been cut off from it. When he hadn’t been able to reach it following Rhan’s attack, it had been much like the poisoning with slithca syrup. Only worse in a way. With slithca, he felt confident that once it wore off, his abilities would return. His mind wasn’t muddled now, not like it was with slithca. Would his connection return?
The sense of lorcith was there.
He let out a relieved breath.
Rsiran listened to it and found that it was different. Muted. As if the sound was damaged. Or he was damaged, which was more likely.
He tried moving, but couldn’t.
Was he restrained?
The voice murmured nearby, but said something that he could fully understand.
He tried sitting up, opening his eyes again, anything, but there was nothing. His body didn’t respond.
Rsiran drifted into darkness again.
When he awoke, light filtered through his closed lids. Rsiran tried opening his eyes. Slowly, he managed to get them to open. He still couldn’t turn his head, but it likely didn’t matter if he could. What he managed to see was blurry.
“Keep still.”
“Where am I?” he asked. “Who are you?” A face loomed over him but was too blurry for him to make out clearly.
“Damn,” the person whispered.
Rsiran felt a surge of hope. “Brusus?”
“Yeah, it’s Brusus. Who else did you think would take you in?”
Rsiran licked his lips. His tongue felt thick and his mouth was dry. “What do you mean take me in?”
Brusus moved away from him. “You were hurt bad, Rsiran. Need to rest up.”
“Brusus.”
Brusus came into view again, only enough for Rsiran to make out the vagueness of his face. “Need to rest, Rsiran.”
“What happened?”
“Don’t know. You… emerged in Della’s place basically on fire. Not sure what happened to you. Still don’t know. She Healed you as best she could, but it’s taking steps. She says this kind of Healing can’t be done all at once, not if it’s to work.”
“Why can’t I see?”
Brusus sighed. There was the sound of wood being dragged across the ground. “Your eyes were burned pretty bad too.”
Brusus’s voice caught, and Rsiran could tell that there was something his friend either didn’t want to tell him, or wouldn’t tell him. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Brusus sat. “Your back. That’s why you can’t move like you think you should. Whatever happened sent spikes of metal through you. Most of those went clear through you. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Most,” Rsiran said.
Brusus took a breath. “Yeah, well there’s about a dozen as far as Della can tell that got lodged in your back. She’s working on a way to remove them safely. She can’t finish your Healing until she does.”
Rsiran licked his lips again. They were dry, and he tried to swallow, but his throat was dry too. At least now, he knew what Rhan had used on him. Those balls of lorcith weren’t simply solid spheres at all, not if they were intended to shoot projectiles at him. Had he been quicker, or had he known what Rhan attempted, he might have been able to push the metal away.
Was that the reason that he sensed lorcith as something muted?
“Why can’t she remove them?” Rsiran asked.
Brusus leaned close enough that Rsiran could smell the mint on his breath. Della had been mixing it for Brusus as well. “She’s not sure it’s safe. Says that if she does it wrong, it’s possible that you won’t be able to walk again.”
Brusus set his hand on Rsiran’s arm. “Don’t worry. She’s working with Ephram and the Alchemist Guild to figure it out.”
“Smiths,” Rsiran said.
“Not sure Ephram will care much for that. They aren’t working together. Too scared, I think.”
Rsiran ran his tongue over his lips again. That was similar to what Ephram had said as well. “Guilds are compromised.”
“What do you mean?”
He blinked. Other than his tongue and his ability to swallow, nothing else really seemed to work as it should. “Venass. They’ve infiltrated the guilds. The journeyman working with Seval was from Venass. He said there were others.”
If the Smith Guild could be infiltrated, then the others could as well. The Alchemist Guild was the one Rsiran feared for most. They seemed to lead the others.
“Ah, damn,” Brusus whispered.
“Where is Jessa?”
He would have expected her to be at his side, especially with what happened. That she wasn’t worried him. Had Rhan somehow found her? Maybe they’d left Rsiran to die, and had gone for her instead.
“She’ll be back any moment. Told her to sleep. Your sister has given up her room for her.”
Rsiran’s vision was nothing but a blur, but he realized now where he must be. The Barth. Which meant that Brusus had brought him here. “Is this your room, or Lianna’s?” he asked.
Brusus sighed. “Don’t worry about it, Rsiran.”
“Brusus.”
“No. We need to get you well. That’s what’s important right now.”
“That’s not all that’s important. If Venass is already here…”
Brusus leaned forward, close enough that Rsiran could almost make out the gray in his hair. “Let others worry ’bout that for now. You need to rest.”
He started to pull the chair back when Rsiran felt a rush of air.
“He’s awake?”
At the sound of Jessa’s voice, Rsiran tried to move, but couldn’t. All he wanted was to go to her, to hold her. In the attack, he thought that he might never see her again.
“He’s awake for now. He looks to be tiring out, though, so don’t get him riled up.”
The Shadowsteel Forge (The Dark Ability Book 5) Page 17
