The Dark Ability

by Holmberg, D. K.

  The boy’s eyes widened, fear etched into them and tightening his face. “If I am outside in the morning, the Towners won’t let me return!”

  “Then sneak in once the gate is first opened.”

  The boy shook his head. “There are always two Towners stationed outside the entrance.”

  Rsiran thought back to when he was first brought into the caves. Had there been more than one person watching the entrance? He didn’t think so, but he had been so focused on what was happening that he didn’t really remember.

  “There must be another entrance.”

  The boy’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “No other way into the mines. Not that connects to the prison mines.”

  Rsiran wondered if that meant there was another mine elsewhere along the mountain. If so, he could Slide there to mine additional lorcith.

  “Please put me back inside. They find me here, and they would think I escaped. Send me back to Elaeavn. I would face the council then!”

  The boy feared being Forgotten more than he feared working in the mines. And how long had Rsiran lived thinking his life was horrible?

  “Drop the pick,” he said.

  The boy shook his head. “You know I can’t.”

  Rsiran understood his fear. Those who lost their tools—the pick and the hammer—faced the potential for punishment. Usually, it was little more than a fine, extra lorcith tacked onto their sentence. But sometimes, worse punishment was exacted.

  “Then I can’t return you.” For what the boy had done to him, he probably shouldn’t anyway, but leaving him at the entrance to the mine seemed excessively cruel.

  The boy dropped the pick to the ground. His body shook.

  “Kick it over here.”

  The boy kicked the pick across the ground with a spray of dust. “Can I have my sack?” He suddenly sounded very young.

  Rsiran shook his head. “No.” If it held as much lorcith as he suspected, Rsiran knew he wouldn’t have to spend time in the mine to collect enough to help Brusus.

  The boy’s face turned sullen, but he didn’t say anything more. Rsiran set the sack on the ground and the pick on top of it. “What else do you have?”

  The boy shook his head, his eyes wild.

  “You poisoned me! I want to know what it is!”

  The boy shook his head more violently. Lanky hair fell in front of his face. “That wasn’t me!” He took a step backward.

  For a moment, Rsiran thought that the boy might start running. Partly, he wished that he would. Living in the mines as he wanted to do was no way to live. But then the boy stopped and hunched over, waiting.

  After stepping up to the boy, Rsiran grabbed his wrist and Slid inside the entrance of the mine.

  After they emerged, the boy jerked his arm free and backed away. Darkness enveloped them, lit by the orange light from the sleeping quarter. The scent of the bitter lorcith was stronger within. The boy slipped backward, watching Rsiran as he went.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  There was pain in his voice that Rsiran understood. “I could help you.”

  The boy shook his head. “Leave. Please don’t come back.”

  Rsiran watched the boy slip around the wall and back into the sleeping chamber. Then he Slid back outside the entrance, grabbed the sack and the pick, and Slid back to the smithy in Elaeavn.

  Chapter 26

  Rsiran crumbled to the ground in the smithy after he emerged from his Slide. Darkness threatened to press around him, and spots of light shimmered in front of his eyes. A wave of nausea pushed through him, and he leaned over, thinking he might vomit.

  He had pushed himself too hard.

  Still, he felt a sense of exhilaration at what he had managed. Not only finding out who had attacked him but in using his ability to Slide to defend himself. He couldn’t help but smile as he remembered how he had pulled the boy out of the mine, taking away his advantage.

  “Where did you come from?”

  Rsiran rolled over. Jessa crouched near one of the posts supporting the ceiling. For some reason, he wasn’t surprised to see her, even considering the locked door she must have come through. Her hair was pushed back from her face, and worry etched in her eyes. A gold flower was tucked into a thin white shirt. Dust and dirt smeared one sleeve. Surprisingly, she wore a skirt that bunched up around her knees.

  “Jessa?” His tongue felt thick and his mouth dry as worry about Brusus came to mind. “Brusus?”

  She shook her head. “He hasn’t woken up yet. From what I understand, it might be a while. Della said you saved him.” There was a note of accusation in her voice mixed with the question in her eyes.

  Rsiran rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Still not awake. Could he have acted sooner? Had Brusus known of his ability, they could have Slid from the warehouse, avoided the guards altogether. Then maybe Brusus wouldn’t be lying at the healer’s house, not waking up.

  “It was a Neelish blade that cut him,” Jessa said.

  Rsiran nodded. “I think so.”

  “He showed you the warehouse?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he show you what was inside?”

  “Yes.”

  Jessa breathed out softly. “I see.”

  Rsiran turned his head to look over at her. He couldn’t read the mixture of emotions on her face. “You said there was no rebellion.”

  “There isn’t!”

  “Then what’s he doing? Working for one of the Elvraeth against the Elvraeth?”

  Jessa laughed bitterly. “Then you didn’t pay attention.”

  “I heard what he said.”

  “Maybe, but you didn’t pay attention to Brusus. For him, it’s always about the money. That’s why he took the job, not because of some fighting between the Elvraeth.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “He should be dead, you know.”

  “That’s what Della said,” Rsiran answered.

  “How did you get him to her in time?” She looked over to the door. “How did you get back into the smithy?”

  Rsiran watched her and sighed. He wouldn’t lie anymore—not to Jessa after all that she had done for him. After she had saved him. Would admitting to her what he could do—what he was—drive her away? The healer had told him that he needed to trust. It had to start somewhere. It felt fitting that it should be with Jessa. “I Slid.”

  Jessa shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  His strength was starting to come back, and he pushed up onto his elbows to look over at her. “That’s my ability. I can Slide.”

  “I don’t know what that is, Rsiran.”

  At least she didn’t run. Rsiran wasn’t sure he would be able to stand it if Jessa abandoned him too. “You’re Sighted?” The nausea finally passed, and he managed to sit all the way up. With a little more time and maybe some water, he might be able to function.

  “You know I am.”

  He hadn’t, at least not at first, but that was when he thought Brusus had no ability. “And Haern is a Seer.”

  She nodded.

  “And Brusus….” He caught himself. How much did Jessa know about Brusus? And was it his place to say anything about Brusus’s past if Jessa didn’t know?

  “I know about Brusus,” she said.

  Rsiran sighed and nodded. “Well… I don’t have any of those abilities. I can Slide.”

  “How did that help you save Brusus? How did that help you get into here?”

  He had only tried to explain Sliding once before. The first time he Slid, he hadn’t even known what he had done. Rsiran had gone to his father for answers—answers his father did not have. His father had left and when he returned, anger Rsiran had never before seen twisted his face. That anger never again left him.

  Instead of trying to explain and failing, he stood. Closing his eyes, he gathered what remained of his strength, and then Slid toward Jessa.

  The distance between them was barely ten steps, b
ut the effort nearly dropped him. He emerged from the Slide shaking, his legs trembling, and he sank to his knees.

  Jessa’s eyes widened. “Does Brusus know?”

  Rsiran swallowed. His mouth was dry, and he tasted sickness in his throat. “He does now.”

  “But not before?”

  Rsiran shook his head and shifted from his knees to sit on the ground. “Not before. Only Della knew.”

  “You’ve been hiding your ability?”

  He nodded.

  “Why? Why hide this?”

  “If you understood what this means...”

  “That you can move without walking? That walls won’t stop you? That this is how you planned to help Brusus without telling anyone?” She became increasingly angry as she ran through the list. Her face flushed, and she twisted one of her hands in her hair.

  Rsiran sighed and shrugged. “I had to hide what I can do. I have always had to hide. My father said it is a dark ability, marking me cursed by the Great Watcher. Only thieves and criminals can Slide.” Now, after what Brusus had shown him in the warehouse—and his sneaking into the mines—was he anything else?

  She reached over and punched him in the shoulder. “Careful who you’re talking about.”

  Rsiran tried to laugh but his throat wouldn’t let him.

  “Is that why you were hurt? Was it your father?”

  “Not my father.” He looked over and met Jessa’s eyes. “My father wanted to teach me a lesson, wanted to teach me what he expected of me so I could be the apprentice he demanded.”

  “What was the lesson?” She shifted closer to him and placed her hand on his arm. The anger was gone from her face, and now all he saw was concern. He liked the warmth of her hand resting on his arm.

  “I was sent to work in the Ilphaesn mines.”

  Her hand stiffened. “By the council? Is that why you left your family?”

  “Not the council. At least those sent by the council have a way of earning their freedom.” He swallowed hard. “My father sent me.”

  She sucked in a breath. “So that’s your access to lorcith.”

  He nodded.

  “But how were you injured?”

  “I was attacked by someone who didn’t want me to mine the lorcith.” And poisoned, though Rsiran wondered how. The boy didn’t seem capable of poisoning him, though he hadn’t expected him to be the one mining at night. There was another, but why? Who did the boy work with?

  “Wasn’t that why you were there?”

  Rsiran shrugged. Did he tell her how he could hear lorcith too?

  “So when I found you?”

  “I had Slid back to the city.”

  “Is it hard to do?”

  The question caught Rsiran off guard, and he laughed. “When I’m tired or hurt. Otherwise, it’s as easy as seeing a place and stepping there.”

  “You have to see where you’re going?”

  “Not entirely. Knowing where I’m going makes it easier.” He grew more relaxed explaining his ability to Jessa, as if it were something normal. Maybe it was the way she questioned him or the lack of judgment in her questions.

  “Are there limits?”

  She edged a little closer, and her body pressed next to his. One hand smoothed her skirt, pushing the end of the fabric flat. Rsiran didn’t move, enjoying how she felt up against him. After so long spent wanting nothing more than to be by himself, separating himself from others, it felt strange to want to be close to someone.

  “Seeing where I’m Sliding is helpful, but not necessary. For accuracy, I have to be able to see where I want to emerge from the Slide or have been there before. Otherwise I could end up anywhere.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a limitation.”

  “Can you see in the dark?” he asked.

  She frowned at him. “Yes.”

  “What else can you see?”

  She shrugged. “Pretty much everything. I don’t really notice it anymore.”

  “So not much limitation for your Sight.”

  She pushed on his shoulder but didn’t move away. “Only the darkest rooms. There, all I see are shades of grey.”

  “Must be nice to never live in darkness.” How useful would Sight have been when he had been working the mines? Would he have ended up like the boy—ended up wandering the mines alone every night, unafraid of the darkness, preferring to work the mines to returning to the city? How must the boy feel to be threatened by Rsiran? And with her Sight, could Jessa help him mine lorcith in Ilphaesn? Then he wouldn’t have to fear being caught alone.

  “I could say the same to you. Never feeling trapped, always knowing you can escape wherever you might be. Never worried about doors or locks keeping you from entering.”

  Rsiran looked over to the door. “I don’t think any lock keeps you out.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t say that I worried about those things, only that it must be nice!”

  He laughed and leaned against her. They sat that way for a few moments, neither of them speaking, simply resting their bodies against each other. Rsiran listened to her steady breathing, smelled the sweet scent of the golden flower she wore tucked into her shirt and the mint on her breath, and felt the strength in her hand as she held onto his arm. In that moment, he was thankful his father had sent him away, otherwise he might never have known Jessa.

  After a while, she sat forward. “Why was Brusus attacked?”

  Rsiran sighed, regretting that the moment had passed. “We were outside the warehouse when the sellsword approached. Brusus tried to talk his way past, but the man seemed to know we had been in the warehouse. Brusus tried to get past him…”

  “Had he watched you in the warehouse?” Jessa asked.

  Rsiran shook his head. “I don’t know. He came out of the shadows after we left. He wanted to report Brusus, probably to the constables.”

  “They would not. Neelish sellswords are privately hired. Most that patrol the warehouses there are hired by the Elvraeth. Some have contracts with the local merchants.”

  Rsiran remembered the attack vividly. Now that he considered what happened, it was nothing like he would have expected from the constables. Constables were tasked with policing and reporting. The sellsword had seemed more interested in simply eliminating Brusus.

  “Brusus said he was hired for a job.”

  Jessa nodded. “One of the Elvraeth hired him. Used the warehouse to draw Brusus in. Made a big show of being offended by everything there.”

  “You were there?”

  She smiled ruefully. “I wasn’t supposed to be. I trailed Brusus when he left to meet with him. Thought I could tag along behind him without him noticing…”

  “But he did.”

  If Brusus had Elvraeth blood, his abilities would allow him to detect Jessa easily. Whatever allowed him to Push thoughts onto others would likely let him Read them as easily. But if that was the case, how had Brusus not known he could Slide? Or had he always known?

  Jessa laughed. “He did. Always seems to know. Might not have strong abilities, but he’s crafty.”

  Rsiran stiffened briefly, suddenly realizing that despite his earlier assumption, Jessa didn’t know about Brusus. How many of them did? He couldn’t be the only one aside from Della, could he?

  “What happens if Brusus doesn’t complete the job?” he asked, needing to know if he should begin forging more lorcith for Brusus. It was the only thing Rsiran could do to help.

  “I don’t know. You know he’s already plenty in debt. That’s why he wants the knives. And with the Elvraeth, I think he figures lorcith might tempt him. As to what he was to do? I’m not sure what was expected of him.”

  Rsiran glanced over at the sack of lorcith. How much time did Brusus have?

  “Did he show you the crates? The one with the strange cylinders?” Jessa asked.

  “He did. I don’t know what kind of metal they are made from. I think Brusus was hoping I would.”

  Her face fell. “At least one is of gold.
He refuses to sell it. Wants to know what they make first. He thinks they form some type of device.”

  “I don’t know what could be made from the cylinders themselves.”

  “They’re not all cylinders.” Jessa said it hesitantly. “I’m not sure even Brusus knows, but I snuck into the warehouse a few times without him and went through those boxes. The ones to the front are all cylinders. Toward the back they are different. Not even sure what to make of those.”

  What had he gotten himself into? What was Brusus working on that they didn’t know about? The longer he sat next to Jessa, the more his energy returned. The overwhelming sense of fatigue and the need to sit and try to sleep was fading. Even the nausea, the thick bile taste at the back of his throat, was fading. His throat was still dry and he could use a drink, but he didn’t think he would fall over if he stood.

  Reluctantly, he stood, separating himself from Jessa.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  He pointed to the brown burlap sack crumpled on the ground. Lifting it, he was suddenly very aware of how heavy the sack was. How had the boy carried it silently through the mines? How many nights had he spent mining what Rsiran now held? How had Rsiran managed to Slide while carrying this much lorcith, especially as weakened as he had been near the end?

  He carried it over to Jessa and dropped it on the floor between them. “I took this from the boy who attacked me.”

  “A boy attacked you?” She didn’t even try to hide the laugh hidden in the question.

  “He was Sighted, and it’s dark in the mines!”

  Jessa shook her head. “I didn’t think the council sentenced anyone younger than sixteen to serve in the mines.”

  Della had said something like that as well. “He couldn’t have been any older than twelve.”

  “Maybe he only looked young.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed, opening the sack.

  Inside, as he had hoped, were lumps of lorcith. He took them out one at a time, holding each carefully before setting it aside. Jessa’s eyes widened after he had taken out a dozen. There were still probably two-dozen more in the sack.

  “You can forge all of this?”

  He shrugged. “Not tonight, but give me a few nights, and I can make some progress.” As long as the lorcith didn’t resist him, he figured he could probably make three or four knives each night. Whether that was what the lorcith wanted to guide him to make was another matter.