The Tower of Venass (The Dark Ability Book 3)

by Holmberg, D. K.

  He blinked his eyes open.

  Resting on the stone was the lock-pick set he’d made for Jessa rolled in black leather. But otherwise, the room was empty. His heart hammered, beating in time to the still fading throbbing in his head.

  He pocketed the lock-pick set. He’d traded one cell for another.

  Chapter 15

  Rsiran didn’t move at first. He listened to the lorcith, breathing slow and steady.

  A mixture of emotions built within him. Irritation with Brusus. Had he not involved them in his plots, they would never have been put in the position to need to help him. Anger at his father. Rsiran suspected he kept something from him, but after everything they’d been through together, he no longer blamed him for that. He could not change his father any more than he could change the Great Watcher. Maybe part of his anger was with himself for thinking he needed to reach out to him in the first place. What had his father ever done to deserve compassion from him? He’d certainly never shown it to Rsiran.

  More than anything, he had a building sense of failure. He wouldn’t find Jessa. Whatever else happened, he had failed her.

  He stretched out with his sense of lorcith again and moved past the walls surrounding him, past the floor infused with lorcith, and reached the door. There, he hesitated, listening. Like the last door, this door was made entirely of lorcith. A massive nugget must have been used to forge the door, a size he’d never seen before. Where had it come from?

  So he listened. The door told him of its forging. A master smith ages ago listened to the lorcith but guided it as well. Different from how Rsiran usually worked with lorcith, letting it guide him. But Rsiran sensed from the door how the master smith and the lorcith had worked together.

  He traced the lorcith farther, deeper into its past. The lorcith was willing to share with him its story. Pulled from the rocks by dozens of miners, there was rejoicing when the ore was found.

  How was it that he could get so much from the lorcith? Was if from his connection or the way he listened? Or did it simply have to do with the massive amount used? He’d never seen a find that size. What would happen in Ilphaesn if the miners came across a find like that? Would there be rejoicing and celebration like he sensed happened when this nugget had been found, or would the miners argue over who found it, using it as their way to purchase freedom?

  Reluctantly, he pushed past the door. Had he more time, he would be interested in listening to the lorcith. No longer did it seem strange to him that he understood the ore had a story. Maybe everything did if only there was someone attuned to listen.

  Outside in the hall, he followed the walls again. He came to an opening, but it led down, back toward where he’d been jailed before. He moved his questing away, sensing for other places to follow. But there were none. Just this hall and the one below him. Both were completely infused with lorcith in a way that he couldn’t move past.

  Rsiran blinked open his eyes, letting go of his probing of the lorcith. He was truly trapped.

  * * *

  More time passed. Time Brusus didn’t have.

  Rsiran did nothing but focus on his breathing and listen to lorcith. At first, it was just the lorcith in the walls and floor, the knives he’d brought with him, and Jessa’s lock pick.

  He hesitated. Why had her lock pick been here? If it was here, then so was she.

  Rsiran tried again to listen for the knife she carried with her, the one he’d suggested she bring. If he could find that, he might be able to use it to reach her. He steadied his breathing, thinking of the knife, letting the memory of its forging fill his mind. For a moment, he thought he felt it, but it slipped away. The lorcith in the walls overpowered it.

  If he couldn’t sense the knife, he wouldn’t be able to sense the charm he’d made her. Much smaller than the knife, he hadn’t been able to sense it when Josun had trapped her in the Ilphaesn mines.

  But could he sense the heartstone alloy chain?

  He’d never tried before, but after his time on Firell’s ship, he knew he could sense heartstone. Rsiran worked to steady his breathing again. Thinking about reaching Jessa had sent his heart fluttering, and he had to suppress it before he could listen for the heartstone alloy.

  When finally ready, he sent out his awareness.

  The awareness was different than with lorcith, but could he anchor to it as well? Rsiran didn’t really understand how he did it. If he survived, it would be another question for Della. By now, she’d grown used to them. He ignored the lorcith, ignored what he sensed in the walls and the floor. He ignored the sudden flare of lorcith he felt trying to suppress him. It took every ounce of focus he could muster, and even, then it almost wasn’t enough.

  And then he heard it.

  The alloy sounded different than the lorcith did. Lorcith was always eager for him to hear it. Once, he’d heard it described as a song. Rsiran suspected that was true; there was a certain musicality to the way it called to him. The alloy felt harder. More distant.

  He didn’t know what he sensed. But the fact that he felt anything gave him reason to believe he could anchor to it.

  As before, he held onto the sense of the alloy, pulling rather than stepping into the Slide. Pain again split his head, but softer. He had the sense of slow movement, a hint of colors, and the bittersweet scent of the alloy.

  And then he emerged from the Slide an open room. Blue light bloomed around him, coming from sconces set into walls, so similar to the Elvraeth lantern he had in his smithy but had never managed to replicate. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they did, he saw Jessa sitting on a plush, dark leather chair.

  One hand twisted a finger through her hair. The other fingered the charm around her neck. Rsiran realized he sensed the lorcith in the charm again, as if passing through the lorcith-infused stone walls freed him from the barrier that had been in place.

  Worry twisted her face, but she looked otherwise well. She didn’t seem to notice him at first.

  Rsiran stepped toward her. The movement startled her and she blinked, lunging from the chair and grabbing him in an embrace. Somehow, she still smelled sweet, a mixture of whatever flower she’d been wearing earlier in the day and her spiced soap.

  “Are you hurt? Did they…” She didn’t finish. Her hands ran along his face, touching his cheeks, his lips, his neck, before working down his arms.

  Having her touch him again filled him with relief.

  “I’m fine, I think. Are you okay?”

  Jessa hugged him in answer, gripping his shirt and clinging to it as if not wanting to let go.

  He looked around. Walls made of a chalky white stone were bare, only the sconces marring them. Other than the chair, nothing else cluttered the room. Smooth, black marble tiles set along the floor, the color contrasting with the walls.

  “Where are we?”

  She took a slow breath and finally let go, stepping away from him. She looked around, eyes flickering to the sconces and then the floor. “The Tower of Scholars.”

  “How did we get here?” He thought he knew but wanted to know for sure. The strange pulsing of lorcith had pulled him, forcing him to Slide. But if Jessa was here, had they pulled her into a Slide the same way they had with him, or had she come here in a more traditional way?

  “You don’t know?”

  Rsiran shook his head.

  Worry lined Jessa’s face. “You… you couldn’t stand. Something happened and you screamed. And then we all were here.”

  “All?” Had he done that? Was it his fault Jessa had been captured this time? If he couldn’t even protect her when he was with her, how could he hope to keep her safe when they were apart?

  And where was his father?

  She nodded. “But they said you wouldn’t be able to escape. That they had… done something… that kept you from using your abilities. That you would die if you couldn’t get free.” Her wide eyes told him that she’d learned more than that, but she didn’t say anything more.

 
Rsiran swallowed. “Lorcith infused the walls. The floor. Everything where I was.”

  “I don’t understand. Then how were you able to reach me?”

  “I found your lock pick.”

  Jessa frowned and shook her head. One hand slipped to her pocket. “Lock pick?”

  Before he could answer, Rsiran felt a flash of lorcith and spun, putting Jessa behind him.

  A man in a flowing tunic of white, embroidery running down the collar, and inky black trousers stood in front of him. He had dark skin, nearly black, with patches of white on the surface of each hand. His head was shaved completely, including his eyebrows. Metal pierced his ears, his brow, and his lips. His mouth parted in a smile.

  “He should not have been able to. Interesting. Perhaps you don’t have to die, Mr. Lareth.”

  Chapter 16

  With Jessa pushed behind him, Rsiran prepared to Slide. Now that he could sense lorcith again, he felt the distant awareness of the lorcith sword in his smithy burning like a star in the night in his mind. If he anchored to it, he could have them back to Elaeavn.

  But he still wouldn’t have what they came for. If this was one of the scholars, Rsiran could ask for an antidote. That was why they had come, wasn’t it?

  More than that, he suspected the scholars weren’t trying to harm him. Had they wanted to do so, they would have killed him while he was incapacitated. Leaving the lock pick in the other room had not been an accident. That meant…

  “A test?” he whispered.

  The scholar’s mouth tightened.

  “You pulled me here for a test?” Rsiran grabbed Jessa’s hand in case they needed to Slide away. At the same time, he made certain his connection to the lorcith-forged knives he carried would let him push them were that needed. He wouldn’t be caught unprepared again.

  “You brought yourself here, Mr. Lareth. You chose to come.” A strange accent lilted his words, making them harsh and difficult to understand.

  Rsiran watched the scholar’s face. The piercings through his brow and lip were made of lorcith. As were piercings Rsiran couldn’t see. Small bars of lorcith penetrated his stomach, his chest, even his fingers.

  “Why test me?” Rsiran felt his anger building and pushed it away. With what had happened to them already, he felt as helpless as he’d felt the first time he’d faced Josun Elvraeth. But unlike that time, he didn’t intend to be used.

  “It was no test,” the scholar answered. He stood at ease, only the way he pressed his lips together showing any sign of tension. “Either you escaped or you did not.”

  Rsiran’s mind raced, trying to understand what was happening. Like in Elaeavn, so much seemed hidden from him. At least in the city, he knew some way to keep himself safe. Here… here he had no way of knowing if he could be safe.

  But for the scholars to know that he might escape, it meant they knew he could Slide. “Who told you?”

  “Told me?” the man asked.

  “About my ability. Who told you?”

  The tension in his face softened, his lips parting. “No one had to tell me, Mr. Lareth. We can sense when one with your particular ability nears. If we could not, no secret would ever really be safe.”

  “How can you sense it?” Della could sense the ripple of his Sliding, but he’d thought that a gift from the Great Watcher. Did the scholars have someone with that kind of ability? Or was this different, something they had discovered?

  He knew nothing about the scholars. What if they could access the same abilities as those from Elaeavn? The Great Watcher didn’t have to gift only the Elvraeth.

  The scholar’s eyes narrowed. “Just know that we can.”

  “What are you?”

  The question came out more bluntly than intended. The scholar spread his hands wide and tipped his head slightly. “You came to the Tower of Scholars and ask what I am?” His eyes narrowed.

  As they did, Rsiran thought he saw a flash of green, but it faded and was gone. He pushed up his mental barriers anyway, fortifying them with heartstone alloy rather than lorcith. It would take more energy to maintain but would be stouter.

  He watched the scholar’s face as he did. Had his expression changed?

  “I didn’t come to the Tower seeking the scholars.”

  “Then how will you find the antidote you seek?”

  Rsiran glanced back at Jessa briefly. Had she told the scholars what they searched for, or had they somehow Read him? Jessa stared past him, not taking her eyes off the scholar. From the way her jaw clenched and her brow furrowed, she seemed to be trying to see something about him.

  He turned back to the scholar. “Yes. I was told I could find it in Venass.”

  The scholar’s lip curled slightly. “Venass and not the Tower?” He frowned. “That is why you came?”

  Rsiran nodded. “If you know why I am here, why are you surprised I would seek Venass?”

  “Who told you of Venass?”

  With the question, Rsiran felt relief that the scholar had to ask. He hadn’t Read him. But he was certain someone had tried Pushing him while he was trapped in the cell. It was the same sense he’d had in the forest when they’d lost Thom. That meant another with abilities.

  Unless another answer existed. Could the scholars have a way to recreate abilities given by the Great Watcher? Had that been how they’d been pulled into the Tower?

  Rsiran frowned. This place looked nothing like what he expected, and he didn’t think he would find the antidote Brusus needed. And without it, his friend would surely die.

  “I don’t understand.”

  The scholar smiled. The piercings made his face grotesque with the expression. “Then you have come to the right place.”

  * * *

  The scholar led them down a long hall. His slippered feet made no sound on the tile. Jessa moved softly behind Rsiran, still gripping his hand, unwilling to release him. As they followed the scholar, Rsiran tried Sliding them a step, wanting to know if he could. He succeeded, but had a sense of something else pressing on him as he did. Would he be able to Slide them from the Tower if needed, or had the scholars learned some way of preventing him from Sliding away from them?

  The sense of the sword reassured him. He could anchor to it if needed.

  “What of the other who was with us?”

  The scholar tipped his head slightly. “Your father? He is unharmed.”

  They knew about his father. Did they know how little he mattered to Rsiran? “Can I see him?”

  The scholar glanced back at him. “Do you want to?”

  Rsiran watched the walls as they made their way through the Tower. Like the room, the walls were bare. Sconces like those in the room burned with blue light. Rsiran trailed a hand along the stone and found it cool, almost damp. The air had a chill to it and something else, a hint of an odor he couldn’t quite place. With each step, he was aware of how much time they spent. Time Brusus didn’t have.

  “I need help for a friend and was told I could find it in Venass.”

  They turned a corner and started up a wide flight of stairs. “Interesting that you use that term. It is an ancient term and known only to a few,” the scholar said. “I should like to know how you have learned it.”

  Rsiran looked over to Jessa. “I heard it in Elaeavn.”

  The scholar tapped his lip piercings together. As he did, Rsiran felt a soft surge of lorcith and smelled a hint of the bitter metal. “Elaeavn.” His eyes narrowed. “Few outside the Tower know of Venass. And none in Elaeavn.”

  Rsiran wondered if he should reveal that Thom shared the name with him, but decided against it. “Someone does.”

  The scholar frowned and then continued up the stairs.

  Rsiran looked over at Jessa, feeling a hint of worry. If the scholars had Readers, he might be able to fortify his mind with the alloy to prevent access, but would Jessa? What would happen if the scholars learned it was Thom who told them of Venass? What did Rsiran even know of Thom?

  But… why had Thom n
ot told him that Venass and the Tower of Scholars were one in the same? What purpose would he have for hiding that from them? It risked delaying them from finding help for Brusus, and without that help, he would die.

  The stairs opened onto a wide landing. Here, a massive hall stretched before them, much wider than on the floor below. At the end of the hall, a set of double doors made of thick lorcith arched high overhead. The doors were larger even than the one in his cell. What size nugget must have been found to forge doors of such size? How much would they weigh?

  Shelves lined the walls, as did a few boxes that reminded him of the strange crate that Brusus had shown him on his first visit to the warehouse; the wood seemed to have been peeled away in layers to be opened. Rsiran tried to slow to get a better look, but Jessa pulled him along with her.

  As they reached the doors, the scholar paused. He looked as if he would say something, then the tips of the lorcith rods piercing his lips touching softly, but shook his head and pushed open the doors.

  Rsiran realized after they swung open that he hadn’t actually touched them.

  He pressed against his awareness of the lorcith, wondering if he could influence the doors. The massive doors responded to his touch, swinging softly with his gentle push. The scholar glanced over at him and frowned.

  “Where are you taking us?” Rsiran asked.

  Jessa had been silent since they’d left the room in which Rsiran had found her. Now she tensed, her hand in his palm slicking with sweat. Rsiran looked around, wondering if she’d seen anything. He saw only more of the pale white walls they’d seen elsewhere. No sconces hung on these walls but moonlight streamed through a window high overhead. At least it was still night, but which night?

  “What is this place?” he asked again. His voice carried across the room, bouncing from the tile floor to the walls before finally fading.

  “Rsiran…”

  He looked over to Jessa. Her eyes were wide and darted from side to side.