The Tower of Venass (The Dark Ability Book 3)

by Holmberg, D. K.

  Waves crashed along the rocks far below them. Rsiran remembered the time he discovered the opening for this cave, how he’d attempted to Slide here with Jessa, but the alloy had blocked him, nearly tossing them into the sea. At least now, he might be able to save them if that happened. After what he’d discovered in Venass, how he’d managed to Slide without moving, he thought he might be able to escape anything. It would be a useful skill.

  “Where is he?” Rsiran asked.

  “I don’t see him.”

  Rsiran followed his sense of lorcith down into the mines. With Jessa next to him, he had the advantage that her Sight would protect them. And by keeping his connection to the lorcith, he could use his knives if needed.

  Jessa held his hand, squeezing it tightly as they made their way into the darkness.

  Lorcith all around him guided his steps.

  “Up ahead,” she whispered.

  She pulled on his hand and slowed him. Rsiran waited, knowing Josun would come to them once he saw they were here. As he waited, he pushed away all sense of lorcith, clearing it from his mind. The more often he attempted to clear his mind like that, the easier it became. Each time, he managed to push the soft call of the lorcith more quickly than before. Now he managed it within a few short breaths.

  Then, free of the lorcith, the alloy called to him.

  Rsiran felt it moving toward him. Still chained to prevent him from Sliding, Josun walked toward him. With Jessa along, Rsiran considered pushing on the chains to keep Josun from getting too close, but decided against it and wasn’t certain that he even could.

  He needn’t have worried.

  Jessa let go of his hand, leaving him standing alone in the dark and unable to see her.

  Then he heard a low grunt. The chains dropped toward the floor, rattling against the stone in the strange, muted way they had.

  Jessa grabbed his hand again. Tension working through him eased as she did.

  Josun laughed. Rsiran felt it as the chains moved, rising from the ground as he stood. “I deserved that. And that’s more than Rsiran ever did to me.”

  Rsiran felt Jessa stiffen and wished he’d brought his own lantern so that he didn’t have to depend on Josun lighting it.

  With the thought, the orange glow flickered into view. Rsiran slammed his barriers into place, fortifying them with the heartstone alloy, remembering all too well how easily Josun managed to Read him.

  Josun laughed again. “So predictable,” he said. He stepped back against the wall of the cave, the lantern sending dark shadows flickering up and down the cavern. Josun moved the lantern so it rested between them. “But then… not.” His eyes narrowed, and the shadows filled the hollows below them. “No bag of supplies. And you brought her.” He frowned. “Why are you here?”

  “Answers,” Rsiran said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Josun smiled. “You’ve always wanted answers, Lareth, but you’ve never asked the right questions.”

  “Are you from Elaeavn?” Rsiran asked.

  The smile on Josun’s face faltered for a moment. “You came to me in the palace. You know I am Elvraeth.”

  “But not of Elaeavn,” Rsiran repeated. “You’re one of the Forgotten?”

  Josun’s hands twitched, twisting the chain between them, as if he hoped to pull it off. The smile turned into a sneer. “If I had been exiled, would I have been allowed in the palace?”

  No, Rsiran realized. He wouldn’t. “But you support the Forgotten.” He waited and Josun didn’t deny it. “Someone you care about. Who?”

  “You say that word as if you understand what it means. Can you truly understand what it’s like to be exiled from your home, from everything you’ve ever known? Can you understand what it’s like to be suddenly less that what you are?”

  “Yes.”

  Josun studied him. Then he laughed again, a harsh and angry sound. “You think your exile is the same? You were sent to the mines by your father to work, but you were never really in any danger, were you? With your gifts, you could always escape and return. The exile you ask me about is different. There is no return.”

  “You weren’t exiled,” Jessa said. “You have no idea what it’s really like, either. You made a choice to leave the city.”

  Josun leveled his gaze on her, studying her. Then he rattled his chains violently at her.

  Jessa didn’t move.

  “Why did you help them?” Rsiran asked.

  As Josun leaned against the wall, wild hair resting against the stone of the mountain, Rsiran didn’t think Josun would answer. His fingers drummed over the top of the cuffs, slipping up to the chains. “You get used to them after a while. Is that how it was for you?”

  Rsiran frowned. “What?” he began, but realized what Josun asked. His eyes drifted down to the chain stretched between the cuffs on his hands. The dull metal had a muted gleam in the soft orange lantern light. “I never got used to them.”

  And he never wanted to. Thankfully, he hadn’t worn them for long. After Shael had captured him and put the ancient chains on him, Rsiran had learned how to release himself, enough that he hadn’t been tormented by losing his ability to Slide for nearly as long as Josun had suffered with it.

  Losing the ability to Slide had been only a part of what the chains suppressed. He wondered if Josun learned about their other impact, but decided he probably hadn’t. Josun couldn’t hear the soft call of the lorcith, and would have no idea how it pulled on him. To have it suddenly silenced wouldn’t bother him nearly as much as it had Rsiran.

  Josun sneered at him. “That’s right. You managed to escape. How was it you accomplished what no Elvraeth has ever managed? How was it that a smith”—the title dripped derisively from his tongue—“managed to escape the ancient heartstone chains?”

  Rsiran thought about answering, but Josun would never understand: Rsiran had listened to the call of the lorcith and surrendered to it. “Tell me why you returned to Elaeavn. Why did you want the lorcith? Where were you sending it?”

  Josun shook the chain again, looking from Rsiran to Jessa for reaction. “You already know, it seems.”

  “Know what?”

  He turned, leaning his head against the wall. As he did, he looked smaller, broken somehow. Rsiran felt a pang of guilt for leaving him locked in the tunnels as he was. There had to be another way, a different place. With the Elvraeth chains, he couldn’t Slide anywhere. Could he return Josun to the city and entrust his care to Brusus?

  Not until after he determined what the exiled Elvraeth wanted from him. What the scholars wanted from him. Only then would he consider an alternative for Josun.

  Josun looked over, a dark gleam to his eyes. “You know about the exiles, but you will never understand what they desire. The son of a smith could never understand. And you can never understand why I would want to help, or how I could help.” He laughed in a dangerous and deranged way.

  Rsiran kept his expression neutral, not wanting to give Josun any insight about what he needed from him. “What did you want in the palace? Did the scholars send you back?”

  Josun grunted. “There were many reasons for me being in the palace.”

  “Why the lorcith sword?”

  Rsiran hadn’t worked out why Josun wanted the sword, but there must be some reason. And having learned that his father had been abducted and taken to Asador to study Rsiran’s forgings meant there was more to that than what he had learned.

  “The sword…” Josun looked as if he tried looking past them. “I still can’t believe you made that. An apprentice, and not even Elvraeth born. But you don’t even know what it is, do you?” Josun blinked and turned to look at Rsiran. “You don’t realize what that blade could be, what it symbolizes?” He watched Rsiran, tilting his head strangely as he did, twisting as if trying to understand a puzzle. “No. I see you do not.” Josun laughed again and slapped a hand against the stone. “And I thought you did. I thought that was the reason you chased it instead of her.” He pointed to Jess
a. “But you didn’t chase the sword at all. Not at all.” He frowned. “Then what is it? How did you learn how to make a blade like that?” He asked the question aloud but seemed to speak mostly to himself.

  Rsiran glanced at Jessa. “This was a mistake,” he whispered.

  Josun darted forward, tipping the lantern over as he did.

  In a flash, Rsiran pushed three knives from his pocket so they suspended in the air, pressing toward Josun, pushing him back toward the wall of the cavern.

  Josun put his hands up, the heartstone alloy chain linking the cuffs clinking across his head. “Ah… I forget about that particular ability of yours. So useful. So useful. Only, I know you won’t do it, Lareth. Haven’t I told you that you’re not a killer? You don’t have that in you.”

  Rsiran gritted his teeth and glared at Josun. With the lantern tipped, the shadows in the cavern looked different, stretching long toward the mouth of the cave. “Try me.”

  He pushed the blade forward slightly, surging it toward Josun’s neck. His deep green eyes followed the trail of the knives unflinchingly. As they neared, Josun leaned forward, pressing his bared throat against the tips of the blades.

  “All I have to do is push. Or fall. And then you’ll see what you could be. You would be surprised at the freedom, Lareth, when you no longer fear taking a life.”

  Josun smiled and twisted as if to slice his neck against the knives Rsiran held in the air.

  With a sigh, he pulled them back to him and caught them, stuffing them back into his pockets. “I won’t give you that satisfaction.”

  “You’ve already given me much satisfaction. Now leave me. Unless you’ve brought more food and water.” He looked and saw their empty hands and shook his head. “Oh, right. That’s not why you came. You thought I’d share the plans of the Forgotten. Why else would you have come, and without supplies for me, I might add. Well, even if I knew I wouldn’t share their secrets, or their location. Yes, I of course know of their interest in you, but that’s all I know. You see, I haven’t been Forgotten, so they do not even claim me.” He laughed bitterly.

  “After all that you’ve done for them?” Rsiran asked.

  “Why do you think I went after the council? Why do you think I harvested the metal? And I might have succeeded had you not…”

  He looked at his leg, where Rsiran had stabbed Josun with the poisoned blade when still learning to control his ability to push on his forgings.

  Whistle dust. Meant to poison the council, but not enough to kill. It would’ve just made them sick. Rsiran thought that Josun had a darker reason, but could it have simply been to gain favor with the Forgotten?

  “How do you think to find out their secrets, Lareth? You’re nothing more than a smith.” He paused and studied him. “And not even that any longer. Run away. Return to the city and the foolish belief that the Elvraeth protect you.”

  “You might have been more skilled than I was once, but no longer,” Rsiran said. “I will find out what they want with me.”

  Josun looked at him then turned and looked down at his arms, at the chains preventing him from Sliding. “Perhaps I’m not as strong as you,” he said softly. “But I still doubt you’ll find them. And certainly not before they find you. They’ve been in the shadows for too long, they know how to wait. And when they come for you…” He cackled and rattled the chains.

  Rsiran jumped and immediately pushed back the annoyance he felt. “What does that mean?”

  Josun snorted. “It means… it means that you are nothing more than a smith, and not even of the guild. If they want something of you, you would do well to provide it or…”

  “Or what?” Rsiran demanded.

  Josun shrugged. “Or suffer.” He shook his chains again. “And I can see that you’ve suffered already.” He laughed again as he backed against the wall of the caves.

  Worry wrinkled the corners of Jessa’s eyes, different from the concern she’d had about him coming here in the first place. She glanced over at Josun, biting her lip as she frowned.

  They Slid from the mines—leaving Josun leaning against the wall, staring down at his chains—with no more understanding than when they’d arrived.

  Chapter 22

  Rsiran leaned on the table in the smithy. Behind him, the forge heated, coals glowing a deep red and orange. He didn’t know what he’d make, but needed to clear his head again. The scent of lorcith hung more strongly in the air as it always did with a heated forge.

  Jessa was gone, searching for Hearn and checking on Brusus, while he couldn’t shake that he was missing something. The Forgotten had attacked Brusus, and Thom had used that attack to get Rsiran to the Tower of Scholars. From what he could tell, Venass had sent the Forgotten after him because of his abilities. Or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, he was convinced they worked together.

  Then there was what Josun had wanted from him. Why the sword? What about it was important? Would it have somehow helped Josun find the Forgotten? And he still didn’t understand why Josun had been shipping lorcith. That was tied into it all somehow. Could he have been getting the lorcith to Venass? Was that how they had such massive amounts throughout the Tower?

  Rsiran hated the idea that he would always have to fear the next attack, and always have to worry about what would happen next. They’d attacked Brusus, and Josun had already gone after Jessa. What would happen next?

  Could Rsiran use his sword to find them?

  But… not his sword. This wasn’t the sword Josun had wanted. What he had really wanted was a sword made of the heartstone alloy.

  Why?

  The man he’d seen in Venass had been able to use lorcith, and had pierced himself with lorcith. That was important somehow, Rsiran was certain of that. Was it the alloy that Venass wanted? Did they think to control it as they controlled lorcith?

  He didn’t know enough.

  He thought of everything stored in the warehouse. Items of wealth and culture kept from the rest of Elaeavn, but for what reason? The palace Elvraeth wanted the same thing as those exiled. As the scholars in Venass. Everyone wanted power. From what he’d seen, none used it well.

  He picked up the sword, holding it with a loose grip as he swung it from side to side. The lorcith blade practically hummed, pulling on him. Had that sense grown stronger in the time since he’d forged it? More than any of his other creations, he felt attuned to the sword.

  What was it about the sword that Josun wanted? Why would he also want a sword made of the heartstone alloy? Without knowing, he didn’t think he would fully understand what was going on. After what he’d been through, not understanding put those he cared about in danger.

  Rsiran set the sword back atop the table and made his way to the bin of lorcith. He stood in front of it, eyes closed, as he listened.

  At first, he felt it as nothing more than the distant sound he always heard with lorcith. Each piece called out to him in its own way, as if begging for attention. When he felt a strong enough connection, he sent out his request, framing it as an image in his mind.

  Rsiran had never done anything like this before and wasn’t completely certain it would work, but he listened.

  As he did, one of the lumps of lorcith called back to him, responding to his request. Rsiran kept his eyes closed and reached for it within the bin.

  When he pulled it out, the lump of lorcith was larger than many. And heavy. He held it, debating whether he was making the right decision, before setting it on the hot coals of the forge.

  The lorcith slowly began to warm, building to a hot glow. As it did, he turned to the smaller bin nearer his table. There, kept in a covered box, he had the last of the heartstone he’d managed to collect from where it had been hidden within the warehouse. Rsiran popped open the lid and looked inside. Only a few small squares remained. After they were gone, Rsiran didn’t know where to find more. Heartstone was not mined in Ilphaesn like lorcith was. He wondered if he could use his ability to find more, but worried he would
not be able to.

  In the middle of the box was a larger square. For what he planned to forge, he needed a larger piece. But did he dare use it?

  Without thinking on it more, Rsiran grabbed the square and took it to the forge. Learning to work with heartstone had been difficult. Already soft, it didn’t take much heat to melt. And melting wasn’t really what he needed anyway.

  Mixing lorcith with heartstone was more a melding of the two. When both glowed steadily, he moved them to his anvil and set the heartstone atop the lorcith. Then he began folding them together.

  He worked slowly, heating it as needed, until he felt the alloy form. It changed something of the lorcith, taking away its quiet call, the soft music he’d once heard throughout the mines of Ilphaesn, and made it harder and harsher.

  Then the real work began.

  As the alloy, Rsiran no longer could allow the metal to guide his forging. Not as he could with lorcith. The alloy did not sing, but it did have a call. He could use that, and listen to it, but focusing required losing himself in the forging. In that way, it was no different from forging lorcith, only he’d begun to learn to control the connection to lorcith, to no longer lose himself quite as completely.

  He hammered, focusing on the image of the shape he wanted the metal to take. Each blow of the hammer took extra effort, as if requiring a part of himself, more than what lorcith required when he worked with it.

  Rsiran lost himself in the forging. Heat. Hammer. Fold. Over and over until the shape of his forging began to emerge from the metal.

  After a while, Rsiran switched to a small hammer, making delicate adjustments. Whatever his father thought about letting lorcith guide him, had Rsiran not listened to the lorcith as he worked with it, he never would have learned some of these more subtle lessons. Each time he worked with lorcith, he learned something new. Even the half bowl he’d made, he’d learned how to hammer the metal perfectly flat before curving it again. This forging required everything he’d ever learned.