The Tower of Venass (The Dark Ability Book 3)

by Holmberg, D. K.

  And then it was done.

  Rsiran set the hammer down and looked at the forging lying on his anvil.

  A long blade, shaped into a sword, nearly the twin of the one lying on his table. Only this sword was made from the heartstone alloy.

  As it cooled, Rsiran lifted it and brought it to the table to rest next to the other sword. Unlike the lorcith sword, the metal from the alloy was muted and dull. Still, the small work with the hammer had led to the metal seeming to flow from the tip to where it would attach to the hilt.

  And, strangely, just like with the lorcith sword, he felt an affinity to this forging.

  Rsiran frowned. The sense was different from what he felt from the bars he’d made to protect the smithy. Those he felt if he focused on them, but they didn’t call to him like the new sword did.

  All it needed was an edge and a hilt, and the sword would be complete.

  He turned at the sound of the door opening, expecting Jessa. How would he explain what he’d made? Would she understand?

  Rather than Jessa, Brusus came through the door alone.

  He looked weak though still stronger than when Rsiran had left him. His eyes shone with a pale green, and he walked with a slight limp. The deep indigo shirt he wore had heavy embroidery around the collar and strips of black running along the sides that matched simple black pants.

  Brusus closed the door and clicked the lock before turning back to Rsiran. He swept his eyes over the smithy, lingering on the forge. “You’ve been working.”

  Rsiran nodded. Did he tell Brusus about the sword? “I needed to think.”

  Brusus nodded. He looked at Rsiran, something about his expression hesitant. “I wanted to thank you for what you did. Without you there…”

  Rsiran shook his head. “You don’t need to thank me, Brusus. You needed help. I was there.”

  “But I do. I don’t like getting into the habit of owing others. Now with you, I feel I’m so deeply indebted that I’ll never repay what you’ve given me.”

  “There’s no debt to repay. You’d do the same for me.”

  A wide smile split his face, bringing back some of the joy Rsiran was accustomed to seeing. Since Lianna had died, Brusus hadn’t been the same. Not that Rsiran could blame him. He didn’t want to think of what would happen were the same to happen to Jessa.

  “That I would. Probably not as well. That’s not my gift.” Brusus stayed near the door, as if unwilling to come too close. “Jessa told me what you did to get us out of the Barth. I’m not sure I fully understand what happened.”

  “They wanted me, Brusus,” Rsiran reminded.

  Brusus sighed. “Perhaps. There’s more that I don’t know,” he said softly. “I wish that I could understand… but it’s beyond me.” He cast his gaze around the smithy before settling on Rsiran. “I wanted to talk to you about what you’ve planned.”

  “To find the rest of the Forgotten? So far, I haven’t come up with a plan. Before I decide anything—including whether I return to Venass to repay my debt—I need to know what they all want of me. I know the scholar spoke of learning how I can Slide past heartstone. And I’ve learned that there are Forgotten who can Slide…” Rsiran sighed in frustration.

  “And I know you think I’ve kept things from you.” He raised his hands, stopping Rsiran from saying anything. “You don’t have to deny it. I have kept things from you. Dangerous things. But I didn’t do it to keep you from knowing, I did it because I thought you knowing would be more dangerous.” He inhaled deeply. “I wanted to protect you. All of you.” He turned and looked around the smithy again. “Damn great job I did of that, it seems.”

  Rsiran laughed. “You could have done better.”

  “I thought being Elvraeth born would let me protect the people I cared about. Even that isn’t always enough.”

  “You’ve done what you could,” Rsiran said. And it was true. Since he’d met Brusus, everything he’d done had really been to position them better. Had it not been for Josun, they would still be sitting in the Barth, sipping at ale and dicing. Safe.

  Brusus sighed again. “He’s always played me well. Too well. I think he knew that my mother was one of the Forgotten—and Elvraeth—long before we learned enough about him to know he sided with the exiles.”

  Rsiran didn’t know how to phrase the question that had bothered him since learning of the exiled Elvraeth. But he needed to know.

  Brusus smiled, but it seemed a sad smile. “Ask it, Rsiran.”

  “And your mother? Is she a part of them?”

  The corners of Brusus’s eyes tensed. In that moment, Rsiran wondered if Brusus would answer him honestly.

  “I don’t know. You know as much about me as nearly anyone. More than I’m comfortable sharing.” He looked up, and deep green flashed in his eyes. “I know you’d never do anything with that knowledge, but having it out there in the world…” He shook his head. “It’s not easy for me.”

  “I understand,” Rsiran said quietly.

  Brusus nodded. “That’s why I trust you’ll do what’s right. Why I’ve always trusted you to do what’s right. More than anyone I trust—including Haern—you understand.”

  “Della knows. She understands,” Rsiran said.

  He tipped his head in agreement. “She knows. There’s not much she doesn’t know about me.” He took a few steps into the room and turned. “My mother brought me to Della after I was born. I… I don’t know much about her other than what Della told me. She left me in Elaeavn, thinking I would have a better life than I would had I grown up in exile.”

  “Why?”

  Brusus shook his head. “The other cities tolerate our kind, Rsiran, but they do not love us. We are gifted by the Great Watcher and they are not.” He made a motion around him, sweeping his hands. “You have your own gifts, valuable ones, clearly. And think of how you feel about the Elvraeth, about the abilities they possess. Now think of how a person with no gifts would feel about even the weakest person in Elaeavn.”

  Rsiran had never thought of it like that before, but it made sense after hearing Brusus say it. Hadn’t he always wished he had the abilities of the Elvraeth? Sliding was useful—now that he no longer feared what he could do and had embraced his ability—but hadn’t he often wished for the ability of Sight or even to Read? What must those living in Asador or Cort or Eban feel about the people of Elvraeth, knowing what they could do?

  Was that the reason the scholars wanted to study him? Della had said they are men and women once of Elaeavn who study power. They seem to be working with the Forgotten already. But ability with the heartstone alloy is something they would all want to learn about.

  “I hadn’t considered it like that before.”

  Brusus chuckled. “Most don’t. Unless they leave Elaeavn, few think about it. That’s why my mother didn’t want me growing up in a city where my ability was rare and misunderstood, where what we could do was viewed as dangerous. Something to be feared rather than appreciated.”

  “Like Sliding?”

  Brusus nodded. “Like Sliding. You know what it’s like growing up like that. How hard it was for you when you discovered your ability, only to learn that your father considered it dangerous.”

  “He thinks it’s more than that.”

  “Does that matter?” Brusus asked. “Has it ever mattered? The Great Watcher doesn’t give us abilities we aren’t meant to use. It’s how we use the gifts we’ve been given that defines us.” He fixed Rsiran with eyes that were suddenly deep green. “You’ve never shaken your concern for what your father thinks of what you can do, but what do you think? How many people have you been able to help because of your ability? How many times have you saved those you care about?”

  Rsiran laughed. “You don’t have to convince me, Brusus. I’m not ashamed of my ability anymore.”

  Brusus’s brow furrowed as he frowned. “I hope not.”

  He said it in a way that sounded unconvinced. So much like Jessa in that. And hadn’t Rsiran go
ne to see his father in the hut in the Aisl? Maybe Jessa was right—maybe he still sought his father’s approval.

  Rsiran realized the reason Brusus would want to reach out to the exiled Elvraeth. “Is that what this has been about for you? Trying to find your mother?”

  Brusus sighed again and swallowed. The tension around his eyes returned. There was more to his story than he shared, Rsiran realized.

  “Partly,” he admitted. “That’s why I needed your knives. Oh, they helped get information in the city, but I’ve never really needed lorcith blades to get that. What I needed was a way in. Once exiled, the Forgotten disappear. For years, I thought they might be hidden in one of the great cities. Asador or Cort or—”

  “Or Thyr?” Could the exiled Elvraeth be there as well? Were they with the scholars?

  Brusus nodded. “Or Thyr. But Haern says there are no exiled Elvraeth among Venass. Only others of the Forgotten. I searched each city, looking for any sign of them. It’s as if they never existed.”

  “You didn’t believe that.”

  “No. And Della suspects they gathered somewhere, only even she doesn’t know where they might hide. After trying for years and failing, when I met you and saw those knives…” He shook his head. “No one had made weapons like that in over a century. At first, I thought maybe the exiles had made them.” He smiled. “Better I found you, I think. Only later did I think that the Forgotten would want them. Since the Ilphaesn mines are completely controlled by the guild, the Forgotten have no access to lorcith on their own.” He blinked. “At least, I hadn’t thought they had.” His face darkened. “Josun proved otherwise.”

  “So you just wanted to reach the exiled Elvraeth?”

  Brusus crossed the distance between them and rested his hand on Rsiran’s arm. “That’s not why I wanted to help, Rsiran. I saw in you much of myself. The uncertainty. The anger at having to hide who—and what—you are.”

  Rsiran swallowed. If all Brusus wanted were knives, he wouldn’t have pulled Rsiran in as a friend, introducing him to the others. To Jessa. And wouldn’t he have done anything to help Brusus had he known what he needed?

  “Do you think reaching the exiles might help you find your mother?” Rsiran asked.

  Brusus rubbed a hand across his face. “I don’t know. She could have gone and hidden in some small village somewhere for all I know. Or maybe she went to one of the greater cities where the other Forgotten can be found and I just didn’t see her.”

  “You don’t think she did.”

  “I don’t think she did.” Brusus shook his head. “Every time I’ve tried getting close to them, someone has gotten hurt.” He sighed. “After Jessa was taken, I realized everything I did put us all in more danger.”

  “You didn’t think that after what Josun did to Lianna?” From the hurt look on Brusus’s face, Rsiran immediately wished he hadn’t said it. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out how I meant it.”

  Brusus sniffed. “What Josun did to Lianna was done as a message to me. What he did with Jessa involved you. There’s a difference to me.”

  Rsiran frowned. “Not to me. He killed one of us. And tried to take another. Sometimes I think I should let him die trapped in the mines.”

  Brusus’s head snapped up. “Josun lives?”

  Rsiran nodded.

  “After what he did to Jessa… the way you said you found her, hidden within Ilphaesn… you let him live?”

  “I should have told you,” Rsiran said. “I didn’t know how, and honestly, I hadn’t decided what I was going to do with him.”

  “He can’t escape?”

  “Not while wearing the Elvraeth chains.”

  A dark smile slipped across Brusus’s mouth. “He could be useful to us. And not just to me. He might be able to—”

  “I’ve already gone to him to ask what he might know.”

  “And?”

  Rsiran shook his head. “He says he’s not privy to where the Forgotten are, because they do not claim him as one of them. If he is to be believed, he seems his attempt to poison the council was simply to gain favor with them. Maybe sending the lorcith too.” Rsiran was less certain about that part.

  Brusus sighed. “Just as well. Knowing Josun, he’d stab me in the back as soon as he had the chance.”

  “Don’t give him the chance.”

  Brusus picked up the forging of the half-formed ball and twisted it in his hands. “If Josun can’t find them, I don’t think we will have any better luck.”

  “And he wasn’t any help regarding Venass, either.”

  “He’s Elvraeth born, Rsiran. He probably doesn’t even know about the Forgotten Venass claimed and the Tower of Scholars.” Brusus set the forging down and clasped his hands together. “We’ll keep you safe.”

  “That gets harder now, doesn’t it? The Forgotten and Venass are not the only ones after me. The guild. The palace Elvraeth. It would seem I’m quite popular.”

  Brusus surprised him by laughing. “Yeah, you’ve got yourself into some trouble, haven’t you? And you thought living with your father was bad!” He clasped Rsiran on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to protect you.”

  Rsiran wasn’t certain that Brusus could, even though he would want to. Rsiran recalled how difficult it had been to escape Venass. He’d very nearly been trapped by the guild. And if the Elvraeth came for him… Though his abilities were growing stronger, he feared there was nothing that he could do to keep himself safe, let alone Jessa, when the next attack came. And with what Josun had said, he was certain the Forgotten—either exiled Forgotten or Venass—would come after him again.

  Chapter 23

  Rsiran sat along the docks in Lower Town, staring out over the water. The sun shone brightly overhead, the first time he’d seen it in several days. The air carried the scent of the sea, that of salt mixed with fish coming off ships, as well as an undercurrent of rot that seemed to permeate everything in Lower Town. Still, Rsiran felt comfortable here.

  Wind whipped in from the north carrying a hint of lorcith from Ilphaesn. He suspected he was the only one who would notice it. As usual, he felt drawn toward Ilphaesn.

  Behind him came the sounds of the streets. At this time of day, Lower Town was awash with people. Many came down from Upper Town to trade at the docks or pick up the fresh catch. The rich—and those living within the palace—sent carters to the docks so they wouldn’t have to come to this part of the city. Even when he’d lived with his parents in the middle of the city, Rsiran had never understood the reluctance.

  A few ships moved in the distance. Massive sails swelled with the wind, pushing them onward. A sleek, twin-masted ship with a hull painted crimson sailed out of the bay, slowly making its way north. Another ship, this smaller and with a single mast, worked toward the shore. Rsiran didn’t know enough about markings to know where either ship came from. Neither looked anything like Firell’s ship. Since he’d escaped, Rsiran had wondered what happened with Firell. Likely, he’d taken his store of lorcith to Asador as he’d said. And from there? Firell could be anywhere. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Josun anymore.

  “Might be others to worry about.”

  Rsiran jumped, realizing his mental barriers were down and slammed them into place. Brusus stood behind him, dressed in a navy tunic and dark brown trousers. A matching cloak hung off one shoulder. Dressed as he was, Brusus could fit in Upper Town. Down in Lower Town, he seemed out of place.

  “Brusus.”

  He tilted his head. “You need to be careful with your thoughts. You can be… loud… sometimes.”

  Rsiran frowned. “Loud?”

  Brusus shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it any better than that. Some people’s thoughts are like that. Yours were never quiet, but over the last few months, they’ve gotten louder. Most of the time, you’re shrouded, like nothing is there, but when you forget to shroud your thoughts…” Brusus shook his head. “It’s like you’re screaming.”

  “Can everyo
ne hear them?” The idea horrified him and made him realize he needed to be more careful.

  Brusus shrugged again. “I don’t know. I’ve got some skill with Reading, you know. Perhaps it’s just me.” He took a seat on the narrow bench overlooking the dock and stared out at the water. “You worry about Firell?”

  Rsiran stood, making certain his barriers were in place as he considered how to answer. With what had happened, anything he said might not make much sense. “We know that Firell and Josun worked with the Forgotten, probably shipping lorcith to them. When he captured me, I got the sense that Firell only did what he had to do.”

  Brusus nodded. “That would be Firell. Practical like that. Ship captain has to be, I suspect.” He sighed. “And I’m sorry about Shael. Were it not for me, he’d never have met you. He always did seem too eager to know what you were forging, always trying to suggest things for you to make. I thought he just wanted coin.”

  “He worked for Josun and wanted something made. A forge of sorts, only one that would force heartstone into lorcith. It’s probably a good thing I wasn’t able to make it.”

  Brusus gave him a strange look. “You sound disappointed.”

  “Not disappointed. There is so much I could have learned had…”

  “Your father?” Brusus asked.

  “I’ll never learn from a master smith. Not what I need to know.”

  Brusus laughed softly. “You sell yourself short. I’m not sure I’ve seen metalworking skill such as yours before.”

  Rsiran didn’t deny that he’d gained skill. Lorcith had taught him how to be a smith. But there were parts of being a smith he still didn’t know. And now, never would.

  “You still wish you could learn from him.”

  “He is—was—one of the finest smiths in Elaeavn.” And now Venass held him. Rsiran knew he should care more about that, but it was hard for him to find it within himself. “But that’s the only reason I would help him now.”

  “Jessa told me how you Slid after him when he jumped toward the Thyrass River.”