The Heartstone Blade (The Dark Ability Book 2) (21 page)

But no sign of Jessa.

After successfully Sliding this far, following the sense of the sword, he’d expected to find Jessa here too. But he should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Not with Josun involved. But if she was not here, why had Josun left the sword here?

No answer came to him.

Rsiran grabbed the sword. He would not leave it. He needed a sheath, some way to carry it, though unlike the Neelish sellswords, he had no idea how to use a sword. Were anyone to find him, he’d be better off throwing the sword at them than trying to fight them off with it.

Where was Jessa?

And why had Josun brought the sword to this city—so far to the north that it was likely Asador? Had Josun just wanted him out of the city? But why, and was this where he sent the lorcith? If so, how did that help him?

And if Jessa wasn’t here, then where? Would Josun have taken her back to Elaeavn?

Rsiran leaned against the table in the smithy. He could return to Elaeavn. Maybe search for Jessa there. Better to find Brusus, have him help. Or Haern might be able to See something.

But a nagging worry told him that Jessa had already been gone too long.

The only other thing he could think of was the charm he’d made her. Could he sense the charm now that he had the sword? Only if she was still nearby, if at all.

The darkness of the smithy helped put him back in the mindset of being back in the mines, nothing but darkness around him, the sense of lorcith all around. He took a few calming breaths, struggling to push back the fear and anger raging through him, and listen only for the lorcith.

He felt the sword like a fiery beacon in his mind. And then… nearby he sensed other lorcith he’d forged. Knives mostly. Somewhere in the city. Could they be knives Jessa carried? But no… the lorcith sounded different, sang to him differently.

Then he started pushing back the sense of lorcith. The sword went first. Now that he possessed it again, he pushed back the awareness of it in his mind. The knives he carried went next. And then the other shaped lorcith throughout the city. All pushed into the background.

He listened.

There was a sense of unshaped lorcith, calling to him. Not large quantities, nothing like he felt near Ilphaesn or nearly as much as he’d felt on Firell’s ship, but unshaped nonetheless. Some was very close. This
was
where Firell brought it, he was certain. He pushed that away as well.

The muted sound of the alloy thrummed against him too. He heard it nearby and frowned as he pushed that back as well.

And then there was nothing. No sense of lorcith. Not even a tiny dredge of a sense.

Rsiran held his breath. Waiting.

The charm would not pull on him very strongly, if at all. And possibly, he was too far away to sense it anyway. But he strained, listening, listening, listening for the barest hint.

There was nothing.

He took a deep breath. Lorcith flooded around him, filling him again with awareness. Each time he pushed it away, it seemed to bounce back stronger.

Something that he’d realized when listening for the charm made his eyes snap open.

This smithy had lorcith.

Following what he’d sensed, he made his way toward the stacks of metal. Shuffling past steel and iron, he came across square blocks of grindl and copper. Another block of brown that he didn’t recognize. And then a large rectangular block of metal.

Rsiran grabbed the block and pressed his thumb deep into the metal. It felt soft, just like the lump he’d found in the warehouse. He slipped it into his pocket.

Beneath it was a dull grey lump of lorcith larger than many he’d seen while working for his father in the smithy, but not as large as those he’d found in the mines. Rsiran hefted it, twisting it in his hand. Light from the coals caught the dull surface.

But why would lorcith be found in a smithy unless the smith could work it? Outside of Elaeavn, there shouldn’t be any smiths that could work with lorcith.

Several other lumps of lorcith sat beneath it. These weren’t the only ones he sensed in the city. That meant other smiths had unshaped lorcith. Did they have the silver-like metal as well? Whatever this metal was, it combined with lorcith to create the alloy.

But if that were true, did that mean these smiths tried to make the alloy? Would they know the secret the alchemists guarded?

Even if they did, he still didn’t know why. Why would Josun and those with him need the alloy? For what purpose? It prevented Sliding, locked out Josun just as easily as it locked out Rsiran. And if that were the case, why would he want that?

Had Rsiran been wrong? Was it not Josun he’d overheard on Firell’s ship? Did he chase a different Slider? But if that was the case, how would they have known about Jessa? How would they have known about the sword?

And then there was the other sense he felt when he’d pushed away lorcith. The alloy was somewhere in the city. With a sudden fluttering in his heart, he wondered…could it be enough to mask the lorcith in the charm? Enough to hide Jessa from him?

He would not leave this city until he knew.

R
siran Slid from the smithy
. The metal block in his pocket weighed heavily, almost dragging him as he attempted the Slide. When he emerged, he stood again on the street in front of the smithy. Nothing moved. A cat meowed once and he waited, but the sound didn’t come again. Would the luck be the same here as it was in Elaeavn?

Rsiran held the sword in one hand, feeling awkward standing in the street with a full sword. If caught in Elaeavn with it, there would be consequences. Only the constables were allowed swords, and apparently, the sellswords, but would it be the same outside of Elaeavn?

He checked down the street and then pushed away all awareness of lorcith, listening for the alloy. Within moments, he felt it. First as a soft tug upon his senses, then stronger.

The sense came from nearby. Rsiran trailed after it, listening. Were he to Slide, he might lose the connection to it.

Darkness shrouded the street as he made his way along it. The alloy pulled him, calling softly, its voice muted like coming through a thick wall. As he followed the sense, he allowed himself the hope that Jessa might be trapped inside. If his sword had been here, why not Jessa?

At an intersection, the sense of the alloy pulled him to the right. Overhead, the heavy moon began to sink past the peaked slate rooftops. A shadow flickered along one and he paused, but nothing else moved. Maybe a bat or the cat he’d heard earlier now prowling.

The sense of the alloy felt closer. Buildings made out of the same rough timbers lined both sides of the street with small doors and narrow windows. One door in particular drew him and he stopped in front of it. The muted call of the alloy came most strongly from behind it.

When he reached it, he saw a faint metallic inset on the door that practically disappeared into the wood. Had he not shifted his stance while staring at it, he didn’t think he’d have seen it.

Unable to help himself, he touched it, running his hand across the smooth surface. The metal felt cool and made his hand tingle. The intricate work impressed him. Few smiths in Elaeavn had the skill to achieve such fine detail. When he leaned to one side, the inset faded. Only when standing in a particular position could he make out the detail.

Rsiran moved down to the window. Crisscrossing the window were narrow strips of metal. He touched these, as well, and felt the same tingling sensation.

Why should he feel that?

Yet the feeling reminded him of what he’d felt when he went through the door at the alchemist guild house. With a sudden certainty, he knew this was the place he needed to be.

Rsiran focused on the sense of the alloy. Even standing in front of this building, the sense was faded and muted. Had he not focused as he did, he might not have felt it. Nothing about the home looked otherwise different from any others on the street. The inlay on the door might be different, but for all Rsiran knew, such things were common here. Just the strange tingling on his skin and the awareness of the alloy.

He returned to stand in front of the door. With the sword in his hand, he Slid.

And was pushed back.

He slipped on the cobbled street before catching himself. The sensation had been no different from the resistance he’d felt when trying to Slide into the palace, or into the hidden cavern on Ilphaesn.

Now he had no doubt that this was the place.

Could Jessa be on the other side?

Letting go of the sense of the alloy, he listened for lorcith. If he had an anchor of some sort, he could pull through the alloy, but would there be anything inside this building for him to use?

The sense of lorcith hit him with a sudden awareness blazing in his mind. The sword and the knives he carried. The unshaped lorcith from back in the smithy. A few other shaped items scattered throughout the city. But not Jessa’s charm.

If only Brusus were here. He’d unroll his lock-pick set, find the right combination, and have the door open in moments. Still slower than Jessa, but faster than Rsiran could manage. Then there was what Haern had done. Physical and quick, but effective.

That Rsiran could do.

He grabbed one of his slender bladed knives and shoved it into the lock. It met resistance at first, but then slid inside with a soft click. He tried twisting, but the door still didn’t open.

Frustration rose inside him. This was not the palace to block him out. There should be no reason for this simple door—this building—to barricade him as it did.

With a surge of anger, he slammed his shoulder into the door. It popped open.

Rsiran grabbed the knife out of the lock and stuffed it back into his pocket. Then he slipped into the house, pushing the door closed behind him. The tingling sensation washed over him as he did.

The house was dark. No streetlight shone through the narrow window, nothing of even moonlight. Again he felt useless, blinded by his lack of Sight.

He might not possess the same Sight as Jessa, but he had other ways to see. Letting out a slow breath, he listened for lorcith.

As he did, he felt a strange absence of lorcith, so different from what he felt other places, even standing on the other side of the door. It took a moment for him to realize that the absence came from the alloy blocking him.

Through the void, he felt a tiny shimmering awareness. Almost as if the metal had been here once but was no longer. Now, nothing was here. Certainly not answers.

Time to return to Elaeavn. He would regroup. Find Brusus and Haern. Seek their help in searching for Jessa. Then he would go after Josun.

As he neared the door, a soft shuffling sounded behind him.

Rsiran spun, pushing one of the knives from his pocket away from him almost as soon as he did. It hit with a soft thunk.

Someone cried out.

Rsiran Slid, using the knife to guide where he went. Whoever had approached lay on the ground, sprawled out. In the darkness, he couldn’t tell where the knife hit.

But he needed answers. This person dying would not help him find them.

Rsiran leaned and reached for a wrist to grab onto. The person fought him for a moment, trying to pull away, but Rsiran resisted. Whoever this was could answer his questions. Why was the house protected by the alloy? Why did the smith have unshaped lorcith? Had it been Josun who had stolen the sword and brought it to the city?

The person grunted and fell silent. Rsiran pulled. If he was too heavy, he wouldn’t be able to drag him all the way back to Elaeavn. Thankfully he was not.

Then he Slid.

R
siran Slid
back to Elaeavn in a single Slide. Anger and frustration gave him strength.

The distance—especially bringing someone else with him—should have made the Slide difficult, but he emerged feeling no weaker than when he Slid with Jessa.

He emerged at Della’s house, standing just inside the door. The hearth crackled softly as if she’d been waiting for him. Rsiran stood, knowing that whatever ripples his Slide made would draw her attention.

Within moments, she came out of the back of her home. The bright shawl shifted on her shoulders, and she seemed to know immediately what had happened. Rsiran no longer cared if she Read him.

“Where did you find him?”

He shook his head. “Asador, I think.” He waved the sword with his free hand. “Found it in a smithy.”

She glanced at the man. “And him?”

Rsiran looked down, seeing him for the first time. A thick beard covered his face, long and scraggly. Streaks of grey shot through it. His wide nose was reddened. Black hair peppered with grey ran nearly to his shoulders. He wore baggy brown pants smudged with black stains. His grey shirt hung open, revealing a scarred chest.

“Found him in a different building. Protected by the alloy.”

Della looked up quickly. “And you? How did you get in?”

“I didn’t Slide, if that’s what you’re wondering. No anchor on the other side.” Though once he’d been inside, he didn’t have any trouble Sliding. “Just used a technique I picked up from Haern.”

Della grunted. “Haern. Nothing subtle about that man.”

“Subtle doesn’t always work.”

“No,” Della said, motioning toward the cot near the fire. “It does not.”

Rsiran carried the man to the fire and set him atop the cot. When he did, the man stirred a moment, his eyes flicking open. Panic surged through green eyes as he looked at Della. He turned his head, and when he saw Rsiran, his eyes widened.

The man started to tremble. One leg kicked. The other didn’t move. Rsiran realized that his knife stuck through the middle of his thigh. Blood pooled around it, more than he would have expected for a thigh injury.

He reached for the knife, but Della caught his hand. “Don’t. Could lose too much blood if you do that.” She let go of him and put both hands on either side of the man’s face. Her eyes went distant.

Then the man sagged, his eyes falling closed.

She moved around the cot and touched the knife. One finger ran across the blade, following it down to where it pierced his flesh. Her eyes flashed a bright green. “You may take your knife now.”

Rsiran grabbed it, pulling it out of the man’s leg. Blood spurted briefly as he did, soaking into his pants and splashing onto Della’s hands, before the wound just closed on its own.

“This will take some time.”

“But he might know where—”

Della looked up at him sharply. “You may question him later, Rsiran,” she snapped.

He hesitated long enough to wipe the knife on the man’s pants, cleaning the blood from it. Then he stuffed it back into his pocket. Rsiran made his way to the door, glancing again at Della. Her hands ran over the man’s pants, along his leg, before pausing when she touched his stomach. Della did not look back at him.

Rsiran stepped out into the night.

T
he sounds
of Elaeavn surrounded him, suddenly strange and foreign. The waves crashing along the rocks seemed angry and violent. Gulls cawing overhead swirled with dark shadows. It seemed as if a dozen cats yowled at once, though it could not have been more than one or two. He no longer cared to count.

Rsiran didn’t want to Slide. He should be exhausted. After everything he’d done tonight chasing down the sword in the hope of finding Jessa, he should be so weary that he couldn’t stand. Instead, he felt only emptiness.

She should be with him.

And he had failed her.

He glanced at the sword he carried, feeling disgusted by it for the first time since forging it. Not because he had made it, but at what it represented. He should have left it with Josun. What did Rsiran care whether one of the Elvraeth had a sword he’d forged? As far as he knew, there were knives bearing his mark in the palace as well. He’d been very productive, yet the only thing he’d felt an attachment to had been the useless sword.

Rsiran turned onto one of the side streets and started toward the shore.

More than anything, he needed answers. And who better than Brusus to help with that? The Great Watcher knew Brusus was connected well enough.

Rsiran wandered through the streets as he made his way to Brusus’s home. He debated Sliding, but chose not to. What did it matter how quickly he reached Brusus? Jessa was gone. Taken. Likely left broken, just like Lianna.

When he finally reached Brusus’s home, he hesitated. He had been here earlier, but that had been to leave the lorcith-forged items. It seemed so long ago that he’d been here. A lifetime. Back when he and Jessa planned to leave Elaeavn. Draw Josun out. Before Jessa disappeared.

Still, in the time since he’d been here, something had changed. The small room stretched barely five paces wide. A draft blew in through the tiny hearth in the corner. A plush rug with a red and green checked pattern abutted the hearth, the edge slightly singed. A wooden chair angled in front of the hearth when he’d been here before had tipped over. The bundle of lorcith he’d forged was gone.

A candle flickered in the room off to the side. Rsiran had never been back there. Even though his ability let him travel freely, there were places where he felt uncomfortable going without permission. Brusus had secrets, true, but didn’t they all?

But Jessa needed him. Now was not the time to worry about violating privacy. He would do anything to help Jessa.

He stepped through the shadowed threshold. The room on the other side surprised him. Instead of a mattress or rolled blanket or anything that would make the room a place of rest, there was a large, hinged chest along one wall. A narrow desk against the opposite wall. The candle he’d seen flickered there. A small block of the silvery metal sat atop the desk, a twin to the one he still had in his pocket.

Rsiran froze.

Instinctively, he listened for the sound of lorcith. In the house should be the collection of lorcith he’d brought earlier in the evening, the sound of his forgings calling to him, pulling on his senses. He heard nothing.

Instead, he felt the pull of unshaped lorcith.

Slowly, he made his way to the trunk. This was where the lorcith pulled at him the strongest. Long wooden slats formed the lid of the trunk, squeezed together by bands of iron on each end. The body of the trunk seemed to be made from solid wood, as if milled in a single sheet, but wider than anything he’d ever seen. Rsiran frowned when he noticed faded writing on one end that reminded him of the crates in the warehouse.

He lifted the lid, dreading what he might find. Inside were nearly a dozen massive lumps of lorcith. Each about the same size as the one he’d seen at the smithy in Asador. He lifted one, holding it in his hand, and turned to the desk where the block of metal rested.

Only then did he realize he wasn’t alone.

“Where’s Brusus?”

Della stepped through the doorway. Her hair stood wild, and deep wrinkles pulled at the corners of her vibrant green eyes, making her look weary. The first time he’d met her, he’d been the cause of that fatigue.

“The man will live,” she said.

He looked from the trunk back to Della. “Is he awake enough to answer some questions?”

Della blinked slowly. “Rsiran… do you know who you brought back to Elaeavn?”

He didn’t. Someone bearded, which those living in Elaeavn never were, but his green eyes said that he possessed the Great Watcher’s gift. “Who is it?”

“When you visit with him, you must remember—”

“Who is it?”

She crossed her hands over her stomach as she faced him, considering her response. “Someone who will not know where Jessa was taken.”

He nearly collapsed. The effort of the day seemed to be catching up with him. After everything, the man he’d brought back with him to the city had been his last hope that he’d find Jessa. And now… now he had nothing.

“Where’s Brusus?” he asked again. “Why does he have lorcith?” The questions spilled out of him, mixed with the hopelessness he felt.

Della sighed. Her breath smelled of mint and reminded him of his visit earlier in the day. “I cannot claim to know you as she does, but anger does not suit you.”

“What else could I be? He took Jessa from me. The one person I counted on as a friend hides lorcith from me. And you seem to know why.”

“There is much I know. And there are things I wish to forget. Many things. That is something I think you begin to understand.”

The words touched a nerve, and he bit back what he started to say. “What’s this about, Della?”

She stepped closer. One hand reached for him, touching his arm. A wave of relaxation started through him, the tingling in his skin reminding him so much of how it had felt entering the barricaded house. “This is about Brusus.”

“I don’t understand.”

“And you should not. I don’t think you were ever meant to be a part of it.”

“And Brusus?”

“It’s different with him.”

“He means to exclude me from what he plans?”

Della shook her head. “From what I can See, neither of you were to have been involved. What happened to Lianna was meant to hurt Brusus, and it did. Josun took something very personal from Brusus. All that managed to do was make him angry. Then he targeted you. Tried to implicate you in a palace break-in. And took Jessa from you.”

“After what happened in the palace, he wants to use me in his rebellion.”

“Possibly.”

Rsiran set the lump of lorcith into the trunk and closed the lid. He felt the effects of his Sliding, growing so weary that he couldn’t stand. He sat atop the trunk and looked up at Della.

“Brusus did not react as he expected when Lianna died. He expected Brusus to back away, but he did not. That is not how the Great Watcher made him.”

Rsiran wondered how much of what had happened was his fault? He and Jessa had been the ones to go to the warehouse. To Firell’s ship. Rsiran had been the one to find the space between the crates and the strange silver-colored metal. What if Josun blamed Brusus when he should blame Rsiran?

Wrinkles deepened as she looked at him. In spite of having the mental barriers he built in his mind, he felt it as she Read him, as if crawling around or over them.

“You still do not understand. You’ve been sheltered too long. First your family, and then with Brusus.”

“You think that I’ve been sheltered?” His parents had not sheltered him. If anything, they tried to discourage him from using his abilities.

“You have lived in Elaeavn your entire life, Rsiran. Yet you do not know Elaeavn.” Her smile meant to soften the blow of her words but did not. “I saw that when I first met you. Many who live in the city do not really know it. They know the city, places they call Lower Town and Upper Town, but they do not know Elaeavn. And they cannot, not without knowing the Elvraeth.” She tottered to the desk and looked down at the silvery block of metal on the table. “What has Brusus told you about Josun?”

“That he’s one of the Elvraeth. And that he didn’t always know what Josun wanted.”

Della looked up from the desk and nodded. “And did he tell you how he knew Josun?”

“Only that he’d worked a few jobs for him.”

“Brusus would make it seem that Josun hired him rather than how it actually happened.” She lifted the metal block off the desk and held it in her hands.

“How did it actually happen?”

As he asked, he felt the sudden pull of lorcith he’d forged.

Rsiran turned toward the door. Brusus stood watching them, gaze flicking between Della and Rsiran. He wore a deep blue cloak with heavy embroidery clasped at his neck. Grey hair slicked back over his head. Deep green eyes flared bright.

“He used me.”

Rsiran jumped to his feet as Brusus entered. “You know what happened tonight? You know that Josun took Jessa?”

Brusus stiffened. “He has her?”

“Earlier. I left some of my forgings here. We… we were going to draw him away from the city.” Saying it aloud to Brusus left him feeling foolish.

Brusus narrowed his eyes. “Yes. I moved them to a safe place. But why would you think you could draw Josun?”

“To keep him from coming after us. All of us.”

Brusus stepped forward. “Great Watcher,” he swore softly. “And while I was gone this evening.”

“Gone?”

“There were… things… I needed to learn.”

“Yes? Well, there were things I needed to learn too. Like why does Firell have lorcith on his ship? Why do you suddenly have a trunk full of it? Are you a part of this rebellion too?” His voice rose with each question, and he couldn’t mask the hurt in his voice.

Without meaning to, he pulled on lorcith all around him. The knife hidden under Brusus’s shirt pulled free and floated toward Rsiran. The knives in his pockets shook, threatening to come flying out. Even the lorcith inside the trunk wobbled, vibrating with an almost eager energy.

“Easy, Rsiran.” Brusus put his hands up, palms facing outward.

Rsiran let out his breath. The knife he’d taken from Brusus fell to the ground with a clatter.

“Share what you know, Brusus,” Della said. “He has come in too far already. And now… I See only more danger if he remains in the dark. If he is to help, you must share with him the reason why.”

Brusus looked at Della and nodded slowly. He motioned to the end of the trunk next to Rsiran, waiting for him to sit. He grabbed the knife off the ground before sitting alongside him. “There are not many who know of my past,” Brusus began.

“I haven’t shared your secret,” Rsiran said.

“No. I know you haven’t.” He looked over to Della as he began. “You know that my mother was born in the palace. One of the Elvraeth. Descended from the first families, those first gifted by the Great Watcher with what we know as our abilities. She was banished… Forgotten… while pregnant with me.”