Blood of the Watcher (The Dark Ability Book 4)

  Blood of the Watcher

  D.K. Holmberg

  ASH Publishing

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by D.K. Holmberg

  Copyright © 2016 by D.K. Holmberg

  Cover by Rebecca Frank

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Chapter 1

  A sliver of moon peeked out from behind a thick bank of clouds. Gentle rain drizzled down, leaving the stones in this part of Lower Town slick beneath his boots. Rsiran shifted the sword still sheathed at his side, a flush of embarrassment coursing through him that he still carried it with him. He had no ability with the sword, and if it came to actually using a sword, he would be in more trouble than if he were to simply Slide away.

  Jessa stood at his side, holding tightly to his hand, as if she were concerned that he might leave her behind. He suspected that she’d seen something on his face, maybe the tension as his jaw muscle twitched, or the fact that he continued to check his knives to make certain they were still there.

  The darkness in Lower Town didn’t bother him as it once did. There were shades present that had not been there before, and a certain clarity that he wasn’t accustomed to seeing. Once he would have been thankful for such a change, now he only worried about why it had.

  A single cat yowled down a distant alley. He didn’t wait to see if it would repeat.

  “I heard another,” Jessa said.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Rsiran answered.

  “Of course it matters.”

  He shook his head. He hadn’t managed to shake the foul mood he’d been in for the last few weeks. They had walked along the docks, Jessa guiding him and likely knowing that he normally found the waves crashing along the shore soothing. Not today. Now with each wave, he felt a surge of anxiety, as if the water simply served to remind him of how much danger he posed to his friends.

  “Brusus wanted us to meet him here again tonight,” Jessa said.

  The Wretched Barth had once been a place of safety to them, a place where they could meet, and dice, and discuss plans, all with some semblance of comfort. That had been before Lianna had died, and before everything that Rsiran did drew them ever deeper into the plans of the Forgotten and Venass. Now the pub held nothing but memories of Brusus’s attack, and when Thom had Compelled Haern to attack them.

  “What was he thinking having us come here?” Rsiran asked.

  Jessa pulled the door open—he could tell from the brief widening of her eyes that she hadn’t been certain whether she could without having to pick the lock—and stepped into the tavern.

  The soft sounds of a lute played near the far end of the tavern, though Rsiran saw no one there. A fire crackled in the hearth, giving a warmth to the place. The scent of roasted meat and hot ale filled the tavern.

  “I thought the Barth was closed,” Rsiran said, confusion replacing some of the worry he felt. After the attacks, the tavern had been shuttered. What would make anyone want to return here?

  Brusus came from behind a door that led to the kitchen and saw them. He carried a mug of ale in one hand, and when he saw them, a wide smile spread across his face. “Ah, finally you’ve come!”

  Rsiran glanced over at Jessa and she shrugged.

  “Brusus?” he asked.

  He tipped his head in a nod. “Thought some ale might cheer us all up.”

  “What are we doing here?” Rsiran asked.

  Brusus’s brow furrowed and he gave a puzzled smile. “What do we always do here?”

  He sat at a table, pulled a packet of ivory dice from his pocket, and set it on the table next to his mug of ale. As he did, the door opened and Haern entered. His eyes took in the tavern with a quick sweep and then he grunted, flopping himself onto a stool.

  “You’re going to have to get your own ale,” Brusus said to him.

  Haern studied Brusus’s face for a moment, and then he shrugged and made his way into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a full mug.

  “You two going to just stand there or are you going to join us and dice? I admit, it might not be as spirited as when Firell joined us,” he said, his face clouding for a moment, “but I think we can all admit that it’s been too long since we took the time to sit together and simply relax.”

  “The Barth is closed,” Rsiran said.

  Brusus looked around and laughed softly. “Closed? Looks like we’ve got it open, doesn’t it, Haern?”

  Haern grunted. A coin flipped between the fingers of his left hand while his right hand traced over the scar that ran along the side of his face. “Open enough.”

  Jessa shrugged again and took a seat next to Haern.

  He glanced at her, tipping his head to the side, and his eyes went distant for a moment as they often did when he attempted a Seeing. When they came back into focus, he nodded to her. “You’re still well.” It came out as a statement, rather than a question.

  Jessa patted him on the shoulder and smiled. “Still well, Haern.”

  Rsiran shook off his confusion and took a seat. Brusus rolled the dice across the table and nodded toward the kitchen. “You might want to get yourself a mug of ale.”

  “Since neither of you two was accommodating, I’ll get us each one,” Jessa said.

  She made her way to the kitchen, and Rsiran watched her go before turning his attention back to Brusus.

  “What is this?” Rsiran asked. “I thought Karin closed the Barth after the attack and put it up for sale.”

  Brusus nodded. “She did. And it sold.”

  It took Rsiran a moment to make the connection. “You?”

  “Of course me. Who else were you thinking?”

  “You’re not concerned about what happened here?” Rsiran asked.

  Brusus waved a hand as he took another drink. “What’s to worry about? The Forgotten got what they were after, and as far as they know, I’m dead.”

  “They weren’t after you,” Rsiran said.

  “Maybe not. Either way, they think I’m gone.”

  “But the tavern—”

  “Was bought by a certain Tolstan Imolat.”


  Rsiran looked from Brusus to Haern, frowning as he did. “Who is Tolstan Imolat?”

  Haern started shaking his head. “Damn fool, that’s who he is,” he said. The coin that he flipped between his fingers continued to move, spinning atop his knuckles. When it came to rest, he slapped it onto the table and picked up the dice, shaking them in his hand.

  “You?” Rsiran asked Brusus.

  He shrugged. “Thought I needed to take on a different name, especially after what happened to me. Can’t have the Forgotten hearing my real name bandied about. Kind of ruins the ruse.”

  “But it wasn’t the exiled Elvraeth who attacked you,” Rsiran reminded.

  Brusus looked around the tavern, his eyes darting toward the door to the kitchen. It still felt strangely empty in the Wretched Barth without Lianna, as if the spirit of the place had changed when she had died. Then it had been a place of safety, where they hadn’t needed to fear attack or poisoning, but after Lianna’s death, Brusus had been poisoned and Rsiran and Jessa nearly killed.

  “It wasn’t only Venass, either,” Brusus said.

  Jessa pushed open the door to the kitchen, walking stiffly. For a moment, Rsiran worried that something had happened to her while she was there, but she came out carrying two large mugs of steaming ale. She smiled broadly as she weaved around the tables in the tavern, making her way to where they sat, and managed to set them down without spilling any.

  “Looks like someone could use a job,” Brusus said.

  Jessa punched him on the shoulder. “You hire your own help if you’re intent to run this place.”

  “You knew?” Rsiran asked.

  She shrugged. “When he asked us to come here, I suspected. I’d heard that the Barth had sold, but I didn’t recognize the name. A little digging, and it seems no one recognized the name. Figured his invitation to meet here was too much of a coincidence to be only that.”

  She dropped a hand to his shoulder and leaned into Rsiran’s ear to whisper. “Besides, it’s good to give him something else to worry about, you know? Everything else that’s going on, he’s starting to feel helpless.”

  Brusus tossed a handful of coin on the table. “You know, I can hear you.”

  Jessa twisted to look over at him. “Why else would I have said it?”

  Brusus slapped Haern’s hand, and the dice went spinning across the table. “Now you’re only being mean. Besides, I thought you’d want to have someplace safe for us to meet.”

  Jessa took a seat and spun to face Brusus. “This isn’t safe. They know that this has been our place. What happens when the Forgotten come after us again?” she asked, lowering her voice as she did, even though they were the only ones in the tavern. She turned to Haern. “What happens when Venass makes a play at us again? You know what they’re after—”

  “What we think they’re after,” Brusus countered. “There is a difference.”

  Jessa grabbed the dice and tossed them across the table. “Whatever. Now that Thom and the rest of Venass know what Rsiran can do, we’re not really safe anywhere.”

  Haern clasped his hands together on the table and looked to Rsiran. “No. I suppose we’re not.”

  Rsiran glanced toward Brusus, but he just sipped his ale and shrugged. “That’s why we’re here,” Brusus started. “Have to figure out our next move.”

  Haern reached over and grabbed Rsiran’s wrist. He was much older than Rsiran and didn’t have the strength that years spent working at the forge afforded Rsiran, but there was strength in his grip. “As much as Brusus likes to think he’s the center of our world, since we met you, you seem to be in the middle of everything that happens. We have years of knowing how to be careful—”

  “Some of us fewer than others,” Jessa said.

  Haern ignored her and kept his focus on Rsiran. “One lesson you needed to learn was that there are times when you have to be hard, and others when you have to be compassionate. So far, I’ve seen only compassion from you even when it places us in more danger. Time for that to change.”

  “He’s not soft, Haern,” Jessa said.

  Haern released Rsiran’s wrist and picked up the dice. He flipped them between his fingers, twisting them slowly and then dumped them onto the table. They landed a pair of ones. “Never said that. Boy wouldn’t have survived half of what he’s been through if that were the case, but he’s got a gentle heart, and that’s going to get one of us killed.”

  Rsiran wondered if Jessa had shared with them that Josun had escaped. That Firell had freed him in exchange for his daughter. So far, it hadn’t mattered. Josun hadn’t come back for them. But he would. He’d already proven how far he would go, first killing Lianna, then capturing Rsiran, and most recently having taken Jessa prisoner.

  It was the reason that Rsiran always kept himself on edge, always looking around. But how far would he go? He hadn’t been willing to kill Josun. Anyone he had harmed, he’d done out of a need for self-protection. Haern might think that he needed to be harder, but what happened if he found he enjoyed it too much? What happened if his abilities turned him into something darker?

  Jessa watched him as if Reading him. She shook her head slowly from side to side.

  “Listen, are we going to dice or are we going to sit here and talk?” Brusus grumbled. “We’ve got this wonderful tavern all to ourselves. I thought you all would want to be here, but all I get from you is arguing. And I get enough of that from Haern.” He took them all in with a glance, then quieted. “Let’s have a quiet, enjoyable night, and then we can start figuring out what we need to do with both Venass and the Forgotten tomorrow. Seems like it’s time for us to sort that out.”

  Haern looked at Rsiran for a moment more and then picked up the dice, rolling them in his hand and dumping them on the table one more time. “Tomorrow,” he agreed as the dice settled, again coming up with ones.

  Rsiran couldn’t help but wonder if another day mattered. He might have held one of the Great Crystals and had sat next to the Great Watcher, but what did that matter when the Forgotten and Venass were after him? How many times would he be able to Slide away before one of them caught up to him? And then what would he do? Would he be hard enough to do what was needed?

  This time, Haern watched him, his eyes slightly distant as he attempted a Seeing. He blinked and sent the dice sliding across the top of the table, all without taking his gaze off Rsiran.

  Chapter 2

  The pounding on the door to the smithy woke Rsiran. His head pounded in time, almost as if whoever was on the other side managed to reach inside his skull and assault him. He stood slowly, wobbling as he made his way to the door, wishing he hadn’t had that third mug of ale last night. The second had helped him forget about the fear he had of who might be out there still after him. The third had simply been excess.

  He glanced over at Jessa and found she was already up and gone, leaving little more than a nest of blankets curled up where her body had been. How late had he slept?

  At the door, he hesitated. Other than Jessa, there were only a few people who knew of the smithy, but why would they have come early in the morning? And why would they beat at the door like this?

  “Open the door, Rsiran. Jessa tells me you’re still there.”

  Haern.

  He slipped the locks, marveling at how Jessa managed to lock them again and wondering if he would ever really be able to seal up the smithy, and pulled open the door. Bright sunlight spilled in, and he had to shade his eyes. Haern wore a dark cloak covering up a shimmering shirt that practically pulled light away from it. Rsiran had seen it before, but that had been when they snuck into the Alchemist Guild house.

  “Haern? What are you doing here?”

  Haern shoved past him and glanced around the smithy. “Been a while since I came here, so I thought I would see if you—”

  He spun, and a knife came streaking through the air toward Rsiran.

  Rsiran pushed on it and caught it just before it would have pierced his leg. Not a killing
throw, but one that would have hurt. And lorcith, so he suspected this to be some sort of test from Haern.

  “Good. At least you keep your reflexes active. Have to be with what’s coming.” Haern grabbed the knife from Rsiran’s hand and kicked the door to the smithy shut. “You going to stand there and gape at me, or you going to ask the question that’s on your mind?”

  “I repeat, what are you doing here?”

  Haern started toward the forge and stopped at the long table that held Rsiran’s recent forgings. It had been days since he’d worked at the forge, and the smithy didn’t smell quite so strongly of lorcith, but the top of the table was littered with what he’d made. Now that they didn’t sell his lorcith creations, he kept them all here, and they accumulated.

  At the table, Haern took a pair of knives and flicked them toward Rsiran. It was an almost casual motion, and he smiled as he did it.

  Rsiran pushed the knives, slowing them enough that he could catch them. “Haern?”

  “This,” Haern began, grabbing an iron plate that Rsiran had made, “is about your training,” he finished, spinning the iron plate at Rsiran.

  Iron didn’t react the same as lorcith. He ducked, but wasn’t fast enough. The plate caught him on the arm and sent him spinning.

  In that time, Haern crossed the distance between them, a steel knife appearing in his hand. He slashed at Rsiran.

  Rsiran Slid back two steps, emerging near the door.

  Haern stood and smiled. “Good. Can’t forget all your abilities, can you?”

  He flicked a pair of knives that Rsiran hadn’t seen. Neither was lorcith.

  Rsiran emerged on the far side of the smithy, wanting to be farther away when he emerged. “Training?” he asked. His mind still hadn’t cleared, but what was Haern doing?

  “Told you that you’ll need to be harder. That you’ll need to learn how to use your abilities. Now you’re going to learn.” Another knife streaked toward Rsiran that he Slid away from. “You really need to think quicker when you’re attacked. You use one of your abilities at a time, when you’ve got two.”