Blood of the Watcher (The Dark Ability Book 4) Read online

  But then, had he not been, he would never have learned that he was capable of controlling the alloy. He never would have learned about heartstone, and the potential that existed within him.

  “At first they did,” he said.

  “You have suffered more than he Saw.” She covered her hand over her mouth and her eyes widened.

  “Who Saw?” Haern asked, stepping forward.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Sarah said. “Not until we save the guildlord. Then he can have answers.”

  “That’s just it, all the lorcith that was here is…”

  He turned slowly, thinking. All the lorcith was gone, and he didn’t think the Forgotten had much heartstone, but could he reach for a particular piece? When Usal had attacked, he’d managed to Slide away, but Rsiran’s knife had stuck in his shoulder. It was how he Slid to find Jessa.

  If Rsiran could detect that knife, he might be able to find Usal, and might be able to find the others.

  And then?

  Then he would find the missing smiths, and he would find Inna.

  He pressed the anger and rage at what had happened to Jessa into his search for lorcith. Lorcith flared all around him. There were a few small pieces in the smithy, some others nearby, but nothing of much quantity.

  Rsiran pressed farther, reaching for the lorcith. It had been his knife, forged for him to use, drawn from the ore that he’d asked to take shape. There was a connection to that lorcith, and he had only to reach it.

  Distantly he felt it.

  At first, it was little more than a soft pinprick on his awareness, but that gradually increased, growing in intensity the longer he focused. The pinprick grew stronger, brighter within his awareness, and Rsiran pulled on it, drawing the sense toward him.

  He held out his arm. “Be ready,” he said to the others.

  Brusus and Haern grabbed onto his arms. Sarah watched him a moment, as if uncertain, then took his arm as well.

  Rsiran pulled on the sense of lorcith, anchored to it, as he drew them all forward.

  The Slide was agony.

  Colors flashed, and the air took on the hot, bitter scent of overheated lorcith. Something was wrong with the Slide.

  He couldn’t pull away. Doing so risked the others.

  Rsiran cursed himself. He’d been foolish to not investigate before bringing everyone with him. There were dangers to Sliding. Less when he Slid this new way, but still dangers.

  Someone screamed near him.

  Rsiran didn’t have a chance to check who.

  They emerged.

  As they did, Rsiran knew immediately that something was wrong.

  The air was hot and bitter, and far too bright. Lorcith burned everywhere, blinding and overwhelming.

  Someone—Brusus, he thought—grunted near him.

  “Where are we?” Sarah asked.

  Rsiran blinked, letting his eyes adjust. Lorcith was all around, filling walls with their bright light. The knife that had drawn him here lay on the ground, blood covering the hilt but no sign of Usal. The place was different from the last time he’d been here.

  “The Forgotten Palace,” Rsiran said.

  “I don’t see any palace,” Haern said with a grunt. “Can’t really see anything.”

  Brusus shuffled around them, staying close, and picked up the knife off the ground. He held it close to his face, as if struggling to see it. Rsiran realized that he might be. To Brusus and Haern, this might be utter darkness. With Brusus’s Sight, he would be able to see something, but without the ability to see lorcith, everything would be shadows and shades of gray.

  But not Sarah.

  “This is lorcith,” Sarah said. She stared at the tunnels, as if seeing easily… or as if she saw the lorcith.

  The realization of the fact that she saw the light from the lorcith made Rsiran lose his focus. “You see it, too?”

  She cupped a hand over her brow and scanned around her. “I am of the alchemists. That is our gift.”

  Haern and Brusus looked at each other.

  “Why can I see it?” Rsiran asked.

  Sarah shook her head. “You are smith blood. Smiths can hear lorcith sing, can use that song to give it shape, but should not be able to see the potential within. That is the gift of the alchemist.”

  “I thought you were of the Thenar Guild,” Rsiran said.

  Sarah frowned.

  “You said alchemist, but Ephram mentioned that you were guildlord for the Thenar Guild.”

  “My mother. She was Thenar. Through my father, I have alchemist blood, so I am connected to both.”

  “Like I am?”

  “What you describe hasn’t been seen in many generations,” Sarah said.

  “Rsiran,” Brusus interrupted, “as much as I’m curious about what the two of you are talking about—and I am—I think we need to finish the assignment. This place is making me uncomfortable.”

  Rsiran looked around, scanning the rock. “It’s different from when I was here last.”

  “You’ve been here?” Sarah asked. “This is not Ilphaesn.”

  “No, but it’s somewhere near the Forgotten Palace.” He turned to Brusus who stared into the darkness. Haern stood motionless, as if afraid to move. “When we escape the last time, we left the palace through someplace like this. I didn’t know what it was, or where it was, but I know this is the same place.”

  “You said it’s different?” Brusus asked. “How?”

  “It wasn’t this hot, for one. And the air didn’t have the bitter scent like…”

  Like working at the forge, he realized.

  The light was different, too, but he figured that was more due to the change within him rather than anything of the metal in mine itself.

  But the change he felt, that of the air and the heat, that was more like a forge. That meant smiths. He needed to find them.

  “They’re here,” he said softly.

  “How can you be sure?” Haern asked.

  “Whatever the smiths are doing is changing the metal,” he answered. Rsiran turned to Sarah. “You said the light that I see is from the potential of lorcith.” She nodded. “Is there a way to determine if that potential is disturbed?”

  Her brow furrowed in a frown. “Disturbed?”

  He nodded. “When lorcith is forged, if there isn’t a connection to it, if the smith doesn’t listen to the ore, something about it changes.” He hadn’t been certain how to explain that, but knew that it was true. It was the reason the lorcith forgings he made were harder, and less brittle. When it was forced, the lorcith still took on the shape, but something was lost.

  “These are master smiths. They can all hear the song—”

  “They may hear it, but they don’t listen. That’s why lorcith has changed so much for them.” He was certain of that. He might never be a full master smith, but he understood the call of lorcith, and what the metal asked of him. Unlike his father, Rsiran wasn’t afraid to listen. How many of the smiths were like his father? He suspected that most were.

  “I do not know if such a thing is possible,” Sarah admitted. “I didn’t realize that the smiths no longer listen to the song.”

  Rsiran started away from the others, listening for lorcith. To find the smiths, he needed to know where they worked. He could understand what they did later.

  The bright glow of lorcith was all around. There was pressure and a sense of power to tit. Rsiran listened to it as he had long ago learned to hear the call of the metal, to listen to the song, and heard the way that it sang.

  The sound was soft at first, as it often was with lorcith. When heating and hammering it, the song became louder, picking up intensity, but he had no heat, no forge to work. But he could listen, and could focus on what the lorcith wanted to tell him.

  The sound increased, growing stronger.

  Within it, Rsiran became aware of parts that felt off. One in particular was close…

  He Slid to it.

  There was danger in Sliding as he did, and
he knew better than to Slide blindly, but he emerged into something like an open room, a man working coals that were layered on the rock itself. Smoke spiraled up, but not entirely, and the room was thick with it. Light—real light and not that coming off the lorcith—filtered through windows high above.

  What was this? Better yet, where was this?

  A bearded man held a long hammer, one end flatter than the other, and he looked up as Rsiran appeared. The man’s haggard appearance was no different from how Rsiran’s father had looked when he had brought him back from Asador. Wild eyes widened, and he lifted his hammer and came racing at Rsiran.

  He Slid, emerging behind the man, and grabbed him. Then he Slid back to where the others waited.

  The man sprawled across the stone.

  Brusus sucked in a quick breath. “Where was he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The man reached for his hammer, but Rsiran grabbed it and wrenched it free from his grip. The man was strong, but Rsiran used a single small Slide to jerk it free.

  “Take me back,” he said. “If they find that I’m gone—”

  “Who are you?” Brusus asked.

  The man shook his head. “Names don’t matter, not here.”

  “Your name,” Brusus said. He pulled a knife out and pressed it toward the man.

  He looked around, blinking, but Rsiran suspected the darkness was overwhelming, especially after coming from the lighted, makeshift smithy where this man had been. The wild expression in his eyes faded somewhat. “Eldon Farnam.”

  Brusus glanced to Rsiran.

  “He’s one of the master smiths,” Rsiran said.

  Sarah stepped to Eldon. “We’re here to help. Where are the others?”

  “Help? You can’t help. And now my family… everyone I care about…”

  “What are you saying?” Sarah asked.

  Eldon shook his head. “You think I don’t know that I shouldn’t be doing this? You think that I would if there were any other choice? If I’m gone, they’ll… they’ll…” He sobbed, unable to finish his thoughts. “They’ve already shown me what they will do.” He turned toward Rsiran, somehow picking him out in the darkness. “Take me back. I haven’t been gone long enough for them to notice…”

  As he trailed off, his eyes went wide. “Oh, Great Watcher,” Eldon said.

  “What is it?” Brusus asked.

  “They know I’m gone.”

  “How can you tell?” Haern asked.

  Rsiran didn’t need Eldon to answer. He could feel it, like a change in the way the mine felt around him. The air cooled, and the strange song of the lorcith shifted, as if in warning. For Eldon to know, that meant that he heard it, and more than that, he listened.

  “How many are there?” Rsiran asked.

  Eldon shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. They have taken my family, everyone I care about. That’s how they get others to work for them. If I don’t…”

  Rsiran knew without him finishing what would happen. He’d seen that darkness from the Forgotten before, but for them to torment entire families, for them to tear those families apart—families that from what he could see of Eldon, wanted to be together—told him all that he needed of the Forgotten.

  “Come on,” Rsiran said to the others, holding his arms out.

  “Rsiran?” Brusus said. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re going to end this.” One way or another, Rsiran was determined to stop the Forgotten. They would not continue to tear families apart. It had been bad enough when his father had been forced to work with the Forgotten. If what his mother had said was true, his father had done what he did to protect his family.

  Now they were using other families? Now they would attempt to destroy all the smiths?

  Not if Rsiran could help it.

  “Rsiran?” Eldon said, stepping toward him. “You’re Lareth’s boy?”

  “Why?”

  Eldon reached for him, but Rsiran shook him off. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “You’re the one they want to be here.”

  Rsiran felt anger surging through him. “That’s their mistake.”

  He held his arms out, and Brusus and Haern latched on. Sarah took a moment, and then took his hand.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “The palace.”

  Chapter 37

  Rsiran focused on what he remembered of the Forgotten Palace. He had only been there once, but the memory of it was locked in his mind. He needed only to think of it, and he could find it.

  But he had more than that. With the heartstone that he knew was there, he could anchor to the palace, and he pulled himself to the room where he’d first met Evaelyn.

  When he emerged, the room had a soft blue glow to it that reminded him of the Hall of Guilds.

  “Where are we?” Brusus asked.

  “I don’t know what they call it, but I call it the Forgotten Palace,” he answered.

  Haern sucked in a breath. “Cold.”

  As he did, Rsiran felt the bracelets on his wrists go cold as well. “They know we’re here,” he whispered. “Be ready,” he said to Brusus.

  He glanced at Sarah. He hadn’t thought about providing protection for her and wondered if Evaelyn or someone with her would Compel Sarah. If they did, Rsiran wouldn’t have the same hesitation that he had with Haern or Jessa to do what he needed to keep the rest of them safe.

  A door opened at one end of the room. Evaelyn led a group of five others with her. Rsiran noted that Inna was among them. Inna smiled knowingly at him.

  “Great Watcher,” Brusus whispered, “she looks like Della!”

  “Yeah, they’re sisters,” Rsiran said. “She didn’t tell you?”

  “There’s much that Della doesn’t tell me,” Brusus said.

  “You shouldn’t have returned,” Evaelyn said. “I allowed you to leave the last time. You will not find me as accommodating this time.”

  Haern dropped to the ground. He clawed at the bracelets on his wrists, trying to pry them off. “They burn!” he moaned.

  “Leave them on,” Rsiran urged.

  “I feel her reaching into my mind!” Haern said.

  “Let her reach,” Rsiran answered. “So long as she doesn’t control.”

  “Control? You think that I can’t learn as well?” Evaelyn asked. “When you made the mistake of coming here again, I decided it was time to act.”

  She stalked toward them, but Rsiran stood his ground. He sent the knives in his pockets out and let them hover in the air, and held them in place. “Not any closer. We will have a talk, you and I.”

  Evaelyn’s gaze shifted to the knives and she smiled. “That is how you would like to do this? You think violence and your control over lorcith grants you anything?” She smiled, and an anxious feeling settled through him. “I have learned your limitations, Rsiran Lareth.”

  Rsiran realized that he might have made a mistake. He thought that Inna had pulled Jessa away as a distraction, something that would buy them time to move the smiths, but he’d been wrong. They had used Jessa to draw him here.

  He had done what they wanted.

  He glanced at Sarah who stared at Evaelyn. Her eyes flared a deep green that matched Brusus’s. Any fear Rsiran had that she would be Compelled eased when he saw that. Brusus winced, his face screwing into tight concentration, but he remained standing.

  “You think I have maintained my position this long without learning when compromise is needed?” Evaelyn asked.

  With dawning horror, Rsiran felt the knives he held in the air begin to spin.

  He reached for lorcith and realized that the five people with Evaelyn all had lorcith piercing them. They could control lorcith.

  The knives pushed against him. Rsiran pushed back, but they outnumbered him.

  “Venass?” he asked. “You’ve partnered with Venass?”

  Evaelyn smiled then. “Partnership is a strong word,” she said. “This is more an exchange of knowledge.”

&nb
sp; Inna and two others stepped forward. The knives pressed even more.

  “Release your knives and you may yet live,” Inna said.

  “Why the smiths?” Rsiran asked Evaelyn. If he had to run, if he had to Slide from here, he would have answers first.

  Evaelyn looked past Rsiran to Sarah. “You haven’t told him?” Her smile deepened. “Interesting. And here I thought that the alchemists cared about purity.”

  Sarah took a step forward. “I am not of the alchemists,” she spat, and threw something.

  Light exploded at Evaelyn’s feet.

  “What are you doing?” Rsiran yelled. He managed to maintain control of the knives, but only barely. The sudden explosion had startled him, and he’d regained control, but almost not quickly enough. The knife nearest him pushed forward.

  If he Slid, he risked losing control of the knives altogether.

  Another door opened in a surge, and six more Forgotten spilled into the room.

  “Damn,” Haern muttered and streaked toward the new arrivals. Brusus raced after Haern.

  “They were coming. I detected the travel,” Sarah said.

  “Help them,” Rsiran told her.

  Her eyes drifted to the knives. “And what about you?”

  “These are mine,” he answered through gritted teeth. “And they will not be used against me.”

  He turned back to face Evaelyn. She stood, watching him with amusement, as the five Forgotten attempted to surround him. Behind him, he heard the sound of metal on metal as his friends engaged the newcomers.

  “Soon I will reach into your mind and take what I need,” Evaelyn said.

  Rsiran focused on lorcith, pushing against the knives. He had forged them. The connection was to him, not these Forgotten.

  He reached through the lorcith, recognizing the quiet song that had helped him forge them, and felt the knives respond to him.

  Rsiran pushed.

  The knives moved.

  Two of the men nearest jerked their heads back, as if startled.

  Rsiran used that moment to push on the knives and sent them sinking into their necks.

  As they fell, another three came racing into the room. Attuned to lorcith as he was, he detected their piercings immediately.