Rise of the Elder Read online

  Rsiran glanced to Jessa. Was this why she’d brought him here? Had she known he was needed?

  Delaying a little so that he could help the guild wouldn’t cause too much trouble, and it would be good to swing a hammer again, even if it wasn’t his own.

  “I don’t think you need me, Seval. You’ve learned to listen to lorcith as well as most, and Luca…”

  Seval nodded. “Luca can hear it, but he still doesn’t have the technique. Most of us don’t, not even Neran, and it turns out he can hear the lorcith damn near as well as Luca. Seems Venass did us a favor by forcing him to listen.” He smiled and pointed toward the makeshift anvil. “Come and work with us a bit, Lareth. The others would do well to see the guildlord in action.”

  “I…” He took a look around the small clearing, noting the pile of metal to one side, iron and lorcith and a few pieces of grindl. A small table was set with tools. Younger men worked to bring logs toward the pit, keeping the coals burning hot. In many respects, this was a smithy. “I think I can do that for a while,” he said.

  Seval clapped him on the shoulder and looked over to Jessa. “Are you okay if we borrow your man for a bit?”

  She clasped her hand around the charm she wore, bare of flower as it had been in the days since they had come to the Aisl. “I think I can get along without him for a bit. See if you can beat some sense into him.”

  “What kind of sense?”

  “The kind that shows him he needs to remember his other responsibilities.”

  Jessa shot Rsiran a victorious look and turned away.

  She had planned this, though he still didn’t know what she had planned. Just getting him to the smiths wouldn’t have been all that she wanted; there must have been another reason.

  “What can I do?” he asked Seval.

  The master smith grinned at him. “What can you do? You’re the guildlord, Lareth!”

  “You wanted me to help with sword making?”

  “That would be a start.” They stopped at the anvil, and Rsiran realized that his father was one of the men working there alongside Master Eldon, the man he’d rescued from Asador when the Forgotten had grabbed him.

  His father eyed him strangely as he approached, and his eyes narrowed even more when Seval handed him a hammer before turning to the coals and pulling out a lump of lorcith. Since he’d rescued his father, Rsiran hadn’t worked near him. It had been… a long time since he’d worked at a forge with his father, and seeing the expression on his face, Rsiran wasn’t sure his father wanted to work with him.

  “Give the guildlord some space,” Seval said.

  “We were crafting a few blades,” Eldon said.

  Seval grabbed the blade that rested on the anvil and held it up. “Looks finished. Now, let’s see what a real blade master can make.”

  Eldon nodded, and his father’s eyes narrowed even more.

  Rsiran flashed back to when his father had caught him making a sword out of lorcith. That had been the trigger that had sent him to Ilphaesn, the trigger that had started all of this for him. And now… now he had come full circle, asked to demonstrate blade making, not only to the apprentices around them, but also to the masters. It felt surreal, as if more a dream than anything. Stranger still, he actually knew he was the right person to demonstrate this. Rsiran had spent countless hours making knives and swords, much more time than any of the master smiths.

  “Are you certain about this piece?” he asked Seval.

  “Luca chooses them,” Seval answered.

  “Thank you for continuing to work with him.”

  “Ah, Lareth, he is a pleasure. In time, he will be quite skilled.”

  Rsiran swung the hammer a few times, focusing on the lorcith. He’d never forged out in the open, never before with the sun high overhead, or trees all around. In this place, he felt a different sort of peace than he did even in his smithy. It was right that he use the hammer here.

  As he listened to the lorcith, he knew Luca had chosen well. The piece sang, a strange sort of song, one that called to him, letting him know it would be willing to take on any shape asked of it, but that it would easily form a sword.

  Rsiran hammered.

  The first strike jarred through him, strange after all the time away from the forge.

  The next came more easily, as did the one after that. With each blow, he fell into an easy sort of work, a pattern of hammering steadily, pausing long enough for someone—Seval, he realized, now acting as his apprentice—to flip the metal. Rsiran was drawn into the creation, hammering easily, muscles he hadn’t used in weeks thrilled to be back at work.

  The blade took on a pattern, slowly curving rather than straight as so many were that he made. As he forged, he realized it called for something else, and it took a moment to realize what it was.

  “I need heartstone,” he said.

  Seval shook his head. “We have none, Lareth. The camp…”

  “Heat it while I’m gone,” Rsiran said.

  He Slid to his smithy in Elaeavn and grabbed a section of heartstone from the bars on the wall, pausing long enough to look for additional footprints in the dust, but found none. Then he emerged, holding only a small piece of heartstone in his hand.

  Seval was setting the blade back on the anvil.

  Rsiran realized that dozens of people watched him. Most were master smiths or their apprentices, but a few others joined, as well, standing back along the line of huts. Miners and alchemists, and even Sarah standing with Valn. Why had they come?

  The song shifted, and Rsiran’s attention returned to the sword.

  He handed the heartstone to Seval. “Moderate heat. I need a soft glow but nothing more.”

  Seval nodded, not minding the fact that Rsiran directed him.

  Rsiran took up the hammer, working at the lorcith portion of the blade. He turned it over as he hammered, now working with smaller strokes. The metal folded neatly, a dimpled and almost wet appearance to it, and soon, the hammer wasn’t enough.

  He began pushing on the metal. Using that technique, he managed a finer control, and created a small depression in the middle of the blade. With each breath, he felt as if he got stronger, almost as if the work he did here energized him, bringing him closer to the smith rather than the man he had been of late.

  Seval handed him the heated heartstone.

  Pushing on the heartstone, he layered it into the depression, creating a pattern on the blade. He repeated the same on the other side, smoothing it out, and using a combination of pushing and pulling on both lorcith and heartstone, he sealed the two metals together.

  The sword was almost complete, but needed an additional flourish. The song in the metal practically begged for one.

  Rsiran held an image in his mind, and pushed.

  The pattern took hold.

  Lifting it carefully, he took the sword to a quenching bucket and cooled the blade.

  As he held the sword, he noted the way colors swirled off the blade. There was a sense of power emanating from it, and it reminded him of the way power radiated from the Elder Trees.

  “It’s beautiful,” Seval said.

  Rsiran looked up. Only then did he realize that everyone stared at him. “I… I’m sorry, Seval. I got caught up in the work. I didn’t demonstrate anything.”

  Seval grinned at him, sweeping his hand around him in a wide arc. “I think you demonstrated far more than you realize, Lareth. Everyone here had the chance to see a true blade master work. May I?” he asked.

  Rsiran handed him the blade, giving it up reluctantly.

  “The detail on this is outstanding. The lines… the way you used heartstone and lorcith together…” He turned the sword over, letting the sun catch the other side before handing it back to Rsiran. “Place a hilt on this and you have yourself a blade deserving of a name.”

  “I can work with the smiths more at another time,” he said.

  “They would appreciate that. Perhaps you don’t need to demonstrate this much deta
il,” he finished with a smile.

  Rsiran started away, and his father caught his arm. There was a pained look on his face, but the words that came out of his mouth were not what he expected. “I was wrong, Rsiran.”

  “Wrong? About what?”

  His father swept his gaze around the small clearing behind the huts. “About so many things, it seems, but mostly about you. That,” he said, nodding toward the sword, “is a work of such skill, I cannot imagine how you created it. Seeing some of what you have forged makes me feel like an apprentice again struggling to figure out how the masters managed their work.” He let go of Rsiran’s arm and sighed. “The masters were right choosing you as guildlord.”

  He held Rsiran’s gaze a moment before pulling away and making his way back toward the other masters, leaving Rsiran standing alone. Across the clearing, Jessa watched him, and he sighed as he nodded to her.

  Chapter 11

  The city of Eban had a certain darkness to it, one that the dozens of lanterns and candles burning in the windows did not erase. Rsiran stood on a rooftop, looking down toward Orly’s hiding place, watching for movement. He carried his new sword, the hilt he’d placed on it simple, contrasting with the finery of the blade. There was something about the sword he hadn’t determined yet, almost like he was somehow connected to the Aisl, having forged it there.

  “Do you intend to attack?”

  Rsiran spun, and Carth smiled at him with a flash of teeth. How had she managed to sneak up on him so easily? She wore dark leathers the seemed to draw the darkness of the night around her, and her black hair seemed one with the shadows. Only her bright eyes—eyes that practically glowed—penetrated the darkness.

  “Not attack. I want answers. I need to find Galen.” The more he thought about it, the more he realized he needed to find him before Galen reached Elaeavn. He couldn’t risk the crystal reaching Venass first.

  “He escaped you.”

  Rsiran sniffed. “Not me. Another attacked who claimed to be Lorst.”

  Carth smiled. “A clever trick, don’t you think?”

  “You knew?” Rsiran shouldn’t have been surprised, but if she had known of the plan, why hadn’t she shared it with him? Didn’t she want to help Galen?

  But clearly, she didn’t. All she wanted was a way to reach Haern.

  “It is my business to know, Rsiran Lareth.”

  “Rsiran? Not Lorst?”

  She studied him, standing casually as she did. “I do not think the assassin suited you all that well. You might be many things, but assassin isn’t one of them.”

  Rsiran didn’t know if that was a compliment or if she insulted him. He decided it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting the help he needed so he could find Galen, and then Cael. Once he found them, he could find the crystal. That was his focus right now.

  He hoped that with the crystal, he could restore the Elder Tree, and use that to defeat Danis and the rest of Venass, but what if he couldn’t restore the Elder Tree? Rsiran didn’t know if he needed to do so in order to stop Venass, but he suspected it would help.

  “You knew there was one of the Hjan pretending to be me?” he asked.

  “Not you. That was Lorst.”

  “That was the real Lorst?”

  Carth stepped closer to him. As she did, the darkness of the night seemed to close around him, almost as if she quenched the light from candles below, even muting the light he saw from the lorcith and heartstone he carried. “There was no Lorst. He was a creature of my creation. But it does not surprise me the Hjan would discover the deceit and use it to their advantage. They have done the same many times before.”

  “What are you after, Carth?” Rsiran asked.

  “The same as you.”

  “I want the crystal returned.”

  “You want the Hjan destroyed.”

  He didn’t turn away from her gaze. “Not only the Hjan. Venass as well.”

  Carth nodded. “They are similar but not the same. Venass seeks power, while the Hjan use the knowledge gained by Venass to enforce their agenda.”

  “My grandfather leads Venass.”

  The statement managed to get the biggest reaction he’d seen out of Carth. “Danis Elvraeth is your grandfather?”

  “Apparently.”

  Carth tipped her head to the side, studying him for a long moment. “You didn’t know.”

  “Not before all this started. I never knew him. None of my family, really.”

  “What will you do when you find him, Rsiran Lareth?”

  “I intend to stop him and keep him from harming anyone else. I failed the last chance I had. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

  “Neither will he.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that Danis Elvraeth learns quickly. Each set back is a lesson for him, each an opportunity for him to grow stronger.”

  “You sound like you know him.”

  Carth stared at the street below them, a tight expression on her face. “I have chased him for many years, Rsiran Lareth, only to have him escape.”

  “Why do you chase him?”

  She turned and met his eyes. “The same reason as you. To end him.”

  A chill raced up Rsiran’s back. He’d seen the easy way Carth managed to overcome whatever Rsiran could do, almost as if she anticipated his every move. If Danis could easily get past her, what chance did Rsiran have against him?

  “You’ll do that?”

  “I’ll do anything to achieve his capture. Even die.”

  “And if I get to him first?” Rsiran asked.

  “It doesn’t matter who brings down the boar, only that everyone shares in the feast.”

  “We could work together,” he suggested. If Carth fought with him, they might be able to end the fight more quickly. Wasn’t that what they would both want?

  “Unfortunately, Rsiran Lareth, I have other responsibilities.”

  He wondered what those might be. Carth found him easily when in Eban, and unless she could Slide, she would have to move from here slowly. “More important than stopping Venass?”

  “Do you think you’re the only one who wants that? That you’re the only one who tries?” She laughed softly, and her voice drifted into the night before disappearing. “The Hjan and Venass have survived countless threats in their pursuit of power. This is not the first time they have played this game, but Danis might have miscalculated this time. I intend to take advantage of that.” She crouched, readying to jump. “Leave Orly. He’s not a threat.”

  “I didn’t intend anything with Orly other than trying to understand what he might know about Galen.”

  “Galen will return to Elaeavn. That is your play, Rsiran Lareth.”

  That was the same thing that Amin had told him, but he hadn’t wanted to trust him. “Venass rules in Elaeavn.”

  “Venass has shown force to Elaeavn, but they do not rule. Ruling has never been their ambition.”

  “I don’t know how you can say that after seeing what they’ve done.”

  “I’ve seen it far more than you can imagine. They work in the darkness, gaining power and strength. Perhaps the endgame is ruling, but for now, they wish to remain in shadows. That is also their mistake.”

  “What is?”

  “The shadows belong to me.”

  With that, she leapt from the roof, soaring higher than she should have been able. As she landed, she disappeared.

  Rsiran stared, unable to take his eyes off the spot where she landed. Who was Carth?

  A soft noise below drew his attention. On the street, he saw movement and realized Orly emerged from his home surrounded by nearly a dozen men. Rsiran noted two of the men appeared to be Neelish sellswords. He might be able to bring them down, but there would be a cost.

  Orly hurried along the street before turning a corner.

  Rsiran considered following, but what would he gain if he did? Carth was right—he needed to find Galen, and he wouldn’t do that tracking a thief
-master in Eban. He might not even find him by returning to Elaeavn, and if he did, it still might not matter, especially not if Cael didn’t have the crystal.

  What he needed was to leverage what he knew and use it. What he really needed was to reclaim Elaeavn from Venass, and force the council to assist.

  Maybe there would be a way without real violence, but it would risk himself. That didn’t worry him, but it would anger Jessa.

  Rsiran Slid, and emerged in the Aisl.

  He focused on heartstone and found the piece that he wanted, Sliding to it.

  High in the trees, he found Haern.

  “You should be careful when you Slide. You could fall from here,” Haern said, barely looking up.

  “I could Slide if I fell.”

  “If you hit your head before you could Slide?”

  Rsiran shrugged. “I know my abilities, Haern.”

  “You have grown more skilled, but that can make a man careless. That’s all I’m trying to tell you. Don’t get careless. We need you to face Venass.”

  Rsiran settled onto the branch next to Haern. Few of the massive sjihn leaves obstructed the line of sight here, giving him the ability to see all of the forest floor spread below. “You didn’t tell me that Carth wants to bring down Venass as much as we do.”

  Haern closed his eyes. “Only Carth knows what she wants.”

  “Who is she?” he asked.

  “You mean what, don’t you?”

  That was the question that had plagued Rsiran, but he didn’t know if Haern even knew the answer. “What. Who. They’re the same, aren’t they?”

  “Maybe with her. She’s unique. Perhaps the last of her kind.”

  “What kind is that?”

  “Carth comes from a land far to the north, a place from across the sea. She would have remained there if not for the Hjan. That was one of their first mistakes, and possibly the worst. Had they not drawn her attention…” Haern smiled. “But they did. I did. And now she is here.”