The Elder Stones Saga Boxset: Books 1-3

by D. K. Holmberg

  “Come on,” Haern said. “I have an idea.”

  “Why do I get the sense that I won’t care for this?”

  “You want to get Lucy back, don’t you?”

  “You know I do.”

  “And I want to find my father. This might be a way to accomplish both.”

  Daniel glanced toward the shoreline, his gaze lingering a moment before he nodded.

  34

  Lucy

  Lucy couldn’t Slide on her own, whatever they had administered to her making it impossible. But the compound left her mind intact, and she looked around at the ruins of what had once been a sprawling village along the sea, straining to make sense of what she observed. The Architect had brought her here, though she didn’t know what he intended for her to find.

  Wind whistled around her, pulling at her hair, yanking on her cloak, and yet, there was no chill to the air. A hint of salt in the air reminded her of Elaeavn, and the times when she would walk along the shores, searching for answers that never came to her. Much like then, she doubted she would obtain any solutions from the sea, though she wanted to find those answers.

  The Architect made his way along the shoreline a dozen steps in front of her, unconcerned by the fact that she wandered freely. He had nothing to fear. There was no place for her to run, and even if she did, with his exquisite ability to Slide, she doubted she would get very far before he caught up to her. He had made that abundantly clear when she had been captive the first time, and this time, when she had attempted to run, he had treated her little differently, dropping her to the ground and proving again that she wouldn’t be able to get away from him.

  “Why are you showing me this?”

  “You don’t want to see what Lareth has wrought?”

  “This wasn’t Rsiran.” Lucy looked at the destruction.

  Buildings were toppled, leaving only piles of rubble in their place. The first time they had come across a body, she had turned away, but the Architect had forced her to look.

  “And if I proved to you that it was?”

  “You won’t be able to prove that this was Rsiran.”

  The Architect held her gaze for a moment before guiding her along the street. He stopped in one particularly large pile of debris and raised his hand. When he did, an enormous hunk of stone lifted as if by some unseeable force.

  It wasn’t stone, she realized.

  Lorcith.

  The size of it was enormous. She had spent some time with Haern in his family’s blacksmith shop and had seen large chunks of lorcith there, and this was larger than most of them.

  “Lorcith doesn’t prove that Rsiran was here.”

  “Perhaps not,” the Architect said. “And yet, I grow tired merely holding it like this. There aren’t many who would be able to use lorcith in such a way.”

  He turned to the neighboring building—or at least, what had been the neighboring building—and raised another massive lorcith boulder. When he had her attention, he dropped it, letting it fall back into the pile of debris before making his way down the street. One after another he went, and within each ruin he managed to raise a sizable lorcith boulder before dropping it again. Each time, he seemed less and less capable of doing so, the boulders no longer lifted quite as high, so that by the time they got to the end of the village, sweat stained his brow.

  “Do you see?” the Architect asked.

  “I see that lorcith was here.”

  “Here, but you believe that was it?”

  “I don’t believe that lorcith was involved in destroying the city.”

  He smiled sadly. “If only I could believe the same.”

  “You don’t?”

  He turned, holding her gaze before turning away, looking out at the remains of the village. “I’ve seen firsthand what happens when people resist Lareth.”

  “What happens?”

  “They lose everything, Lucy Elvraeth.”

  He continued onward, leaving the village behind and heading to a rocky prominence overlooking the sea. The Architect took her hand and Slid her. They emerged somewhere else, with the forest nearby, the scent of the ocean no longer on the air, and the traces of wind shifted, much warmer and far gustier than they had been before.

  A low rock wall greeted them, but that wasn’t what caught Lucy’s attention.

  Behind the rock wall was another village, in shambles much like the last one. Many of the buildings were toppled, the stone scattered, and splatters of dried blood smeared across some of them. A stink clung to the air, and as the Architect guided her into the city, she understood why. Decaying bodies lay everywhere.

  “Rsiran wouldn’t do this.”

  “He would, and he did.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you know what these villages had in common?”

  “No.”

  The Architect paused at one pile of debris. He pointed down, and Lucy crouched to see what he was pointing at. There was a marking on a stone, a symbol, but she didn’t recognize it. She looked up at him, but he offered no answer. Instead, he made his way deeper into the remains of the village.

  Lucy followed, taking her time, staring at the remnants of the buildings, searching for something—anything—that might provide answers. Somehow, the Architect believed that this was Rsiran’s work, but how was that possible? Why would Rsiran destroy villages like this?

  That wasn’t the man she knew. That wasn’t the man Haern knew. Rsiran was a hero to their people, a savior, and because of him, their people had been safe.

  Whatever else had happened here, this wasn’t Rsiran. She didn’t believe that at all.

  “I can see that you need more convincing,” the Architect said.

  “I just don’t think this is the kind of thing Rsiran would do.”

  “You don’t have to think.”

  He Slid to her, grabbing her hand and Sliding her again. They emerged in a wide-open grassy plain. A gentle breeze blew through it, and it was far colder than the last two locations. Unlike the last two, there was no sign of any damage, nothing that would suggest destruction. She turned to the Architect, frowning.

  “What is this?”

  “This was my home,” he said softly.

  Lucy looked around, staring at the landscape. “There’s nothing here.”

  “Not any longer, but once it was a wonderful farming village. A place of hope. Until Lareth came through here, destroying everything.”

  “How do you know it was Rsiran?”

  “Because I saw him. I was young and had not yet taken on any power, and I knew nothing about the outside world. I wanted nothing more than to follow my father and be a farmer, to tend the field you see all around you. Alas, that was not to be. When Lareth came, he destroyed my village and my future. I had to find a new future.”

  Lucy looked around her. It was possible that the Architect was merely trying to convince her, but the way he said it with such conviction, she realized that whether or not Rsiran had really been responsible, the Architect believed he was.

  “Why would Rsiran do this?”

  “I wondered for a long time. Why my village? Why my people? Why me? I came to believe that it was because a priest had appeared in our village shortly before Rsiran attacked. That is the only thing I could come up with. Even that doesn’t make much sense, though when it comes to Lareth, one thing I’ve learned over the years is that much doesn’t make much sense.”

  As Lucy made her way forward, the wind pulled the grasses apart, exposing stone covered by years of growth. It was far greater destruction than she had seen in the other places, with the stone now fully covered, almost buried.

  “How do you know this was Rsiran?”

  “Because he left this.” The Architect reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. Lucy could tell it was the kind of knife that Rsiran favored. Not only that, but there was a small, distinct mark at the bottom of the blade—the mark of Rsiran.

  The Architect watched her. “You see, I have much exp
erience with Lareth. I know the kinds of things he is willing to do, and I know the destruction he unleashes upon the world. I have seen it firsthand.”

  Lucy continued to look around her. It didn’t make any sense. Rsiran would have no reason to attack like that. But she could sense the conviction within the Architect.

  “Why are you trying to convince me?”

  “Because you can be useful, Lucy Elvraeth.”

  “I’m not going to work against my people.”

  “Did I ask you to?”

  “You’re trying to convince me that Rsiran is… whatever you’re trying to convince me of.”

  “I’m trying to open your eyes and show you that there is more to the world than what you have long believed. I’m trying to help you understand, Lucy Elvraeth.”

  “I don’t want to understand.”

  “You would rather remain ignorant?”

  “I don’t want to remain ignorant, but I don’t believe what you’re telling me.”

  “You don’t have to believe.”

  “I thought you were trying to convince me there was something here so that I would work with you.”

  The Architect smiled at her. “It would be easier if you went along willingly, but don’t mistake this for a request.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His smile grew a hint of menace within it. “I’ve learned a great number of things in my time following the Ai’thol. Not least is how dangerous Lareth has been. But he is not the only danger that exists in the world.”

  “What other dangers are you getting at?”

  “The kind of dangers that would restrict access to power.”

  “Maybe you aren’t meant to have power.”

  The Architect smiled. “And yet, I do have it. There are others who would prevent me from gaining more power, but you, Lucy Elvraeth, will assist me. Because of you, I will gain access to the kind of power I have sought for years.”

  Lucy studied him a moment before shaking her head. “I’m not helping you with anything.”

  The Architect watched her. “You will.”

  “Do you intend to continue to drug me?”

  “You will be of no use to me if I have to do that. I think I have given you far too much leeway, though I had hoped that I would be able to use you freely. Most who come to the Ai’thol do so willingly.” He ran a finger along the underside of his neck, tracing a nearly invisible scar. “Most recognize that there is much we can offer. In your case, you were given a great gift, and yet you still would refuse it.”

  “We’ve been through this before.”

  “We have, which is why it is disheartening that you continue to fight what you have been given.”

  “I want it gone.”

  “Even after understanding exactly what it can do for you?”

  “I understand that it torments me, nothing more than that.”

  It throbbed, a steady sensation at the back of her mind. She struggled to ignore it, but it was always there regardless. She hated it, something that she doubted this man would ever fully understand. Any augmentation in her ability should have come from the Great Watcher and an opportunity to hold one of the sacred crystals, not from this.

  “It torments because you fight it. If you welcome it, embrace it, that power will grow within you. You have yet to scratch the surface of what you are capable of.”

  “I’m not going to scratch the surface of anything.”

  “That is unfortunate. I think of how many would willingly submit themselves for such a gift, and here we have you, who refuse to take advantage of all that you have been given.”

  As he continued to watch her, a strange stirring came in the back of her mind, building with increasing intensity.

  At first, it felt like he was attempting to Read her, and Lucy fortified her mind, shoving her mental barriers into place, although she’d already proven how ineffective those barriers were when it came to someone like the Architect. He was skilled at Reading, though to be honest, he seemed to be skilled at everything he did. She didn’t know the extent of his abilities other than Reading and Sliding, but they were impressive.

  The longer the sensation continued in the back of her mind, the less certain she was that he was attempting to Read her. There was no attempt to rifle through her mind, dipping deep within it, sorting through her thoughts. If there was, she doubted her barriers would be strong enough to withstand the Architect.

  Instead, she felt something else.

  A part of her started to change. It was slow, subtle, but the longer he stood before her, watching her, the more certain she was that she felt it.

  “What are you doing to me?”

  The Architect only smiled. “What must be done, Lucy Elvraeth.”

  “No.” The sensation in her mind changed, now as if he were digging within her mind, working where he should not be, tearing at her thoughts. As much as she wanted to fight, she didn’t think she could. She lunged toward him, but the Architect Slid away, dancing back from her, a sad smile on his face.

  “This was meant to be easier on you, Lucy Elvraeth. I did not want this for you.”

  “You didn’t want what?”

  “Any of this.”

  “Then don’t do it.”

  “I’m afraid that is no longer an option.”

  The sense of pressure in her head continued, growing stronger and stronger, and she struggled, grabbing at her head, squeezing it between her hands. Pain pulsed within her skull, the kind of throbbing pain she had known when she had first had the implant placed. It was a pain she couldn’t escape from.

  “What is this?” she shouted, but as there was no one around, her voice fell into nothingness.

  “This is you answering me,” he said.

  “This is something else,” she said.

  The Architect shook his head. “This is nothing else. Come.”

  The last was said as a command. Pain throbbed through her, but a part of her mind screaming in agony forced her to comply.

  She took a step after him, then another, and then another. As they walked, the Architect glanced over at her.

  “The pain will lessen the less you fight.”

  “No,” she said.

  “The less you fight, the sooner your powers return. And then you become useful again. You do not want to be unuseful, Lucy Elvraeth.”

  She didn’t want anything to do with them. A part of her rebelled, begging for him to relax what he was doing to her, to give her back control over her body. Another part called for her to comply, so that her powers would be restored. If she could Slide, she could…

  Follow him more easily.

  Lucy forced that thought away. She didn’t want to follow the Architect. She wanted to return home. She wanted the metal out of her head. She wanted a return to normalcy, even if that meant going back to the palace and taking up the role her parents had wanted for her.

  The Architect watched her, and it seemed as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, as if he were able to Read every bit of her struggle.

  Perhaps he could. If so, there might be nothing she could do to oppose it. If he had the ability to overwhelm her mind, to force himself on her, what could she do against him?

  “How?” Even getting that question out was a struggle, and she panted with the effort.

  The Architect watched her, amusement shining in his eyes. “With the gift you’ve been given, you would be able to do the same.”

  “How?”

  “It is an extension of your ability to Read.” He smiled at her. “My people aren’t even the first to use it. Yours do, and they call it something else.”

  “What do they call it?” The pain was easing, but she didn’t know if it was because he wanted to converse with her or because she was doing what he wanted. Which thoughts were hers, and which were forced into her mind?

  “I’ve heard it called many things, but perhaps the easiest to use is a Push.”

  “Push?”

&n
bsp; The Architect nodded. “It is an ability where one can Push for compliance. In your case, I would have you comply with me so that you would stop fighting and become useful. In other cases, we Push for a different type of compliance. The nature of the one struggling determines what type of Push is involved. Not all Ai’thol are able to master this art, but those who do become incredibly useful. And those who become true Masters rise high within the Ai’thol.”

  Lucy’s mouth was dry, and she licked her lips, trying to wet them, wanting to run, to Slide, to do anything but stay here, but she couldn’t.

  “You see the value of this ability?”

  She could only nod, her mind trying to work through what he was saying to her. If the Forgers had a way of controlling others, there had to be some way of opposing it. Rsiran had managed to do so, which meant that she could overcome it, couldn’t she?

  “You are contemplating whether Lareth could teach you how to avoid this, but unfortunately, it takes a highly disciplined mind in order to ignore it. And seeing as how you aren’t disciplined enough to be able to withstand the effect of your gift, I doubt your mind is disciplined enough for this. With time, it could be. And yet, in that time, you will come to understand that you will serve us and serve us well.”

  He swept his gaze around them, looking at the clearing. “It really was quite lovely once,” he said.

  “I won’t do this.”

  He shook his head. “Ah, but you will. And trust me when I tell you that you will be valuable. You might not want to believe that, but you will be incredibly valuable.”

  He took her hand, and they Slid.

  When they emerged, darkness surrounded her. Without her enhanced eyesight, she couldn’t make out anything, but the air smelled stale and stagnant, and there was a damp, musty odor to it. He guided her forward, holding on to her hand, and anytime she tried to jerk free, he squeezed tighter, forcing her to remain in place. She could practically imagine him grinning at her, knowing that she was helpless, that there was no place for her to go.

  As her eyesight adjusted to the darkness, a jingling came to her, the sound of keys on a key ring. When the lock clicked, he stepped her back, swinging open a door that brushed past her before thrusting her forward.