The Elder Stones Saga Boxset: Books 1-3

by D. K. Holmberg

  Lucy tried to slow her mind and drift off to sleep, but each time she did, she felt as if she lost more time. Occasionally, her head throbbed, a reminder of the torment the Architect had inflicted upon her as he tried to control her, but other times, that pain was gone. She felt as if there were things she should know, things she should be able to explain, but how? More than that, she felt as if she should be able to escape. With her ability to Slide having returned, it seemed to her that she should be able to get free, and yet… there remained something within the walls that prevented her.

  Could it be heartstone?

  The door itself was warm, and the more she studied it, the more she realized that it had no bluish quality to it the way that heartstone should, which suggested to her that it was not that metal. But what if it was something else? What metal did the Forgers know about that would prevent someone from Sliding beyond it?

  Would Rsiran know about it?

  With the thought, her mind cleared for a moment.

  Rsiran.

  She had been looking for him. She felt that with utter certainty, and yet why would that be?

  It was more than her pursuit of him after leaving the city, more than her desire to find him so that he could help remove the metal from her head. This was something else, almost as if she had been searching for him again. But how could she have searched for him while trapped in this cell?

  Dreams. That was all they were. And yet these dreams were horrible, terrifying, the kind that she wanted to forget.

  As she drifted, she came back around, feeling as if she had lost more time. Lucy shuffled around the center of the cell, looking down at her hands. Dark smears on her hands caught her attention, and she scraped at them, finding that the substance peeled off. She brought her hands to her face, the darkness making it difficult to make out what was on them. At first, she thought it was dirt, or maybe she’d been scraping at the stone wall in her sleep, trying to claw her way to freedom. But that wasn’t it at all.

  Blood.

  Lucy was certain of it. She shifted her clothing, pulling up her pants and her sleeves before looking to her abdomen, searching for anyplace where she might be bleeding. Hesitantly, she reached for the back of her head, afraid that maybe the implant that had burrowed deeper and deeper beneath her skin had somehow begun to bleed, but there was no evidence of that, either.

  Maybe it wasn’t her blood.

  If that was the case, then it suggested she had been out of the cell.

  Lucy had no memory of that.

  She scraped the blood off her hands, trying to get them free, wishing for water. She licked her lips, surprised that she wasn’t thirstier. Her stomach didn’t rumble, either. Had they been feeding her? She had no memory of that, which could mean that she had been starving long enough that she’d stopped feeling hunger pangs, or that she simply had no memory of eating.

  After wiping her hands on her pants, smearing the dark blood across the fabric, she sat, staring at the walls around her. What were they doing to her?

  The Architect had promised her that he would use her abilities. That he would use her.

  He had wanted her to work with them willingly, and the fact that she had not had made him force her to help.

  What had she been doing on his behalf?

  As she searched through the visions, fear bubbled up within her. How much of what she had seen had been real?

  Maybe all of it.

  If so, then the visions of Elvraeth captured like her was also real. The destroyed villages had been real. The images of the city had been real.

  With a flash of horror, another memory came back. Not a vision, it couldn’t be. Which made it worse.

  She had killed.

  Lucy looked back at her hands, staring at them. The jarring memory of holding a sword, jamming it into someone’s belly, watching them bleed out and die in front of her, came back to her.

  No.

  She couldn’t have killed.

  Her heart hammered, and she forced her breathing to slow, not wanting to lose control of her emotions. They wouldn’t be able to force her to do anything like that, would they?

  But then, she knew the answer to that. She had felt the effect of the Architect as he had forced her to follow him. She had felt the pain that had come from her attempt to resist. She had known the way that he had intended to control her, demanding her compliance.

  It was possible that they had forced her to kill.

  She sat there, staring at her hands, losing track of time. Eventually she drifted off, and when she came back around, she did so with a start and a sense of terror.

  What had they made her do this time?

  Her clothing was different. There was no blood staining the pants. She examined her hands, even bringing her nails up to her face, worried that perhaps she had missed something, but there was no evidence that she’d ever had any blood on her hands.

  Lucy breathed out, letting herself relax.

  She closed her eyes, trying to think of what had happened to her, trying to draw those memories back. If nothing else, she wanted to know how the Forgers were using her, even if there was nothing she could do about it.

  She had no memories.

  They must have used her for something; otherwise, there would’ve been no reason to force her to change clothes. Lucy searched through the pants, checking the pockets, but came up empty. There was nothing there that would explain what she had been doing or why she would be dressed in such a way. The style of dress was different from that of Elaeavn, and different even from that of Eban. It was clothing she didn’t recognize, which meant that she had traveled someplace she had never been—or had never been while aware of it.

  If she could determine what they were using her for, and why, she might be able to respond. But she had no recollection.

  How had Rsiran managed to avoid being controlled by the Forgers in such a way?

  Given how disconcerting this was, she wished he had shared that secret with others, sharing with the people of the forest the technique he used to ensure that they wouldn’t be similarly controlled.

  Unless he had continued to attack to prevent anyone else from suffering in such a way.

  Was there anything that she could See?

  She focused on that ability, and images fluttered through her mind, a rapid onslaught of them, too fast to make any sense of. She might have a better handle on some of her abilities, but that one remained elusive. If she could master it, then maybe she could prepare for what they were doing to her, and perhaps find some way of avoiding it.

  Occasionally, an image of the Elvraeth came to mind, and she focused on it.

  As she did, she found herself remembering the Elvraeth she’d seen, all of them injured in the same way as her, their abilities augmented, and… something else.

  Why would she remember them outside the city?

  More than that, why would she remember them attacking villages?

  Lucy remembered watching, doing nothing while Elvraeth dressed in dark clothing, their hair cut short and wearing a mask with only their eyes visible, stormed through villages, using lorcith to destroy.

  Her breath caught.

  Rsiran hadn’t been responsible at all for the villages that the Architect had shown her. The Forgers were responsible. But why would they do such a thing?

  Lucy tried to think why the Forgers would behave in such a way, but no answer came to mind. In fact, nothing seemed to come to mind. Her mind remained blank, and the more she struggled, trying to understand just what the Forgers were after, the more tired she became.

  She lay down, closing her eyes for a moment, planning to rest, to wait, and hopefully to recover enough that she could figure out some way of escaping, and she drifted.

  As before, visions flashed in her mind, and this time she was more certain that there was something to them, that she had somehow been drawn into a plot against the people of Elaeavn, one that involved Rsiran. In the vision, she again saw villages dest
royed, men—and they were all men—from Elaeavn, Elvraeth all of them, who were there, using power that they should not, augmented in the same way she was. As that vision persisted, she strained, trying to understand, to see who was leading them, but had no answer.

  Eventually she came back around. Had she actually been sleeping, or was this something that she had done and was only distantly aware of it?

  Lucy sat, staring at her hands as she had the time before—or was it longer ago than that? Unlike before, she didn’t detect any blood on her hands, but there were abrasions on them, enough that she wondered exactly what she had been doing. She started to stand and found that her body was sore. The clothing she wore now had a simple appearance, plain dark wool that scratched her skin.

  Lucy paced, making her way from one side of the cell to another, crisscrossing it as she tried to find answers, but there were none.

  She lost track of how long she was moving. Eventually, she heard a sound.

  It seemed to her that it was the first time she had heard anything since being placed into this cell. The door opened, leaving a gust of air, and she started to Slide, thinking that she might be able to escape, but as she did, there came a command within her mind that was echoed by a burst of pain at the back of her head.

  Lucy staggered back, clutching her head.

  The pain blossomed, almost unbearable, and she sank to the floor, trying to push it away from her.

  “Even after all this time, you still haven’t given up trying to escape.”

  As the pain faded, not disappearing, she managed to look up. In between blinking through tears, she saw the Architect watching her. His clothing had changed, and he wore a heavy cloak draped over his shoulders. The sword sheathed at his side seemed out of place.

  “You don’t have to hold me here.”

  “And you still say the same things.”

  Lucy blinked. When had she said that before? She searched her mind for any memory but came up short. Instead, she had more visions, flashes of images that seemed similar to this moment.

  She had been here before. So had he.

  “How many times?” she asked.

  The Architect smiled. “Enough.”

  “And you still intend to force me to work on your behalf?”

  “You would be surprised at how little I have to force you these days, Lucy Elvraeth.”

  “And what of the others?”

  His smile faltered.

  She held his gaze. “You don’t want me to remember, do you?” That had to be the reason he stared at her that way. He didn’t think she could remember what she’d gone through, and there was danger in admitting that she could; he might decide to leave her—or do something worse to her.

  “You really are an intriguing project.”

  “I’m no project.”

  “I beg to differ, Lucy Elvraeth. I have been working with you for days. Your skills grow quite rapidly. It’s almost as if you are thrilled to have the gifts that we have offered, but that can’t be, can it? You were the one to tell me just how little you wanted these gifts. You were quite clear about that.”

  Instinctively, her hand went to the back of her head. The metal was still there, and it didn’t throb as it had before. She supposed she should be thankful for that, but instead she felt violated. She didn’t want the metal there.

  “How long do you intend to use me?”

  “Until I no longer need you. After enough time, you will no longer know whether you are acting on your behalf or mine. That is when you will be most effective, Lucy Elvraeth.”

  She shivered. Considering how little she knew about the last few days—if it really was several days and not longer—she had little doubt that he was telling the truth. If he had such control over her, it seemed to her that it wouldn’t take much for him to continue to influence her.

  “It is nearly time for you,” he said.

  “For me to do what?”

  His smile widened. “Did you not want to see Lareth?”

  She tensed. If she managed to get to Rsiran, maybe he could help free her from whatever had happened to her mind. She might be able to escape the Forgers. She could return home to Elaeavn.

  “Why?”

  “Why, because you, my prize, will be the one to kill him.”

  42

  Haern

  After wandering through a maze of stairs, they emerged in a room with a dozen bodies scattered around. Haern’s breath caught. All of the bodies were Forgers, or seemingly so.

  “What is this?” he asked Galen.

  “This is Carth,” he said.

  “All of this?” He had known Carth was powerful, but he had a hard time believing that anyone could be this skilled. How could she have taken down this many Forgers at one time?

  “I haven’t seen this sort of brutality from her in a long time,” Rayen said softly.

  Haern glanced over. “You didn’t think she still had it in her?”

  “Carth has changed over the years,” Rayen said. “As much as I wanted to believe her still capable of protecting the Binders, she might not be the same person. It might not be possible for her to provide the same protection she once did.”

  “It seems as if she still can,” he said.

  She grunted.

  “There’s another doorway,” Galen said.

  Haern approached, and a soft breeze drifted out from the doorway. Stairs led down, and he had the sense that the entire building was designed to cover these stairs.

  The farther they descended, the deeper they went into the earth, the more he began to wonder whether this was where he had detected Daniel—or at least the sword—disappearing.

  “We need to keep going down,” Haern said.

  He started down the stairs, but Galen grabbed him, stepping in front. “You are talented, Haern, but my Sight is better than yours.”

  “If we’re going to debate abilities, I would argue that my connection to the shadows would give me the advantage,” Rayen said.

  Galen shot her a look, and Rayen cut off.

  Haern nodded, and Galen led them down the stairs. As they went, the path narrowed, and he took a few turns as they continued to descend deeper and deeper into the earth.

  After a while, Haern began to hear the sound of voices.

  He recognized one of them.

  Daniel.

  There was strain in his voice, and Haern motioned for Galen to hurry.

  “We need to be cautious,” Galen whispered.

  “As much as it pains me to say it, I think Daniel is in trouble.”

  “Yes, but if Daniel is in trouble and Carth is with him, whoever is down there has significant power. We need to be prepared for whatever we might face.”

  What would they face? If Carth had managed to overpower a dozen Forgers, who would be capable of overpowering her?

  The idea of someone that formidable left him trembling. This was a terrible idea, but what other choice did they have?

  Galen padded softly down the stairs, pausing every so often to listen. Shadows swirled around them, Rayen using her abilities to conceal everyone other than Galen, and even him she shrouded within the shadows.

  The stairs ended.

  Haern waited, listening. There was nothing moving. He stared through the shadows but saw nothing.

  The voices had died out. Where had Carth and Daniel gone?

  Turning to Galen, he prepared to whisper the question. As he did, something came flying into the doorway.

  Carth.

  She was breathing, but barely moving.

  Galen crouched down, pulling her back along the stairs. “What happened?” he whispered.

  “Too. Much.”

  “What?”

  “Her. Power.”

  Galen’s eyes narrowed, and he reached into his pouch, grabbing for darts. He already had several darts out, so when he readied them, standing, Haern wasn’t certain what he intended.

  Carth grabbed for his arm. “Don’t. You can’t do this
.”

  Galen flashed a tight grin. “I think you’ve told me that before.”

  Rayen glanced down at Carth before stepping over her and joining Galen.

  “If you’re going in there, I’m going with you.”

  “We’re going to need all of your people. Whoever is in there is enough to overpower Carth,” he said, looking behind him and toward the Binders.

  “We said we would help.”

  Galen nodded, glancing over to Haern, who clutched his knives, connecting to the lorcith within them. He needed to help. He wasn’t a fighter, but he was needed now. He was able to fight, even if it was something he didn’t want to do. He needed to be here, needed to be a part of this.

  Haern nodded to Galen.

  They darted into the room, shadows swirling around them.

  Even with the shadows, Haern was able to make out a woman dressed in a dark jacket and pants. Somehow, she held power, and it was power he could feel. She stood over Daniel, but none of that was what caught his attention.

  It was the strange cell occupying most of the room. Within the cell was his father.

  And his father didn’t move.

  The woman attacking Daniel turned her attention to the others. Power pushed away from her, slamming into Galen. He attempted to flick a dart, but it veered off, crashing into one of the walls and cracking.

  Rayen slid forward, wrapping shadows around the woman, but with a wave of her hand, the shadows disappeared.

  “Carthenne brought disciples? I thought she had decided she didn’t need help. Then again, the fact that she brought this one with her tells me she has changed her mind about that,” she said, motioning to Daniel, who lay motionless.

  Rayen attempted to thicken the shadows, but the woman again waved her hand. She pressed out, and Rayen went flying back.

  “You know who this is?” Haern asked.

  “Someone who should not have been this powerful.”

  The woman grinned. “Should not be? Knowledge is power, and my knowledge has given me great power.”