The Elder Stones Saga Boxset: Books 1-3

by D. K. Holmberg

  “You were barely a dozen yards from me.”

  “That you Saw. Had you only been paying attention, you would’ve noticed that I had crept closer.”

  “Is that right?”

  Galen shrugged.

  “I’m not sure I believe that.”

  “Then what about the dart sticking out of your arm?”

  Haern glanced down and swore under his breath.

  One of Galen’s darts was sticking out of his arm, and somehow he hadn’t felt it.

  “What did you load it with?”

  “No poison. Not yet. That’s another part of your training.”

  “You keep saying that, but I have yet to be subjected to it.”

  “You should be thankful for that. When I began my training with poisons, it was the worst time of my life. There’s only so much you can tolerate, only so much pain you can withstand.”

  “I didn’t think all poisons were that painful.”

  “Not all are painful, but the sense of dying is painful regardless of the method.”

  Haern blinked at the simple and matter-of-fact way he said it. Galen really did have a level of experience that left Haern feeling inadequate at times. That was what made Galen such an excellent instructor. With his knowledge, he was exactly the kind of person Haern needed to learn from, especially if he wanted to protect himself, as he was determined to do.

  “When do you intend to begin teaching me those things?”

  “I think we need to continue to work on your physical prowess before we begin the rest.”

  “What happens if the—”

  Galen shook his head. “The Forgers aren’t going to return that quickly. It will take them time to regroup.”

  It troubled him that so many believed that. There had to be more to the Forgers than what most believed, especially with what they had already experienced. Though the attack in Elaeavn hadn’t been their doing, the Forgers still had come after them in Asador. Now that they knew the Elder Trees were weakened, would they use that to their advantage and attack? They still weren’t able to determine what had been done, only that the Forgers had used their strange metal—a mixture of lorcith and something else—to damage the trees, warping them.

  And if his father couldn’t determine what had been done, no one could. That seemed to trouble Haern more than it troubled anyone else.

  “I still want to be ready. The last time we faced the Forgers, the only way we were able to capture them was through your skill set.”

  “Then you need to stop using your knives,” Galen said.

  Was that what this was about? He frowned and glanced in the direction his father had gone. “Did you want my father to recognize that I was here?”

  Galen shrugged. “It doesn’t take much to rile up Rsiran, especially these days, and you needed a reminder of what happens when you don’t have the power to push on your lorcith knives. Continuing to rely upon it exclusively is dangerous, even with as skilled as you have become.”

  “What would you have me do?”

  “I would have you find a way of using your knives—if that’s what you intend to use—without relying upon your extra abilities. And perhaps I would suggest that you look into using another metal. It doesn’t have to be one that you can push. You can preserve that ability, use it when it’s available, but relying on it is a foolish mistake. And Haern, I have seen that you are no fool.”

  He didn’t have Galen’s dexterity with the darts. He had tried, but each time he had attempted to flick them the way Galen did, they had flown off to the side, not doing what he had intended. That wasn’t the solution, but the solution also wasn’t giving up on his knives. What Galen suggested had merit, though, however much Haern wanted to fight it.

  “What metal would you suggest?”

  “That’s something you might have to ask your father, along with whether he has some way of forging it so that the Forgers can’t manipulate it. We know some of their abilities, though not all, and you need to be prepared for how they might confront you. It’s one thing to go after men in a place like Asador, men who have no ability to manipulate lorcith, and quite another to go after Forgers and their ilk.”

  He was right, and that made things even more difficult. As much as Haern enjoyed using his connection to lorcith, he had become dependent upon it, and that was dangerous.

  But going to speak to his father about alternatives didn’t much appeal to him either. Maybe his grandfather would have suggestions.

  “I can see that you don’t intend to ask him.”

  “You can See or you can see?”

  “Does it have to be one or the other?”

  “I didn’t know that you had such visions.”

  “Not like some, but I have held one of the sacred crystals, and it has enhanced my Sight.”

  Galen didn’t often talk about what had happened to him after handling one of the sacred crystals, and his experience had been different than so many others’. From the stories Haern had managed to uncover, Galen had not come across the crystal the same way most had. He had found it by chance and had escorted it back to Elaeavn with Cael Elvraeth. That prolonged proximity had changed something about Galen.

  “I’ll go to my father,” Haern said.

  “You don’t have to say it as if it’s some sort of punishment.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t seem like a punishment to you, but we still aren’t close.”

  “No one is asking you to be close. I’m asking you to use his knowledge, the same way that I used his expertise today.”

  “Does he know that you used him?”

  “You saw the way he looked at me,” Galen said.

  “I thought that had to do with your past.”

  “The past is just that—it is the past. No, your father likely suspects what I did, and I doubt it pleased him.”

  Galen chuckled. “No. I doubt it pleased him, either.”

  “Yet, considering the reason behind it, I also doubt he will hold much of a grudge.”

  “If you think that, then you don’t really know my father,” Haern said.

  “On the contrary, I know him well enough. He will do anything for those he cares about.”

  Haern took a step back.

  “Now. Let’s continue with your training.”

  5

  Haern

  Heat from the forge pressed upon Haern. He hadn’t spent much time in the forge since returning to the Aisl, though that wasn’t unusual. His father never knew how much time he had worked at the forge before, and his grandfather understood that Haern didn’t have the same interest as he did, even if he had intended to try to force Haern into an apprenticeship.

  The forge in the heart of the Aisl occupied a strange central location. There was power within it, though most of that power seemed to stem from the presence of so much lorcith. All the lorcith found here pressed upon Haern, an awareness, almost a song, and he ignored the calling.

  The air held the odor of lorcith as well. He always considered it a sweetly bitter odor, though it was strange to think of it in such a way. Heat augmented that smell, and right now it was the only thing he could detect other than the smoke rising from the coals.

  A steady hammering called to him. It was rhythmic, and fast—much faster than the pounding he normally heard within the forge. If he hadn’t known his father was here, the speed of the hammering would have told him.

  “You don’t have to hesitate,” his father said.

  Haern stood off to the side, watching his father work. It intrigued him that he would work so vigorously, pounding out the metal before flipping it and pounding some more. He had no idea what his father was forging, though perhaps it didn’t matter. None of it did. His father didn’t need to hammer the metal. He could simply force it into shape. His control over lorcith was such that he didn’t need to heat it conventionally. His connection to the metal would heat it enough, and he would be able to manipulate it in far more ways than could be done otherwise. It was throug
h this connection to the metal that he had created the magnificent sculptures that decorated the Floating Palace.

  “I’m just watching,” he said.

  “Watching rather than wanting to participate?”

  “Did you always enjoy working at the forge?”

  His father hammered for another moment before pausing and placing his hunk of metal on the coals. Only then did he set down the hammer and turn to Haern. A thick leather apron hung around his neck, the weight of it pulling on his father’s broad shoulders. “There was always something soothing to me about working in the shop. I imagine it’s the same for you.”

  Haern must have hesitated too long.

  “Not the same for you, is it?” his father asked.

  Haern shook his head. “I’ve never found it soothing. It’s interesting, and being able to make knives and swords and all the other things I’ve learned to craft under Grandfather’s guidance has been helpful, but…”

  His father sighed. “Interesting. You know, when I was learning to work with metal, I didn’t always care for it, but mostly that was because of the circumstances under which I trained. It was a different time then, a time when we weren’t allowed to listen to the call of the lorcith. And now that call is celebrated, encouraged, and through it we have made creations that have not been seen in centuries.”

  “You always enjoyed it?”

  “As much as I could. I wasn’t always allowed to work the metal myself. There was a different style to the apprenticeships than there is now. And though we recognize the mistake now, it doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t have the same opportunities when I was learning. I had to sneak in my time, and ultimately, when I had my own forge, I was able to make whatever I wanted.” His father had a wistful expression on his face. “And I can tell from the way you’re looking at me that you feel none of that. Is that why you asked to work with Galen?”

  Haern licked his lips. He hadn’t expected to get into this type of conversation with his father, though maybe he needed to. “I’ve never felt quite at home in a forge.”

  “And yet you have the blood of the smiths.”

  “I do have the blood of the smiths, but it doesn’t feel the same, for some reason. I can use the lorcith, and I’m happy to do that, but I don’t feel the same pull to do so. I know that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to you, especially as I’ve seen some of the things you’ve created and know you feel compelled in a way that I don’t, and maybe can’t.”

  “Your mother has asked me to try and understand,” his father said. “When I was your age, I struggled with my own father, trying to figure out where I belonged, and for the longest time, I lived feeling as if I were a disappointment.”

  Haern wondered how his father could ever feel like a disappointment. As skilled as he was, it seemed impossible to believe that same man disappointed anyone within Elaeavn. He was the savior of Elaeavn, not a disappointment.

  “Yes, disappointment. I can tell that you find that difficult to believe.”

  “It’s just that everyone knows what you’ve done.”

  “There was a time when I hadn’t yet done those things. There was a time when it didn’t matter. So much has changed, and most of it is for the better, though I wonder about that at times.”

  Haern had never seen his father like this. There was almost an introspectiveness about him, and with it, he seemed somewhat morose.

  “I came to ask your opinion on something.”

  His father turned toward him. “You did?”

  Haern nodded. “Eventually, I fear that I’m going to need to confront the Forgers again. When that day comes, I want to be equipped for it.”

  His father smiled tightly. “You want to know what metal you can use when you face them.”

  Haern shouldn’t have been surprised that his father would be able to determine that. He was smart, and he’d had to face the Forgers long enough that he must have realized what troubled Haern.

  “I can’t use lorcith,” he started. “If they have the ability to manipulate it, they will be able to overpower anything I can do.”

  “They can manipulate lorcith, but I would worry more about their ability to track it,” Rsiran said.

  “How far can they track it?”

  “I’ve never been able to determine that. I know that they don’t have the same limitations I do.”

  “Some would claim that you don’t have much in the way of limitations.”

  His father grunted. “Then they haven’t been paying attention. Everybody has limits to their abilities. Mine might be different than someone else’s, but eventually you run into a situation where your abilities let you down and you wish you could do more, that you had more potential.”

  “That’s why I’m trying to learn from Galen.”

  His father sighed and turned his attention back to his forge. “I suppose I should work harder to understand. Learning how to function without your abilities should be celebrated. And Galen is right. Eventually there comes a time when skills fade, or you have them stolen from you. I’ve discovered plenty of poisons over the years that can take abilities from you.”

  Haern had heard of some of them, and Galen had begun to teach him about the nature of some, but he hadn’t spent much time instructing Haern on all aspects of them. Eventually, he wanted to know what Galen knew, and that meant suffering the same way Galen had suffered when he’d learned about his poisons.

  “Is there any metal you recommend I use?”

  “The key is finding something the Forgers have no control over,” his father said. “But even then, they can mix something within it to gain control.”

  “Even over something like steel?”

  “You need to find what works for you. There are dozens of different metals and alloys that you could generate, and any one of them might be safe. But I would be more concerned about ensuring you don’t draw their attention too quickly.”

  “They will return,” Haern said. He didn’t need to step out of the forge at the heart of the Aisl to know the Forgers planned on something. The metal that now penetrated the Elder Trees was enough of a reminder of that.

  “The Forgers will always return,” his father said. “And we need to be ready. It’s why I’m continuing to work on modifying the protections that seal off the city. The more we can deflect the Forgers’ attention, the more we can protect ourselves and our people.”

  Haern hesitated, watching his father as he returned to work. At least he understood what he was working on. The barrier around the outer edge of the forest consisted of a combination of lorcith and heartstone, though his father appeared to be working with different metals than those. Maybe that was the reason he was hammering rather than simply pushing and pulling on lorcith, controlling it with his other abilities.

  He pulled the lump of metal off the coals and began to hammer it with a practiced stroke, muscles in his arms and back rippling with each blow. Each strike was precise, and he paused from time to time to reheat the metal before resuming his hammering.

  Haern needed to be that precise, but with his training. It was what Galen was trying to teach him, and if he could manage to be as precise as his father in everything that he learned, then he might be able to withstand the Forgers. He didn’t need to Slide or to have any other abilities in order to withstand them. Galen had proven that all it took was knowledge and perhaps the ability to recognize that someone was tracking him—something that he could learn, especially with his enhanced eyesight.

  “How come you stayed?” Haern asked when his father took a break from hammering.

  His father looked up, hammer raised before he lowered it to his side. “I should’ve stayed before,” he said.

  “What you were doing was important,” Haern said.

  “I think… I think I wanted to believe that it was more important than it was. I should have been here for you. Should have been here for everyone. Instead, I believed I was the only one who could confront the Forgers, and that simp
ly wasn’t the case. There are others who fight, and others who need to fight. It can’t only be me.”

  “It hasn’t only been you. The guild has resisted.”

  “The guild has tried to resist, but there are those within the guild who don’t truly believe in the threat of the Forgers. Until the attack, they viewed them as no more of a danger than any other outsider. Partly that is my fault. I have allowed others to remain safe within the Aisl and within Elaeavn, thinking I was offering them a certain level of protection. We have remained as isolated as we ever were. That was a mistake. There will come a time—again—when I won’t be able to protect us, and possibly when Carth isn’t around. Our people need to be prepared.”

  “And that’s why you’re staying?”

  “Partly.”

  “Only partly?”

  His father looked down at the lump of metal. “When I was captured, something happened. It was more than just the poisoning, though that was part of it. Even though I was paralyzed, my mind continued to race, and I tried to understand what was happening to me. I tried everything I could to escape. I was helpless in a way I hadn’t been for a long time.”

  “Were you scared?”

  “I think everyone should be a little scared when they face something like that,” his father said. “The key is facing that fear and moving on.”

  Haern wondered if his father was struggling with the moving on part. Maybe he had been more injured than he’d let on. Maybe there was some other reason for his father to remain, though it was possible that he stayed only to make preparations, trying to get the city ready for the return of the Forgers.

  “When you’re ready to work on your knives, I can help you,” his father said.

  Haern nodded.

  He turned away. What had he expected? He had come for answers, but maybe the kind of answers he was looking for weren’t the kind his father could provide. And he had gained something. His father had agreed to work with him, to help him make the knives he needed for his training.

  He found himself wandering out to the border of the forest. He had taken to doing so more often these days, preferring to make his way along the edge of the boundary of Elaeavn, the heartstone barrier making it so that others couldn’t simply Slide inside Elaeavn. There was a time when he would have gone into the city itself, but since his return, he hadn’t been so interested in doing that.