“It sounds like that angers you.”
“It angers me to know that there is a different way.”
“What happens if you need to use the lorcith in a way that the metal would refuse?”
“Then you don’t use it.”
“It’s metal, Father.”
“It’s a metal that has a preference. Not all metals do. We can work with iron and silver and copper and gold, and none of those have much of an opinion about what form they take. There are only some metals that matter in that way. Lorcith is one.”
“And heartstone?”
His father nodded. “Heartstone is quite a bit different. It’s rarer than lorcith, though there was a time when I believe lorcith was rare.”
“Rare? All of Ilphaesn is filled with lorcith. The city is practically built with it.”
“It is. And there was a time when the Elvraeth wanted us to believe that it was rare. It was how they controlled us.”
“You still don’t think very highly of the Elvraeth.”
His father took in a deep breath before letting out a heavy sigh. “I try, Haern. Really I do. It’s difficult letting go of old grudges. The Elvraeth didn’t want to be involved when it came to facing the attack all those years ago. They let others handle it, going so far as to make an allegiance with the Hjan, an allegiance that nearly destroyed the city.”
“But the people who rule now aren’t those people.”
“They’re not. Much like those who rule the guilds aren’t the same as the guildlords of that time. Things change, but they are much the same.”
His father watched him for a moment before picking up his hammer and beginning to work at the lorcith. He hammered steadily, a rhythmic approach that he didn’t really need, especially knowing his father’s talent with lorcith.
As his father worked, Haern leaned over, watching him. “Why are you using it like that?” he asked.
“Like what?”
“Hammering. I know you don’t have to do it in order to shape the metal.”
“I don’t have to, but there is some advantage in connecting to it like this. I can listen to the song as I modify it. It gives me a finer control. Now, I also push and pull on the metal as I work, supplementing what I do, but it’s not only a connection to my ability that I use.”
“Why not?”
His father glanced over. “You can grow too dependent upon one thing. And honestly, I find it relaxing. The longer I work with the hammer and the metal, the closer I feel to it. There’s something that just feels right about it.”
“Does it bother you that I’ve never felt the same desire?”
“I never wanted you to do the same as me. You had to find your own way.”
An accusation hung within the words. Part of it was the question about whether Haern had found his own way, especially as it didn’t seem as if he had, not yet. If he stayed in the city, what would he do? Could he really spend time as a blacksmith?
“There was a time when I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be,” his father said. He tapped on the metal as he spoke, several of the words punctuated by a hammer. “When I first met your uncle, I didn’t know what I could do. Your grandfather wasn’t thrilled with me, and at the same time, I wasn’t necessarily thrilled with him. We were different people.”
“Different? I think you’re more alike than you realize. Both of you find peace in standing in front of a forge.”
“We do, but we go about it in a different way. Your grandfather tried to suppress his connection to lorcith while I never learned to do that. He tried to convince me to do it, and he tried to help me hide from it, but then—”
“Then he sent you to work in the Ilphaesn mines. I’ve heard the story.”
His father nodded. “I should have terrible memories of that time, but for some reason I don’t. It was hard. Those were some of the darkest days I’ve ever experienced. And yet, had he not sent me there, I never would have understood my connection to lorcith, and I never would have known about the song. I think it made me stronger, hardened me—turned me into something like lorcith.” He smiled. “Or maybe that’s nothing more than my desire.”
“Even then, you wanted to be a blacksmith,” Haern said.
“I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be a blacksmith then. Working at the forge offered me an opportunity to be useful, but I didn’t know if that was what I wanted.”
“Useful how?”
“Metal was valuable. Lorcith particularly so. I didn’t have the same qualms that the rest of the guild did about making weapons out of lorcith. I would make knives and swords, and they were shipped and sold all over.”
“Mother told me about that. She said Uncle Brusus coordinated it.”
“He did,” Rsiran said with a smile.
“I still can’t imagine Brusus doing anything like that.”
“Only because you didn’t know me then.”
Haern spun around and saw Brusus standing in the doorway. He hadn’t heard his uncle enter. Brusus looked well, better than he had in the days since the injury.
“It was Alyse who settled me, though don’t tell your father that. He likes to think that he came in and took over, making me redundant.”
“You weren’t really necessary at that point.”
“I still managed to stay out of trouble until I met you.”
“You were heading toward trouble when you met me.”
“Maybe,” Brusus said, smiling. He took a seat next to Haern on a metal stool and winked at Haern. “I saw smoke, and I figured I would find Rsiran here, but I didn’t realize you would be here, too. Why are the two Lareth men still awake?”
“Apparently my father is working on something he doesn’t want to tell me about,” Haern said.
“Is that right?” Brusus asked.
“I’m not sure it’s ready yet,” Rsiran said.
Brusus studied him, the darkness in his eyes brightening for a moment before he nodded. Haern wondered if his uncle had discovered something by Reading his father. It didn’t seem likely, especially as his father probably had some way of preventing Brusus from Reading him. Not only because he had a firm grip over his mental barriers, but also because he had other ways of preventing Readers.
“If I’m in the way…” Brusus started.
“When have you ever been in the way?” Rsiran asked.
“There was a time when I would’ve said I wasn’t, but now that I’m old, I feel like I’m in the way most of the time.”
“You’re only old because you choose to feel that way.”
“I’m only old because years have passed,” Brusus said. “And they’ve been good years, for the most part. I can’t believe how far we’ve come.”
“And would you change anything?” Rsiran asked.
“There’s always something you can change,” Brusus said. “I would have liked to have you around more.” He watched Haern as he said it.
“You know I’ve been doing what’s been necessary.”
“I know that you feel it’s been necessary, but your absence has been noted by me.”
“Brusus…”
“I’m just saying that it’s good you’ve been around lately. The city is no less safe because you’re not out there hunting the Forgers, Rsiran.”
“We don’t know that.”
“We also don’t know how safe you made it by hunting them. For all we know, you could have accomplished the same thing simply by placing your barriers. Didn’t you tell me that the barriers were designed to deter the Forgers from even discovering the city?”
“When they work,” Rsiran said.
“And they don’t work?”
“Right now? They work a little bit, but the Forgers will figure out a way past them. They have ways of silencing the metal.”
“And why does that matter?”
“Because it’s the song of lorcith that protects us,” Rsiran said.
“How?” Haern asked.
“Once you hear the song, once y
ou understand it, you can ask the lorcith to answer. It can give you a warning. It’s how I know when the barriers begin to fail, and how I know that the lorcith is damaged. And it’s how I know that the Forgers are dangerous. They use it in ways that would destroy the beauty of the metal. Regardless of what they claim, the Forgers are deadly.”
Brusus stared at the fire, his gaze lingering on the metal stacked on top of it. What was he able to Read from Rsiran? Did he know what his father was making?
And did Haern even care?
He needed to keep training with Galen. That was his purpose. The Forgers had continued to attack, and they remained a threat, so he refused to ignore that. He was determined to understand what was happening, and his father working out of the forge, making whatever creation he was crafting now, didn’t change that.
Brusus got to his feet. “I’m going to head back to the tavern.”
“Would you like me to Slide you?” Rsiran asked.
“No, that won’t be necessary, though I wouldn’t mind some company.”
Haern nodded. Maybe he should stay with his father and continue the conversation, trying to understand what he meant about the song of the lorcith, but seeing the determination on his father’s face, Haern wasn’t certain his father would share anything, anyway. When he got like this, his father oftentimes was obsessed with finishing his creation. Until Haern knew what it was, until the metal took its final shape, he would remain focused. Haern could stay and watch, but he had done that enough as a child when his father was around—which wasn’t nearly as often as he probably should have been—and had no interest in sitting and waiting while his father created whatever it was he was working on. If he did stay, he might learn what his father was making sooner, but traveling with Brusus had other benefits.
“You don’t want to check in with Darren again?”
Brusus arched a brow at him. “Where do you think I just came from?”
They made their way out of the forge and started toward the trail leading back to the rest of the city. As they went, Brusus hummed for a moment until they passed through the outer rim of trees forming the clearing and into the dense covering of the forest itself.
“When I was a child, we used to explore the forest here,” Brusus said.
“I didn’t think anyone spent much time in the forest when you were younger.”
“Plenty of children still played in the forest. It wasn’t a place anyone stayed.”
“Why did you want me to come with you?”
“Because I want you to spend some time with your father.”
“I’ve been trying to,” Haern said.
Brusus shot him a look. Could he have Read him? Haern might not even know if his uncle attempted to. “I know that you’ve been spending time with Galen. And your father knows it too. Now that he’s back, you would avoid him like that?”
“It’s not about avoiding him, but getting the knowledge I need in order to be effective.”
“And what do you think you will need to do?” Brusus asked.
“I don’t know. If I had been better prepared, I wouldn’t have nearly lost you.”
“And your father will ensure that no additional attacks take place.”
“I don’t think my father can be the only one responsible for it.”
“He’s not.”
“But the guilds aren’t doing much either.”
“No, and neither are the Elvraeth or the tchalit. It reminds me far too much of a time twenty years ago. We couldn’t get people to work together then either. As much as I want to convince the Elvraeth to take this threat seriously, they feel that there is no threat. But there hasn’t been a threat only because of what your father has done.” Brusus shrugged. “It’s a difficult situation we’re in, and perhaps there is no good solution to it.”
“The solution would be that we go and confront the Forgers.”
And it was what he intended to do as soon as he managed to gain enough skill. When he did, if he did, then they would try to understand just what the Forgers were after.
“Thank you,” Brusus said.
“For what?”
“For staying with me. For getting me back to Darren. Thank you.”
“You’re my uncle. I wasn’t going to do anything other than try to help you.”
“You are a lot like your father,” Brusus said. “But you have quite a bit of your mother in you, too.”
“Are you saying that because Mother was a thief?”
Brusus smiled and stared into the forest. “Your mother was a skilled thief. I always loved watching her work. She could break into places with nothing more than a lockpick and her ability to See. When Rsiran came along, some of her skills became unnecessary. No longer did we need to sneak past locks when there was someone who could simply Slide us past them. She always kept him grounded, though. Her worth was always so much more than what she realized. She had a warmth to her, and the compassion, and you have that, too. Don’t lose it.”
“Why would I lose it?”
“Because there’s the other side within you,” Brusus said. The lights of the city came into view, and the steady roar of the sea continued to build with each step. Wind whipped up around them. The trees had blocked most of that, but now that they were thinning, it was easier to tell that they came to the edge of the city.
“You need to hold on to that compassion. You need to hold on to that other side of you. It’s the side that sent you out of the city in the first place, chasing down your father, wanting to help when you didn’t have any knowledge.”
“I worked with Galen.”
“You worked with Galen, and I’m not saying that was wrong. Galen is incredibly skilled too. But he’s more like your father than like your mother. You need to have that side of your mother to you.”
“Why are you saying this?”
“I don’t claim to know what’s going to happen. Eventually your father will not be able to chase down the Forgers, and someone else will have to do it. Whether that’s you or someone else, I don’t know. If it’s you, I hope that you can hold on to your compassion and continue to search for understanding. I’d hate for us to be at war for decades over nothing.”
“Have we been at war?”
Brusus arched a brow at him. “What else would you call it? We’ve feared the Forgers all this time, hiding within the city, keeping ourselves separate even though we knew that we needed to be a part of something else. What else could it be but war, a way of suppressing us?”
In the distance, the tall spire from Krali Rock loomed into view. Had it only been a short while ago that he had attempted to climb it? What would he see now? Would he see the same city spread out beneath them as he had the night he had climbed there, or would he see something else?
“I only want to help protect the city and the people within it,” Haern said.
“If that’s what drives you, then you won’t do anything wrong,” Brusus said.
“If?”
Brusus seemed to hesitate. “I’ve tried to have conversations with your father about this, but it’s difficult for him. He doesn’t like to see the person he’s become, and I can’t blame him. He’s no longer the young man I worked with all those years ago. That young man was so hesitant. Insecure. Nervous.” Brusus smiled. “He quickly grew out of that, and thankfully, you haven’t had to deal with the same things your father had to, but now he’s stubborn. Fixated on whatever purpose he has in mind. Focused in a way that I’m no longer certain is right.”
“Why are you telling me all this, Uncle?”
“Because you might be the only one who can help your father,” Brusus said.
“Help him with what?”
“Help him remember why he cared in the first place.” Brusus held his gaze for a long moment before patting Haern on the hand and motioning for him to go. “I can take it from here. It’s not that long of a walk, and besides, I might have to make a few stops, just like old times.”
“Uncle!”
“Fine. It wouldn’t look good for the most prominent tavern owner in the city to be seen breaking into buildings throughout the city.”
“Most prominent?”
“Why? Do you think there’s someone else?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t spent enough time visiting all the establishments in the city to know whether or not your claim is accurate.”
“There’s no need. You are welcome at my place anytime. I won’t even charge you the same.”
“You’d charge me?”
“Not the same,” Brusus said, grinning. The grin began to fade. “Spend some time with your father. Regardless of what you intend to do with Galen, try to understand your father. I don’t know whether it will change anything, but depending on what we face in the coming years, a reminder every now and again of why we fight isn’t a bad thing.”
“I’m not so sure I’m the right person to remind him.”
“You’re the only person who can remind him. You’re everything that he fought for.”
Brusus smiled and started humming again as he disappeared, heading into the city. Haern stared after him for a long while before spinning and making his way back toward the heart of the Aisl.
20
Haern
“I want you to show me how you work,” Haern said.
“Show you what?” Rsiran asked.
Haern looked around the forge. All evidence of the sheet of metal his father had been working the night before was gone. The forge had cooled, the coals glowing softly, still putting out some heat, but not nearly as much as the night before. No smoke drifted from the top of the forge as it had the night before, either. Whatever his father had been working on had been cleaned up, removed, and likely Slid to wherever he intended it to end up.
“You had been talking about the song of lorcith. I thought I would try to understand it.”
“That’s not what you want to understand, is it?”
The Elder Stones Saga Boxset: Books 1-3 Page 75
