“Why did you bring me down here?”
“I thought you and I could talk a little bit.”
“Talk about what?”
“Talk about what you intend.”
She sat at a table. A game board rested on top of it, alternating squares of black and white. Strangely sculpted pieces were arranged on top of the board, and a single piece sat in the middle. Carth pressed her hands together, leaning forward on her elbows as she looked up at him.
“What I intend with what?”
“That is what we have to talk about.”
“Why do I get the sense that I won’t care for this all that much?”
“I don’t know. Is there some reason you shouldn’t?”
Her gaze flicked to the door and then back to him. Daniel took a step inside, closing the door behind him. The only seat other than her bed was the chair across from her. He took it, and up close, the sculptures on the game board all had a distinct feature to them. Some of them were similar, and it took him a moment to realize that each side of the board appeared to be a mirror of the other.
“How do these pieces not slide around as we sail?”
Carth chuckled. “You are one of the first people who’s ever asked me that.”
“It’s not a good question?”
“It’s a practical question. And it tells me a little bit about your mindset.”
“This is the game you were telling me about.”
Carth studied him for another moment before tipping her head in a nod and motioning toward the game board. “It is. It’s called Tsatsun, and it’s a game of strategy. Men have been playing it in various forms for thousands of years.”
“Why do I get the sense that you chose the word men intentionally?”
“Perhaps I did, or perhaps it was unintentional,” Carth said.
“And this is the game that you believe will allow you to get inside the mind of your opponent?”
“I’m not the only one who feels that way, Daniel Elvraeth.”
“So how does it work?”
“Each piece has various properties to it. Some are better suited for pursuit. Some are better suited for defense. Some are better at attack.”
“And what about that one?” He pointed to the piece at the center of the board.
“That is referred to as the Stone. It’s a unique piece. In order to win the game, you must push that piece to the other side of the board.”
“Stone?” Daniel lifted the piece, feeling a little resistance. Something held the piece to the board. It had to be a magnet, which at least explained why the pieces didn’t slide all over. It was a strange piece, carved something like a tower, and there were four windows near the top. “It’s interesting that this piece is referred to as the Stone.”
“Why does that interest you?”
“I suppose because of the Elder Stones. Isn’t that the point?”
Carth stared at the piece in his hands, watching him. “It’s interesting to me that this piece is referred to as the Stone, especially as it is crucial to winning. Even more interesting is the strategy required in order to win. The winning play is one where you manage to secure it on the opposite side of the board where your opponent can’t reach it.”
“I don’t see why this game is so difficult.”
“The difficulty isn’t in the ultimate goal. Oftentimes when dealing with strategy, it’s not understanding the goal that is the challenge. It’s the journey in reaching the goal that proves the most difficult. Think about what you know of the Forgers.”
“They want to attack.”
“But that’s not all they want. Think about it in simpler terms.”
Daniel frowned, staring at the piece. He twisted it in his hands. It had seemed completely smooth before, but the longer he held it, the more he became aware of slight indentations along the surface. He couldn’t see them, but he could feel them, however subtly.
What was it that the Forgers wanted? All his life, he had believed that the Forgers wanted to harm him. Could they be after something else? Maybe it wasn’t about harming them but about power.
“They want to rule.”
“The Ai’thol want to rule.”
“The Forgers don’t?”
“What role do the Forgers play?”
“I don’t know the dynamics all that well. I thought the Ai’thol and the Forgers were the same thing.”
“There are similarities, but they aren’t the same. The Forgers serve the Ai’thol in some fashion.”
“Some fashion? That seems pretty vague.”
“When it comes to the Ai’thol, we don’t have many details. I have spent years searching for more information about the Ai’thol, and I’ve never managed to get much from them.”
Daniel could tell how much it pained Carth to admit her failings. He didn’t know her well, but she struck him as a proud woman, someone who felt she should have no limitations. And this had been a failure. At least, her inability to discover what she wanted to learn could be perceived in such a way.
“Will this game allow you to better understand the Ai’thol?”
“The only thing I know about the Ai’thol—really know—is the name of the man who leads them. He is dangerous, and powerful, and he is a master of Tsatsun. That tells me I need to continue to work on my skills so that I can be best prepared for confronting him.”
“What are you trying to show me here?”
“I’m trying to show you that you have to be systematic in your approach. You have to plan for the possibility of various attacks. That is what I have spent much of my life trying to determine. The Ai’thol present a unique challenge.”
“I don’t know that I want to deal with the unique challenge.”
“And yet, we don’t always get to decide what we do. We have to respond to what is placed in front of us.”
“And you intend for me to be a part of this?”
“I don’t intend for anything. You have to decide what you’re willing to do and what you’re willing to be a part of. If it’s this, if you want to help stop the Ai’thol, then you can. If you’d rather return to your homeland, nothing will stop you from doing so. Not me. Not any of the Binders. I doubt that any of the Ai’thol would stop you.”
Even though nothing would stop him, was that what he wanted to do?
“And if I stay, what do you intend for me?”
“The better question is what you would intend for yourself. I can’t speak to what you’re willing to do and what you need to know. All I can tell you is that there are possibilities. You have to be willing to reach for those possibilities, and willing to try and discover just what you can do.”
He didn’t know what that would be, but Carth was offering him an opportunity. He’d wondered what role he would play, and now he had one, if only he was ready and willing to take it all in.
“Why me?”
“You have potential.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I’ve seen it in you. I’ve gone through this enough times that I recognize when someone has the necessary potential. Now I can’t say whether you will be able to make anything of it. I’m not able to look into your mind and know just how much you’re willing to push, but I can say that if you want, I can work with you. I can train you. And perhaps you will gain additional insight.”
Daniel stared at the board spread out in front of him. His time in Elaeavn seemed so long ago. It was nearly impossible to believe that he had left his home only a few short months ago. In that time, he’d experienced quite a bit, but he’d done it on behalf of others. Some might consider that selfless, though he wasn’t sure that was his motivation. All he knew was that he had been offered something now. He’d been around Carth long enough to know that what she proposed him was not done lightly. The opportunity to work with her, to learn from her, was valuable.
And if he did it, if he agreed to train with Carth, what would he learn? What would he become?
Gaming was
the same thing his father had wanted him to learn—strategy. But that had been to lead the council. This was for something else.
Power?
No. With Carth, it was more than just power.
“If I agree, what does it involve?”
“It involves keeping an open mind. It involves sharing what you come up with. And it involves offering your insight. You may not know it, but you have much to offer.”
“I think Lucy is far more capable.”
“But what you have to offer has nothing to do with your Elvraeth abilities. It has everything to do with you and the person you are.” Carth leaned forward, holding his gaze. “It’s not your abilities that I would push, Daniel Elvraeth. It’s your mind.”
27
Haern
Faint light streamed through Haern’s eyelids. He blinked them open, finding they were crusted shut, and tried to move, but pain filled him—the kind of pain that left his entire body throbbing, burning, making him think he had been poisoned by Galen and left to suffer.
Galen.
At the thought of the other man, Haern tried to sit up but couldn’t. Was he restrained? Or was it something else?
“Help,” he said. His voice came out rough, hoarse, and even as he said it, he could barely hear the words himself.
“Quiet,” someone said. He didn’t recognize the voice.
Did that mean that he had been captured by the Forger?
He had made it to the center of the clearing, he was sure of it, but maybe that hadn’t been enough. Maybe reaching the center of the clearing had not saved him but left him no closer to safety than he had been before. What if the Forger had managed to Slide him when he’d passed out?
What if the Forger had attacked the others in the clearing?
How many would have been ready for an attack by one of the Forgers? His father had claimed that the forest was safe, protected, his barrier keeping out the Forgers, but it hadn’t protected them, and they hadn’t been safe. Anything his father had attempted had not been enough. It was no different than what his father had done to protect the Elder Trees, even though he thought to shear off the metal placed around them.
“Where am I?”
“Quiet,” the voice said again.
Haern tried to turn his head, but he couldn’t move it. It was as if he were held down. The light that streamed in came through a window, but the window was dirty, making it difficult for him to tell what was on the other side.
The voice was feminine, and though there weren’t many women among the Forgers, there were some.
Why was that, anyway? It seemed odd to him that most of the Forger attackers were men, though maybe that wasn’t the case.
Maybe he simply hadn’t seen any of the women; maybe the Forgers hid them away.
“What are you doing to me?”
His mouth was sticky and thick, and the words didn’t come out well, but he didn’t care. He was going to have answers.
Someone approached. It was a shuffling sort of movement, and he strained to figure out who was coming at him, but wasn’t able to come up with any answers.
Someone touched him. He wanted to shy away, to get away from whoever decided to attack, but his body didn’t respond.
Cold coursed through him.
It reminded him of the Forger’s weapon.
Were they using their Forger magic upon him? He didn’t know exactly what they did or how they even used that magic, whether it came from their knowledge of metal or from something else, but it was more than he could withstand.
He tried to fight, thrashing as the cold washed through him, and realized that the thrashing was only in his mind. His body still didn’t respond.
It was no different than what he had experienced when he’d first been attacked. His body hadn’t responded when he’d been struck in the back, as if whatever weapon they’d used had paralyzed him.
Haern wasn’t certain that he wanted to live like this. If he couldn’t walk, if his body didn’t work, what sort of life would there be?
He could still use his connection to lorcith. Maybe he could create some way of gliding, a chair or something that would allow him to connect to the metal and float.
The cold eased before disappearing completely.
Haern let out a pent-up breath, only now aware that he been holding his breath.
“How does that feel?” the woman asked.
Haern licked his lips. His body tingled. That was new. Before there had been an absence of sensation, a numbness, and now there was more.
“What did you do?”
“I have been trying to remove this weapon, but it is tricky.”
“Remove? You’re not with them?”
The woman laughed softly. “With them? No.”
“Galen needed help.”
“How do you know Galen?”
“He’s been…” How would he describe it? He wasn’t certain that he could reveal the role Galen had been playing, but if he didn’t, would the woman offer him any help? He wasn’t entirely certain who she was, but if she was Darren’s apprentice, it was possible that she wouldn’t help Galen otherwise. He needed to somehow convince her to help him. “Galen has been helping me, training me.”
“You understand who he is. What he is.”
“Galen has become a friend,” he said.
“Hmm. Galen doesn’t have many friends.”
Haern licked his lips again. As far as he knew, other than Cael, Galen didn’t have any friends. And it wasn’t as if Haern would consider himself much of a friend. They had worked together, and they had some connection because of that, but it wasn’t quite a friendship. He might hope that their rapport would grow, but even that wasn’t happening as fast as Haern would’ve liked.
“You know him?” he said.
“I know Galen. And if he’s training you, then you must know Galen, too. He is difficult to get to know. He doesn’t allow many people close to him.”
That much was true. And while Haern wouldn’t think he really understood Galen, the nature of the comment suggested who this woman might be.
“Della?”
The woman chuckled. “It took you long enough to come to that conclusion,” she said.
“What are you doing here?”
“This is my home.”
Home? Was he no longer in the Aisl? Then where had he been taken?
“How am I here?”
“The better question is how am I here. Your father came for me when you were injured. Pulled me from a restive and relaxing time. He said it was urgent, though with your father, everything happens to be urgent.”
“Am I still in the Aisl?”
“You weren’t safe to move. Darren did everything he could to stabilize you, but there really wasn’t much that could be done until I got here.”
“Did… did you remove it?”
“I’ve done what I can. Removing one of their weapons is difficult. It takes time, and an intricate sort of healing.”
“What about Galen?”
“His attack was a little more straightforward. One of their weapons went through his shoulder.”
“Through—so it didn’t stay inside him?”
“No,” Della said.
Haern realized that he could move his head, and he rolled over to look at her. She was an old woman, possibly the oldest he’d ever seen. Around her deep green eyes, her skin was heavily wrinkled, and wisps of gray hair twirled on her head, wrapped up into a tight bun that she’d tied with a length of ribbon. A multicolored shawl covered her shoulders, stripes of orange and green and blue adding a certain vibrancy to her. She was thin and looked almost as if she might fall over just from standing next to him.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Your father thinks it’s a matter of intent.”
“And you believe him?”
Della studied him. He had the unsettling feeling that she was somehow Reading him, but growing up in Elaeavn had helped him strengthen his mental barriers
, and his connection to lorcith allowed him to assert them even more strongly than most.
“When it comes to your father, I find that he is rarely wrong about such things.”
“I’m not so sure when it comes to the Forgers.”
“Why is that?”
Should he answer? He’d heard stories about Della, though he didn’t know much about her otherwise, other than the fact that everyone who’d had any interaction with her respected her immensely. Both his mother and father did, as did Galen. It was one of the few things they agreed upon, and that alone was reason for Haern to trust her.
“I think my father has a single-mindedness about the Forgers,” he said.
“I’ve known your father a long time. Single-mindedness is one of his strengths.”
“But I’m not so sure he’s right about this.”
“No? And what would you do differently?”
“I don’t know,” Haern said, looking away. This wasn’t a woman who wanted to know what he really thought. The Forgers were ruthless, but so was his father. His father’s ruthlessness came from anger over what he perceived as ongoing attacks that had been inflicted over the years, decades of torment by the Forgers.
Haern wasn’t certain that emotion could be a factor, not when it came to the Forgers.
“You would ignore your own thoughts?” Della asked.
“I’m not ignoring any thoughts.”
“Fine. Ignore might not be the right way to phrase it. You would keep your thoughts to yourself? You would choose not to share them?”
“There’s no point in sharing them. I’m the only one who feels the way I do.”
“And what way is that?”
He rolled his head back, looking at her. “That the Elder Trees might need to be sacrificed for Elaeavn to be safe.”
Della studied him intensely. Once again there came the rifling sense that she was Reading him, and he attempted to fortify his mental barriers, trying to use the sense of lorcith as he did. It was a trick his father had taught him.
Della’s expression never changed. She continued to study him, and as she did, the sense of her Reading him began to fade, withdrawing until it was little more than imagined.
“Your father would do anything to preserve the Elder Trees,” Della said.
The Elder Stones Saga Boxset: Books 1-3 Page 83
