The Elder Stones Saga Boxset: Books 1-3

by D. K. Holmberg

  “Why ones that I’ve forged?”

  “There’s something about modifying the metal yourself. It somehow binds you to it in a way that you wouldn’t be otherwise. It always seems to answer me differently, requiring less energy on my part.”

  “Would there be any way of anchoring in a way that wouldn’t come loose?”

  “I don’t know. I think that’s what you have to work on and discover. It’s possible that there is some way for you to anchor that will allow you to draw upon that connection. It’s something you have to find out for yourself. When you do, you might not need to share the ability to Slide.”

  The idea intrigued him. He only wished he had enough time to do this, but there were other things that needed to be done too. He would have said that he needed to get to Lucy in order to find out more about what the Forgers planned, to find Della to see if there was anything she could do to help the trees, but now it no longer felt as necessary.

  They approached a side pathway, and his father turned off onto it. Haern hadn’t taken this way to the woods before, though he had explored the forest extensively when he was a child. Every so often, he passed a lorcith rod buried deep within the ground. Without his ability to detect lorcith, he wouldn’t have known what he was passing. Anyone else making their way along here might not even be aware of it.

  “What are these for?” he asked.

  “You feel them?”

  Haern paused in front of one of them. He moved around some of the underbrush, and when he did, he could just make out the buried tip of the rod. It reflected some of the sunlight. It was narrow, not much larger than the end of one finger, and he stared at it, trying to determine what it was that his father had placed here—and it was his father who had placed it here, Haern was certain. No one else would have the necessary control over lorcith to do so.

  “These mask the pathway,” his father said.

  “Mask it? I can see it just fine.”

  “You can, but that’s because you have a connection to lorcith.”

  “The Forgers have a connection, too.”

  “They do, which is why I added a few particular tweaks to it.”

  “Such as?” He looked up to see his father staring at him.

  “Such as a twist to the design. As I was telling you, when you work with lorcith long enough, you begin to hear its call. Sometimes you can make requests to the metal.”

  “What did it have you do with this one?”

  “In this case, I shared with the lorcith what I needed. It helped guide me toward the right shape.”

  Haern focused on the rod, and as he did, he could feel the spiraling shape as it twisted deeper into the ground. Strangely, it connected to another rod and then another; each one connected, but that wasn’t all. There was a pattern to them. As he focused, trailing from one to the next, he detected something like a star.

  “Why the pattern here?”

  “You See that?”

  “Now that I know it’s here, I can trace it.”

  “There aren’t many in the guild who have that ability.”

  “There aren’t?”

  His father shook his head. “You should be proud of yourself and of this ability, Haern.”

  “I never said I wasn’t proud of my ability.”

  “You don’t make the effort to master it.”

  “Just because I don’t want to hammer on the metal doesn’t mean that I don’t want to understand my connection to it.”

  His father watched him for a moment before nodding. “I suppose that’s true. The pattern is another part that the lorcith shared with me. It guided me toward the pattern, helping me understand that it would not only obfuscate the trail, but it would create a barrier.”

  “There’s a barrier out along the edge of the forest.”

  “That one was different.”

  “What does this one do?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Haern followed his father, and a tingling washed over his skin as they passed toward the inside of the star he detected. They continued moving through the forest, and he suspected that his father didn’t Slide here because of the way the lorcith was patterned. There was an enormous amount of the metal, and it was staggered heavily here, much more so than it was even around the barrier at the edge of the forest.

  There was an odd energy to what he detected here. Not only could he sense it, but he could feel the intent behind what he detected.

  It was designed to keep something inside the pattern—and to hold it there.

  “This is a trap.”

  “Very good.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s needed.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  In the distance, a low curved structure came into view. It was made of lorcith, but not only lorcith. There was heartstone—the swirls of blue giving it away—along with a few other metals, each of them with a different coloration, enough so that he did not detect the sense of lorcith in the same way as he normally would. The lorcith involved in building the structure was incredible.

  It had to be made of a single slab of lorcith, and heavy enough that it would have required significant energy to move here. He couldn’t imagine anyone other than his father being able to do so. Mixing the metals into it would have taken either a huge forge or his father’s ability to push and pull on lorcith. No one else had that ability.

  Could he do that? Though he’d never had much interest in forging metals, if he could use his connection to lorcith, maybe he’d be able to push and pull on it in such a way that would allow him to change it, and perhaps even mix alloys in the same manner as his father.

  “You’ve got a prison here.”

  “Something like that.”

  “How long have you had it?”

  “It’s been here for a while. We haven’t needed it, but I wanted to have it in the chance that we did require it.”

  “Who’s inside?” There had to be someone; otherwise, his father wouldn’t have shown him.

  “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t have to,” his father said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want you to be caught up in this any more than you already are, but you are involved, and your involvement may be necessary. It’s time for you to know what’s here.”

  Whatever it was had to be important, especially as he believed that his father wouldn’t have involved him were there any other choice.

  As he approached the building, Haern was aware of the pressure from lorcith. It was an odd, unpleasant sense, much different than what he normally detected from the metal, and he suspected it had to do with whatever alloy his father had created.

  “Can you Slide here?”

  “I can Slide near here, but even I can’t penetrate this far.”

  “That’s why we walked.”

  “That’s part of it.”

  Haern made a circle around the building, the uncomfortable sensation continuing to build. He hated it. It was an odd thing to be aware of, but the sense of lorcith was more than just uncomfortable. It was unpleasant too, and the longer he felt it, the more he wanted to be away from it.

  “It does more than prevent Sliding.”

  “Very good.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a deterrent.”

  “A deterrent?” Haern asked, arching a brow at his father.

  “For those who would attempt to reach it.”

  “It’s more than that.”

  “It is, but without having a connection to the Forger metal, you won’t be able to fully understand it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s painful.”

  “Torture?” He looked away from the metal, turning his attention to his father. “That’s what this is? After everything you said about Galen, you’re doing the same thing.”

  “I realize how it might appear.”

  “It appears just like that, Father. You’re tormenting Forgers, and… wait. Y
ou have a Forger.”

  “Because of you, Haern. When you pulled yourself into the clearing, you crashed into the Forger who attacked you and knocked him out. In doing so, you gave us an opportunity.”

  Haern stiffened, turning his attention to the cell. It was the same kind of prison his father himself had recently been in, one that was designed to prevent anyone from Sliding free, so it surprised Haern that his father would be willing to construct something like that.

  But if they had the Forger, they might be able to find answers.

  “Who is he?”

  “He’s been out since his capture, so we haven’t been able to determine anything about him. Neither has Cael Elvraeth.”

  That was more important. If she couldn’t Read the Forger, then there might not be any way of determining what he was after.

  “I thought we could question him together.”

  “You would have me here rather than one of the guild members?”

  “I trust you, Haern. You were willing to risk quite a bit coming after me, and you managed to do what few would have.”

  “I don’t know how much of that was me and how much of it was Carth.”

  “You showed wisdom in choosing your allies.”

  Haern looked around the forest. Trees arched over, practically drawn toward the strange cell made of lorcith alloy. “Why the change of heart?”

  His father grunted. “Your mother had a few words with me.”

  Haern began to smile. His mother could be difficult, hard, even. She could be stubborn. But she was fiercely loyal, and he was happy to know that his father still listened to her advice. “What sort of questions do you intend to ask?”

  “The kind that he will have to answer.”

  There was a small seam along one wall, and his father pressed his hand on it, closing his eyes for a moment, his jaw clenched in concentration, until there was a soft click. He pulled on what turned out to be a door, and it opened outward. Rsiran nodded to him, and Haern stepped inside, letting his eyes adjust slowly to the faint light.

  Slats constructed in the top of the cell allowed some sunlight to filter into it. He had thought this would be the entirety of the structure, but there was an inner ring. It reminded him of the cell they had found his father within. This one was a little different. Rather than simple bars, they were strange and spiraling shapes, and comprised of more than just lorcith.

  Within the inner ring—on the other side of the bars—sat the Forger. He was awake, his wrists and ankles shackled, and his eyes were closed.

  “Have you come to finally release me?” the man asked, blinking open his eyes and turning toward Haern. He stared at him for a moment before flicking his gaze past him and to Rsiran. “I see.”

  “Your attack failed,” Rsiran said. He paced around the space between the cell and the outer wall. Every so often, he paused, tipping his head to the side, and touched the bars before moving on. Haern thought it was strange at first, until he realized his father must be detecting changes to the cell—changes the prisoner must’ve made. “And you will remain here as long as I see fit to hold you,” Rsiran said.

  “You won’t be able to hold me. You aren’t capable of doing anything,” the Forger said.

  “Take your time. Listen to the lorcith. Realize that it responds to me, and me alone. You may have some control over it, but the alloy I have placed around you will not respond to another.”

  Haern tried to listen to the lorcith, wondering if it would react to him. He detected nothing. It was simply absent. There was a sense of lorcith, but nothing more than that. His father was right. Whatever he’d done to the metal had attuned it in such a way that he was the only one who would be able to do anything with it.

  His father continued to make a circle of the cell before finally stopping next to Haern. “I take it from your lack of attempt that you already tried this. You will find the cuffs work much the same way.”

  “You would steal our knowledge to confine me?”

  “Steal? No. You’re mistaken. I use nothing more than what the lorcith tells me.”

  The Forger jerked on his chains, startling Haern, but his father stood unfazed.

  “Resist all you want, but you feel it, I suspect. That pressure will be your constant companion. It’s going to build and build, growing ever more unpleasant the longer you’re here.”

  “It’s not in you to torture,” the Forger said.

  His father gripped the bars of the cell and leaned close. “Isn’t it? I was captured twelve years ago. You held me for weeks. Tormented me daily. I resisted. Each passing day showed me how to escape. Each passing day taught me what I needed to know to fight. And each passing day helped to build my resolve.”

  Haern looked to his father. He hadn’t realized that he’d been captured twelve years ago. There were stretches where his father would disappear, but Haern had thought that normal, simply the way his father operated when dealing with the Forgers. He never would’ve guessed that his father had been captured before. He’d thought the first time had been when he had been brought to Asador. Maybe his father wasn’t nearly as helpless as Haern had believed.

  It might explain why his mother hadn’t been nearly as agitated as Haern had been.

  But then, the Forgers had never attacked them in Elaeavn like that.

  “You should have been brought to him.”

  “Yes. Tell me about him.”

  The Forger sneered at his father. “You can’t begin to understand how much he knows.”

  “I think I can. I managed to capture you.”

  “You didn’t capture me. He did,” he said, nodding toward Haern.

  “He did. And considering how little training he has received, that should trouble you.”

  The Forger turned his attention to Haern and jerked on the chains. “You won’t hold me.”

  “I won’t?” His father stepped back and closed his eyes for a moment, and the metal parted around him, leaving a narrow space for Rsiran to step through.

  When he did, the metal returned to its previous shape. He leaned toward the man, touching the cuffs. The Forger screamed.

  “Do you feel it constrict against your wrists? Do you feel it against your ankles? The lorcith obeys me. It listens to me. It recognizes how you have bastardized the power stored within it. You have angered the Great Watcher.”

  The Forger grinned up at Haern’s father. “The Great Watcher? Do you think I fear the Great Watcher? We have acquired the power of the Elder Stones. Soon we will have others that even Rel won’t be able to keep us from. We don’t fear your particular magic.”

  His father remained silent, but Haern stepped forward, putting himself up against the bars of the cell. “You might have acquired other Elder Stones, but you still recognize the power of the crystals. It’s the reason the Ai’thol have pursued them.”

  “You think you understand, but you have been controlled by those who know so little… so very little.” He watched Haern, a twisted smile working across his face. “You have managed to learn more than him in a shorter period of time,” he said, nodding to Rsiran.

  His father took a step back, and with a tip of his head toward the bars, they peeled apart, allowing his father to step outside. Once he was out, he relaxed whatever control he had over the metal, and they reverted to their original position.

  Haern again tried connecting to the lorcith within the bars, but he couldn’t. Would the Forger be able to? His father believed that he had him trapped, but what if it was only an illusion? The Forgers had proven themselves capable before, and this one might simply be pretending, biding his time.

  “You will answer. We’ll know why you’re here,” his father said.

  “You know why I’m here.”

  “No. I know why you want us to believe you’re here, but not why you have really come. The answers will come. The longer you sit here, the more inclined you’ll be to share them. I have little doubt that you will eventually come around.”

  Hae
rn hadn’t seen this kind of seething anger in his father before; while he knew his father hated the Forgers, he simply hadn’t expected this level of vitriol.

  Rsiran motioned for him to follow him, and they headed back out.

  “What was that about?” he asked his father.

  “Trying to get information,” Rsiran said.

  “Not just that, but the rest of it. Were you really captured for weeks twelve years ago?”

  His father looked over at him. “I’ve faced the Forgers for a long time, son. In that time, they have captured me many times, and each time they do, I fear that I won’t return. Each time they do, they learn something more about me. They learn my capabilities. They learn my limitations. Each time they capture me, I fear that they will succeed. And each time, I’ve never managed to get closer to him.”

  “Who is he?”

  His father turned his attention to the lorcith jail. “He is someone of great power. A scholar, but more than that. He’s the man who controls the Forgers—and through them, the Ai’thol. For this to end, he’s the man we must stop.”

  29

  Lucy

  The ship hit a particularly violent wave, and Lucy struggled to maintain her footing. As she did, she had to wonder if perhaps she was more tired than she had realized. Taking a seat in the chair alongside Carth’s bed, she rested, leaning forward on her elbows, looking around the room. Carth watched her, a curious expression on her face.

  “I don’t understand why you want to keep this from them,” Lucy said, looking at the other woman. Carth had her dark hair pulled back, and she wore a waxed jacket and pants, the kind that shed water quickly when they were out on the deck. A slender blade sheathed at her side offered a promise of violence. Many of the other women had attempted to teach Lucy, trying to work with her, but Lucy didn’t have the necessary skill. As much as she’d tried to improve, she simply had not. “If this is all about you pursuing the C’than, shouldn’t they know about it?”

  Lucy didn’t know if there was any benefit in her getting a better understanding of the C’than and what Carth wanted from her, though she had to believe there was something she could learn. More than ever, now that she had made the connection between the C’than, she realized that she needed to understand what they were capable of doing and how that might impact her. There was something for her to learn, even if it was the kind of thing that Carth might want to keep from her.