The Elder Stones Saga Boxset: Books 1-3

by D. K. Holmberg

  “What do you want to do here?”

  “I want to search for evidence that the Forgers might be active and whether there is an Elder Stone here.”

  “How will we find them?”

  “They don’t hide themselves nearly as well as they would like to believe. And as we are so far from Elaeavn, there is not nearly as much lorcith. When we detect it, we can use that connection to search for the possible influence of Forgers.”

  “What if the Forgers use some other type of metal?”

  “All their metal has lorcith as the base. Regardless of what alloy they’re using, they all require the addition of lorcith. Even the smallest amount of lorcith, I can detect.”

  Haern strained to pick up on the sense of lorcith. If it was there, would he be able to sense it, too? He didn’t have his father’s sensitivity to it, but he had enough understanding and focus that he should be able to pick up on it.

  As he listened for lorcith, he felt that which he and his father carried, and then more distantly, there came several places within the city where lorcith resonated for him.

  He still didn’t hear it, not in a song the way his father had suggested he might one day be able to do, but that didn’t matter to him. He didn’t need to hear the song to know that lorcith was there.

  “I can feel it.”

  “Good. Then you can guide us where we need to go.”

  “You can’t feel it?”

  “I can, but let’s use this as an opportunity for you to gain some skill.”

  “Father—”

  His father glanced over at him. “You don’t want any training?”

  Haern hesitated answering. There was a time when he would’ve wanted nothing more than to work with his father, to try and understand the lessons his father might teach, to know the nature of the skills the man possessed, but was his father even able to teach those things? Haern could use lorcith in a similar way as his father, pushing and pulling on it, but he couldn’t Slide, which made it much more difficult to understand him. It was why Haern thought he had a better connection with Galen.

  “I want whatever training you are willing and able to offer,” he said.

  His father chuckled. “Willing and able? I suppose that’s fair. I imagine you found Galen a very willing and able instructor.”

  “We have something in common.”

  “Your Sight?” When Haern nodded, his father shrugged. “And we have many things in common. You might not be able to Slide, but don’t forget that we share the same connection with lorcith. The two of us can both use metal similarly.”

  He didn’t have quite the same connection to lorcith as his father. And his father could use heartstone, a metal that Haern had no connection to whatsoever. Almost no one did.

  Rather than arguing, he only nodded.

  His father grabbed his arm and they Slid, emerging along a busy street. The river ran through here, and ships were pulled into the docks, with men moving on and off the ships and moving merchandise. There was a bustling that wasn’t present in Elaeavn. The activity was chaotic, and the city itself felt vibrant and alive.

  Galen had mentioned something about paying attention to the life within the city, to home in on it and try and harness it, to notice differences that were out of place. In Asador, he had begun to grasp how such differences could be used but hadn’t mastered it as well as Galen.

  Here, he thought he had a clear sense of the city. At least, this part of the city. The activity flowed, and most of it moved away from the docks, heading toward the center of the city—and the palace he’d seen from a distance.

  “I don’t see any of the A’ras,” Haern said, keeping his voice pitched low.

  “Not yet,” his father said.

  “What do they look like?”

  “You’ll know them. They are nothing if not proud of their swordsmanship.”

  “Why would that make it obvious?”

  His father pointed, and Haern watched as a pair of men marched along the street, coming down from a hill leading toward the docks. Both wore curved swords sheathed at their sides, and maroon sashes were wrapped around their arms. A bubble of people moved away from them, as if wanting nothing to do with the soldiers.

  The A’ras. They had to be.

  The soldiers made their way along the shoreline, never pausing, never slowing, and never needing to. Everyone simply moved out of the way, parting around them. Haern marveled at it.

  This was where Carth came from?

  He felt he knew so little about Carth. She was a mystery, and she used that to her advantage, but would learning something about her past reveal anything?

  Rsiran scanned the city. “What do you See?”

  “I don’t See anything out of the ordinary. There’s too many people here for me to determine easily if something is off.”

  His father nodded.

  “I could try something,” he suggested.

  “What?”

  “It’s something Galen taught me.”

  His father studied him for a moment. “Did you hesitate to tell me because it had to do with Galen?”

  “I didn’t know how you might react.”

  “I shouldn’t be so upset with you learning from him. Galen has quite a bit that he could teach you. He is incredibly skilled.”

  Haern hesitated. “He is.”

  “What did he teach you?”

  “He suggested that I use the feel of the city, paying attention to the way it should feel and then searching for places where it wasn’t quite right.”

  “And what would that do?”

  “That would tell me where to start my search,” he said. “Galen suggested that most of the time, it’s about waiting patiently and observing. Many people just don’t have the necessary patience to uncover what they want to know.”

  “In that, I suspect Galen is right.”

  They walked along the street. His father kept a quick pace, and as they made their way through the crowd, Haern took time to observe everyone around him. The more he paid attention, the more certain he was that there was something else taking place here. It wasn’t so much that there were other types of people. He noticed the dockworkers and merchants the most easily, but there were others who came through here. Some were dressed in dark colors, while others had brighter dress. It took Haern a moment to realize that some were dirty and ragged. He’d seen poor like that in Asador.

  “Everyone’s moving into the city,” he commented to his father.

  “Everyone?”

  “Not everyone, but the general flow of the city is inward,” Haern said. He didn’t have to See it to know. The longer he simply observed, the easier it was for him to determine that. “Even the poorer people seem to be making their way into the city. Why is that?”

  “I don’t know,” Rsiran said.

  They followed the general flow of traffic, letting themselves be drawn along the street, carried with the crowd, and as they made their way, Haern started looking at shops. Some were simple, easy for him to identify. He saw a butcher and, in the distance, a blacksmith. On one corner was an apothecary, the smell of medicines and flowers drifting out of it. Still another had rows of fabrics in the window.

  And then there were some that he couldn’t identify. One storefront had a collection of items, things like candelabras and odd, twisted-looking sculptures. He was tempted to go in, mostly to see what these things were, but his father pulled him along the street. If he had more time, he would try to understand what was in here.

  As he approached the corner, he felt hands in his pockets.

  Haern spun, pushing on his lorcith knives, preparing for an attack. He didn’t think the A’ras would attack him here. They hadn’t done anything to provoke an attack from the A’ras, but maybe it wasn’t necessary for them to have instigated something. Maybe the A’ras simply didn’t like their presence in the city. What if the A’ras had some ability like many of the people of Elaeavn? Could they Read them, know why they were coming?


  It was a child.

  Haern snatched his knife back from the child, and he backed up. His clothing was torn and tattered. Stains marked his belly and arms. His hair was long and shaggy. Another child had approached his father, but Rsiran had pulled his cloak tight around him tightly, preventing a pickpocket from reaching him.

  “Go,” Haern hissed.

  The children scattered.

  When they were gone, his father chuckled at him. “You might have been a little harder than necessary.”

  “They were pickpockets.”

  “You get used to such things. Not all places are like Elaeavn. Even Elaeavn isn’t quite like you think it is. There was a time when the city itself wasn’t nearly as safe as it is today.”

  “I know. I’ve heard stories.”

  “You’ve heard stories from your uncle.”

  “I’ve heard stories from Mother.”

  His father grinned. “Those are probably more accurate than the ones that Brusus told you.”

  “Probably?”

  “Your mother has a tendency to embellish, too.”

  Haern wondered if his father was joking, but he didn’t laugh, which made Haern think maybe he wasn’t. It was too bad his mother hadn’t taught him some of the thieving skills she had learned over the years. Those might’ve been beneficial.

  But then, would he have paid any attention? Would he have tried to listen and study?

  Up until recently, he wouldn’t have. He had been content with his ignorance, and maybe that was the point his father was trying to make. He was trying to show him just what he had missed out on by avoiding the lessons his parents could teach him.

  They continued into the city, following the trail of people as they weaved along the street. Haern was more cautious now, keeping his cloak wrapped around him, wanting to prevent any wayward pickpocket from reaching into his jacket. It wasn’t so much the knives he cared about but the poisons. He wanted to keep those safe. He wasn’t even sure how he would use them yet, but one lesson Galen had imparted was that Haern needed to ensure that others weren’t harmed by his poisons accidentally.

  As they continued deeper into the city, the sight of a palace came into view.

  It was really a massive wall ringing a palace. Ivy clung to the wall, and it stretched twenty feet or more into the air, circling the entirety of the palace. The Floating Palace in Elaeavn had a wall surrounding it, but that was nothing compared to this one. Behind the wall, the massive tower structure rose, gleaming white. A’ras patrolled outside the wall, marching in pairs as they circled it. People stayed clear of the A’ras, but not too clear. A market had sprung up outside the palace walls, and this was where the crowds came, gathering here, throngs of people getting thicker and thicker as the morning stretched on.

  Carts were stationed around the perimeter of the market, though there were plenty of carts in the middle, too. Hundreds of voices clamored for attention, creating a cacophony that made it difficult for Haern to hear anyone clearly. It was as if everyone was vying for attention and no one was able to get it.

  It was amazing. There was a market in Elaeavn, but it was nothing like this. Most of the market in Elaeavn consisted of local merchants, and those could be found easily enough by traveling to the various storefronts. The only advantage of the market there was that it was all in one place, that and the fact that you could find the day’s catch along with other freshly baked goods.

  Judging by the dress of the various merchants, the striking difference in style and color of clothing, the market here consisted of people from all over. He wanted to linger, to wander through the stands, examining every item, but his father held on to his arm, keeping him from bolting.

  That wasn’t quite right. His father was prepared to Slide should it be necessary.

  “What is it?” Haern asked.

  “I’m beginning to wonder if we might not have been sent away to waste our time.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He knew how you would interpret what he said. It’s possible our Forger wanted to send us away to buy more time.”

  “What time would he want?”

  “Time to figure out how to escape.”

  “Can he?” Haern asked. His mind wasn’t completely on the conversation. He was watching one merchant—an elderly woman—leaning toward the much younger man standing with her at the stand. She was waving her hands animatedly, speaking in a harsh voice that Haern couldn’t make out. Every so often, the man would back up, and Haern half expected him to depart, but the woman would say something more and he would come back, getting closer once again. What did she have to offer that was so compelling to him?

  “Given enough time, I suspect the Forger will be able to slowly force the lorcith out of its position, and it doesn’t take too much for him to overpower it. When he does, it will no longer bind him.”

  “I thought you said the lorcith only answered to you.”

  “It does only answer to me, but the Forgers have a way of forcing it as we’ve seen. It doesn’t have to answer to them so much as it bends to their will and purpose.”

  Haern thought about the knives in his pocket. When he’d forged them, he hadn’t paid much mind to the metal or what it was willing to do. Nothing like the way his father spoke about it. He simply had wanted to make knives and had picked up lumps of lorcith that seemed the right size.

  Could there have been more to it? Could the lorcith have guided him, compelling him to grab only those lumps that would be willing to be a part of knives?

  Haern didn’t think that was possible, but what if it was? Lorcith had never spoken to Haern the way his father claimed it spoke to him, but that didn’t mean that it couldn’t speak to him.

  “How long do you think we have before he manages to escape?”

  “He won’t be able to escape while we’re gone on this journey,” Rsiran said. “But again, I don’t intend to give him long enough to figure it out. Once he discovers what he needs to escape, it won’t take him long.”

  It seemed a risky venture, even for his father. If the Forger managed to escape and get out into the city, how much damage would he do?

  “It’s not only the cuffs that he would have to get through, though,” Haern said.

  His father shook his head. “It’s not just the cuffs. The metal in the cuffs is attuned differently than the bars of the cells. It will take him quite a bit to get through both layers, and then he would have to get through the outer rim.”

  “But I can enter and exit without any difficulty.”

  “Because you are granted access,” Rsiran said.

  Haern could only shake his head. It seemed so bizarre that he could be granted access by metal, though how was it any stranger than his ability to push and pull on knives? How was it any more bizarre than his father’s ability to travel in little more than the blink of an eye? But then, those abilities came from within a person, not from the metal itself.

  “We can keep searching—maybe we can come up with some way of understanding what the Forger thought we might uncover here.”

  “I wonder if we will uncover anything,” Rsiran said.

  “Why?”

  “If he already knew about this place, then it means the Forgers would have looked here.”

  “They might’ve looked, but what if they didn’t find it?”

  “That’s possible,” he said.

  He motioned for Haern to follow, and they began to make a circuit around the outer wall. When they passed the A’ras, his father kept his gaze focused straight ahead of him, making a point of not looking at the soldiers. It was as if he feared drawing their attention, but the soldiers paid them no mind. Haern, on the other hand, was more intrigued by them. Not only their curved swords and the maroon sashes wrapped around arms or heads, but the color of their skin, the depths of brown in their eyes, and once he detected a flutter of heat.

  That much was like Carth.

  Would the A’ras know how to find her?
r />   Even if they did, was that what they wanted? It could be dangerous to go searching for Carth, though if they did find her and ask about the Elder Stone in Nyaesh, Haern wondered whether she would even reveal what she knew. More than likely, she would keep it to herself, much like she kept so many things to herself. And he couldn’t even blame her. This was her home; wouldn’t she want to keep it safe?

  “What will it feel like?” he asked his father.

  “What will the Elder Stone feel like?”

  Haern nodded.

  “I’m not even sure I would know. The crystals are hidden unless you know how to find them. Even those who know where they are don’t detect anything. I don’t detect anything, and I’ve held each of them.”

  “Then the Elder Stone should be safe.”

  “It should be,” Rsiran repeated. “Then again, when it comes to the Forgers, I’m not sure about anything, as much as I wish I were.” They reached the gate leading into the main part of the palace grounds. The doors were closed, and an A’ras stood on either side, blocking entrance. They were an imposing presence, but his father ignored them as he studied the gate.

  “It’s in here. It has to be.”

  “And if it is?”

  “If it is, then I suppose it doesn’t matter,” his father said.

  “We can—”

  Haern cut off, realizing with a start that he detected lorcith, the kind of lorcith he understood because he’d sensed it before and recognized it as his father’s forging.

  “Daniel Elvraeth?”

  39

  Daniel

  Bringing the A’ras from the island to Nyaesh took considerable effort, at least for him. Lucy didn’t seem to struggle as much as he would have expected. She had done most of the heavy lifting, Sliding far more of the A’ras than he had. That after having Slid an Elder Stone, something he would have thought impossible.

  As far as he could tell, he suffered no ill effects from the exposure to the Elder Stone. It seemed Carth had succeeded at shielding it. Now that it was back in Nyaesh, would it even matter? It was possible that they hadn’t acted in time, and that the C’than had already completed their plan.