And he had finally found the peace that he’d been searching for.
It shouldn’t feel so odd—almost hollow—but it did.
Why would that be?
Maybe it had to do with the fact that he had pursued Lareth his entire life. Everything he’d done had been to find the man, capture him, and bring vengeance to him.
Now that he had, now that he was the one to return with him, the rest of the Ai’thol plan could take place. They had needed Lareth out of the way to pursue it, and with him gone, nothing stood in the way of what they would accomplish.
He stared up at the mountain. Dark smoke swirled. What reaction would he get? Nandal had died during the capture, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Volan had succeeded.
Others had died, too. He wasn’t surprised Nandal had gone for help, though Volan wished he had taken more time to do so. Now they had to contend with how their failure would be perceived.
Volan Slid forward, hoisting Lareth in his arms. He was almost lost. There was a moment during his captivity when he hadn’t been certain whether he would manage to escape or not, and now that he was free, he didn’t know what he would do. He had spent so much of his time searching for Lareth, staying among the Chosen in order to capture him, that he no longer knew what he would do now that he’d succeeded.
He stared at the mountain. Flickers of movement suggested that others were nearby, though he didn’t observe them. They would be those who sat highest among the Chosen, those who had learned ways of masking their presence. They were among the greatest of them, barely a step below Olandar Fahr.
He focused on the distant sense of the mountain, and he Slid, carrying Lareth.
When he emerged inside the chamber, he dropped him to the ground.
Olandar Fahr stood with his back toward Volan, staring at the glowing embers of the Forge. Smoke swirled around him, either that or shadows. Volan was no longer certain. Ever since he had claimed the power from Ih, it was difficult to know just what Olandar Fahr was capable of.
“You managed to capture him?”
“I did,” he said.
Fahr nodded. “And now what will you do?”
“My lord?”
Olandar Fahr turned to him. His eyes were deep and dark, blacker than any night. Power emanated from him, and Volan took a step back instinctively. He didn’t want to be too close to Olandar Fahr, though he knew he should stay near him. It was considered a blessing—an honor—and yet he didn’t see it that way. He saw it as dangerous. Deadly. And he wanted nothing more than to get away from him, out from under the weight of his gaze.
“This was ever your purpose, Volan Elvraeth. What will you do now?”
Volan stared down at the motionless form of Lareth. As he watched, the man took another breath. Would he survive what Olandar Fahr had in mind? Did Volan even care?
“My purpose was to serve you, my lord.”
Olandar Fahr chuckled. “Your purpose was to get revenge. Now that you have it, what will you do?”
“What can I do?”
“You can serve. You have proven yourself valuable. And formidable.”
“And if I choose not to serve?”
“You understand the consequences,” Olandar Fahr said. He held his hand out, and shadows swirled around Lareth, wrapping around him, and he pulled him toward the opposite wall. Toward the forge.
“I understand the consequences,” Volan said. The consequences of going against the Ai’thol were severe. They had always been severe, at least as long as Volan had served. It would be easier for him to have simply not returned than to attempt to run. At least that way, others would have presumed him dead.
But Volan didn’t intend to run.
He had captured Lareth. He had succeeded. Even the great Olandar Fahr hadn’t managed to capture this man.
“What is my assignment?”
“Your assignment will be easy. You will claim the stones from your homeland.”
“It’s not my homeland.”
“Good. Then you will feel no remorse at claiming the stones.”
Volan looked down at Lareth and knew that he would feel no remorse. How could he? Elaeavn was not his home, and it would never be his home. Not since Lareth had left his family to die.
“I live to serve you, my lord.”
Olandar Fahr watched him, studying him intensely for a long moment, and then he tipped his head in a nod. “We will see.”
“What is your plan with Lareth?”
Olandar Fahr turned his dark gaze onto Lareth, staring at him. “We will see just how much he knows. And once he shares everything he knows, perhaps then we will let him pass.”
It was a brutal sentence, but when it came to Lareth, brutal felt appropriate. Volan felt no remorse for what Lareth would be subjected to. It was no worse than what Lareth had subjected others to over the years, the way he had systematically attacked the Ai’thol.
And now Volan would be the one to attack.
Olandar Fahr watched him, and there came a sense of him rifling through his mind. Volan wanted to retreat, but when it came to Olandar Fahr and his control over the Ai’thol, there was no retreat. It was the reason Volan would do whatever was asked of him, including destroying the rest of Elaeavn in order to reclaim the stones.
If Olandar Fahr succeeded, the Council of Elders would be rebuilt. And he would sit among them.
Remnants of the Lost
Prologue
The wind howled outside, occasionally gusting into the cell, and Rsiran sat with his legs crossed in the center of the small space, trying to ignore it. Pain throbbed throughout his body, everything within him hurting, the kind of pain he had come to know far too well over the last few months of his captivity. In all that time, he had struggled to maintain his calm, to ignore the constant torment, but it had grown increasingly difficult.
It should not be so easy for him to be confined in a cell like this. He was Rsiran Lareth, master of Sliding, a man who had held each of the great crystals of Elaeavn. Despite that, he had been unable to prevent his captivity.
And he had been unable to find any way to escape. So much for the plan he and Carth had discussed. This was to have been a brief stay, an opportunity for him to finally find Olandar Fahr. Now he was captured.
Footsteps thudded nearby, and he did nothing. He no longer even looked up as he once had, knowing that it didn’t matter. How could it, when torment would come regardless of what he might do?
A shadow moved in front of him, something he noticed through his closed lids, and still he refused to look. Opening his eyes took far more effort than he was willing to give, and with all the pain he felt, everything he had experienced, he knew there was no point.
“Do you think that you can ignore my presence?”
Rsiran had come to hate that voice, much the way he had once come to hate the voice of his own grandfather when he had chased him. That had been years ago, long enough that he had begun to feel a semblance of peace, but then it had been a false peace, something he had convinced himself was real, all while hunting down the Ai’thol.
Why had he ever believed that he was untouchable? He had known they would come after him, and they had held him captive once before, though never so securely, and never in such a way that left him believing he would not be able to escape. In this case, his captivity left him feeling helpless.
“I have nothing to say to you,” Rsiran said without opening his eyes.
Olandar Fahr laughed darkly. “You have managed to withstand my questioning so far, and I must admit that I did not think I would have to push you quite so hard.”
“Did you think that I was soft?”
“Yes.”
With that, Rsiran opened his eyes and looked over to Olandar Fahr. He was a muscular man, quite a bit older than Rsiran, though he carried the weight of confidence. Power seemed to swirl around him, and Rsiran understood all too well how—and why—he was able to possess such power. This was a man who had held
many of the Elder Stones, and because of that, his power had grown.
He still hadn’t managed to acquire the sacred crystals in Elaeavn. If nothing else, Rsiran intended to prevent him from doing so, though he had attacked the Elder Trees, and in a way that even Rsiran hadn’t managed to overcome.
“Good,” he said, barely looking up at Olandar Fahr.
“Good?”
Rsiran smiled. “If it caused you to underestimate me, then it was good. What else did you want me to say?”
“All you need to do is answer the questions and you will be granted peace.”
“By peace, you mean death.”
“Yes.”
Rsiran stared at him for a moment, not sure what he could say. The cold way that Olandar Fahr had confirmed what he suspected left him not only uncomfortable, but still troubled. He had been around hard men before, but this man might be one of the hardest.
“I don’t intend to die.”
“All men must die.”
“Do you intend to philosophize with me?”
“I have no interest in debating with someone like you.”
“And what do you mean by that?”
“Only that your capacity to challenge me in any such debate is limited.”
Rsiran grunted, closing his eyes once again. There was comfort in keeping them closed, the same sort of comfort he felt when ignoring Olandar Fahr. Eventually the torment would begin, and when it did, he would struggle to ignore anything, so these moments, however brief they might be, were all about him taking what control he could of the situation—even if it was limited.
“If you don’t want to debate me, then continue with your torment.”
Olandar Fahr stepped through the bars. Rsiran noticed it as a stirring of power, though little more than that. He didn’t have the same ability to pass through the bars. If he had, he would have Slid free of here long ago, but there was something unique about the cell that held him. It wasn’t heartstone, though he would never have expected the Ai’thol to make that mistake. They knew his ability over that metal far too well. In all the time he had been captive, he had continued to search for answers, trying to understand what they were using to confine him, but those answers had not come.
“It’s almost as if you look forward to this torment,” Olandar Fahr said.
“The only thing I look forward to is your defeat.”
“And yet, were you able to see the game board, you would know that my victory is nearly at hand.”
Rsiran blinked open his eyes, looking over at the other man. He grunted, shaking his head. “Game board? If this is a game to you, it’s one that you will lose.”
“And who will stop me?”
“You fear her.”
Olandar Fahr tipped his head to the side, regarding Rsiran for a moment. Shadows swirled around him, reminding Rsiran so much of the way they swirled around Carth when she was using her connection to the shadows. It was one sort of magic that he didn’t fully understand, though it wasn’t the type of magic he needed to comprehend. It was tied to the Elder Stones, much the way all magic was tied to Elder Stones, and unfortunately, that sort of power could be acquired by those who were never meant to harness it.
“And why should I fear her?”
“Because you know that she can defeat you.”
“She has tried and she has failed. I don’t fear Carthenne Rel, no more than I feared you.”
“You feared me enough to send your men after me.”
“That is less about fear and more about a desire to remove any sort of obstruction that might prevent my victory.”
“What is the need for that other than fear for how I might prevent your victory?”
“What makes you think that I fear anything? I have complete control of the situation. And you can go nowhere.”
“For now,” Rsiran said.
“You will not manage to escape. You are my captive, from now until the day you leave this world.”
“That may be, but you are still mistaken if you think that means I fear what you will do to me.”
“Why fight it? If you know it is inevitable, why resist?”
“Because I know what you would do with that sort of power.”
“I would rule. Is that so different than what you did with the same power?”
“I never intended to rule.”
“And yet you did. Perhaps you didn’t mean to do it, but your people looked to you, wanting to be tied to the power you possessed, and with it, they expected you to take on a role where you would lead.”
“If you knew anything, you would recognize that leadership and ruling are quite different.”
“Oh, I am well aware that they are different. Only, there comes a time when a man must step forward, no longer fearing his place in the world, and accept the power that has been thrust upon him.”
Rsiran said nothing. He looked at the backs of his eyelids, steadying his breathing, preparing himself for the pain that would soon come. It was the only way he knew to get ready for it, even if he couldn’t fully prepare. How could he ever adequately prepare for the torment? When it came, everything hurt, and he could focus on nothing else. There were times when he contemplated telling Olandar Fahr what he wanted to know, but he never did. While it might end his torment, it would cause people he cared about to suffer far more than Rsiran was willing to allow. He cared too much about them to do that to them.
“You will fall,” Olandar Fahr said.
“I have already fallen,” Rsiran whispered.
“You believe that you can’t fall any further?”
“You can torture me, but there is nothing more you can do that you have not already done to me.”
Olandar Fahr laughed, the sound grating and painful. Rsiran had heard it often enough over the months of his infrequent visits to hate that sound. Olandar Fahr didn’t come every day, but he came often enough that Rsiran had grown to despise it, and each time he came, he had a new torment for him, something Rsiran had not been able to prepare for.
“If you believe that, then you are quite mistaken.”
Rsiran opened his eyes, glancing over at the other man. He crouched in front of him, now close enough that Rsiran could almost grab him, but he knew that if he were to try, he wouldn’t be fast enough. His speed was tied to the other man’s magic. Not only was he incredibly intelligent, but he was powerful in a way that Rsiran—even with his connection to all of the great crystals within Elaeavn—was not.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a strange dark bar of metal. It wasn’t the first time that Olandar Fahr had brought metal into the room with him during the torment. He seemed to enjoy that almost as much as he enjoyed anything, and he relished testing Rsiran, seeing how much pain he could withstand from the various alloys that the Ai’thol had control over. For the most part, Rsiran had found that he could tolerate much of what they did to him. It wasn’t the first time he had been tortured, and his experience had granted him a certain fortitude when it came to such things, though he wished it weren’t necessary.
Something about this bar looked a little different. It was a deep black, almost inky, and as he stared at it, he noticed shadows swirling around the bar.
Rsiran glanced up at Olandar Fahr, and the other man grinned.
“You recognize what this is. Good. Then you will understand just what it might be able to do. It has taken me considerable time to create this, and while I had another purpose in mind, the fact that you continue to fight has proven to me that I must use this with you.”
Rsiran said nothing. He had no idea what the metal bar was, but he wasn’t about to let Olandar Fahr know that. Let him believe Rsiran was more knowledgeable than he actually was. He already underestimated him; admitting inexperience with this would only convince Fahr that Rsiran was every bit as ignorant as he believed.
“What do you want to know?” Rsiran asked, eyeing the bar. There was something unsettling about it, and if he was right and they had somehow infused it
with the shadow magic that both Olandar Fahr and Carth had access to, then it was the kind of thing he wanted nowhere near him.
“I have told you what I want to know. The question is whether you will be willing to share with me just what it is that you do know.”
“If you promise not to harm my people.”
“The way you promised not to harm mine?”
Rsiran said nothing. What was there for him to say? He had attacked the Ai’thol, killing many of them, blaming them for what had happened to his people over the years. And they deserved the blame. They were responsible for what had taken place, led by Olandar Fahr, killing countless people. All because Fahr wanted power.
And he was close to obtaining everything he wanted. He already had demonstrated considerable strength, and while Rsiran didn’t know how many of the Elder Stones he had not yet claimed, he doubted it was very many.
“What is the secret to holding the crystals?”
“There is no secret.”
“There is a secret. You are the only one who has held each of the crystals. No others have managed to successfully hold more than one.”
“The crystals decide, not me.”
“The crystals decide.” Olandar Fahr laughed bitterly. “Even if I believed that, there is much more to it.” He paused, studying Rsiran for another moment. “Perhaps you don’t know. I should not be too surprised by that, considering how little you have proven to know so far.”
Rsiran just stared at him. There wasn’t anything for him to say. He didn’t know, and it made no sense for him to tell Olandar Fahr just how little knowledge he possessed. The crystals did choose, and because of that, he had been chosen to handle not just one of the great crystals, but all of them. It wasn’t anything he really understood. Then again, it wasn’t his place to understand such things. The crystals were powerful, ancient, and all he needed to know was that he had been granted power by them, and through that power, he had been given aspects of the Great Watcher, a chance to see the world from the vantage the Great Watcher had. It was a perspective that very few ever were granted, and he was thankful that he had been so blessed.
The Elder Stones Saga Boxset: Books 1-3 Page 105
