The Elder Stones Saga Boxset: Books 1-3

by D. K. Holmberg

  “You don’t understand the Elder Stones as well as you believe if you think there is a way to force them to behave as you want.”

  Olandar Fahr regarded Rsiran for a moment. He said nothing, merely watching him. After a while, he stood, holding on to the bar, and started to turn. “Perhaps I gave you far more credit than you deserved.”

  “Perhaps you did.”

  “And perhaps your ignorance is greater than I had ever believed.”

  Rsiran looked over at him, and all he could do was shrug. “Perhaps that is true as well.”

  “Or perhaps you merely want me to believe you don’t know these things.” He held out the black bar, shadows swirling around him, stretching toward the bar before spinning away. “You would have me believe you know nothing about this power, and yet, you have much experience with it. I doubt that you would have been so successful over the years without knowing more than what you have shared. You might not have enough understanding of the Elder Stones to be able to claim each of them, but you do know something about them, more than most. And you have successfully avoided my ability to find you, which tells me that you do know more than you let on.”

  The shadows began to push away from Olandar Fahr, stretching not only from him, but away from the long bar, reaching toward Rsiran. They streamed toward him, pushing outward, almost something palpable.

  Rsiran recoiled, the first time he had moved since Olandar Fahr had come into the room. Everything in his being told him that he wanted nothing to do with that power, that he wanted to run away from it, but where was he to go? What was he to do?

  When the shadows reached him, they were warm.

  That warmth increased, becoming hot.

  Suddenly, Rsiran thought he understood.

  He sucked in a sharp breath, and Olandar Fahr laughed darkly once again.

  “Did you think that we failed?”

  Rsiran looked to the bar, much more afraid than he had been before. He thought they had prevented Olandar Fahr from reaching the Elder Stone in Nyaesh, but could they have failed?

  With his captivity, Rsiran wouldn’t have known.

  The heat flowing from the bar suggested that Rsiran was right, that Olandar Fahr had managed to acquire the power of another stone. With that, not only did he gain increased power, but he now had the key to countering the abilities Carth possessed. How many more Elder Stones would he be able to acquire? Was there anyone who would be able to withstand him and his people?

  All Rsiran had ever wanted to do was protect those he cared about. It was the reason he had avoided training his son—a mistake, but one he had begun to rectify. Even that might not have been soon enough. If Olandar Fahr had managed to connect to this much power, there might not be anyone—or anything—that could stop him and his steady march toward acquiring the power of each of the Elder Stones.

  The shadows continued to swirl around him, moving with increasing speed. The heat pressed painfully down upon him, and he tried not to cry out, but his ability to withstand the torment was battered down quickly. He screamed, some distant part of him aware that Olandar Fahr laughed as he did, but there was nothing Rsiran could do to stop himself.

  The pain continued, burning through him, tearing a part of him away, and he began to wonder if he truly would be able to withstand this torture. How much longer could he hold out? And would he be willing to sacrifice himself to avoid telling Olandar Fahr and the Ai’thol what they wanted to know, information that could destroy their chances of keeping themselves safe?

  1

  Haern

  Shadows flickered along the street, and Haern crouched on the rooftop, looking down. A series of lorcith coins, each barely large enough for him to See in the darkness, drew his attention. He had placed them carefully, pushing them along the street, positioning them in such a way that he would be able to detect them, but even now, he wondered if perhaps they weren’t too small for him to fully discern.

  He searched for movement. Rumors had led him here, to the small city of Baland far to the south of Elaeavn, and he had convinced one of his friends from Elaeavn to bring him here. If he had the ability to Slide, he wouldn’t have needed anyone else’s assistance, but unfortunately, that wasn’t one of his gifts.

  As he sat, focusing on the sense of lorcith all around him, he tried to detect any other outlying senses but couldn’t come up with anything.

  That fact bothered him.

  There should be something here, though the longer he remained crouched on the rooftop, watching out into the night, the less he was able to come up with. Sitting here as he did, he felt like his father, if only a little. He knew he could never have his father’s ability, nor did he have his skill, but training over the last few months with Galen had taught him to use his knives in a way that at least resembled what his father was able to do. Prior to his father’s abduction, he had helped Haern learn how to better control his connection to lorcith, granting him an opportunity to understand just what was needed to use it to navigate above the city streets. It was that ability he needed now, if only a little.

  The sense of lorcith moving caught his attention.

  He pushed off the rooftop, pushing from one small piece of lorcith to another. He didn’t move them. They were small enough they would go generally unnoticed by anyone other than himself—or Forgers. And by the time the Forgers noticed the lorcith, he would have already completed what he wanted to accomplish.

  The city was smaller than Elaeavn, smaller than most cities he’d been in, but still larger than many of the villages he had traveled through over the last few months, hunting the Forgers, searching for any information he could find about his father. He was determined to uncover where they had kept him. Once he found that, Haern was going to go and rescue his father, whatever it took. He owed the man that much.

  He paused on one of the thatched roofs, resting his hand cautiously. These weren’t nearly as secure as the rooftops within Elaeavn where he’d practiced this, nor were they as stable as the roofs within Asador, where he had first learned how to do it. He had to be more cautious on the thatch. Any misstep could lead to him tumbling through, landing in someone’s hearth. But he was careful, placing lorcith down so that he could push off it as he went.

  The movement didn’t come again.

  Had he made a mistake?

  No. Haern was certain he had detected the movement of lorcith. It wasn’t such a common metal that anyone would carry it. The only people who carried it were Forgers or those from Elaeavn. It was why he used lorcith to hunt them. And if he could figure out where they were, and if he could take out one more Forger, interrogate him, he could find his father again.

  It was what he had told himself over and over again the last few months as he had searched for Forgers. He had only found a handful, and had only ever engaged one of them, forced to kill him before he had a chance to question him.

  The sense of movement came again, this time from the north of the city.

  Haern pushed off, flying above the city. When he had discovered how to do this, he had marveled at the possibilities, learning that his connection to lorcith granted him far more capabilities than he had ever believed. While he didn’t have his father’s ability to Slide, having this connection was nearly as good.

  He paused again, this time near a two-story building, clutching the brick of a chimney as he remained precariously above the street, looking down. Several people walked along the streets, most of them dressed like locals in flowing brightly colored silks. None of the Forgers he had ever seen wore silks like that, so they weren’t the ones he was looking for.

  As he paused, he felt lorcith moving again.

  This time it was different. This time it was his lorcith.

  Had someone uncovered what he was doing?

  It wouldn’t be all that difficult to discover. Placing the small coins around the streets was really only a matter of convenience for him. He could push and pull them out of the satchel he carried, though the ones
he had placed around the city allowed him to navigate far more rapidly.

  Several of his small coins had been moved.

  That couldn’t be coincidence.

  The coins were smooth, flat, and unremarkable, so no one would have any way of tracing them back to him. The only unique thing about them was that they had been forged out of lorcith.

  He needed to find whoever had moved his coins.

  He pushed off, traveling east now, pausing every so often to search for the connection to lorcith. As he neared the most recent coin to have been moved, he felt a sudden surge of lorcith.

  Great Watcher!

  The sense of it bloomed nearby, powerful enough he practically fell from his perch along the roof. He was careful not to take a step and pushed off to keep himself arranged carefully—yet precariously—before looking down.

  A Forger moved along the street.

  There was a distinctiveness about Forgers. It came not only from their dress—jacket and pants made from charcoal-colored wool—but also from the sense of lorcith that moved with them. It was an implant, though Haern didn’t fully understand how they managed to create them. He’d seen what had happened with Lucy when lorcith had been implanted into her, but most of the Forgers he had encountered didn’t have implants like Lucy’s. Then again, Lucy’s had been placed by someone other than Forgers.

  The lorcith exploding from this Forger was powerful. Why hadn’t he detected it before?

  The man flickered along the street, and Haern thought he understood. He was Sliding.

  Haern continued to watch, preparing for his attack. He needed to incapacitate the Forger as quickly as possible, but doing so involved using lorcith, so he had to do it in a way that would surprise the Forger. He had plenty of experience in fighting with them over the last few months. His personal assault upon them had granted him that experience. And there was something unusual about this Forger.

  He was alone.

  Usually the Forgers traveled in pairs, sometimes in threes. Being able to Slide meant they could travel wherever they wanted, and the fact they did so together made them more formidable. It made it far more difficult for him to continue his campaign against them. Haern suspected the key was to attack simultaneously, surprise them, and once he did, incapacitate them.

  He waited, focusing on a sense of lorcith that never came. Coins continued to move throughout the city, and he realized they were being swept up by this Forger.

  Could he be the only one here?

  He didn’t want to wait any longer.

  Unsheathing a pair of his lorcith knives as slowly as possible, he pushed.

  The Forger spun toward him, looking directly up at him.

  Great Watcher!

  The Forger knew he was there.

  Of course he did. He had an ability with lorcith, so he would have been able to control it the same way Haern could. As the knives streaked toward him, the Forger stopped them in midair, spinning them back.

  Haern pushed off, soaring above the street, and pulled on the knives, shifting their direction, arcing them toward the Forger.

  The Forger flickered, disappearing in a Slide.

  Haern landed on the roof, waiting for the man to reappear, but he didn’t.

  A mistake. He had revealed himself too soon. He could have chosen a different approach, using the coins to attack.

  Lorcith suddenly exploded near him, and he barely reacted in time.

  The Forger appeared on the rooftop next to him, and Haern pushed off, dropping to the street, using a knife to catch himself and push off again, switching the direction, swinging the other knife toward him. At the same time, he focused on the coins in his satchel, streaking all of them at the Forger.

  The man managed to catch them all, sweeping them back at Haern. Haern pushed off, shooting higher into the air, using that to push even higher, forcing the coins—and his knives—toward the ground.

  As he hovered for a moment, he realized his mistake. He was outmatched.

  He tried to pull on the coins, sending them toward the Forger, but the other man was able to push against them, resisting every attempt Haern made to direct the coins at him.

  Haern’s strength began to wane. He lowered to the ground, prepared to fight, grabbing for the poison-tipped steel knives he had brought to use against the Forgers in a situation like this.

  The Forger appeared in front of him, just out of reach. He eyed Haern, a long scar splitting the center of his face. Deep brown eyes looked back at him. “Someone from Elaeavn. Have you taken an implant?”

  “Some of us don’t need an implant,” Haern spat. He readied the steel knives, preparing to throw one, though he needed to time it just right. With his enhanced eyesight, he could See when the Forger prepared a Slide, but if he went too early, the knife would miss. If he went too late, the Forger would Slide. If he could catch him in mid Slide, he could stop the Forger.

  “You have some talent.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “And with an implant, you could have incredible talent. All you need to do is serve.”

  “Serve the Forgers?”

  “You have it mistaken. The Ai’thol. That is who you would serve.”

  “I have no interest in serving the Ai’thol.”

  “No? You are outside of Elaeavn, which means that you have been exiled. Forgotten, as I believe your people like to call it. If they would banish you, why would you claim them? I can offer you something more.”

  “What makes you think I was banished?”

  The Forger cocked his head to the side, regarding Haern for a long moment. “Ah. Then you have come of your own volition. A mistake.”

  “You made the mistake.”

  “Did I? Am I the one who came pursuing power I don’t understand?”

  “I understand your power.”

  “You understand nothing, child of the Elvraeth. All you understand is what you have been told rather than what you have experienced. You don’t grasp the nature of the power that exists in the world, thinking your meager talents matter in the grand scheme of things.”

  Haern frowned to himself. Why was this man saying anything?

  Almost too late, he realized there was another sense of lorcith.

  It approached slowly, almost imperceptibly, but he became aware of it.

  Great Watcher!

  Haern pushed, trying to launch himself into the air, but found himself held in place.

  He glanced down, realizing the lorcith on him, his buckle, the knives he had hidden in his pockets, even the few remaining coins he had, were all holding him in place.

  “I think you will stay here,” the man said.

  Haern flicked his wrist, sending the knife streaking, but the Forger Slid.

  As he did, Haern pushed again, timing it so that as the Forger Slid, he could get airborne. He barely managed to do so in time, and as the Forger reemerged, Haern flicked his wrist, sending another knife streaking. This one grazed the Forger.

  It wasn’t much. A small bead of blood appeared on the man’s hand, but with the terad poison he’d used on the blade, he hoped it was enough to bring him down. From what he’d been taught, there were some who had developed an immunity to this poison; he hoped the Forger wasn’t one of them.

  The man staggered before finally falling to his knees and then collapsing.

  Haern dropped, looking around, then pulled his knives and the coins toward him as he searched the streets for signs of the other Forger he suspected was out there.

  There had to be something. He had detected movement.

  It was time for him to go. He had removed one Forger, but even that had been difficult.

  Lorcith suddenly exploded near him.

  Two Forgers appeared.

  He tried to push off, but he was held no differently than he had been before.

  These men had no scars, and both had deep green eyes that stared at him. Their heads were shaved, and they wore the clothing of the Forgers.
One of the men glanced down at the fallen Forger before turning his attention back to Haern.

  “You would hunt the Ai’thol?” he asked in a strange accent. It wasn’t the accent of Elaeavn, despite his green eyes.

  “I hunt you the way you hunt us.”

  “We hunt nothing. But if you would chase death, you will have it.”

  Haern tried to push off again, but again he failed.

  If he didn’t manage to get out of here soon, Thoren would arrive looking for him. He had significant ability with Sliding, and a hint of connection to lorcith, but he wasn’t a fighter. If he chased the sense of lorcith, he would be in danger. If nothing else, Haern needed to escape to keep Thoren out of harm’s way.

  He tried to push again and reached into his pocket, searching for the coins, wanting to drop them on the ground, but he couldn’t even move them. They were holding him in place.

  The Forgers started toward him.

  One of the men smiled grimly as he approached, the darkness on his face nearly enough to make Haern shiver.

  Haern tried to run, tried to move, and couldn’t.

  This had been a mistake.

  If he didn’t manage to get away, it might be the last mistake he made.

  For his father, he wasn’t about to allow that to happen.

  Haern tried to run, and though his legs moved, nothing else about him did.

  As the nearest Forger approached, he went completely still. Haern waited for him to grab for him, for him to do anything, but he remained frozen… almost as if he had been held.

  Could there be someone else in the city who had the ability to hold one of the Forgers?

  The pressure on him lessened, and he pushed, overpowering the Forgers holding him in place. He hovered slightly in the air, at least out of reach of the other Forger. He looked around, searching for whoever might be intervening, but Saw nothing.

  The other Forger stiffened.

  Haern shot into the sky.

  Everything that had been holding him back was suddenly lifted, and he tried to get control of himself before shooting too quickly, and as he did, he came crashing back down.