The Elder Stones Saga Boxset: Books 1-3

by D. K. Holmberg

  At another branch point, he turned, once again following the steady breath of wind coming through the caverns. His mind continued to wander. It was possible he could roam these caverns for days before coming across anything. The Ilphaesn mines were extensive. Maybe he should have stayed where he was, but stubbornness had won out, and now he had no idea whether he could even turn back. There had been enough turns along the way that he could be lost here.

  After taking a few more turns, Haern stopped, looking around him. This was a mistake. He should have known better. Where was he now? As far as he knew, he was getting no closer to any way out.

  He tried not to let the rising panic within him overpower him, but it was difficult.

  Was this what it had been like for his father when he had been sentenced? If so, it would have been an awful feeling. He felt helpless and that was even knowing he wasn’t meant to be here indefinitely. Galen didn’t want to trap him, but he also intended to force Haern to find some way out, to connect to his Great Watcher–given abilities in a way that he had not yet managed. When his father had been sentenced here, it would have been for much longer than this. His father wouldn’t have had the same hope of escape, the same belief that someone would come for him, rescue him.

  That would have been worse.

  Then again, when his father had been here, there had been others with him. Granted, they were prisoners much like his father, essentially slaves, banished by the Elvraeth as a penance that preceded their exile, but it was quite a bit different to be trapped in here alone.

  As he continued to wander, he felt increasingly certain the path was lightening up. That had to mean that he was getting closer to the exit. And when he reached it, he decided that he would have to say something to Galen. This wasn’t the kind of training he wanted.

  Another few turns, each time following the sense of the breeze, and he couldn’t help but feel as if he were even more turned around than when he had first come in here. While it did seem to be getting lighter, he still couldn’t see anything. The sense of lorcith continued to press all around him.

  And maybe that was a problem. It shouldn’t be pressing all around him. There should be a void within it he could pick up on. That void would indicate the opening to the tunnel, and it should be both in front of and behind him.

  Was there any way for him to pick up on that sense?

  There had to be, didn’t there?

  Maybe not here. Maybe if he reached a branch point, he could use that to help him find where those voids might be.

  Haern continued, taking step after step, now hurrying as he wanted to find one of those branches within the tunnels. When he came across one, he paused.

  He stood in the middle of the intersection of the mine shafts, focusing on lorcith. It was all around him, pressing upon him. Some of it had a particular quality to it, and as he listened, he thought he could hear it the way his father had wanted him to, a song that called out to him. It was as if the lorcith demanded his attention.

  What he wanted was to find an emptiness within it. Once he located that, he could see if there was anything else he could do. As he focused, he thought he picked up on emptiness.

  It was there; it had to be.

  And yet, concentrating as he did, he realized it wasn’t emptiness that he felt so much as emptiness that he saw. The shifting shadows revealed something else, something different, and it seemed as if more than just the darkness swirled around him.

  Strangely, the walls seemed to glow.

  Haern took a step toward them, focusing on those walls, reaching out, and when he touched it, he knew he wasn’t imagining it. The mines here weren’t getting lighter at all.

  It was him. He was detecting lorcith differently.

  He focused on it, searching for anything different within it, taking a moment to unsheathe his knife and set it on the ground. When he did, he stared, looking to see if he could See the difference, and it was there.

  Haern pulled on the knife. It returned to him as it should, and he pushed on it again, sending it streaking down the tunnel before calling it back.

  “Galen! I did it. I figured it out.”

  He waited for an answer.

  None came.

  “Galen?”

  Once again, there was no answer.

  Could Galen have truly left him here?

  He wouldn’t have expected the other man to do that, but then he had wandered off, so any abandonment would be his own fault.

  “Galen!”

  Even though he might have succeeded at reaching for the lorcith in a different way, he was still trapped within the mine. Somehow, he would need to find his way out. Without any way to Slide, it would have to fall upon him.

  At least he was no longer trapped here in the dark. And at least he could use his connection to lorcith. Maybe he could use it another way, but that would involve him finding some great connection he didn’t yet possess.

  Now that he’d had some success, at least he believed he could have more.

  6

  Haern

  Night had fallen by the time Haern finally managed to reach the entrance to Ilphaesn Mountain. He stood above the water crashing on the rocks far below, an opening that he would have no way of navigating down from. His heart sank.

  After all that time wandering through the mines, now he wouldn’t even be able to get out of them?

  He stared out at the water. It was almost peaceful from up here, with nothing other than the waves crashing around him, the sense of lorcith all around behind him, and silver strands of moonlight reflecting off the water. From here, staring down as he did, he could almost imagine the Great Watcher looking down over them, protecting his people.

  And yet, if the Great Watcher were observing from on high, why wouldn’t he be willing to protect them from the Forgers? Why leave them abandoned, feeling as if there was nothing he was willing to do for his people?

  As he stared out over the water, Haern experienced that mixture of emotions, a combination of peace and tension he didn’t know how to deal with. Worse, he had no idea how he was going to get out.

  Something had changed for him, and he should be thankful for that. Now that he was able to detect lorcith in a greater way than he had before, he should appreciate what Galen had done to him, but all he felt was irritation at the fact that Galen had left him stranded. What would’ve happened had he not managed to find his way out?

  Even now, there might not be any way for him to completely get out of here. There was one thing he could try. He pushed on his lorcith knife, sending it out from him, holding on to his connection so that it hovered in front of him. It took a combination of pushing and pulling in order to maintain that hovering before him, a measure of control he had only begun to obtain.

  From here, he wondered if he could push off, send the knife out, and use that to prevent him from crashing onto the rocks far below. But doing so would involve exquisite control over the lorcith.

  Could he lower himself slowly?

  He let the knife down, dropping it toward the rocks, and once it was down, he focused on his connection to lorcith. As he did, he took a deep breath and then jumped.

  The jump carried him out. He hovered for a moment, suspended over the knife, but then he started to fall.

  Haern pulled on the knife and sent it streaking along the shore, pushing off again as he soared farther away. He pushed and pulled, using the movements of the knife to draw him along the shoreline, and gradually descended from the point up on the mountain itself.

  When he landed, finally coming down to rest along the rocks of the shoreline, he plucked the knife off the ground and stood panting, struggling to catch his breath as he stared outward.

  He had done it.

  Haern had used his knives in a way that would carry him before, but never from such a height, and never with so much control. What he’d just done showed that he was capable of something he hadn’t known before.

  “You look pleased with
yourself.”

  Haern spun to see Galen standing behind him. Erric was with him, though he remained a few steps back.

  “How did you find me?”

  “I never left. Not really.”

  “You left me in the mines.”

  “I let you believe that I left you. I wasn’t going to let you wander through there aimlessly.”

  “How long was I in there?” It seemed like hours. Why hadn’t Galen come to him sooner? Why leave him wandering?

  “The better part of the night.”

  Haern turned his attention back out toward the moon. It had descended far enough that he realized Galen was telling him the truth. It had to have been hours.

  “All of that to prove that I could find lorcith?”

  “I didn’t care that you reached lorcith,” Galen said. He rolled a pair of darts between his fingers. Ever since he started working with Haern, training him, Galen had begun to reassert his own abilities, and there was a nervous energy to the man, a twitchiness Haern didn’t remember seeing when he had first ventured out with him.

  “Then why?”

  “You needed to know that you could.”

  “All of that to prove I was capable?”

  “There’s value in confidence.”

  Haern glanced back to Erric, but the other man stood partially turned away. He had some ability of his own beyond Sliding, though Haern wasn’t entirely sure what it was. It might only be something as simple as Sight. He didn’t think the other man was a Listener. That ability was fairly rare, and he didn’t have the tilt to his head Haern associated with Listeners. Most of them twisted so they could keep both ears focused on the conversation, though perhaps that was only Haern’s perception.

  “I found a way to detect lorcith more strongly.”

  “I expected you would.”

  “What if I hadn’t? How long would you have given me?”

  “I was prepared to wait days. Longer if it were necessary.”

  “You would have tormented me like that?”

  “I would have encouraged you. I’ve told you what I went through during my training.”

  “You nearly died. You’ve tried to teach me a different way.”

  Galen grunted. “I haven’t done anything with you near what I experienced. I wasn’t sure that method of teaching was appropriate, but then you went off to face Forgers on your own.”

  Haern glared at him but softened when Galen didn’t look away. “I could handle it.”

  “Maybe, but I didn’t handle it all that well.” He sighed. “I’d prefer not to have to teach that way. While there are lessons you can learn through experience, not everything needs to be experienced to be fully understood.”

  “Such as dying?”

  “That would be one thing. Besides, you have an ability I did not, and with your connection to lorcith, you can fight in a way I could not. But you have to find a way to use it without being solely dependent upon it. I think there is value in you continuing to learn and master the various healing arts—”

  “Healing?”

  Galen shrugged. “They are healing arts, regardless of what you might believe. Just because we don’t use them to heal others doesn’t mean they don’t have that purpose. It’s why you need to continue to work at them.”

  “I have been.”

  Galen watched him for a moment, continuing to roll the darts. Haern worried he’d use them against him, but then he stuffed them back into his pouch. “Are you ready to return to the city?”

  Haern glanced back at Erric before shaking his head. “Not yet. I think… I think I might stay here a little while.”

  “It’s a long way back.”

  Haern pulled on one of the knives. “I don’t have to walk.”

  “No. I suppose you don’t.” He turned his attention back to Erric and grabbed the other man’s arm, waiting a moment before they disappeared in a rapid Slide.

  Haern stood for a while, staring out at the water. There really was something peaceful about it, and the longer he was there, looking outward, the more relaxed he felt. It was strange that water crashing along the shore could relax him, yet it did. It put him at ease, calming him in a way that very few things ever did.

  He stood motionless while watching the water before eventually deciding it was time to turn back. Grabbing two of his lorcith-forged knives, he pushed off on them, sending himself soaring into the air, and pushed and pulled, making his way along the shore. He preferred traveling that way, though it might be a more roundabout path. The sound of the waves crashing around him was soothing, with a steady rhythmic quality that seemed to guide him, washing him toward the city. On foot, it could take days to reach Ilphaesn, while Sliding could take them there in the blink of an eye. This way was slower than Sliding, but quite a bit quicker than walking. Besides, traveling in this way gave him an opportunity to continue to practice using his knives.

  It also helped him think through what he would have to do. Eventually, he would have to find a way to use lorcith in smaller quantities. His father had made that clear, especially with the way the Forgers were able to use lorcith themselves. If he could master it, if he could find a way to do so with smaller and smaller quantities, fully grasping the intricacies of the alloy, he wouldn’t be in such danger if things didn’t go right. And, unfortunately, too often things didn’t go right, such as when Galen had had to save him.

  How would he ever get to the point where he could travel without fearing the Forgers overwhelming him? Most of the Forgers he had come across had enough potential with lorcith that he worried he wouldn’t be able to overpower them using lorcith alone. If they controlled it while he was fighting them, he ran the risk of losing a fight before it even began.

  He dropped to the ground, pulling another knife from his pocket. This one was an alloy, an even mixture of lorcith and iron, and he used that, pushing off so he would be forced to hover above the ground. As he did, he stayed there long enough that he felt confident he could do it.

  Making his way further along the shore, he headed back toward Elaeavn. As the city came into focus, he slowed his progress. It wasn’t that he regretted approaching the city, but there was something quiet and peaceful about traveling out by himself. He had never loved being alone the way his father seemed to, but he didn’t necessarily fear it, either. He had spent most of his time surrounded by other people, so to be here alone like this was calming in a way.

  When he reached the edge of the city, he dropped back to the ground, collecting his knives and stuffing them into his pocket. It wouldn’t do for him to travel through the city this way, though it did seem a shame to have to walk now that he had begun to master traveling like this.

  From here, the city spread up from the shore. Along the shore itself, rows of massive warehouses lined the road. The occasional guard patrolled, and Haern watched. Most of the soldiers who patrolled the warehouses were sellswords, hired by the Elvraeth to guard items that had long belonged to their family. Haern had often wondered what the Elvraeth kept in these warehouses, though he had never taken the time to attempt to force his way in. There was no point in doing so, as it would only serve to raise the wrong sort of questions. He wasn’t Elvraeth, anyway, so even if he were curious, going into the warehouse would be a violation.

  There were other places along the road. Noise from a few different taverns drifted out into the night. There was a certain merriment to the taverns, the sounds joyous and happy, and on a whim, he realized where he needed to go.

  When he reached the Wretched Barth, he paused. It was his uncle’s tavern, and the place where his parents had first come together, meeting with his uncle and planning their eventual overthrow of the Elaeavn. Every time he was here, he was reminded of his namesake, a man he’d never met but whom his mother had clearly cared deeply for.

  He paused with his hand on the door, hesitating as he listened to the sounds inside. There was singing and rhythmic stomping from dancing, and over it all came the steady sounds
of a lute playing.

  “Are you going to go in or are you just going to stand there?”

  “Uncle Brusus,” he said, looking over at him. His uncle had deep green eyes and a quick smile. He’d gone gray, but he kept his hair cut short, giving him a more youthful appearance than he would otherwise have had. The cut of his jacket and pants demonstrated a certain flair and signified the wealth he knew his uncle to have. Not all of it was honestly obtained, though that was part of Brusus’s charm.

  “You look as if you’ve been tormented,” Brusus said.

  “Galen has been working with me.”

  Brusus’s face clouded briefly, the same reaction his father had when dealing with Galen. There was much about what had happened between them that Haern still didn’t know, though it was so far in the past that it shouldn’t matter any longer.

  “I suppose he would be the best one to prepare you with your father missing.”

  “He’s not missing. We know the Forgers have him.”

  “That’s not what I was getting at, Haern.”

  “I know, it’s just that I—”

  “I know. You want to do anything in your power to get your father back. I understand that. If I were younger, I would go with you.”

  “You keep saying that you’re too old to help, but you’re not. Not really.”

  Brusus smiled, though it was a sad smile. “Perhaps I’m not. It might be that I’m afraid, Haern. It was one thing when we were battling the Hjan. At least I knew what they were. This, the Forgers, these Ai’thol, they’re something else.”

  “They’re all the same, Uncle Brusus.”

  “They are the same, but different. The Ai’thol have gained power beyond what I can counter. Even though I’ve held one of the crystals, and it changed me”—he grinned widely, and this time it spread to his eyes—“I still don’t feel I’m the best person to combat them. Your father, on the other hand, really is, but he’s not enough.”

  “I’m not sure that I’m enough, either.”

  “You have youth, and you have something I never did.”