Haern pulled on the lorcith.
From what his father had told him, the key was pushing and pulling on the metal, using his connection to it to make it a part of him. Never had he had a real need to do so until now. Everything had been little more than an exercise, with his father trying to demonstrate how he could use the connection to forge the metal.
This was life or death.
Another figure appeared, and as the knives returned to him, he pushed again.
Somehow his father had the ability to change the direction in the air as the knives streaked away from him, but Haern didn’t have that much control. They went straight at the man, only none were aimed correctly. One knife sliced across the man’s shoulder, probably cutting deeply, but it didn’t slow him. Haern pulled on the knives, drawing them back to himself.
Three people started toward him.
Haern stood frozen in place. A power emanated from them, and as much as he tried to ignore it, he could tell it was similar to that of lorcith. Over the years, his father had described the way the Forgers used metal to steal power that should not be theirs, but Haern had never seen one before. He’d never felt their power.
It startled him, leaving him uncertain how to move.
The figures turned toward him.
Get yourself together. Haern should be better than this. His father would be ashamed.
He pulled on his knives, which came streaking back toward him. When they neared, he tried to split his attention, sending them off in either direction, but his control wasn’t enough.
A shimmering appeared behind one of the men, and Jason appeared, his sword slashing across the man before he disappeared with another shimmer.
The suddenness jarred Haern, and he pushed on his knives again, sending them toward the nearest woman, targeting her legs. The blades cut through her thighs, carving deep, and she collapsed.
Letting out a deep sigh, Haern drew them back to himself.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he managed to say.
The Forger stalked toward him, and Haern had no choice but to push on the knives.
Rather than crashing into the Forger, they stopped in midair, then went shooting straight up into the sky, no longer under his control. The Forger somehow managed to take control over his knives, and he stared after them, not knowing what he needed to do.
Another shimmer appeared, and there came a Slide.
The Forger twisted toward it, stabbing with a slender blade.
Aria fell, dropping to the ground in a spray of blood.
The Forger turned her attention back to Haern, holding the weapon out in front of her. Blood stained its surface, and spikes ran along the side. It was similar to what he had taken off the body, only that one didn’t have spikes.
Or did it?
Haern backed away, keeping his hands raised fearfully in front of him. The Forger approached steadily, slowly, and there was nothing he could do to get away from her. The strange weapon was aimed at him, and even as he held his hand up to avoid it, a surge of power came from it that left him trembling.
When the attack came, Haern was scarcely ready. The barbed spikes shot out of the end of the wand and streaked toward him.
He did the only thing he could think of: he pushed.
The spikes were lorcith—or near enough that he could detect them—but for some reason, they didn’t react to his connection to the metal.
There was no escaping the attack.
One of the spikes pierced his arm. Haern screamed.
Another shot into his shoulder. Still another struck his thigh. With each one, pain surged through him, and he cried out.
The Forger continued toward him, each step a taunt.
Haern collapsed to his knees, looking up at her. “Why?”
She didn’t have an opportunity to answer. Blood bloomed around her chest.
The Forger’s eyes widened slightly, and as she slipped off the sword, she never saw Haern’s mother there, holding a lorcith blade dripping with the woman’s blood.
“Come on,” his mother said.
“I can’t walk.”
She slipped an arm underneath his and helped him to his feet. “Come on.”
“What’s going on here? Why are they attacking?”
His mother guided him toward the smithy in the center of the clearing. “These are the Forgers your father has been combating for years. If the Forgers have reached us, your father is either preoccupied or captured.” Her voice caught at the end.
That was what he feared, too. “How would they have captured him?”
“It would be difficult. Your father is incredibly powerful and shouldn’t be able to be overpowered by the Forgers. He’s faced them often enough to be able to handle them.”
They stopped inside the smithy. She examined his shoulder, pulling the barbs free. With each one she removed, he screamed, unable to contain it.
“They think to use a mixture of metals that will prevent you from having control over lorcith, but your father has prepared for that,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“These weapons. They’re a mixture of lorcith and another metal he hasn’t been able to identify. They think it’s one he has no control over. If they managed to penetrate him, they would be able to prevent his power over the metal. I suspect that since they did the same to you, you will have lost your control.”
The pain made it so that he couldn’t think of even trying to access his control over lorcith. His mother worked diligently, her practiced hands removing each of the spikes. When she was done, she looked him over, seeming content with the fact that he didn’t have any others piercing him, and stepped back.
“Will you be able to stand?”
“I—”
“Haern, this isn’t over. Either you have to remain here and hide, or you have to be able to resist.”
He pushed away the pain, the fear coursing through him, and tried detecting lorcith. It was there, and it surged through him. The smithy was filled with lorcith, and he could detect it everywhere around him. Knives and bowls and simple kitchen implements were all made of the metal, something that their people had embraced over the last two decades. Supposedly, lorcith had once been viewed as incredibly valuable, but now that the Mining Guild had no difficulty drawing it from the mountain, it wasn’t as restricted in its uses.
“I can help. I can use my connection to lorcith.”
“Your father wouldn’t want you to put yourself in any danger.”
“Father is in here.”
She studied him for a long moment. “Don’t let any more of those spikes pierce you.”
Haern made his way around the shop and grabbed for a handful of knives, stuffing them into his pocket. His mother watched but said nothing, heading toward the back of the room. When she was there, she grabbed a sword hanging on the wall. Haern believed it was mostly decorative. It had been there as long as he been alive, but his mother held on to it, stalking out of the smithy and heading back toward the fight.
He went after her, holding the knives ready for the possibility that he might need to push on them again. He half-expected her to warn him against it, but she didn’t. “Mother?”
“Be vigilant,” she said.
“Vigilant for what?”
“Vigilant for more of the—”
Metal streaked out of the forest, heading toward his mother. Haern jumped, trying to get to her, but he was too late. The strange barbs pierced her shoulders, her chest, and her belly. She gasped as blood bloomed around the injuries.
“No!”
A pair of Forgers appeared at the edge of the trees. Haern pushed on the sense of lorcith, and the knives in his pocket streaked away from him. In his anger, he pushed much harder than he had before, and they went shooting with more speed than he had ever managed.
Knives thudded into the two Forgers. They fell before they had a chance to attack him.
He crouched protectively over his mother, afraid she m
ight not make it.
“You have to…” She coughed, blood burbling from her lips.
What did he have to do? What did she know that would end the fighting?
He looked around the forest and saw no movement. Nothing. The attack was either over or it was ending. Could this be it? Had the Forgers thought that with Haern’s father out of the way, his people would be helpless?
“Haern?”
He looked up and saw his uncle Brusus approach. He was old, and his hair was thinning, but his deep green eyes blazed with anger. He carried a pair of swords, and the blood that dripped from the blades contrasted with his fancy jacket and pants.
Haern looked down to his mother. “They got her, Brusus.”
Brusus crouched down next to his mother and began to remove the spikes. There were only a few, and none of them had penetrated so deeply that Brusus couldn’t get to them. “We’ll need to get her some healing.”
“Can she pull through?”
“I’ve seen your mother pull through much worse. But that’s not the issue.” He looked up, directing Haern’s attention to the trees ringing the clearing.
Each of the Elder Trees had been pierced by the strange spikes, and already they had begun to wilt, the strength within them failing.
The damage was done.
“This was about attacking the trees?”
Brusus let out a frustrated sigh, scooping his mother up and carrying her to a small home on the edge of the clearing. “This has always been about destroying our connection to the Elder Trees. It was the same as the attack we experienced twenty years ago. That time, we thwarted the attack.”
“We can restore them, can’t we?”
“I don’t know. When it comes to this, I just don’t know.”
His gaze drifted around the forest. Maybe it was his imagination, but his connection to lorcith seemed weaker, too.
“Come on. We need to ensure that your mother gets the help she needs.”
6
Daniel
Flames crackled in the hearth, and Daniel stood in the doorway, watching his father flip through the pages in a book. He’d barely glanced up when Daniel had arrived, as if intentionally ignoring him, which he likely was. His father wanted to make a point of forcing Daniel to wait in order to demonstrate his position of authority. It wasn’t as though he had much choice in the matter, anyway.
While standing there, he readied his response. He suspected his father had uncovered what Daniel had been up to, and though he wasn’t ashamed of it—especially as his father had essentially encouraged him to learn everything he could about who the tchalit had met with—his father might disapprove of the methods Daniel had used.
So far, he had discovered very little. Gabe had remained surprisingly tight-lipped. It was almost as if he feared angering his father. Since then, the tchalit had been distracted, heading out into the city with more numerous patrols than usual. When his father had summoned him, Daniel had been preparing to follow one of the patrols. It was better that he return, figure out what his father wanted from him, than to risk angering him.
Finally, his father sat up, closing the book and motioning for Daniel to join him. He took a seat on a hard wooden chair opposite his father. He angled near the hearth, letting the crackling flames warm him, though it wasn’t necessary. The palace was naturally heated, and rarely was there a chill within it.
“I suppose you have heard.”
Daniel met his father’s gaze. This was another test. If there was something he should have heard by now, he would disappoint his father by not knowing. Then again, perhaps it was his father’s way of trying to discover what Daniel might know.
“I’ve heard many things.”
His father arched a brow at him. “Indeed? I’m referring to one particular piece of information that should have brought you running back here.”
“What piece of information is that?”
His father leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He held Daniel’s gaze, the intensity in his eyes unblinking. “There was an attack on Trelaeavn.”
Daniel’s breath caught. Lucy would’ve been there. “What sort of an attack?”
His father waved his hand. “It’s unfortunate. The so-called Forgers breached the protections they believe Lareth has placed over the years.”
“You don’t believe that Lareth placed those protections?”
His father shot him an annoyed look. “Lareth is many things, but he is more of a nuisance than anything else. There have been no attacks on Elaeavn in decades. The items the tchalit have found and reclaimed have done nothing.”
“The tchalit removed some of Lareth’s protections?”
His father looked at him. “As I said, they did nothing.”
“If that’s true, then why would the attack come now?”
“Why indeed?”
“Does this have anything to do with the box?”
His father glanced over his shoulder to a low table resting along the wall near the window. Bars of heartstone crisscrossed over the window, the metal preventing anyone, including Daniel, from Sliding in or out of the palace. It provided a modicum of safety from people who might think to enter and attack.
“Why would it have anything to do with the box?”
Daniel clasped his hands in his lap, his mind trying to work things through. “The timing, to begin with.” He tried to piece things together like a puzzle, using the techniques his father had taught him, attempting to strategize. Then again, that wouldn’t make much sense. Why would his father want an attack on the forest? Regardless of his view, they were still people of Elaeavn. “But that doesn’t fit, either.”
His father watched him. “What does, then?”
“I’m not entirely sure. What were they after?”
His father waved his hand. “According to the Trelvraeth”—that was the name most within the palace gave to the heads of the guilds who ruled within the forest—“they were after what they always are.”
“The trees?”
“According to them.”
“Have you gone to look?”
His father stared at him a moment. “Why would I do that?”
“You don’t worry about the Elder Trees?”
“I would have to believe there was a reason to worry about the Elder Trees. I worry about our people. I worry about the attention Lareth brings to our city by continuing his attack.”
“I thought they protected the crystals.”
“That might be what Lareth and his kind would like others to believe, but the crystals have been safe for centuries. In all that time, the Elvraeth and the council have ensured their safety.”
A knock at the door caught Daniel’s attention, and his father looked over. He got to his feet, striding to the door and pulling it open. “What is it?”
“There is something you need to see.”
His father shot a look over his shoulder at Daniel. “Wait here.”
The door closed behind him, and Daniel sat for a moment before getting to his feet and looking around the room. His father’s office was a small space, though the fact that he had one at all was considered a luxury. Members of the council like his father had offices, but most of the Elvraeth who lived within the palace were given only enough space for their families. Higher-ranking families were given more space than those that were lower ranking—and therefore, more distantly related. Some of the quarters were little more than a bedroom, and were it not for the prestige of living within the palace, many of those families would have been far better served occupying one of the homes surrounding the palace.
The room was comfortable. Cozy. A plush carpet covered the floor, its exotic design suggesting that it came from some foreign land. Daniel had spent some time studying the geography of the land. Most places were city-states, enormous cities much like Elaeavn that controlled the neighboring land. There were some nations, but they were all to the south, and few of his people knew much about them. Many of those pl
aces sent envoys to Elaeavn, though the city tried to remain as closed as possible to ensure its people’s safety. The council believed that safety required isolation.
A shelf near the hearth caught Daniel’s attention. He’d read most of the books on it. They were books on tactics and the history of Elaeavn, things his father thought he should know, but there was one that he hadn’t seen before. It was a small volume, little bigger than his hand, and bound in thick leather.
Pulling it off the shelf, Daniel flipped it open and realized that it was a list of names. Next to the names, there was often another word, and many times it simply said mine. As he flipped through the pages, he came across a different word. Forgotten.
His breath caught.
This was more than just a list of names. This was a list of sentences.
There was a time when the council would banish people from the city. That was another change that had been instituted over the last twenty years or so, and no longer were people banished. It helped that they could leave Elaeavn and head to Trelaeavn, giving them another place to escape.
He found himself scanning through the pages, curiosity driving him. Many people were banished to the mines in Ilphaesn, sentenced to mine lorcith, which had once been incredibly rare. At some point before Daniel was born, the Mining Guild had apparently discovered a considerable vein of the metal, enabling them to mine much more of it than before. Now everything within the city was made of lorcith. The metal was incredibly durable, and while it might no longer be nearly as valuable as it once had been, it still had unique characteristics and was considered very much a part of Elaeavn.
He found the listing of names surprising. Why would his father have this? It seemed like it should belong to the entirety of the council and not just to one member.
When the door opened, Daniel was still standing next to the hearth, the book opened in front of him, flipping through the pages. His father closed the door and took another seat. He grabbed his mug of tea and began sipping.
“Is everything well, Father?”
“As well as it can be,” his father said.
“What were you summoned for?”
The Elder Stones Saga Boxset: Books 1-3 Page 8