The Elder Stones Saga Boxset: Books 1-3

by D. K. Holmberg

  Brusus motioned for him to circle around one of the nearby trees. As he did, Haern glimpsed a man coming in their direction. He was shorter than Haern, though many men were shorter than him, and he carried the slender metal rods they had seen from the Forgers as he approached, one in each hand.

  Haern tried to get his uncle’s attention.

  Brusus remained focused on the distance, staring out toward the other man. Did he realize that he carried the strange Forger wands? Brusus started to make his way around the trunk. If the Forger saw him and attacked…

  Haern had to intervene.

  He pushed on his knives, sending them streaking toward the Forger.

  The knives stopped in midair.

  Great Watcher!

  This was what Galen had wanted him to be prepared for. This was the reason Galen worked with him, trying to ready him for the possibility that he might need to deal with someone who could overcome his knives.

  Brusus lunged out from behind the tree, sweeping toward the man, and the Forger Slid, appearing in front of Brusus.

  Brusus brought the sword around, but the Forger was quick, swinging the blade faster than Brusus could accommodate, and he jabbed Brusus in the stomach.

  “No!”

  The Forger turned toward Haern, a dark smile on his face. He withdrew his sword from Brusus and brought it back, as if to sweep it across Brusus’s neck, and Haern pushed on the knives, sending them toward the Forger.

  The Forger was distracted enough that he was unable to finish off Brusus.

  Haern lunged toward the man, screaming as he threw himself forward, staggering at the Forger.

  When he neared, the other man Slid, and Haern spun, diving for Brusus’s sword and then lunging to his feet. He followed the shimmering light that came along with each Slide. When the man emerged, Haern was there, jabbing out with Brusus’s sword. There was no technique to it, nothing but an attempt to stop the other man, and he cringed as the blade clanged off the other man’s sword.

  “You’re the one that I want.”

  “What?”

  He tried to push on his knives, sending them toward the Forger, but again they were stopped in midair, sent streaking away. Haern held on to his connection to the knives, pulling on them and bringing them back toward the Forger. He needed to overpower the man, but more than that, he needed to get Brusus to a healer.

  The Forger continued toward him.

  His father had been right. Galen had been right. He relied too much on his connection to lorcith, and that was to his detriment. What he needed was to find a way to fight without using his connection to the metal.

  The Forger grinned.

  Haern reached into his pocket, fumbling for something—anything.

  What he found was a dart.

  He could use a dart. He might not be able to throw them with the same force that Galen could, but what if he added a hint of lorcith to it?

  It was how he had used the dart when he had faced the Forgers before.

  Haern continued to focus on the Forger, keeping the man in front of him. He reached into his other pocket, pinched off a fleck of lorcith, barely more than a sliver, and stuffed it onto the dart.

  The Forger Slid, and Haern twisted, following his direction.

  When he emerged, Haern pushed on the dart.

  Even with the tiny amount of lorcith in it, the dart went flying, sailing true, and it struck the Forger in the chest.

  “There’s poison in that dart,” Haern said. “You won’t accomplish whatever you were after.”

  The Forger looked down at his chest, realizing the dart was there, and withdrew it, tossing it off to the side. A debate seemed to war across his face, but then he flickered, Sliding away, disappearing. He didn’t emerge back in the forest.

  Haern remained ready, prepared for the possibility that the Forger might attack again, or that there might be another, but nothing came.

  Instead, he scooped Brusus up off the forest floor.

  “What poison did you use?” Brusus asked, clutching his belly and grimacing.

  “There wasn’t any poison.”

  Brusus chuckled, and it turned into a cough. “Clever.”

  “We need to get you back to the heart of the forest. I can’t let you die. I don’t think Aunt Alyse would be thrilled with me if I did.”

  “No. If I died, she’d find a way to hurt me more.” Brusus tried to smile, but Haern could see the pain on his face. He needed to move quickly. He didn’t know whether there was poison on the blade the Forger had used. If there was, he might not be able to move quickly enough to get him to Darren. Even if he did, what could Darren do?

  “What were you thinking going after him like that?” he asked Brusus.

  “I was trying to draw him away from you, you fool.”

  “You can’t handle Forgers,” Haern said.

  Brusus coughed. “It’s been a long time since someone told me what I couldn’t do,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to—”

  Brusus coughed again and shook his head. “No. You’re right. I’m not the right person to take on the Forgers.”

  “I’m not sure that I am, either.”

  “I don’t know that we have much choice in the matter. We do what we must do, and face what we must face. And we…”

  Brusus grunted, and blood began to spurt from his wound.

  Haern lowered him to the ground, quickly pressing his hands on Brusus’s belly, keeping him from bleeding as much as he could, but there was only so much that pressure would stop. He had a choice. He could either stay here, continue to hold the pressure, and hope that he could stanch the bleeding long enough for Brusus to come around, or he could try to tie him off long enough to get Brusus the help he needed.

  If he waited, there was no way Brutus would survive.

  Haern ripped off a section of fabric from Brusus’s jacket and balled it up, stuffing it against the wound. He hoisted Brusus up and went running with him. He wasn’t sure if he would make it. Every step was difficult, and as he went, he began to wonder if he could move fast enough. Would Brusus die simply because he had agreed to come with Haern?

  Haern wasn’t going to be responsible for what happened to his uncle. He wasn’t going to let someone else get hurt because of him.

  He sprinted. His legs were burning.

  Brusus coughed, but then he stopped breathing.

  “Stay with me, Brusus. Don’t do this.”

  Haern didn’t stop running. He didn’t dare. Yet, the edge of the forest—and the heart of the Aisl—was too far away.

  12

  Haern

  The inside of Darren’s home was warm and cozy, the fire that glowed in the hearth crackling with warmth. But Haern didn’t feel any warmth. He wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging himself, trying not to think about whether Brusus would survive. His uncle had to survive.

  Darren crouched over Brusus, his hands roaming across his belly, his eyes locked in tight concentration. Every so often, he mumbled something, and the deep green of his eyes flared brighter for a moment.

  Could he not have been fast enough?

  The last stretch before reaching the city had been the worst. Brusus hadn’t breathed, and when Haern had staggered into the center of the clearing, no one had been there to help him. He had barely made it to Darren’s home, and when he had finally gotten in, the healer was missing.

  It had been a painful few moments before Darren reappeared, almost as if he’d sensed Haern’s need.

  And now he worked on Brusus, but it might already be too late. Haern watched, unable to say anything, afraid to do anything more than offer an occasional prayer to the Great Watcher, and even that was likely unheard. What would the Great Watcher do on his behalf? Did the Great Watcher even care about them?

  He couldn’t think like that. The Great Watcher had allowed him to reach the heart of the forest and Darren. That was enough. It had to be enough.

  The door opened and his
mother poked her head in. Her gaze went to Brusus, and her jaw clenched, and then she saw him sitting in the back of the room.

  She took a seat next to him on one of the hard chairs, watching Brusus. “What happened?”

  “Forgers.”

  “Where?”

  “Out in the forest.”

  “What were you doing with Brusus out in the forest?”

  Haern sighed. “Looking for Forgers.” He told her about what he’d seen and how Brusus had wanted to go with him. “They managed to get past the barrier. When I was there before, they weren’t able to see through it.”

  “Was it the same one?”

  Haern frowned. “Not the one that was closest to me. But it might have been the one with him. I heard him, but I… I never saw him.”

  His mother sat with her hands clasped on her lap. Moments passed before she spoke again. “What else?”

  “There was nothing else.”

  “There had to be. Otherwise, Brusus wouldn’t have gone after a Forger.”

  “He said he was protecting me.”

  “Why would he need to protect you from the Forgers?”

  “Because the Forger claimed he was after me.”

  “Why would the Forger be after you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  But that was what the Forger had said, wasn’t it? He had claimed he was there for Haern.

  “They shouldn’t be able to get past the barrier,” he said.

  “We like to tell ourselves that we know what the Forgers should and shouldn’t be able to do, but if history has told us anything, it’s that they are able to accomplish far more than we believe them capable of. So yes, I agree that they shouldn’t be able to get past the barrier. Your father has been working on that, trying to ensure that we are safe from the Forgers, but somehow they managed to do so. And if they have decided to target you because of what happened in Asador, then we need to protect you.”

  “Mother, it’s not—”

  She rested her hand on his leg, silencing him. “You can’t tell me what it’s not. I saw what it was when they first started attacking. I was here during that initial war. I know what the Forgers think to do, even if there’s not much I can do to stop them. I’m not your father, and I never will be. They fear him for a reason—and a good one. He was the first person who managed to stop them.”

  “He wasn’t the first. Carth was able to stop them.”

  “Carth is a unique case, from what I know of her. And I don’t know how much she stopped them and how much she simply directed them toward your father. We were all part of some plan she had.”

  “Why would she want to direct them to Father?”

  “Maybe because she knew that Rsiran was able to oppose them. Maybe because it was his grandfather who coordinated the attack. Maybe there’s a reason that I don’t yet see. In the days since then, he has been vigilant, wanting to ensure our safety, but obsessively so. You brought him back to us,” she said, smiling and patting his leg. “I thank you for that.”

  “I wish it was only for your benefit that I wanted him back.”

  “It’s not selfish for you to want to have your father around. He realizes that he made a mistake by being gone as long as he was,” she said.

  “He might have told you that, but he hasn’t told me,” he said.

  “You know your father.”

  He did. He had been back, but he remained distant. Part of it was because he was so focused on finding a way of preventing the Forgers from gaining access to the city, and part of it was a single-minded determination to create some sort of protection for the Elder Trees. Either way, even though his father was here, he was missing, too.

  “They aren’t going away,” Haern said.

  “None of us expected them to have simply gone away,” his mother said.

  “I thought… I thought that by defeating them, we might have given ourselves a chance, but it seems as if nothing really has changed, has it?”

  She smiled. “Hasn’t it?”

  “I’m saying in a good way.”

  “How do we determine what’s good and what’s bad? We can evaluate it at the time, but we don’t really know how to characterize anything until we are much farther along. In this case, it may take years before we know whether something was good or whether it was bad.”

  Haern stared at Brusus. “Losing him would be bad.”

  “You won’t lose him,” Darren said. He looked up, and though his brow was knitted into a deep frown, there was an expression of relief upon his face. “I think he’s stabilized. And he will live.”

  “When will he come around?”

  “It’s unpredictable. With an injury like this, it may be hours, or days.”

  His mother patted him on the leg again. “I’ve seen Brusus in much worse shape than this.”

  “I don’t know that that’s a good thing.”

  “Not good, but certainly reassuring that I have seen him bounce back from injuries that seemed like they would claim him.”

  Haern dragged himself out of the chair and went to stand near his uncle. His face was pale, but he breathed, each breath slow and steady. Darren touched Brusus’s brow, and that laborious breathing eased.

  “We need to let him rest,” Darren said.

  Haern patted his uncle on the hand before heading out of the healer’s home. Once he was gone, he stood watching the front door, waiting for his mother to join him. After a few moments, she did, and she blinked at the bright sunlight shining overhead.

  “What did you say to him?” Haern asked.

  “What makes you think I said anything to him?”

  “Because you waited behind.”

  “Brusus was one of my first instructors,” she said. “When I didn’t have a place, Brusus was there. I’ve seen him in terrible shape, and after the war, I swore to myself I wouldn’t see him like that again. He had been through too much already, and it was someone else’s turn to handle things.”

  “Father.”

  “Your father. Others. It wasn’t to be Brusus, not anymore. He was supposed to be able to settle down and find happiness, to run the tavern and not worry about where the next fight might come.”

  “He still can.”

  “He still could, and he should. And yet, Brusus is stubborn. I’ve tried to get him to stay out of things, but it’s difficult with him. He finds ways of getting involved even when he shouldn’t.”

  “I don’t think Uncle Brusus would like you to tell him what he should and shouldn’t be involved in.”

  “Someone needs to.”

  “At least he will be okay.”

  “He will, this time. I worry what will happen the next time, or the next. Each time your uncle gets involved, he runs the risk of something else going wrong. As capable as he is, he can be foolish.”

  There came a soft shimmering, and Haern looked over to see his father Sliding back into the heart of the forest. “Where is he?”

  “He’s in with Darren. He’s going to be fine.”

  “I thought we were done with this.”

  “That’s what I was just telling Haern.”

  His father turned to him, fixing him with an intense gaze. “You were attacked by Forgers?”

  “We were.”

  “On which side of the barrier?”

  “This side of the barrier.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I would’ve known if we had crossed the barrier, Father.”

  His father breathed out in a frustrated sigh. “Yes, of course you would have. I’m just letting my anxiety about Brusus get the best of me. I’ve seen him hurt before, and I hate it.”

  “How were they able to get past the barrier?”

  “I don’t know. They shouldn’t have, but the Forgers and those they work for have ways of studying our weaknesses. It’s not altogether surprising that they found a way to probe past the barrier, though I would have thought it would take more time. I have been working on it ever since our return.”


  “What if there’s something on this side that allows them to cross over?”

  “The trees have been sealed.”

  Haern turned his attention to the Elder Trees and tried to listen for the sense of lorcith, but there was nothing other than what he detected coming off the ring of lorcith surrounding each tree—nothing like the metal implanted in the trees, as there had been before.

  “What if it’s something else?”

  “What else do you think there could be?”

  “The C’than managed to get in the last time.”

  “They followed me.”

  “Could they have followed us again?”

  “I would’ve expected to have detected it…” His father Slid to one of the trees, and Haern glanced over to his mother before walking over. There were times when he resented his father’s ability to Slide so easily. The absentminded way that he simply Slid, ignoring the fact that others couldn’t, annoyed him. His friends never did that. Even though they could Slide, they didn’t make a point of doing it in a way that left him behind. With as powerful as his father was, he should be able to Slide others with him. Instead, he continued abandon them.

  Rsiran held his hand out, holding it above the surface of the nearest tree. He frowned. “I don’t detect anything. It should be completely sealed off.”

  “You don’t, but what if you aren’t going to be able to pick up on anything?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Haern chuckled. “I know there’s lorcith in whatever they used on the trees, mostly because I can detect it, too, but there is something else, another metal, or some other way they’re holding on to it. I’m not exactly sure what that is, but what if they can follow that other metal, but you can’t?”

  “This should still seal that off,” Rsiran said.

  “What if you can’t? What if there’s no way of sealing it off without using the same metal?” Why couldn’t his father see that he wasn’t infallible? Why did he believe that everything he did would work?

  “It’s possible,” his father conceded.

  “And if they’re using that to target us, we might be forced to remove these trees.”