Shadows Within the Flame (The Elder Stones Saga Book 2)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “These were difficult to make.” He looked up to see his father watching him.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Planning,” his father said.

  “Planning for what?”

  “The next challenge.”

  He waited for his father to elaborate, but he didn’t. Haern turned his attention back to the lorcith sculpted tree. As he stared at it, an idea came to him.

  “We’ve been trying to come up with a way of preventing the Forgers from destroying the Elder Trees like they did the wall in Nyaesh,” he started.

  “We have. Neither I nor Della has managed to figure out what it would take to stop that.”

  “What if we do something different?” Haern asked, looking up at his father.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if we wrap them in lorcith?”

  “It runs the risk of destroying the tree,” his father said.

  “I don’t know that it would. And if nothing else, it might mute whatever the Forgers intend for the trees.”

  His father looked down at the sculpture. “There is something about the shape of the sculpture that has always seemed strange to me,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “I don’t know quite how to describe it other than that the sculpture itself has an oddity to it. Perhaps wrapping them in lorcith may help. Or perhaps something other than just lorcith.”

  “What else would you wrap them in?”

  “Using lorcith is difficult. You can take a lump, and even without heating it at the forge, you can modify it, but that has difficulties. I’ve found that to merge two sections of lorcith together, you need to have something else involved.”

  “What else?”

  “It all has to do with the bridging metal. Heartstone seems to counteract lorcith, but when mixed in the right composition, you can bring them together. It’s something none of the older smiths really understood. They thought that heartstone could only be used for preventing someone from Sliding, but while that might be one aspect of it, it certainly isn’t the most important.”

  “Does it change anything about the metal?”

  “It’s possible, but with a connection to lorcith, you can ensure that any change that takes place is one you have control over.”

  “I’m not sure I would have control over any change.”

  “Not at first, but I think you underestimate your potential with lorcith, Haern. You have incredible control over it already. The more you work with it, the more control I think you’ll develop. And as you gain that control, you will find that you are quite formidable.”

  “Should we try to do this before we proceed with the plan?”

  “It might offer a benefit, but it might do something else.”

  “What else?”

  “I don’t know if using lorcith in this way will act as a beacon to them.”

  “I suspect that whatever metal they used on the trees already has acted like a beacon,” Haern said. “That’s probably how they were able to reach us.”

  His father sighed. “You’re probably right. Maybe there’s nothing more we can do other than try to shield ourselves from the Forgers.” He ran his hand along the sculpture, touching several of the leaves. They responded, moving as he touched them. “I wonder what we change in doing it,” his father said. He took a deep breath. “When this is over, we can see if wrapping the trees in lorcith makes a difference.”

  There was something about the way his father said it that left Haern worried. Why would his father sound as if he feared what they planned? He watched him, but Rsiran turned away.

  “I need to visit with your mother, and then we can get on with this.”

  He started away from Haern, his back stooped slightly. The longer he walked, the straighter his spine became. Haern couldn’t help but wonder what his father had prepared himself for.

  45

  Volan

  Volan stared at the bars of lorcith. They pushed against him, forcing his mind to go into a deeper place, and the longer he remained there, the more he feared that Lareth might finally succeed. There was nothing but the sense of lorcith, and yet it was twisted, different from what it should be. Even his augmented attachment to it was modified, leaving him nearly unable to access it.

  It had been a mistake coming for the younger Lareth. He had believed that following him into the city would succeed, but the boy was more capable than what he remembered. Had he been preparing? He hadn’t been the one to fear when they had faced them before.

  And it had been nothing more than happenstance—an accident—barely enough for him to have been caught, but that accident had left him imprisoned, held captive by the one person he had intended to come after.

  He’d had plenty of time to try and think of an escape plan, but none had come to him. If escape was an option—and Volan no longer knew whether it was—it wouldn’t come by breaking free from the lorcith Lareth had placed him within. He and the others had long known that Lareth was supremely gifted with the metal—it was how he had managed to escape the Hjan in the first place.

  He would need to find a way of escaping.

  The only problem was that the longer he was here, the more he began to question what way that would be. How could he escape when every attempt had been met by failure?

  The strange lorcith door opened, letting a gust of cool wind into the cell. It pushed back the heat of the lorcith, taking away the stench of the metal and jolting him awake. He didn’t look up. There was only one person who had the ability to enter this chamber, and he wasn’t about to give Lareth the satisfaction of looking up as he entered.

  “You’re awake. Don’t try to pretend,” Lareth said.

  “Who’s trying to pretend?” Volan said.

  He arched one eye open, looking toward Lareth. This was the man he had come here for. The man he had wanted to capture, and now he was close—so close—but he still felt incredibly far away.

  “Why have you come here?” Lareth asked.

  Volan tipped his head back, looking to see the younger Lareth standing behind his father. Hiding. At least he still had his father to hide behind. Lareth had taken that from Volan.

  “The same reason you continue to attack in my homeland,” Volan said.

  “Attack? I’ve tried to remove the threat of the Forgers.”

  “I don’t think there is any threat from my people,” Volan said.

  “Your people have been a threat ever since my home was attacked.”

  “You have been the one attacking. We have only responded.”

  Lareth shook his head. “I’m not going to go into this with you.” He spread the bars of the cell and stepped inside. Volan remained motionless, and as Lareth neared, he attempted to lunge, but the bindings on both his wrists and ankles prevented him from doing much more than getting to his feet. Lareth watched him, amusement dripping from his eyes at Volan’s discomfort. The bands around his wrists and ankles constricted, drawing tighter. “If you do that again, you’ll find that you suffer.”

  “Suffer? Being in your presence is suffering. What choice do I have but to suffer?”

  “Come on,” Lareth said.

  He grabbed Volan and dragged him between the bars of modified lorcith.

  Volan looked over at him. “You intend to move me?”

  “You’re going into Elaeavn to answer to the Elvraeth,” Lareth said.

  “Is that right? Is there anything the Elvraeth will be able to obtain from me that you cannot?”

  Lareth shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The Elvraeth have asked for the opportunity to question you.”

  “You’re getting lazy, Lareth. You’re going to let someone else do your work for you?”

  “I don’t do all this on my own,” Lareth said.

  “Apparently you don’t do any of it anymore. It’s a shame, really. I thought it would be interesting to see how well I could match wits with the great Rsiran Lareth.” It probably didn’t do for him to argue with Lareth,
but he wasn’t about to go easily. If they took him to Elaeavn, away from this lorcith, any possibility of escape might be lost. He had no idea what he would find when in Elaeavn.

  “Come on,” Lareth said again.

  Volan considered resisting. He didn’t want to face Lareth like this. Without these cuffs on his wrists and ankles, it might be a more even match, but bound, within this place where Lareth had such exquisite control over the lorcith, Volan didn’t think he would be able to handle Lareth.

  It troubled him, really. With his training, he should be able to manage and withstand even Lareth. That was the point of everything he’d gone through.

  But then, the younger Lareth had gotten lucky.

  If he got free, Volan was determined to prevent that from happening again.

  Once out of the cell, he took a deep breath. The odors of the forest came to him, along with a gentle breeze that gusted, billowing against his hair. He brought his hands up to his face, scratching at the growth that had developed over the last several days. He would have to shave before he returned. It would not do for him to go tainted by his beard, obscuring the gift he’d been given.

  He could only imagine what Nandal might say, but then, Nandal had not made the same mistake as Volan. He hadn’t been the one captured, and if he knew Nandal, the other man had gone for help, which would only make this worse for both of them.

  “You really should have kept me in your prison,” Volan said.

  “The fact that you want me to keep you there tells me that I should not,” Lareth answered.

  Volan glanced over to the younger Lareth. He watched him, curious. They were about the same age, and the younger Lareth didn’t seem to have the same arrogance his father did. He didn’t have the same skill, either, though that hadn’t prevented him from capturing Volan.

  They made their way through the forest. He couldn’t tell which direction they guided him, but if they were bringing him to Elaeavn, he doubted he would find it easy to escape once he was there. Being held under a single guard was much different than having many, and if he was bringing him before the Elvraeth, there wouldn’t be any easy way for him to spring free.

  The two Lareths were chatting, paying very little mind to Volan.

  He looked off to either side. If he could find a way to hide, maybe he could pry these stupid cuffs off his wrists. And then he could really be free from Lareth.

  The elder Lareth paused, and the younger one followed him for a moment before stopping.

  Neither of them seemed to be paying any attention to him.

  Volan sprinted.

  If this was going to be his only chance, he was going to make the best of it. He would escape, and then he would get these accursed cuffs off so that he could come after Lareth. He would have his vengeance.

  His skin tingled.

  It was the barrier that the people of Elaeavn seemed to think so much of. In reality, the barrier did very little to prevent him and others like him from passing through it. He paused long enough to stare at it, but he couldn’t do anything until he managed to get these cuffs off.

  He resumed running, casting a glance over his shoulder, but didn’t see either Lareth.

  They would have pursued, but where had they gone?

  When he turned back, Nandal stood in front of him, watching him with a deep frown on his face.

  He glanced at the cuffs and tapped each of them, but neither came free.

  “Do you think I didn’t try that?” Volan said.

  “What happened?”

  “Lareth happened. We need to get out of here before he finds us.”

  “Fine. And when we’re done, you will explain how you managed to get yourself caught.”

  “Only if it’s necessary. Let’s get away from here until we can get them off, then we can return and grab Lareth.”

  Nandal glared at him, but Volan knew he wouldn’t argue. There was no point in doing so. They needed to get free before Lareth appeared.

  Nandal grabbed him, and he Traveled, carrying him away.

  46

  Haern

  The edge of the forest loomed in front of them, the end of the Aisl leading toward the sprawling expanse of the plains stretching far away from the forest. Beyond the borders of the forest were lands unknown to Haern and the others, though probably not quite so unknown to his father, who spent most of his time outside the city. Maybe not even so unknown to Galen, who had once lived outside the city.

  They had released the prisoner, keeping him bound in shackles that would prevent him from Sliding, but doing nothing else. And now it was time to track him. Haern still wasn’t certain it was the right decision, even though it had been his plan. The others had gone along with it, which made him feel a mixture of emotions. He should feel proud they were willing to listen to him, but instead he felt only unease. If this was wrong, if he was wrong, then not only would they lose the Forger, they might have revealed something about their capabilities. After the attack in Nyaesh, though, he didn’t think he was wrong.

  “What if he doesn’t go where you think he will?” Galen asked.

  “He will,” Rsiran said.

  “The Forgers aren’t predictable.”

  “I have enough experience with them to know what they will do and what they won’t. He will go, especially after he was captured as he was. He will want to return to the safety of the others, and if we can figure out where their headquarters is and what they intend with the metal, then we can be better prepared…”

  “What is it?” Cael asked.

  “There’s something odd,” Rsiran answered as they neared the border of the forest. His father stared at the ground, his gaze focused on something Haern couldn’t quite see. What was it?

  His father crouched in front of one of the lorcith rods, holding his hand just above the end of it. “They’re damaged,” he said.

  “What kind of damage?” his mother asked.

  “The bars that comprise the barrier.”

  “I thought you said these were impossible for someone else to get past,” Galen said.

  “Not impossible, only difficult. They shouldn’t have been able to detect them in the first place, and the fact that they could…” His father shook his head. “There’s a reason the Forgers have been so difficult for us over the years. They understand lorcith nearly as well as I do.”

  “Nearly?” Galen asked.

  “I wouldn’t say that they know it as well as I do, but they certainly have an ability with it,” his father said.

  “Can you fix it?” Cael asked.

  “I can, but it’s going to be difficult. And it won’t happen quickly.”

  “Nothing happens quickly, does it?” Galen said.

  “Nothing useful,” his father agreed. “As much as I’d like to tell you that I can do all these things, unfortunately there are limitations. It’s the reason the Forgers have managed to sneak in here in the first place.”

  Cael stepped forward. She stood, hands at her side. Haern glanced over to Galen. “What’s she doing?”

  “I suspect she’s trying to determine if she can Read anyone.”

  “She’d be able to Read them from here?”

  “Possibly,” Galen said. “She can listen far beyond here.”

  “Will it work with Forgers?”

  Galen shrugged. “I don’t know. She hasn’t tried it too often.”

  “It doesn’t work the same with Forgers,” Cael said without turning to them. “It does work, though. It requires me to be aware of differences, though they are subtle, and I can pick up on those subtle changes, usually just enough that I can find an emptiness that shouldn’t be there.”

  “Did you detect an emptiness now?” Haern asked.

  She turned back to him. “No. I thought there might be, but there’s nothing but—”

  Cael cut off as something slammed into her. She clutched at her chest, and Rsiran Slid forward, emerging on the other side of the barrier. He grabbed Cael and Slid her, returning
a moment later empty-handed. A pair of knives floated in the air in front of him, both of them lorcith and heartstone mixed, neither of them anything that Haern could fully detect.

  Galen scanned the edge of the forest, his brow furrowed. “Della?”

  “She will help her,” Rsiran said.

  Haern didn’t see any movement, nothing that would indicate where the attack had come from. Then again, they were on the inside of the barrier.

  Maybe he couldn’t see from here. It was possible they needed to be on the other side of the barrier, especially as the attack seemed to come from that side, as if the Forgers who must have assaulted Cael had been there.

  Haern prepared his knives, ready to attack, but nothing came.

  “Where are they?” he asked.

  His father remained motionless. “I don’t know.”

  “They must be near,” Galen said.

  “They must be, but…” He glanced back to Jessa and Della, something of a debate warring across his features. His father took a deep breath, and then he grabbed them, Sliding, and when he returned, neither his mother nor Darren were there.

  “What did you do?” Galen asked.

  “I made a decision. Neither of them is equipped for this.”

  “I’ve seen Jessa fight,” Galen said.

  “I’ve seen it too, and I would much rather her not have to fight.”

  Galen grunted. “I would much rather none of us have to fight, but I’m not so certain that any of us has the choice anymore.”

  “Are you going to continue to admonish my decision, or are you going to help with this?”

  “I think I can do both,” Galen said.

  His father grunted and turned his attention to Haern. “I want you to remember what you’ve been working on.”