Luthiel's Song: Dreams of the Ringed Vale

by Robert Marston Fannéy

  “But isn’t Cauthraus also dangerous?” Luthiel asked. “You helped me the first time, couldn’t you do it again for the rest of us?”

  “I could. But it wouldn’t guarantee our secrecy. You were found. Even I was stalked by one of the more cunning among them. A very near thing, but I was able to escape. They are sly hunters –very difficult to fool. Alone, I might hide from most. But a group? I could try to hide us, but I am afraid we would draw their attention once we came into their midst. Nor do I wish to risk sending us one at a time through so many. If I had known their numbers, I would have thought twice about sending you the first time. I will pass that way again, alone. And I will meet you at the Lilani.”

  “But why won’t you come with us?” Luthiel asked. She didn’t like this idea at all. “Shouldn’t we go together?”

  “The elves do not know that I came to the Vale. I don’t think it wise that we arrive together through a Lilani known to come from Ottomnos. It is very likely to be guarded. I should return alone. That way, I’ll have a chance to meet with Tuorlin and the other lords first.

  “Also, my support for you will mean more if you ‘convinced’ me to bring you to them.” He said the last bit with a wink.

  Ecthellien, who was quietly listening to the conversation, leaned forward.

  “It is an awful place, Cauthraus,” he said. “Wars are as common there as the poisonous gas that rises from the ground. At day, the very air burns and all creatures who live there must flee from the dawn into night.”

  “The air burns?” Luthiel asked with dread in her voice. “Mithorden, do you know when we will arrive?”

  Mithorden’s brows lowered.

  “The Lilani opens in a place that is on the far side of Cauthraus this time of year. Dawn will come there in a few of Oesha’s days. It is growing hotter. Oerin’s eye is visible and light from Soelee is streaming into the sky. But it should still be safe. The second Lilani lies closer to sunrise. By the time you reach it, you should see Soelee’s rim on the horizon. The heat will be uncomfortable, no more.”

  “Are you certain? What if we arrive there when the sun has already risen?” she said. The more she heard about Cauthraus the more she thought of her dreadful premonition. But did she want to risk slipping through the spiders again? She didn’t like either but she wanted nothing more than to return home. She missed Leowin and her family and the happy leisure of her days in Flir Light hollow.

  It was the best time of year. The berries would be ripe for picking. She and Leowin would be waking up in the early morning to make the two-hour journey. And then they would be out among the fields, feet and clothes muddy with the wet loam of early summer. There, the only spiders she would have to brave were the relatively benevolent garden variety with beautiful designs of white and gold upon their backs. They seemed almost kind, these spiders. And when they ended up on your clothes when you accidentally blundered into their webs, they would politely drop off, crawling away in search of better places for web-building.

  She sighed at the memory, but it was short-lived as Mithorden was talking again about the red moon.

  “You won’t arrive when the sun has risen,” Mithorden said sternly.

  Luthiel still felt ill at ease. The vision of fire was still fresh in her mind. And, since she left Flir Light, she’d learned to trust her premonitions.

  I fear the red moon for a reason, she thought.

  “When was the last time you were there?” she asked. “Do you have a better map? This one is not very detailed.”

  “It was a few hundred years ago,” Mithorden said. “And of course I have another map! Don’t be silly.”

  “A few hundred years? What if the way has changed? What if the Lilani has been covered up by something? What will save us then?”

  “And what will save me from a hundred silly questions!? Luthiel Valkire, there are more things to know than you can learn in so short a time. Trust me! If you haven’t learned that already, then it will save us both a lot of worry once you do!”

  Luthiel blinked her eyes.

  “I fear that there is great danger,” she whispered.

  “Danger? I daresay there is. But sometimes you must do things despite it. The greatest danger of all is to sit here while events overtake us. You should know this. You went into far greater peril when you journeyed here.”

  “I thought it would be the last big risk I would have to take.”

  Mithorden looked at her and there was sympathy in his eyes.

  “Luthiel, I am sorry. But the danger is growing for us all.”

  Luthiel thought about the stories, the dark tales told in the evening in the flicker-glow of fire or flir bugs. She knew now that they were true and she would not be able to listen to them again without a tightening in the gut or a prickle on her skin.

  I’ve changed, she thought. And I’ll be restless until I know the dangers have passed.

  Yet they might never pass.

  “Luthiel has risked much for us,” Ecthellien said. “It is unfair, I think, that she also risk this journey alone. I will go with her.” The lights in the Vyrl’s eyes swirled as he stared at her. Was she seeing things, or did they seem brighter to her now? The change was very slight, but the smaller lights didn’t seem to be shrinking anymore and the larger ones were growing. They were all still tiny, like a collection of small and large pinpricks, but the black that they swirled among seemed less sinister to her now.

  “She wouldn’t be alone,” Othalas growled.

  “Even Othalas might be overcome by the terrors of the red moon,” Ecthellien said. “There are worse things than trolls on Cauthraus. You will need my help.”

  Gormtoth nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “Good,” Mithorden said. “Then the number is set. Three will go by way of Cauthraus and I will slip, once more, through the spiders’ webs.”

  “Now, for the rest of you, I advise that you continue to make ready for war.”

  “Wait!” Luthiel said, louder than she intended to. They all stared at her. “Must we decide so soon?”

  “You never answered her question,” Vaelros said. “How do you know for certain that the moon isn’t already burning on the Lilani’s far side? At least we would have a chance to make it through the spiders. If the air burns, no-one will survive.”

  “Nothing has changed on the red moon, Vaelros,” he said.

  “Do you really know? Are you willing to stake Luthiel’s life on what you think you know?”

  Mithorden stared at him under his brows.

  “I know,” he said. “and my heart tells against bringing her back through the spiders. But I cannot, beyond any doubt, prove to you that day has not come to Cauthraus.”

  “So you don’t know. You would send her there on a guess? While you pass by some other way?”

  Mithorden’s eye’s flashed but he didn’t reply. Instead, he turned to Luthiel.

  “I’ve given my council. The way I would choose for you is to go with Ecthellien and Othalas to Cauthraus. I would be lying to say that way isn’t dangerous. But the spiders, I fear, may prove worse.”

  “Then why would you go alone?” Luthiel said. “What if they were to take you? Without aid, you would be lost to us. I understand what you are saying. But I am also afraid. Afraid for you going alone into danger. Afraid of the hidden dangers that may lie in wait for us on the red moon. Whatever path we choose, I think we should not separate and, if need be, face the danger together.”

  Mithorden smiled at her and a lightness seemed to come into his eyes.

  “Then I leave the decision to you, Luthiel.”

  “In this, at least, we are agreed,” Vaelros said.

  Luthiel sighed as she considered her choices.

  What do I risk? Spiders or fire?

  “I would not have any of us go alone into danger,” she said after sitting silent for a time. “Nor would I have us take a path that, for a poor guess, would end in fire. That way, I would choose last and only in desperation
when all other ways were tried. So though Mithorden’s council is against it, I would have us try to make it through the spiders. More of us may go that way and what we cannot win by stealth we might still take by might of arms. The Vyrl are here and they are mighty. Gormtoth is here and he is mighty. Mithorden, Othalas, Norengar—there is strength here to rival all the Fae Lords together. If you will come with me, then I think it is our best chance.”

  “I am with you, Luthiel.” Vaelros said.

  “And I,” said Ecthellien.

  “As am I,” said Othalas.

  Elshael and Ahmberen exchanged glances.

  “Gormtoth, though strong, is about as subtle as a thunderstorm,” Ahmberen said. “You’ll have a better chance at slipping by without him and the rest of us. We’ll stay to safeguard Ottomnos. But we will keep contact through the Koraz and we’ll gather a force to come to your aid if trouble finds you.”

  “Best keep that force ready!” Mithorden said. His eyes rested on Vaelros for a moment before returning to Luthiel.

  “The sooner we leave the better,” he said.

  “Is first light tomorrow soon enough?” Luthiel asked.

  “It will have to be,” Mithorden replied.

  Luthiel sighed with relief. But in her thoughts, the vision of flame lingered.

  Farewell to Ottomnos

  For another hour, they talked over the finer points of their journey and of how best to prepare Ottomnos for a battle against Widdershae, elves or both. When they were done, more food was brought and beer and wine with it. Creatures of the Vale filtered in, joining the drinking and conversation. Mithorden grabbed two beer mugs and took Vaelros by the arm, pulling him over to a quiet corner. Luthiel watched them discretely. Vaelros’ body language was stiff but his eyes were resolute.

  “Melkion,” Luthiel whispered to the dragon on her shoulder.

  His violet eyes gleamed.

  “I’m curious what they’re talking about,” she motioned to Vaelros and Mithorden. “Would you mind listening in for me?”

  “You want me to eavesdrop?” he hissed.

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  She didn’t like the way Vaelros and Mithorden had conflicted. Nor did she care for Vaelros’ distrust of the sorcerer. But she understood the fear that Vaelros was coming out from under. It made her even more concerned.

  I wonder what rash thing he may do for a threat he perceives?

  The more she thought of the nightmare world he’d lived in for so long, the more she wondered if he’d lost his ability to distinguish between real and imagined threats.

  “Why?” the dragon said.

  “I’m concerned about Vaelros,” she said.

  The dragon nodded and with a flap of his wings he was flying across the chamber. He landed on a small table near Mithorden, where he appeared to occupy himself with tearing apart the roast haunch of some wild beast.

  Then the singing began—the mighty voices of giants combined with the reedy voices of Grendilo in a rolling ballad. Even the chimera creatures sang with them in chorus.

  It was a warsong. Its loud, powerful notes filled the great hall.

  Luthiel was both startled and impressed by its force as the faces of those in the hall fell into grim resolve as they watched the singers or sang along.

  When the song was done, there was a loud cheer and the clamor of mugs pounding on the table.

  “Another!” Norengar shouted, pounding his stein—the size of a small barrel—hardest of all. “Another!”

  And so the giants began again. This time the tune was about a different kind of battle entirely—of sailors fighting a storm at sea. The ship Eleth Migaellen, was the greatest of its day, and it struggled for nigh unto a week against a storm that pushed it ever closer to the Knife of the Ocean, until finally her mainmast was broken by a mighty blow of wind and wave and she was driven onto the shoals where she shattered.

  The song awoke within her a longing she could not explain. In her mind’s eye she could see the ocean’s ever changing face and she felt a pang in her heart that was beyond words, as of one who pines for love never requited. It was as though the ocean called to her through the song.

  Talk of the sea affected her this way and though she’d never seen it, she often had visions of it in dreams—both waking and sleeping. Once, when the longing took her, she wrote a poem about the ocean. Seeing it, Leowin had promised to take her to Ithilden and to show her the majestic ships the Ithildar shaped out of Aerinwe—trees that grew as saplings on shore. As they aged, Aerinwe roots ever sought the sea. And when they were large enough, a storm swirling out of Lothyn Aer would catch them, pulling them out to open water. There they drifted for the rest of their days. Forever riding the ocean’s wild waves—be they gentle or riled with passion.

  Perhaps it was this passion that called to her through the song. And when it was done, her voice was among the ones raised in cheering.

  So the songs of Ottomnos continued long into the night as more and more creatures of the Vale came to listen or to talk with one another.

  Many of these gathered close to talk with Luthiel. Many more peered at her curiously or whispered questions to their neighbors while they watched her. She was amazed to find that most of them were once elves who had come to the Vale in search of treasure or adventure, or were lured by the Vyrl’s enchantments. Many were conquered long ago by the Vyrl and some, like the giants and the grendilo, had served them since the time of Valkire. Though the masters of Ottomnos still intimidated them, they spoke in whispers of Luthiel’s influence and of how the Vyrl now seemed fairer.

  Luthiel looked out over the bizarre gathering. There were bark-skinned giants, lions with elfin heads, and elves with lion heads. There were birds with burning wings and the one-armed, one-legged grendilo. There were wights and giant serpents. Even the werewolves had come—their sleek predator shapes glided quietly through the gathering. She felt oddly at home among them.

  After a time, Melkion returned to her.

  “He spoke of Vaelros’ wound,” Melkion hissed.

  “Wound?” she asked.

  “Yes, Mithorden says that he has been ‘heart wounded’ by his corrupted Wyrd Stone. Though now free of its influence, he says that Vaelros is likely to spend a long period of time recovering. This period, he warns, could be dangerous.”

  Luthiel looked at the dragon, remembering the pain Vaelros felt when his six fellows had come for him.

  “He asked Vaelros to request boons of the Vyrl.”

  “What boons?” she asked.

  “He asks that Vaelros request to stay at Ottomnos and—“

  “And?” Luthiel prodded.

  The dragon looked away.

  “To give him a replacement for his sword. Mithorden says that it is cold and that the dark metal—Narmiel—seems to have taken on the dreams of Gorthar. It could slow his recovery or hurt him further.”

  “What did Vaelros say?”

  “He mainly listened. He said he’d consider giving the sword back. But he said that, no matter what, he’s going with you.”

  Luthiel nodded.

  “Thank you Melkion,” she said.

  The dragon only swished his tail in reply, then flew off to perch among the eves. It looked to Luthiel that he brooded up there—watching the gathering restlessly as his rainbow plumed tail slid back and forth.

  She sat quiet and alone for a time—thinking about Vaelros.

  Mithorden was probably right. Vaelros shouldn’t be journeying with them so soon after coming out from under the Stone’s darkness.

  If the sorcerer has reason to worry, then it’s to be taken seriously. But if Vaelros won’t listen we’ll just have to watch over him.

  She wondered if Melkion would help her.

  A flame-winged bird and a werewolf approached and politely asked to join her. She smiled at them.

  “Nothing would please me more,” she said.

  The drinking, singing, and tale-telling lasted well into the night. As it
grew late, her thoughts turned toward morning and to what lay ahead. She dreaded another difficult and dangerous journey.

  The dangerous part was supposed to be getting into the Vale, not leaving it, she thought. But it looks like getting out may prove even harder.

  Though she was loath to leave, Luthiel bid farewell to the kind old bird and werewolf who were sharing a tray of fruits and smoked fish with her.

  As Luthiel left, Othalas and Melkion joined her.

  “They didn’t mention you coming with us,” Luthiel said to Melkion as they walked through the charred-glass corridors.

  “Well, then, I guess he’ll have to stay here,” Othalas said with a gravely chuckle.

  “It doesn’t matter what they say or don’t say. I do as I please,” Melkion replied.

  “I’d be glad if you came,” Luthiel said to the dragon.

  “Good,” he said.

  The dragon didn’t speak again that evening. Instead, he brooded. Occasionally, thin streams of smoke would rise from his nostrils. Once, he flew out into the night and returned with blood on his claws and snout.

  Othalas ignored the dragon. He fell to the floor and in no time was slumbering.

  But Luthiel’s mind was too alert to fall into sleep immediately. Instead she walked over to the slit window and stared out into the night. Ottomnos brooded among the mists and flickering watch fires. There was something both strange and familiar about its gracefully sloping walls and towers, the dull gleam of its charred glass.

  She’d experienced much here and, strangely, there was a part of her that felt melancholy about leaving.

  My father once called this place home, she thought. Could I come to think of it that way?

  She looked at the slumbering Othalas—his predator’s body lay in still repose. She watched his powerful muscles ripple with the rise and fall of his breath.

  “I remember a time, not too long ago, when you were ready to kill me. Now you growl if I suffer so much as a scratch.”

  Looking back out into the night, she wondered at how she was no longer afraid of the Vale.