Luthiel's Song: Dreams of the Ringed Vale

by Robert Marston Fannéy

  Vanye—A Blade Dancer of Ithilden, Vanye has been sent on an unhappy mission to name a Chosen. Renown among the Blade Dancers for defeating the leaders of Nine Trolls Army, and the grandson of High Lord Tuorlin, Vanye would rank higher among the Blade Dancers were it not for his sometimes failing to follow the rules.

  Veil—the border that separates the world of dreams from the physical world.

  Vlad Valkire—the great lord who broke the Vyrl’s Tyranny over elves. The name Vlad Valkire, in the elder tongue, means “a lad Valkyrie.” For he was the first male born of the Dark Lady Elwin, who was the mother to all Valkyrie. Vlad is also the son of the Lord of the Dark Forest, who killed him.

  Vyrl—of old, they were Aëdar, before they were corrupted by the dark will of Gorthar. Once angels, they are now demons of hunger and malice. It is rumored that only three Vyrl remain alive on all of Oesha. Three rule in the Vale of Mists. Each year, according to an ancient promise, a child must be sent to feed the Vyrl. These Chosen seldom ever return.

  Werewolves—elves who were transformed into wolves by the changing influence of the Vale of Mists. Werewolves possess incredible vitality and are nearly impossible to kill, recovering from all hurts unless their bodies are entirely destroyed.

  Widdershae (Widd-ur-shee)—spider-elves. A branch of elves of the middle house called the Delvendrim (deep-elves), who were wiped out by a terrible plague that turned them all into giant spiders. The Widdershae succumbed to the poison of Saurlolth, queen of the Ingolith and so they were twisted in form to resemble those spiders of the great void. The wise count them among the Ingolith. For their forms have been twisted by spirits of the void which possess them. Great magic may still drive these spirits out and restore the Delvendrim who were thus twisted. Delvendrim returning to the world in this way can recall their lives as Widdershae only through nightmares.

  Winowe—Luthiel’s foster mother.

  World of Dreams—a place parallel to the real word and overlapping it. This place responds to all desires, fears and dreams of humankin and the greater spirits. Only sorcerers can sense the existence of the world of dreams and the only physical beings who can look into it are those who possess a Wyrd Stone. Of late, the world of dreams has become a dangerous place, populated with Dimlock and other nightmares.

  Wyrd—a word that stands for both dreams and magic. It represents the deep connection between dreams and the mystical arts.

  Wyrd-Stones—thirteen Stones fashioned by Vlad Valkire while under the instruction of Mithorden at Lenidras. They are crystals that have within them each a bit of the song of Aehmiel and the light of Lumen. Powerful aids to sorcerery, the Wyrd Stones transport their users into the world of dreams which is the world from which all things spiritual and magical come. Wyrd Stones wholly reveal what sorcerers must sense in order to practice their art—the raw stuff of creation—true dreams, making it readily available for use in magic. When activated, the Wyrd Stone causes its user to become ghost-like and semi-solid. Things of the physical world other than moonsteel or nethril affect them less, passing through them with only slight resistance. Great wounds become minor. Hunger, fatigue, pain, all become insubstantial while in the world of dreams. On the other hand, creatures of nightmare and dream may directly affect a sorcerer traveling through the world of dreams, making use of a Wyrd Stone very dangerous in the current day.

  Zaelos—The Lord of Ashiroth. Also former companion of Vlad Valkire.

  Acknowledgments

  When I undertook the task of writing a female epic, I was foolish enough to believe that I would be writing an epic rather than going through an epic adventure myself. As I soon found out, the journey is both long and very difficult, putting livelihood, sanity and happiness at risk. So much so that it would have been impossible to complete without the aid, indeed, the rescuing, of others time after time.

  In most books, this section begins with the phrase—so many people have helped me in my work that it would be impossible to print the list here. For my part, I will do my best to recall and give credit to everyone who helped me in putting together Luthiel’s Song. This is my chance to pay some small part back to them, although they are all deserving of much more.

  Special thanks are due to:

  My wife—Catherine. This amazing lady has stood behind me ever since she first learned of Luthiel. Since the beginning, she has encouraged me to ‘just keep submitting it.’ Often, she believed in the strength of the story more than I. In many ways, Catherine has inspired the character Luthiel. But more so, it was Merrin—the great love of Valkire and the spirit of the ocean moon. For she is my ocean lover—as wise as the sea and as passionate as any storm that ever rose over depthless waters.

  My good friend Matthew Friedman. Were it not for him, Luthiel would still be wallowing helplessly in a box tucked away in a dark and, yes, spider-infested closet. It would seem that, even in this world, the Widdershae hunt her. But thanks to Matthew’s stalwart friendship and literary expertise I have found a great many ways around and through the ephemeral webs and foils of writing. In addition, Matthew aided in the layout of the cover and content of the book both in its electronic and hard copy forms. In many respects, the dragon Melkion was inspired by Matthew. I wish you all friends as capable and constant!

  My mother who is deserving of thanks for a million and one things. Not the least of which was reading to me every day of my childhood life. But also of great importance was allowing me to have a Snow White lunchbox as a child. Never was there a parent so good at allowing me to find my own way and make my own mistakes. I think there’s a lot to be said for this gift. My own pioneering spirit owes much to her subtle influence. In some ways, Luthiel draws from her, for she struck out on her own path—much like Luthiel—some twenty odd years ago. There is a strength and spirit in her that many see and those who are blessed enough to receive her aid in counseling can join with me in attesting to her caring and kindness.

  My father. He has suffered, in life, the suffering of Vlad Valkire and bore wounds that would wreck a lesser man. For me to say that his story has not affected my own would be shallow and a lie. I admire both his strength and his humor. But a greater trait, I think, is his love of beauty in the world and of stars. Though he may not know it—to me, his heart is both elfin and fair.

  My grandfather Edwin Page Preston. Born of an ancient line of Kings, he had a nobility about him that I both admire and miss. There was a deep love in him for all people and his gift was in making you feel as though you were the most important person in the whole world to him. In his passing, I resolved myself to finish this tale, if only in the hopes of making his spirit proud.

  My cousin Lawson. Without him, my tale would have likely surrendered to a Disney-like sappiness and lack few shreds of real grit. There is much to be said for having honest friends and family. Lawson was given, first, the difficult task of dealing with my grandiose delusions and, second, of telling me, nicely, that the first draft of my book sorely inadequate. In the end, he had an open enough mind to pick up later drafts and appreciate them. I know none of these tasks were easy, and I thank him for it. It is fair to say that the character Vanye is largely inspired by the character of Lawson. Those of you in need of strength, leadership, and decisive action hope that you have friends and family like Lawson.

  My good friend Benjamin Baugh. A great friend from college, Ben has been with Luthiel from the start. It was through role playing with Ben, that I was able to flesh out the character traits of Luthiel and begin to solidify her in my mind. In ways, his ideas provided seeds for the setting of Oesha—especially the Dark Forest. May you all have friends as creative as Ben.

  My good friend Jonathan Finn. I think my fancy with elves was, in large part, facilitated by Jon since the fourth grade. If Ben helped me solidify Luthiel, then Jon helped me conceive her. In one form or another, the World of Dreams has been made real through our discourse over time. In fact, my first foray into novel writing ‘The Great Adventure’ was co-written by
him in the fifth grade. But we’ve been swapping stories since the first grade. I think our dialogue, which has often been one of the strength of spirit, belief, intuition, and emotion vrs the strength of practical thought, logic, reason and knowledge has provided me with a balanced view of the world and, better, sharpened my mind. In many ways, ours is the discourse of Apollo and Dionysus. This discourse taught me resolve, which was essential to the completion of this work and many others. I wish you friends as strong willed and minded as Jonathan Finn.

  My grandmother, Jeanne Preston (whom I know as Memom). A wonderful lady who truly believes in the good in all people she has stood behind me in everything that I’ve done. Foremost, though, when I was considering entering the military directly after High School, she came to my rescue and convinced me to apply to Flagler College. Though I did not have the wisdom, or foresight, to see with eyes unclouded, she did and set me on the path toward a respectable education in writing. May you all have grandmothers as lucid, wise, and caring as Memom.

  My good friend Campe Goodman. Campe introduced me, long ago, to the creative process of role playing, which, in large part, is storytelling. The elements of storytelling, if practiced well, facilitate a wonderful game. But the art of free association, improvisation, and description necessary to execute a game in an enjoyable and entertaining fashion also feeds into writing. In a subtle, yet strong way, Campe has aided me in this. Campe is also an amazing friend, and one of the most intelligent people and creative people I know. May you all have friends as brilliant, helpful, and incisive as Campe!

  My good friend Robert Friedman. Robert has provided me with amazing access to the literary world. I am more than appreciative of his aid with introductions and submissions which have been benevolent beyond compare. Robert has introduced me to numerous writers and literary agents including, but not limited to, Simon Lipskar and Danny Lliteras. Robert has also provided gentle, yet firm, writing criticism. May you all know people as open minded as Robert!

  The gamers—who include a number mentioned above: Campe Goodman, Jonathan Finn, Lawson Fanney, Matthew Friedman, Benjamin Baugh, Rafael Chandler, and Rick Courtney.

  Bill Jackson, my brother in law, for his amazing music and for also aiding in the development, conception and execution of a pheonomenal web campaign. He designed and launched the Luthiel’s Song Website and has written the theme music to many sections in the novel. He has also stood behind the story since it began. May you all have brother-in-laws as talented and capable as Bill!

  My sister Mary Page for giving me inspiration in what it means to be kind, loyal, loving and heroic. For believing in me even when I did not deserve it and for being the best sister a brother could ever wish for.

  My sister-in-law Martha Vinson for sharing a passion in writing and for all the interest and kind words.

  Elizabeth Spooner for coming to my rescue. The Valkyrie would be proud to know one such as you in their ranks. I have seen unicorns and have it on the highest authority that one awaits you in dreams.

  Jim and Marth Lynch. For happy homes, warm fires, steady support, for a quiet, comfortable place to write, and more love and smiles than a son-in-law could ever ask for.

  Siya Oum for her wonderful artwork and for her constant aid and admiration for the story. She has believed in it since day one and has provided support other writers could only dream of. I’ve never worked with someone with both the professional and creative energy of Siya. May you all find people to work with who are as awesome as Siya!

  My college professors for providing me with an amazing foundation in writing:

  Dr. Darien Andrew—for teaching me that to write simply is to write well, for being the best first year college writing teacher any poor student could hope to have, and for trying to keep me out to the military (a noble task doomed to failure).

  Dr. Karl Horner—for teaching me that you need to revise it all again, and again, and again, for his wonderful essays and writings on The Boy Inside the American Businessman, for constructing a fabulous creative writing program, for bringing Tim O’Brien to Flagler College for colloquiums, symposiums, readings and courses, and for letting me write fantasy while at school.

  Dr. Robin King—for teaching me the fundamentals of great thinking. For his wonderful lectures on truth in fiction. For his challenging, rigorous, humorous, beautiful, and entertaining dialogues.

  Dr. Andrew Dillion—for his amazing poetry and for his beautiful soliloquies on Shakespeare.

  Jim Tinsley, Rennie Campbell, Jessica Duda, and Paul and Stacy Rickets for their continued faith and support.

  Lucia, Nichole, Nate, Jessica, Harvard, and Mamimi and everyone else from Myspace for providing constant feedback and support.

  It is possible that I have forgotten someone. If so, please bring it to my attention and I will remedy the problem upon reprinting.

  Sincere thanks to you all! Luthiel and all the world of Oesha owe you both their thanks and gratitude.

  May you ever walk in the light of two suns. May the moonshadow never fall on you.

  Robert Marston Fannéy

  About the Author

  Robert Fannéy’s abiding love of fantasy began as a nine year old boy when he was first introduced, by happy chance, to The Hobbit. He has been hopelessly lost in the World of Dreams ever since. He began writing Luthiel’s Song at the age of 22, while at Flagler College in St. Augustine, Florida. After numerous careers and many stolen hours on nights and weekends, the first part of the tale—Dreams of the Ringed Vale—is finally complete. He is currently working on the second Luthiel’s Song book—The War of Mists.

  Robert lives in Virginia with his wife, Catherine.

  You can find out more about Robert, Luthiel’s Song and the World of Dreams at:

  www.luthielssong.com

  Preview of The War of Mists

  In the second book of the Luthiel's Song series, Luthiel sets out on a perilous attempt to escape the Vale with her new companions, and face an entire army determined to destroy them. The War of Mists is now available; you can order it from any major bookseller, online, or in Kindle edition.

  Angel or Witch?

  She chose to die in her sister’s place–and yet she lived. Luthiel, just 15 years old, made a brave peace with the dreaded Vyrl of the Vale of Mists. Now she must face an army sent to destroy them.

  With her companions–the werewolf Othalas, the dragon Melkion, the sorcerer Mithorden, a Vyrl named Ecthellien, and the elf Vaelros who would love her–Luthiel races back to the angry faelands to beg forgiveness for monsters.

  Who, if any, will survive the journey? For the Vale is surrounded by the webs of Widdershae, and the only other path leads to the Red Moon–where an ancient evil waits in the flames.

  Beyond the Vale, the home she left is not the same. Armies march for vengeance. Powers play their hands in a game of ages. In the sky something evil stirs. Rumors of a dark prophecy. Whispers of a “Blood Witch.” And signs foretelling an ancient doom terrible enough to destroy worlds.

  Sample Chapter from

  The War of Mists

  Slowly, but with limbs reinvigorated by rest and fresh Yewstaff fruit, she stood. Her sword belt lay nearby and she strapped it on. From it hung the silver horn Othalas had given her. She picked it up and placed it to her lips. At first, no sound came. Then, a high peal filled the night. It dropped in pitch sending its great bellow through the darkness. Trees around her seemed to echo the call back. Her wind finally gone, she lowered the horn.

  In the silence that followed, she lifted her quiver and slung it over her shoulder. She noticed the arrows were replaced.

  Khoraz? she wondered.

  “Why did you call him?” the dragon asked.

  “So I might hunt with him.”

  Quiet fell over the fae army. Many turned to stare up at their new queen. Then, far off, there was an answering howl.

  Othalas, she thought with a grim smile. “Come then, my wolf,” she whispered. “It is time to call your kin. Time
to raise the hunt.”

  Galwin, who stood a ways off, shivered when he heard those words. To him, Luthiel’s eyes seemed filled with a passion he could not understand. It was enough to make him step back and clutch his banner tight. She seemed strange to him then and, for the first time, his feeling for her was replaced by fear.

  She reached for her bow. Her fingers surrounded the cold, white wood. The hands on her quiver lifted an arrow; she drew. Its Cauthrim tip shed a dim, red glow, casting tiny fires in her silver hair. Placing arrow to guide, she pulled it back. A ‘click’ and then all was set. She dropped to a knee, staring out into the darkness.

  The wolf was not far away. After only a short time, he crested a nearby hill. His eyes blazing yellow fire. Fierce. For his mistress called. There she knelt. Queenly and yet so wild. Arrow set to bow—spilling out a bloody light.

  At the sight of her, passion filled him. It rose in his gut, swelled his chest, then burst out of his throat. It overwhelmed the air and beat against the starry roof. The howl filled the mounds, rang out through the Vale and then rolled into Minonowe.

  She had called him and here was his answer.

  The spiders were out there. Running. With Luthiel, he would hunt them.

  She heard the rush of blood in her ears as Othalas came up to her. With a spring, she was on him, burying her face in his soft fur. She could feel his great heart beating. Winding her hand through his coat, she found his hide. As Winowe taught her, she matched breathing and heartbeat to his. For a moment, she let their blood mingle through her touch. A thrill and a heat rushed through her arm.