Luthiel's Song: The War of Mists

by Robert Marston Fannéy

  The music was thick with energy and passion. Luthiel felt a big smile bloom on her face. She couldn’t ever remember being so happy. She was here with Leowin and her real mother had returned to her. All seemed right. For a moment, her thoughts returned to the owl, Ecthellien, Tuorlin, and the thousands lost. Her mood slowly sobered. Taken by an inspiration, she lifted her glass and cried to those around her in a clear voice.

  “To those who sacrificed to make this day possible! May their memory never fade!”

  Those around her lifted their glasses and before they brought them back down for a drink, Vanye appeared with his own cup raised.

  “To the noble dead!” he cried.

  “To the noble dead!” they echoed and drank.

  The word ‘dead’ gave Luthiel a little chill. But then she was drinking and the bubbly stuff seemed to warm her again. Leowin gave her a little wink and then skipped over to Vanye. He put his drink on a table, grabbed her with both hands about the waist and held her high while spinning. Her hair flowed like a golden flame as it swept out from her head. Her laughter sounded like bells. Then they were off dancing like the two most graceful things she had ever seen. The way they complemented made her chest twinge with just a little jealousy. But that was immediately replaced by embarrassment as she saw Vaelros walk toward her.

  “I was hoping we’d have some time,” he said. “Lately, things have been so hectic—” he trailed off. She realized he was making excuses for her. But seeing Leowin made her feel a little reckless. So, without a word, she grabbed Vaelros by the arm and pulled him out to dance.

  He laughed. “Not much for words tonight?”

  “I have words. But for now I prefer action,” she said with a laugh. She laughed even more when she saw him flush. But he swept gracefully into the dance with her and his face shone with a brilliant smile.

  “My lady, how you shine this evening,” he said easily.

  And Luthiel was indeed radiant. Her dress illumined by the lights at her brow, her eyes casting out like the stars themselves.

  She nodded at the compliment and smiled all the brighter. “I am merry, Vaelros. For the first time in a long time.” Without realizing what she was doing, and more on an impulse than anything else, she leaned forward and kissed him. It was a simple, yet firm kiss and she pulled back after only a moment. But it sent a thrill through her.

  He leaned down for another. But she put her finger on his lips to stop him.

  “That was my reward to you,” she said as they danced. “Don’t squander it.”

  “Reward?” he asked still seeming both surprised and delighted at this unexpected attention. “What for?”

  “Why for living, Vaelros. And for doing so much else to help me. I will have you rewarded in state as well. But that was just from me.”

  She saw Vaelros flush and she gave a brilliant smile.

  “You don’t like my reward?” she asked.

  “I do!” he replied. “I want only to learn how to earn more.”

  The music was fading. The song was ending. Luthiel stepped back and let her hands drop.

  “It is a mysterious thing, my heart,” she said. “For it will not tell even me.”

  And with that she was dancing away. “Fear not, Vaelros! You will learn one day!”

  He stood still for a moment—a grin exploding on his face despite himself.

  She laughed as she danced deeper into the crowd.

  “May I?” said Mithorden, who had appeared suddenly before her.

  She mock bowed to him and took his hands.

  “I saw your dance with Vaelros. Do you think it was wise?”

  Luthiel held back a scoff. “It did him good. You should have seen his face. Why? Are you worried?”

  “A little. But he does seem to be doing better lately. I’ve had the Valkyrie keep an eye on him. I was encouraged when a friendship budded between him and Elonwyn.”

  Luthiel laughed. “So you’re trying to keep Vaelros away from me, Mithorden? Well you should have little to worry about. My young heart is hardly ready for full blown love. What harm is a little kiss?”

  “Be careful whom you kiss, Luthiel, and how you do it. A little kiss from the right lady is enough to make or break the heart of a man.”

  “Always gloomy aren’t you, Mithorden? Come! Cheer up! This is our victory dance! Yours and mine and all who came with us! It’s what you wanted isn’t it?”

  “It is something worth celebrating,” Mithorden said, finally smiling, and his step seemed to lighten a little. “As was Merrin’s song and her love for you. A mother and daughter reunited. Now that is something truly worth celebrating.”

  “I’m exuberant!” Luthiel said, wondering if the sorcerer knew all along. “And yet I’m afraid too. What if I don’t have enough time with her. There are things that must be done. Zalos. Thrar Taurmori. War.” She said the last word with dread.

  “You’re a wise one, Luthiel. I expect Zalos will bring War to us ere long.”

  “If not, then I would bring it to him.” Her voice suddenly became fierce. “I know all too well what he’s done. What he’s become. It’s worse than Vyrl. Worse than Widdershae.”

  “Do not be so swift to cast out judgment or to seek a fight, Luthiel. Remember the lessons you’ve learned. Of love. Of forgiveness. Keep them close. They are your most precious allies. They will lead you through this trouble.”

  “Forgive Zalos? After he has done so much? How?”

  “I did not say not to be wary of him. Nor even to expect good from him. But is it the right thing to attack him unprovoked? We should give him every opportunity to back down. To change.”

  “While he masses armies against us? Mithorden! You are the general.”

  “I am. That is why I say—better to allow him to amass armies than to assail him in his place of power and walk directly into a trap. If I know anything. I know that Zalos is cunning and will seek to draw you out. Put you in a weak place while he holds the strong one. Be careful, Luthiel.”

  Luthiel nodded somberly and pulled back from Mithorden. “Thank you—” she said and looked away. “I’ll be going now. Enjoy the dance, Mithorden. It may be the last one we have for a long time.”

  She walked away from the sorcerer, took another drink, and found her wolf. He stood at the edge of the festivities watching it all with bored interest. When she approached him he let out a frustrated snort. “Been a while since I could take part in this sort of fun.”

  She threaded her fingers through is fur, feeling a little surge of pity for the great wolf. “Each time we ride, I am dancing with you,” she said. “Each draft of air in my face is better than any draught of wine and far more heady.”

  “You’re just saying it to make me feel better,” the great wolf growled. “I know you well enough, Luthiel.” And then he let out another snort—this one laughter. “Just do one thing for me tonight.”

  “Anything for my wolf,” she said languidly.

  “Don’t give out too many kisses.”

  “You and Mithorden both!”

  “For once I agree with that sorcerer about something.” Then he sat down and let her scratch his ears.

  A Mysterious Stranger

  She stayed with Othalas for a few minutes more enjoying the quiet and her time with him. Then she stood.

  “I should go back.”

  The great wolf nodded. “Then I shall see you soon. I wish that ratty dragon were here. There’s no one around as fun to bully.”

  Luthiel looked off. “I understand. I miss him too.”

  With a wave of her hand, she walked back down the slope to rejoin the party. She did so just in time to see a curious group enter the crowd. They were all dressed out in fine black robes and had intricate masks over their faces. They looked like walking pieces of artwork. Something from a beautiful mummer’s play. Each mask was different. She saw an eagle, a great horned beast, a lion, a bear, a vulture. Somewhere near the back she saw a dragon. She was about to turn away when the m
an with the lion mask stopped in front of her.

  He bowed gracefully and she was taken in by the care and precision of his movements. “Queen Luthiel,” he said softly. “As lovely as ever. May I have this dance?”

  When he spoke the words there was a chill that ran through her. “Do I know you?”

  “You do. I am known by those you love.”

  “But do I know you?” she persisted. “What’s your name?”

  “Now what sort of fun is that?” he said smoothly. “The mask is there for a reason. This is a dance after all. Can we forgo the dance of words and continue on with the dance of bodies?”

  Something about this man intrigued her. The way he moved so proudly. It couldn’t be Vaelros. His form was a little shorter and a little stronger. It couldn’t be Galwin. This man was far too sure of himself. But if not those two then who? Some other lord, perhaps?

  How could I know him? But the mask revealed nothing and she stood there for a moment, wavering on the verge of indecision.

  “If I dance with you, promise me you’ll take off the mask when we’re done and show me who you are.”

  “You have my word.”

  He stretched out a hand, and hesitating one more moment, she took it. Then they were dancing across the soft grass. She felt as though she were flying. The music swelled and her feet responded. He was an amazing dancer, the best she’d seen since Vanye, and it was all she could do to match him—form for form, move for move. He was refined to the point of perfection, as though his body had been trained to respond to each thought flawlessly.

  “How did you learn to dance so well?” she asked at a slower part in the music.

  “You could say I’m a dancer.”

  “A Blade Dancer?”

  “Yes. I was called that at one time.” His intricate mask left just enough of an opening for her to see him smile and she could tell he was enjoying the game.

  The music swelled again and she was lost to the dance once more. The other masked figures stood a little away from them, watching or seeming to chat among themselves. Luthiel noticed they stood apart from the crowd, who seemed to avoid them.

  Must be the masks, she thought. It does make them look a little odd.

  Luthiel hardly had a moment to think throughout the dance. It was such an amazing thing. Like her partner knew how to make art with their bodies. She found herself dreading the end. What if it’s someone I don’t like? she thought. For she’d come to deeply admire this dancer and as she did she began to fear what knowing his identity might bring.

  The song slowed. It dropped off. Then, altogether ended.

  For a brief moment they stood together. Looking at each other. Luthiel was at a loss.

  “It was lovely,” she said finally.

  Her mysterious partner bowed and offered his hand.

  “Come then and I will reveal myself.”

  “You need not. We could simply part ways here and then—” she trailed off unable to articulate her feelings.

  “And then what?” the dancer said. “You would never know who danced with you this night.”

  “I think I prefer that,” she whispered.

  “Come, Luthiel, where is your courage? The courage that brought you to the Vale of Mists. The courage you showed when you charged to save the Lord Tuorlin. The courage I have heard you showed against Thrar Taurmori. It does not fit the spirit of a warrior to back down so easily. And I well know you are a warrior. One of great talent, for you have surprised even me many times.”

  “Fair enough,” she said, her voice dropping. “But I am also a lover of mysteries. So let me savor it a moment more.”

  “Very well. Come and walk with me for a minute.”

  He offered his arm which she took and they were walking away from the dance and toward the great tree.

  “How do you know so much about me?” she asked finally after they’d come very close to the tree. In this place the land dropped and some of the roots were exposed, creating a sort of cave of earth and wood. From beneath the tree a light shone. Only bits of the light came through. But she could tell it was a bright light like the sun. Seeing it shining from between roots like hills, her pulse quickened.

  “Well there are many ways to know someone,” he said. Then, noticing the look on her face, he pointed to the light. “Do you know what that is?”

  Luthiel could well have guessed. But she’d never yet seen it. “Is it the fire eternal?”

  “Yes. See, you surprise me again. This is the flame eternal which is cupped in the great roots of Yewstaff. It is the great light that keeps this tree alive and all the things that depend upon it. Want to have a closer look?”

  Luthiel was captured by the beauty and by some compelling quality in his voice. The way he said the words made them seem more appealing.

  “Yes, I’d like that,” she said. “But you didn’t answer my question. Funny, you reminded me of Mithorden just then. Answering around the question. But never getting to it.”

  “Ah, he does do that. Doesn’t he? Maybe I learned it from him.”

  Her father? Her heart thrummed at the thought. It couldn’t be. He’s been broken all these years. Or perhaps it was Chromnos? If his very name were forbidden, certainly he would hide his face. Though the earth beneath her feet was warming with each step, the thought made her arms prickle with gooseflesh.

  They walked beneath the great roots of Yewstaff. The land continued to drop and as they walked the light grew brighter. It shone up through the roots in the same way sunlight might shine down through branches. After about five hundred feet, the bottom dropped out and she gazed down into a great hollow beneath Yewstaff. Above she could see the base of the massive tree, its roots fanning out around the chamber in broad crescents. The earth here was blasted by heat. So much so that it had turned to glass. Some places gleamed with yellow or orange where the heat had recently remelted it. The undersides of the roots were covered in stony green splotches that seemed to draw in the light.

  At the chamber’s center was a great round light. It was large—about four hundred feet across. And it looked like a sun. But this sun was no more than three hundred feet from where she stood. They’d made their way to a natural shelf of root and rock and gazed down at it. It gleamed, brighter than the day star and she couldn’t look at it for long or she began to see spots. After a few moments, they had to stand back from the shelf. For the heat was unbearable.

  “So this is it?” she asked. “The reason the great trees bear fruit all year ’round?”

  “Yes. It is the source of their power. The reason they endure for all time.”

  Luthiel found she was sweating. The temperature was searing where she stood and a great column of heat rose up from the fire beneath her, making little sparks as something ignited. She could see distortions in the air before her and she wondered what would happen if she held her hand out over the ledge and above the fire.

  “Now, in answer to your question,” the mysterious man continued. “There are many ways to know someone. To be a friend is a good way. To love. That does well too. But the best way to learn about a person is to fight against them. And that, Luthiel, is the reason why I know so much about you.”

  With a single, fluid, motion he lifted his hand to the mask and removed it. Luthiel found she was staring into the handsome face of Zalos, Lord of Ashiroth.

  A Dark Proposal

  Luthiel felt her hand inching toward the hilt of Weiryendel. “You!” she shouted in fury.

  “Wait!” he said lifting an empty hand. “Would you strike me now? As helpless as I am?”

  Luthiel looked him over. Helpless? He was apparently unarmed. Yet probably still very dangerous. Remembering what Mithorden said, she hesitated. “Why did you come here!?” she shouted. “What is it you want!?”

  Zalos smiled. “I’ve made you angry, haven’t I? Good then. Anger is the other side of fear. Fear comes in the face of death. A temporary gift to help you survive. To use anger in Wyrd is to use the magic
of death.”

  Luthiel felt a chill come over her. But her hand was wrapped around the hilt of Weiryendel. She could feel its angry hum through her hand. “What do you want, Zalos?” she repeated. “You’re an outlaw here. This time I am Queen.”

  “Really? If that spectacle you put on means anything, then yes it seems you’re a queen now. But for how much longer without my help?” He motioned with his hands—taking in the chamber. “Why can’t we speak? You didn’t seem to mind dancing. Won’t you just talk to me?”

  “Speak then,” she growled. But she was inching away from him as a person might move away from a dangerous viper. At his words about her rule, the heat seemed to press in on her and she blinked against the sweat. Had something happened?

  It couldn’t. Rictinno. His rats would have alerted me. But a worry and a doubt had come over her. What if they missed something? Zalos and Elag know Yewstaff far better than I. And Zalos’ knowledge spans centuries. In that moment, Luthiel felt very unsure. For nothing other than comfort, she gripped more tightly the hilt of Weiryendel.

  He turned to her and looked directly at her with those dangerous eyes. “I have come to make you an offer.”

  “What would you offer? To kidnap my mother again? Betray my father again? Order my death again?” Her voice was hollow. Full of fear and wariness.

  Zalos gave an easy laugh. “If necessary.” It was confident. Unsettling. “But before any of that, I wanted to try offering myself.”

  “What do you mean?!”

  “Marriage, Luthiel. After war, the oldest way of gaining power.”

  Luthiel stood stunned. “Why would I ever marry you?”

  “To save lives. To prevent rebellion. To make the Faelands whole again. You see, in the face of catastrophe—a catastrophe you’re causing, I might add—you have also managed to divide the Faelands. I am only trying to save them, Luthiel. And I’m giving you a chance to amend your misdeeds against them.”

  Luthiel felt as if a strangling hand had clamped down on her throat. The audacity of Zalos’ proposal, lies and accusations was almost too much to grasp, let alone respond to. What angered her more than anything was the tone of clarity that rang through his words. “My misdeeds?! You serve Death! And you would blame me for the catastrophe Gorthar Lord of Death made as a weapon against all!”