Luthiel's Song: Dreams of the Ringed Vale

by Robert Marston Fannéy

  “This is serious. I think I just realized something important.”

  “What?”

  “I really think he would have let it eat us.”

  Leowin laughed. “Oh, enough! You’re just worried because of the Stone.” She turned so that she was looking Luthiel in the eye. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it secret. He’ll never find out.”

  Luthiel shook her head. “I’d hate to think what would happen if he did,” she said.

  But Leowin only smiled back at her and laughed.

  Luthiel fell silent.

  No use talking to her. She never listens, she thought with a sigh.

  They continued to walk down the road in silence. Leowin would, on occasion, make a face or crack a joke. But Luthiel was too wrapped up in her thoughts to do anything other than look and smile.

  Not the birthday I expected, she thought.

  They had only been walking for a few minutes when Luthiel heard something. She came to an abrupt halt.

  Her fear returned but this time it was stronger. She felt a tingling over her body and her arms were covered with gooseflesh. A sudden, unreasoning, sense of dread fell opon her.

  “What?” Leowin exclaimed.

  “Shhhhh.” Luthiel hissed. Leowin quieted down and she listened as the sound grew louder. She could hear the fall of boot heels on the road behind them.

  “Somebody’s coming.” Luthiel whispered. “I don’t want them to see us.”

  “Why?” Leowin whispered back.

  “I don’t know, I’ve just got a bad feeling.”

  “This is absurd,” Leowin laughed.

  The sound was growing louder and Luthiel was certain that at any moment the walker would come round the bend.

  “Get out of the road,” Luthiel whispered.

  “Luthiel, you’re scaring me.”

  “Get out!” Luthiel hissed as she grabbed Leowin and pulled her into a nearby thicket. She felt immediately embarrassed. Why should she hide from a traveler on the East Wind? Perhaps she was just worried about Elag or maybe she was still agonizing over what Leowin said about leaving. She tried to shake the sense of foreboding, but it stuck with her growing until it became a nagging worry, which was enough to keep her hidden.

  “Where is it?” Leowin whispered to Luthiel. Luthiel motioned with her head toward the East Wind. Orin’s Eye was turning a brilliant purple and orange as it set in the west casting long shadows over the road. She peered into them, eyes scanning for any hint of motion. At first, the only sign of the stranger’s approach was the growing sound of boot heels against stones. Then, she saw a dark figure moving on the road. Beneath a gray cloak that draped to the tops of snug black boots, she could see armor plates shaped like leaves rippling over his tall form. Girded to his left shoulder was a ring of blades that seemed to flex with every footfall. His gauntleted hand rested on the black and silver hilt of a longsword. In spite of the evening’s warmth he wore a hood that overshadowed his face, but she could see the gleam of his eyes as he scanned the path.

  Her breath caught in her throat. She was frozen, unable to tear her eyes from him.

  The figure came abreast of where they were hiding and stopped. His head moved slowly from side to side as though he were listening. Luthiel felt her heart quicken.

  A branch jabbed her in the side, thorns pricked her, a fly landed on her hand. But she didn’t dare to move. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Leowin had gone stiff.

  The figure turned toward them, walked to the side of the road near where they were hiding and sat down with his back to a tree. Luthiel’s heart was beating so loudly, she was certain he would hear it. She tried to soften her breathing. Beside her, Leowin squirmed.

  The fly on her hand crawled over to her thumb and then bit it. She flinched, ground her teeth. Repressing an urge to smack it, she brushed it away with her forefinger. It flew off, only to land again on her cheek. She blinked her eye furiously hoping to scare it off. But she didn’t dare to raise her hand.

  He pulled out a waterbulb and took a couple of gulps. He then opened another pouch at his belt and started fishing out pieces of dried fruit with a small knife. The ring of blades at his shoulder suddenly swirled away. It cut through the air, flipped itself upside down and then landed on a tree branch.

  The fly bit her again.

  Luthiel almost jumped. She felt like screaming in fear and frustration. Instead she slowly raised her shoulder and brushed it against her cheek. The fly buzzed off only to land on the bare flesh of Leowin’s arm.

  Leowin looked at her with a pained expression, but she didn’t dare move.

  He was so close to her she could reach out and touch him. What if Leowin suddenly sprang up? Would he kill her?

  She could see Leowin’s face flinching with pain.

  Suddenly, his hand shot out and snatched the fly from Leowin’s arm. He held it in his fist for a moment and then opened his hand. The fly buzzed off down the road.

  Startled by the sudden movement, they jumped, tangling themselves up in the thicket.

  “Happy First Summer’s Eve,” he said without looking at them.

  Her cheeks flushed. She could hear Leowin’s quick breathing beside her and felt her hand grab the fabric of her shirt. She felt Leowin’s breath on her ear.

  “He’s a Blade Dancer.” Leowin whispered. “Let me handle him.”

  “Oh,” she said hollowly.

  A Blade Dancer? She’d heard of them but she’d never seen one. They were the solitary guardians of the Minonowe and most elves shared a feeling of unease about them. They were necessary—defending against a thousand horrors both from the outside and from within. But often, they seemed as dark and dangerous as the things they fought. Violence was a way of life for Blade Dancers. Luthiel found that even talk of them was worth avoiding.

  As she picked her way through the bramble, Luthiel wondered why he had come. Blade Dancers only came to a place for two reasons—either to root out some danger or to name a Chosen. The second task was reason enough for their infamy. Chosen were sent to feed Vyrl in the Vale of Mists. A more horrible doom Luthiel could not imagine—die by having your blood consumed or return horribly disfigured by the magic of the Vale. Lately, the Vyrl had been demanding more and more Chosen. One a year was normal. But this year was different. So far, they had demanded three and it was barely summer.

  Maybe the Dancer is just here to deal with Elag, Luthiel told herself. Leowin said he’d been dabbling in things he shouldn’t. Or maybethere is some other danger? She found herself hoping that this was true and that the Blade Dancer was not here for a Chosen.

  Luthiel’s face flushed hot with embarrassment and fear when she finally stepped out of the bramble. Leowin popped up with twigs in her hair and seemed to tremble.

  Luthiel felt Leowin’s hand squeezing her shoulder.

  “Happy First Summer’s Eve.” Leowin replied.

  The Blade Dancer looked up at her. His face warmed into a smile and he nodded.

  “You’ve still got something in your hair,” he said, motioning with his hand.

  Leowin combed her fingers through her hair, but missed it.

  “Ah, here, let me help,” he said as he stood. He lifted his hand and gently plucked the last twig from Leowin’s hair. “There, that’s it,” he said as he tossed the twig aside.

  He picked up a bag from his pack and offered it to them. “Hungry?”

  Luthiel looked at Leowin, who nodded. “Then have what you like. The orange ones are especially good.” He motioned with his knife at some of the orange pieces of fruit that were peeking up out of the open bag.

  Luthiel crouched down and picked up a piece. She recognized it as dried Yewstaff fruit. At any other time she would have happily eaten it. Yewstaff was a tree of life and his fruit was both delicious and healing to the body. Even dried, it was a gift beyond compare. But her hunger of a few minutes before had been replaced by a sick feeling in her stomach. So she just looked at it.

  Leowin sa
t down beside her and pulled out a piece for herself. She looked at it for a moment and then nibbled at the corner.

  “Just wanted to know if I was in the right place.” The Blade Dancer said softly after they had eaten a bit. His gaze lingered, for a moment, on Leowin. “Is this the town of Flir Light Hollow?”

  Leowin nodded her head. “Yes, Blade Dancer, you’ve come to Flir Light.” She looked as if she was going to ask a question and then thought better of it.

  Luthiel understood. She, too, was curious about why the Blade Dancer was here. But it was a sort of dreadful curiosity. She would almost rather not know why he had come. Blade Dancers only came for two reasons. Even if this one was kind, it couldn’t change that simple truth. He was here to sentence someone to likely death or he was here because something dreadful had come to Flir Light.

  She rolled her untouched fruit in her hand and wondered how Leowin could stomach any of it.

  “Blade Dancer, what’s your name?” Leowin asked.

  “Vanye,” he said. “And you two?”

  “I’m Leowin Valshae and this is Luthiel, my sister.”

  The Blade Dancer paused and stared down the road. Then, he turned to Luthiel. The look in his eyes was sad—full of sympathy. It was just a glance, but there was such a depth of remorse within them that she stood staring for long moments even after the Blade Dancer had turned away.

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  “A lovely name. They’re both lovely,” he said. Leowin’s face flushed and she laughed nervously.

  “Vanye, a heart-gift to meet you.” She extended her hand making the sign for Orin’s Eye. Vanye covered her hand with his, but his face had darkened and he seemed to be fighting off a frown.

  For long moments he sat there, still as a stone. There was a gentleness in his sad gaze that belied his hard form. Then his eyes dropped and his face set into grim lines. He withdrew his hand, stood up, and turned his eyes into the sunset. The gentleness of a moment before was replaced by desolation.

  Luthiel’s unease deepened as she watched him. Why’s he acting this way? Why did he look at me like that? she thought.

  She watched on with growing discontent as Leowin stood there struggling to find the right words to say. It was absurd, like trying to talk with a thunderstorm. She just wanted to leave, leave the Blade Dancer be and forget they ever met him.

  “Vanye. It’s First Summer’s Eve. All of Flir Light Hollow is celebrating. Why don’t you come and join us?” Leowin invited. But he just stood there. Leowin wrung her hands. “Let us at least have this night,” she pleaded. “Tonight is Luthiel’s birthday.”

  The Blade Dancer was all harsh lines and sharp angles. Then, he almost sighed. It was a simple movement, a slight flaring of the nostrils, a slow breath. Even though Vanye scared her, Luthiel felt a twinge of pity for him. Here he was doomed to bear these horrible tasks, to face and defeat one kind of monster only to have to tell families and loved ones that one they cherish will be sent as food for another.

  Leowin saw the Dancer’s sigh as well and appeared to be moved by sympathy. She lifted her hand, hesitated, then laid it on his arm. He was stiff and impassive as a statue.

  “Please,” Leowin said.

  Vanye’s eyes flashed with what Luthiel thought was anger. Luthiel felt the urge to take Leowin by the arm and run. What was Leowin doing? Touching a Blade Dancer!

  Again there was a pause. She could see Vanye’s jaw clench.

  “Perhaps tonight is not the best time, perhaps it is. Flir Light is where I’m bound. Lead on. You’ll forgive me if I don’t celebrate.”

  He turned and started walking down the road. The ring of blades lifted away from the tree upon which it rested and landed, once more, on Vanye’s shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” Luthiel whispered.

  “Making the best of a tight spot,” Leowin replied. “We’d better follow him.”

  “What do you mean? Why don’t we just get out of here? He doesn’t need us.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep a Blade Dancer waiting.”

  “What?” But even as the word escaped Luthiel’s lips she could see the Blade Dancer standing among the lesser shadows on the road. His gleaming eyes were on them and they didn’t waver. She could tell by the way he watched them that Leowin was right.

  So without another word, they started back toward Flir Light. The Blade Dancer’s strides were long and it was all Luthiel could do not to break into a run as she tried to keep up.

  “I’ve heard of him,” Leowin whispered as they walked behind him. “It’s Vanye, the Hunter of Nine Trolls Army.”

  “Oh,” Luthiel said hollowly. But the only thing she could think of was the way he’d looked at her with his hard, sad eyes.

  The road wound its way across the backs of three hills that skirted Flir Light. As they walked, the trees to either side fell away and were replaced by conical fae holmes. Festooned with flir bug bulbs, each fae holme looked like a galaxy and, from a distance, it was difficult to distinguish treetop from starry night. Their feet followed the road as it bent downhill, flowing into a meadow crowded with elves dancing and merry-making under the fireworks’ spider light.

  All about the meadow trees were decorated with wreaths and vines of living flowers. The wind rustled softly through the vines and a constant rain of petals dusted the ground and nearby revelers. The meadow sloped in a natural amphitheatre and tables were set in rows about it. In a clear space beneath them elves danced and swayed before a hillock upon which minstrals played. The hill drooped upon the shores of a lake—Aewin’s Wet—sparkling with both the lights of the elves and those of night.

  Halfway around the lakeshore, elves were bending their great bows in a competition of archery. Shafts hissed through the air, diving upon targets hung from trees or propped between boulders. Even though the elves were grimly serious about their archery, tonight there was laughter among the competitors and the large crowd that watched them. Wine was passed around freely and even when money changed hands it was with a laugh or a slap on the shoulder.

  When they reached the rocky shores of Aewin’s Wet, Luthiel’s dread increased. She felt a pang of envy for the other elves as they made merry, still happily unaware of the Blade Dancer walking beside her. Perhaps it was her mood, but even by the light of four moons—silver Silva, pearl Lunen, gray Sothos, and blue Merrin—he looked dark and hard.

  Tables of all kinds heaped with every sort of food ringed the meadow and all forms of fae were eating, singing, dancing, or sneaking by pairs into the wood of Eaven Vole. There were the tall and noble Ithildar, the strong and proud Gruagach, short, flame haired red-caps—goblin-kin from Rimwold in the south—and here and there were elves from the Dark Forest that lay far beyond the Gates of the East across the great Drakken Spurr Mountains. Luthiel might have grinned, or laughed out loud, or danced over the damp grass, were it not for the Blade Dancer. Instead, she looked at her feet. Leowin turned to her and gave a wan smile.

  “Let’s take Vanye and get him some food,” she ventured. Again, Luthiel wondered at her courage.

  “I guess I could eat something,” she lied. Her stomach churned at even the thought of food.

  “Are you still hungry?” Leowin asked Vanye.

  He only nodded in reply.

  At first, as they walked out onto the meadow, the merriment around them continued. Then, one by one, the elves took notice of the Blade Dancer. The music quieted as they paused to stare or whisper nervously to one another. Elves parted before him as though afraid he might, without warning, lash out at them. Even after he was well past, they stood still and somber and were slow to return to their merrymaking. But the elves nearest to him stood straight as grass blades and hushed when he passed, watching him with wary eyes. After, the merriment was never as lively as before.

  Leowin gave simple greetings. But Luthiel noticed that their eyes were always drawn back to Vanye. Yet they never spoke to him or acknowledged his pres
ence other than with their fearful eyes.

  They made their way to one of the tables scattered about the meadow. A large group of faerie was gathered around it, helping themselves to every variety of food.

  “Vanye, come here, this is Eolas, and Tarna, and Galdin,” Leowin said as she grabbed Galdin by the hand. He’d seen Vanye and was walking away just as Leowin caught him. Now he nodded his head in greeting to the Blade Dancer.

  “It is—it is good! An honor!” he said awkwardly then hurried off before Leowin could catch him again.

  “I’d introduce you to my parents but you must be very hungry!” Leowin said. “Ah but here is Minelwe! Min, come here! This is Vanye!”

  As Min curtsied awkwardly and Vanye nodded in return, Luthiel grabbed Leowin by the elbow.

  “Leowin, are you all right?” Luthiel said.

  “I’m fine,” Leowin said with a small laugh.

  She squeezed Luthiel’s arm as if to reassure her.

  Luthiel flinched. Leowin was squeezing hard!

  She opened her mouth to say something, but Leowin had already spun around—returning to Vanye before Luthiel could say another word.

  Luthiel rubbed her arm where Leowin had squeezed it. It stung.

  It looked as though Leowin was determined to make Vanye less threatening and she seemed to think that a bowl piled high with food might do the trick. Luthiel admired Leowin’s efforts, but thought the wooden bowl Vanye held—laden with all forms of puddings, breads, fruits, both cooked and raw meats, vegetables and every kind of spice, candy and pastry imaginable—only made him look ravenous.

  Vanye poked an inferno rock with his fork, watching as it toasted one half of his slice of almorah bread. Leowin picked it up and popped it into her mouth. “You eat them! Oooo! Hot!” she exclaimed, waving her hand in front of her mouth from which a thin stream of smoke was curling. Inferno rocks didn’t actually burn your mouth but they sure felt hot. They were also very good—tasting of cinnamon and honeygrass. “You should try one.” She motioned to the sizzling rock candy on Vanye’s plate.

  “I think I’ll decline,” he said. Leowin did her best to smile.

  Luthiel was impressed by Leowin’s gestures toward the Blade Dancer. Everyone else was giving him wide berth, eyeing the ring of blades on his shoulder. Luthiel felt a bit odd being so friendly with the Dancer. It was like having a dragon over for dinner.