Luthiel's Song: Dreams of the Ringed Vale

by Robert Marston Fannéy

  Was there something she should remember about the mist? The way it seemed to move like a living creature made her begin to feel afraid, but she couldn’t quite recall why.

  Then, as long fingers of mist began to push up from the swelling mass around her bed, she began to remember.

  I went to the Vale of Mists!

  With this recollection, panic began to set in. She jerked away from the grasping hands of mists that were now rising up from the pool on the floor to circle her in a cage of swaying arms. She pulled the covers over her head. But she could still feel the damp touch of it through the sheets.

  Then she remembered her Stone.

  The Stone! Of course, how could I be such a fool!

  She clutched for the pouch around her neck only to find that it was not there. Now she began to panic in earnest. What had happened to her Stone?

  Vyrl.

  With that thought, she suddenly recalled everything—Othalas, the Cave of Painted Shadows, her struggle with the Vyrl. She glanced down at her naked body.

  They looked through everything!

  Her heart quailed.

  What if they took it?

  The sheets grew damper and mist started seeping in through small openings. Thin fingers stretched out toward her. She recoiled, but there was nowhere to hide. Where the mist touched her, her flesh seemed to writhe and twitch.

  Desperate, she flung the sheets aside.

  Now the mist was all over her. Great ropes of it wrapped around her. Everywhere, her flesh was writhing as though worms were swarming beneath. She leapt from her bed, and scampered to the bone chair. Her head reeled and the place where the Vyrl struck her throbbed. She had to steady herself on the bed before continuing. The writhing beneath her skin grew with each passing moment. Finally, she made it to the chair. Tossing her clothes aside, she searched desperately. Her pack, her map, some scant amount of food, socks, her leather case containing the shards of Aeowinar all ended up on the floor as she dug. But no matter where she looked, she couldn’t find it.

  “Where is it? Oh where is it!” she cried as she threw her clothes on the floor.

  Now she could feel the change starting. Something had gotten into her. It wormed its way deep into the caverns of her mind, searching, moving things around. She shuddered to think what would happen when it found what it was looking for. The change began to take control and it wasn’t gentle. Her legs writhed so much that she fell the floor. The joints in arms and legs made loud popping sounds. She desperately pawed through her things with fingers that seemed to be shrinking, drawing together. But she couldn’t find her Stone no matter where she searched.

  “Looking for this?”

  The voice came from one of the small slit windows at the far end of the room. There she saw a creature that looked like a dragon in miniature. His silver body sprouted wings like gossamer that caught the light and turned it into rainbows. In his hand he held her Stone.

  Luthiel’s heart raced. She only had a few moments.

  “Please, give it to me!” she cried. Her lips seemed clumsy and her voice seemed shrill to her ears.

  “In a moment. I just want to ask you one thing and if you say yes, then I will give it to you. I need your help, you see, and I wanted to know if you’d help me.”

  Luthiel was desperate, a horn was starting to sprout from her head and silver hair was springing up all over her body.

  “Yes, anything, just give it to me!”

  “You must promise.”

  Luthiel knew she didn’t have any other choice. If she wanted to remain herself, she must do as the tiny dragon asked.

  “I give my word. Now please, give me my Stone!” At least that was what she meant to say. But the last three words came out like a ghostly neigh.

  It was enough, though, for the tiny drake sprang into the air and flew to her, placing the Stone gently in her hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had to have your promise.”

  She didn’t waste any more time talking to the tiny drake. Instead, she cupped the Stone in her hands and sang aloud.

  Luthiel!

  The Stone, dark before, burst into sudden light as she entered the world of dreams. The mists, caught up in the song, swirled about her. She no longer felt the crawling beneath her skin. Instead, the waves in her flesh stilled and the horn and silver hair melted back into her skin. The breath of air was crisp in her lungs, exhilarating. In a moment, the mists dispersed and she was left alone in the room with the rainbow winged dragon. Luthiel let herself sing for a few moments longer. Her pain seemed so far away and the wavery walls gave her odd comfort. The world of dreams sometimes seemed to her like such a soft place. Looking at the tiny dragon, she saw that he was surrounded by a cloud of light, but the shadows he cast looked long and spindly.

  Melkion the Dragon

  Luthiel had begun to watch the drake with fascination when she remembered Mithorden’s words about the Vyrl.

  Though many mystical creatures covet Wyrd Stones, the Vyrl above all desire them. If your Stone is open, it is likely that they will discover it and then try to kill you so that they can claim it.

  With an effort, she stopped singing. She did it in one try this time.

  Then, holding the Stone in her hand, she chanted—Nin Alhandra. Slowly, the light in her Stone winked out.

  She let out a long sigh as the pain from her wounds returned.

  The winged serpent who, a moment ago, had held her Stone for ransom landed on the foot of her bed and stared sharply at her with blazing violet eyes. Self conscious, Luthiel sat down on the bed and pulled the blankets about her.

  “Don’t you ever, ever, touch my Stone or anything else that is mine again, you little thief!”

  The little dragon flared his wings out in surprise at her outburst.

  “I am sorry about what happened just now. But I needed your assurance. You don’t understand.”

  “Understand! Don’t you understand what just almost happened!”

  “I understand what didn’t happen. Now that is something even I have never seen. It is truly amazing,” the little dragon said.

  Luthiel took a long breath and tried to calm her anger. She was alone in the palace of the Vyrl and this little dragon must be one of their servants. He must not realize what the Stone was.

  If he tells them, then it’s certain they’ll kill me. They’ll want the Stone.

  “Just don’t you ever take something that is mine again,” she said tersely.

  “In exchange for your forgiveness and your help, I promise.” The tiny dragon bobbed his head.

  Luthiel would have nodded in return if her head wasn’t throbbing so terribly.

  “And one more thing, no one but us needs to know what happened here,” she said, thinking of her Cauthrim blade.

  The dragon nodded. But his purple eyes twinkled knowingly.

  “Just so we understand each other,” she said. She watched silently as the last of the mists slipped from the room.

  “They don’t bother you?” she asked.

  “The mists? Of course not! I am a dragon! The mists would have more luck changing the wind.”

  Luthiel sat quietly, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “I suppose I should ask you.”

  “Ask me what?”

  “What I’ve promised to do.”

  “Oh that! I’ll tell you in good time. No need to worry now—no, you have quite enough to concern yourself with already, I should say.”

  At that Luthiel gave a short, half-hearted, laugh.

  “I’m rude,” he continued. “We haven’t been properly introduced! While I may know who you are, you seem to be at a loss.”

  “I’ve been playing catch-up ever since I left home,” she muttered. She wondered if the dragon really knew who she was and, if so, how? Had Othalas told her? Or did he just think she was Leowin?

  The dragon continued as if he hadn’t even heard her.

  “Be that as it may, my name is Melk
ion,” he said with a swish of his rainbow plumed tail and a bow of his silver head. “My lady,” he continued. “I am at your service.”

  “Service?”

  “Well yes. What can I do for you?”

  Luthiel did laugh this time—but not too loud, for it hurt her head. The laugh was more bitter than happy. A moment ago the little monster had threatened to let the mists consume her. Now he was playing at host.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “Ridiculous? My dear, I don’t understand what you could mean.”

  Now Luthiel was fuming. He was mocking her, she was sure of it. The little court jester was having his fun as, all the while, Vyrl were coming down the hall to dine on her blood.

  “I didn’t come here through every kind of trouble—attacked by spiders, threatened by werewolves, strangled by shadows, mauled by Vyrl, and nearly turned into something utterly monstrous by the mists—only to be mocked by some prankster who thinks it’s all some kind of joke!”

  “I was hoping we could be friends,” Melkion said in a quieter tone.

  “Friends!? What do you suppose would be the basis for our friendship? Dangerous practical jokes at my expense? Bribery? Blackmail? How about looking the other way as the Vyrl torture and kill innocent people?”

  “I understand how you could see it that way,” the little dragon said. His head drooped on the end of his long neck and his voice sounded very sad. “Sometimes, you have almost no choice and you are forced to do things you normally wouldn’t.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well sometimes, you can’t change the way things are. You might be too weak. Suppose a very bad thing has happened to someone you love. Suppose they will die unless you go to a bad place and do bad things. What would you do then?”

  Luthiel knew the dragon was being intentionally vague. But she did understand about making sacrifices for someone you love. Still, she didn’t trust him.

  “Aren’t you a servant of the Vyrl?”

  “Yes, but not by choice. I came here a long time ago in hopes of finding something to help someone I love very much. In exchange for this small chance, I have served as the Vyrl’s messenger for more than a century now,” his violet eyes glistened as he watched her. “I don’t enjoy serving them. They are terrible. But if I did something to stop them, they might kill me or cast me out of the Vale where I would have little hope of finding help.”

  Luthiel was still suspicious.

  “Does this have anything to do with you holding my Stone hostage?”

  The dragon let out a long sigh and then gave her a toothy grin.

  “Well if I couldn’t interest you in friendship, then perhaps I could interest you in a bite to eat? This place is not known for its fine food, but I could offer you bread, cheese, a bit of fresh fruit and even something sweet that I’ve stashed away for special occasions.”

  Luthiel stared at the little rainbow winged creature with her mouth open. Of all the things she’d expected to find in the fortress of the Vyrl at the heart of the Vale of Mists, this wasn’t one of them. To be recited menu items, no matter how scant, by a ridiculous little dragon as the Vyrl were contemplating their next meal was almost too much for her to fathom. But she was starving and she felt very weak.

  “Well, if you have some food, I’m not saying I wouldn’t eat it.”

  The little dragon put his hands together. “Now that’s a start, at least,” he hissed. “I’ll be right back!” Then, he turned and, with a flap of his wings, glided out the window.

  “Strange and stranger,” Luthiel whispered to herself. She sat up, pulling the covers down to inspect herself. Her wounds were washed and wrapped in clean cloth. Even her skin was clean. The bruises on her legs stood out in angry blue but the cuts and gashes were all tended to and covered in bandages. She stood. She had to steady herself for a moment as her head reeled. She raised a hand to her head, feeling another bandage on the place where the Vyrl struck her with his sword.

  The way her head throbbed, she was surprised that the blow hadn’t brained her. She found her remaining clothes clean and folded. She felt better after putting them on and then went through her things.

  Strange, they’d let her keep her knife.

  She laughed.

  Not like it had done her much good anyway.

  She had everything, even the shards of Valkire’s sword. She unfolded her leather pouch and looked at the shards sparkling in the firelight. Othalas had known about it, but here it was, still in her possession.

  “Not that it matters. I’ll soon be dead and they can take what they want.”

  “Now I wouldn’t say such things! You don’t know everything that’s happened since you fell. You should take heart that you are still among the living. It’s not everyday this sort of thing happens.” The tiny dragon had come upon her unawares. Miraculously, he had managed to lay everything neatly on the table beside her bed. There was a large loaf of crusty black bread, a good sized hunk of cheese, a black lump that looked like chocolate, a shining green pear and a tall cup filled with a golden liquid.

  She moved quickly to cover the shards but the dragon was already looking at them.

  “Now there’s a pretty thing! Where did you get that?” The dragon said lunging toward the shattered bits sparkling in the firelight.

  Quickly, she folded the bits in the leather case and clutched them to her chest.

  “None of your business you snooper.”

  “Snooper?” The dragon looked irritated. “Who cares if I’m a snooper who wants to know interesting things! I just do!” The dragon pointed with his tail at the food. “Well are you going to eat some food or are you going to sit there hoarding your little shiny bits for fear that a dragon might steal them?”

  Ignoring him, she folded the shards carefully back into her pouch which she hung around her belt before she sat down to eat.

  The food was rough but amazingly good. The pear was juicy and the chocolate was exquisite.

  “This is wonderful,” she said, around a mouthful of chocolate. “Where did you get it?”

  “Oh, the girl is not the only one with treasures. Any dragon worth his scales knows how to find precious things and keep them. Here in the Vale of Mists, chocolate is more precious than gold. For there’s only I who knows how to get it.”

  She bit another piece off, savoring the taste as it melted over her tongue. With some food in her stomach, she felt her mood rising a little.

  “Well, if you keep giving me such good food, then you might well have yourself a friend, Melkion. That is, if the Vyrl don’t kill me first and if you can keep your claws off my things.”

  The dragon swished his tail back and forth playfully.

  “Leowin, I think there may be some hope for you after all,” he said with a smile.

  Luthiel smiled back at the little dragon. She was glad Othalas had kept her secret. As she finished her food in silence, she wondered why he lied to the Vyrl. Did he really care about why she came here? Or was he just paying her back for her saving him in the cave?

  To think that I could earn the loyalty of Othalas!

  She grinned at the thought. As unlikely as such things were, it was nice to think them. Melkion, who had returned to his perch in the slit window, stared at her curiously and swished his rainbow-plumed tail.

  Summoned by Monsters

  When she was done eating, she lay back in her bed. She felt better now, with food in her belly, her knife in the sheath at her belt and with her Stone, once again, hung around her neck. She’d also tucked the leather pouch containing the shards into her belt. She wanted to make sure, if she lived, that they got back to Mithorden safely and didn’t end up in some little dragon’s hoard.

  Lying there, she felt the ache of her injuries and exhaustion. She tried to stay still, because when she moved, she felt dizzy and her head throbbed. She wanted to keep as much of her strength as she could. She decided to try to get some more sleep.

  But as soon as sh
e closed her eyes she felt a disturbance of air beside her. When she opened her eyes again she saw Melkion perched on the chair beside her bed.

  “Did you enjoy your food?” he asked.

  “Yes, I did, thank you,” she replied.

  “Good, now I suppose you are ready to go to see the Vyrl.”

  Even though Luthiel lay still in bed, her head was reeling. It took her a few moments before she could say anything.

  “No, I think I’d rather stay here and rest a while,” she said.

  Melkion looked at her sadly.

  “Leowin, I think you’d better come. It is not a good idea to refuse the summons of a Vyrl.”

  Luthiel was having trouble getting used to being called Leowin. She felt the impulse to correct the little dragon every time he said the name. She tried to gather her wits.

  I must go, she thought.

  With an effort, she stood, using one to the bed posts for support. It took more effort than she liked to put on her boots. She kept stumbling with dizziness.

  No more fighting for me. I’m useless.

  When she was steady on her feet she turned to Melkion.

  “Lead the way,” she said hollowly.

  The tiny dragon flew to the door, and opened it with his tail.

  “After you,” he said.

  She went through the door and found herself in a long hall lit by the same blue fires that were in her room. The walls, ceiling and floor were all of black glass. The columns and tube shapes in the walls again gave her the feeling that she was wandering around inside the body of a great living thing. Wights and strange one-armed, one-legged creatures made their way down the hall. The new creatures moved with a grace that was fascinating for Luthiel to watch.

  Melkion landed on her shoulder.

  “They’re called Grendilo,” he said, “creatures of the Vale that the Vyrl have conquered.”

  The wights, though they often turned their heads toward her, shuffled by in their jerking gaits without bothering her.

  “They’ve been told to leave you alone,” Melkion said.