Nearby she heard Mithorden raise his voice. “Hold fast!” he shouted. Then, she saw the flickering of dream-light through the shadows and she knew he was using his Wyrd-Stone. Some of the shadow webs melted away. And a few of the elves closest to Mithorden sprang free. But the spiders rushed in and the press of their massive bodies drove Mithorden and the others back. There was a howling and she thought she heard Othalas break through but, in the end, there was nothing he could do for the shadow webs so he was forced to run back or be overwhelmed.
The sounds of battle raged at first and she slowly widened her range of motion. There was little she could do but make a tiny pocket for her hand to move in. She had to be careful or she’d cut the other elves trapped beside her. It was agonizing, as she was forced to work even more slowly. The minutes passed and the sound of battle dimmed.
They must be retreating!
There was little she could do except carefully cut the shadow webs. Often, she thought of using Methar Anduel. But she discounted it. She’d have to reach it. Even if she could, her disguise would fail when she awakened the Stone. As she thought about the disguise she wondered if it was still important. At such desperate times, would it even matter? It was all just thinking and worrying, though, as she could no more get a hold of her Stone than she could scratch her head.
She’d cut for about ten more minutes and had finally worked one of her arms free when she heard a familiar voice nearby.
“You wanted me to tell you where the Vyrl’s messenger fell? I saw it happen there.”
Luthiel’s ears pricked and she gasped. There was no mistaking the snide voice.
Vane???
But before she could think any more, her question was answered by the scraping twitter of a Widdershae.
“You’re certain, boy?”
“Yes, mistress.” She flinched at his familiar, gloating, tone. Vane, Elag’s apprentice. The bully who tried to take her Wyrd stone when she first set out for the Vale.
Vane’s helping Widdershae? Is he captured or inspired?
“Step back, unless you want it to happen to you.” Then, to someone or something else she rattled—“Draw the circle, bring the mists. We’ll catch the leader along with the rest.” The screeching racked her ears and she didn’t have to think hard to figure out what the voice meant.
Saurlolth! She’s going to use the mists to change us.
She had to move fast now. She knew she had only one chance and it lay hanging in the pouch at her neck. Weiryendel was just slicing through the webs at her right wrist when she heard another sound that made her heart quaver.
It wasn’t the scratching around her that she knew were Widdershae making the crooked symbols of the dark spell. It wasn’t the terrible screechy chanting Saurlolth had already begun. It was a voice mixed with the groans and terrified mutterings of the elves around her.
“Dear Ëvanya, she’s going to change us into spiders!” it said. The voice was one she’d known all her life. It was that of her sister Leowin.
She followed me in my charge?? At that point, she realized how reckless and foolish she’d been. She wasn’t certain she could counter the magic even if she got hold of the Wyrd Stone. She might well be able to stop it from affecting her. But what of the other fae? What of her sister?
Desperately, as the chanting built around her, she cut away the thick strands that covered her chest. A green glow had begun to fill the shadows around her and she knew she only had a few moments left to act. She cut so fast she almost dropped Weiryendel. Then she shaved the bag in half but the blade turned aside when it touched the Wyrd Stone. It fell from the bag and she made a desperate move to catch it.
Then the sickly green mists began to take hold of her. Everything seemed to slow down. The Stone fell past her chest. She felt her body begin to ripple and bile filled her mouth. There was a convulsion. The Stone fell past her belt. She was sure her eyes were about to be squeezed from her head. Then the Stone fell into her open palm and her shortening fingers hammered shut around it.
She opened her mouth and the dream light erupted in the Stone. She sang and the terrible convulsing stopped. Like a mist burned off by morning sun, the shadow webs drew back and the elves around her were revealed. Even touched by Methar Anduel’s light they were still changing. Their bodies beginning to become twisted and misshapen. In reflex, she turned and saw her sister. Leowin was in pain but there was recognition on her face.
“I knew!” Leowin shouted in the sound and light.
And then the change took hold. The first wave made her skin become red as the veins pushed close to the surface.
“No!” Luthiel sang out and before she knew what she was doing she pushed the Wyrd Stone against Leowin’s chest. Singing louder, she tried to fight it, for she could see the awful nightmare forming within her. Taking hold of both thought and body. But already she could see the light of Methar Anduel was having an effect. Heartened, she sang louder even as the terrible chanting rose to shrieks and screams.
The battle raged now inside Leowin’s body. Luthiel could see her blood, muscle, and organs trying to move, trying to break, trying to reform. But she sang to them of stillness and healing.
The dark thing began to fade but as it did it fell inward trying to take hold of blood, then bone, then, at last, it wrapped around her heart, attempting to rip it in half. But Luthiel’s song and the light of Methar Anduel were too potent and the shadow fell away, leaving her sister whole. She trembled but still stood, and in the dreamlight Luthiel could see Leowin’s love for her burning like a warm fire. She could see other things too. Her dreams, her lust for secrets, and a smug sense of knowing much more than anyone else. Not a few of the dreams involved Luthiel. Hopes for what she might be. Though tempted to explore it all, she turned away and instead drew her attention to the other fae around her.
They were all changing into spiders and were too gone in form for her to undo the curse—arms and legs now split, bodies blackening, fangs swelling up out of their mouths.
In sudden inspiration, she sang against the terrible magic, protecting all she could from it and reworking some of the damage into unique forms. She sang of love and healing and of the good things spiders did. Of weaving gossamer that was so much like moonbeams, and so in them was born the power to shape webs of light and not of shadow. Of snaring evil insects that bore illness and of stilling them to sleep with their venom. So their poison was changed from one of terrible bleeding to one of merciful sleep as their bodies were built to prey on the monstrous things of the world and all that is born of nightmare. Of the understanding that comes with the art of web craft—and so their minds were enhanced and they gained rather than lost in wisdom. She sang of the light of Lunen and how she would grace the orb weavers at night—and she changed their shell from black to silver-white.
So the spell was done. Both she and Saurlolth stood in silence regarding their handiwork. For the most part, she was the victor. For the elves, though changed, had retained their good hearts and become a new race of spiders.
I name you Senasarab—the good weavers! She cried out in dreams and across the Faelands a thousand sleepers heard her and were comforted. The Senasarab answered by rubbing their legs together and the sound was a gentle whisper in the wood. They were great and truly beautiful creatures. Their eyes shone like gems. The twin horns on their heads curled like those of unicorns and their bodies were covered in soft and beautiful fur. Each had a shape on its back that looked like a sunburst and their faces looked kindly and genteel.
Luthiel turned to Vane, Saurlolth and the Widdershae, raised Weiryendel high and sang out a challenge. But the dark spiders had seen enough and, as one, they melted back into their shadow webs.
You did this Saurlolth! She sang out to the shadows. Had you not cast your horrible spell this would have never come to pass. For without the mists, I cannot change a thing. Now it is done! Ever will the Senasarab be a bane to you and weave the light against your darkness!
In t
he darkness, though, she could hear loud shrieks and angry calls. The spiders had not withdrawn. They’d just slipped back as more rushed in to swell their numbers. For they saw in the Senasarab a terrible danger and they trembled with anger and fear. More than anything, Saurlolth was stung by the surprise of Luthiel’s song magic. How had she taken control so easily? How had she shaped their flesh and spirits so well against the plan she’d laid out for them? How, in everything, had she managed to create them into a new race—deadly and dangerous to the Widdershae? Here was a threat the spider queen had never encountered and she saw the chance to end it now.
She drew up her weapons and let out a cry to all the spiders gathered nearby. There were hundreds and they rushed to her call, gathering in the woods nearby to pounce upon Luthiel, her sister, and the Senasarab. For they were still only few—no more than a hundred in all.
Vane had run into the shadows with Saurlolth but not without a backward glance at Luthiel. The magic had made him smile. He didn’t quite know why, but there was comfort in it. With it came jealousy and lusting so deep he felt as if his guts would turn inside out. He was the name-son of Tannias Rauth, a Lord of Rimwold. He was Elag’s apprentice. And yet he was never allowed to do anything of consequence. Treated like a servant instead of being imparted with the glory he deserved.
It didn’t matter if he was late to show talent. What mattered was his lineage. They should have treated him with respect. Even their enemies received more than he. As he looked at her, he thought of the day it all had changed. When he had touched the Stone and felt its energy run through him. It was exquisite. Hunger, pain, joy. Ever since that day, he had been able to use magic.
Again bathed in her light and music, his eager sorcery fed on her glory as a dark and hungry thing might also feed on something full of life and energy. His feet flowed over the ground as he reluctantly ran from her. Breaking through the trees, he nearly tumbled head-long into a swarm of spiders gathering to attack. He shouted in surprise, and his little cry was enough to alert Luthiel and her companions.
Upon hearing Vane’s cry, Luthiel began to sing her song of Ethelos. Yet now she held Methar Anduel and now the great magic of dreams swirled around her. Even as she sang, bits of mist were drawn in as a great storm might draw in a lesser one and explode in intensity. So the power of her spell was far more than the one she cast before in her escape from the Vale. First she faded then she disappeared utterly. Then Leowin, then the Senasarab. They made no noise; they cast no shadow. The light of Methar Anduel only visible to them and then only as a spark. All they heard was the voice of Luthiel as she directed them. She did not think to pause or question. She knew right action and acted.
“Follow fast!” she sang out. “We must make our way to the treetops and then back to the elves!” Then she was springing away and up the branches. Leowin and the Senasarab followed even as the Widdershae rushed in. They screeched with anger as they found no sign of their quarry and even Saurlolth’s pale eyes could not see them.
In anger, the great spider lunged at Vane and, were it not for the one who held him in thrall, would have torn him in half. Instead, she punted him with one of her great legs as she made her way back to the shadows. Vane was carried about ten feet by the force and lay sprawled on the ground not daring to move. But the thrill of Wyrd was still strong within him and he lay there with a big smile on his face. Vane’s magic had awakened and was strengthening. Though rare, the way was not unknown among the wise. But it was unsavory—for Vane’s was nothing without the talent of others to leech from.
As Vane lay laughing in the grass, Luthiel sped away through the trees, jumping from limb to limb, making her way through the night as she sang. Overhead, the moons of midsummer gleamed and the air was filled with light. What few shadow webs she came upon she slashed with Weiryendel. The Senasarab seemed impervious to them and walked along the strands of shadow as well as a Widdershae might. What’s more, they could spin the moonbeams out into strands and bridges if they came upon a gap too great for them to cross. In little more than an hour they had sighted the elves and were rushing toward them from the treetops.
What Luthiel saw made her breath catch. For the faerie host was terribly diminished. Still pressed by the Widdershae, they fought them on land and in the trees. The force seemed to have shrunken to half its previous size, and all about, elves were strung up in shadow webs or being borne off in the clutching forelimbs of Widdershae. The Firewing still aided the elves but it seemed that far too few flew about them. Here and there she could see Widdershae burning but she also noticed the spiders clinging to tree limbs, ready to snatch the birds and crush them in their metal tipped forelimbs. The elves were beating a fighting retreat out of the woods. Far away, in the distant hills, she could see the banners of Ashiroth.
The Wolfriders! They’re trying to reach the Wolfriders! But even as Luthiel saw them, her throat tightened in dread and she wondered if it would all come down to Zalos. Shaking her head, she sprang still closer to the furious battle, stopping just beyond the fighting.
“We can help them,” she sang in the darkness. “But we must have a plan.” Motioning with her Stone, she pointed toward the mists. A thin finger of light shot out in the direction she pointed. “There lies the Vale and somewhere a great army moves toward us. Even now, they may be making their way through the darker shadows. We must find them and bring them here.”
She raised her head and scanned the air above. Sure enough, above the Firewing flew the black specks of Khoraz—the great talking ravens of the Vale of Mists.
“I wonder,” she said to herself.
“Wait here,” she said to Leowin and the Senasarab.
Springing up the branches and onto the tallest treetop, she let the enchantment fall. The light that surrounded her fell over the battlefield and illuminated the sky. She waved Methar Anduel above her head like a beacon.
“Mindersnatch!” she shouted to the birds wheeling above her. “Mindersnatch!!”
It was a reckless gamble. But upon seeing her light, the birds wheeled and dove falling upon her with cries of welcome. They flocked around her and, for a moment, the lights of the moons were blotted out by their feathered bodies.
“Luthiel! Luthiel!” they called out into the night.
Then a bird much larger than the rest flew toward her. Grinning, she gave the great Khoraz a nod of greeting as she held her arm out for him.
“Mindersnatch! I knew you’d be here.”
“You! You! We were looking for You!”
“Well you’ve found me and I need your help. Where are the Vyrl? Where is the Vale’s Army?”
“Coming! They’ve crossed the Rim. They burn the webs. Spiders leave them alone for now. Too busy snatching elves.”
Luthiel felt a pounding in her chest. “How far?”
“Two miles into rising Silva.”
“Will you lead me?”
“I will! I will! But there’s more! More to tell!”
“Then tell me quick!”
“The beasts have gathered to help you. Bird and bear! Rat and rabbit! Hawk and hedgehog! Othalas was cut away from the elves. He searched for you. To aid him, he called the werewolves. Now they run with the other beasts. They are coming!”
Birds and beasts gathered to help me?
“Where are they?” she sang to him.
“One mile toward Merrin’s setting. But you can see them from here if you look. Glimflirs light the sky above them!”
Luthiel turned her eyes and sure enough she saw the warm yellow glow of Glimflirs not far off. They were rising up like streams of sparks into the night sky. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought the forest burned. But the light of the Glimflirs was a sign of the seasons—the Flir Bugs had left their homes to mate on the winds of summer. Even now, that hot wind blew upon her, making the tree tops sway like the waves of a great green ocean.
Some of the Widdershae had noticed her and were climbing up to investigate—their long forelimbs que
sting in the darkness. She sprang away fast and as she did the Khoraz dove upon the spiders in fury. Beaks rattled upon shells like rain and pecked at tender eyes. One spider, flailing to protect itself with its legs, fell from the trees and the other two shrank back. In the distance, she could see more on the way. So she rushed to explain what she’d just heard to Leowin and the Senasarab.
“The Vyrl’s army is coming from that direction.” She motioned with her hand. “And Othalas has gathered the werewolves together with a group of other animals over there.” She pointed toward the light of the Glimflirs.
“Animals?” Leowin asked.
“Mindersnatch here says they’ve come to help us.”
“They came for her!” Mindersnatch cawed.
Leowin looked at Luthiel and despite the terrible danger of the night grinned at her.
“The spiders are in for a surprise.”
“That’s the idea,” Luthiel said with a smile. As ever, Leowin’s spirit was infectious and Luthiel felt glad to be with her again. “But we’ve got to move and I need your help. I want you to take half the Senasarab and find the Vyrl. Mindersnatch will guide you.”
The crow let out a loud caw in affirmation.
“Where are you going?”
“To meet Othalas and this army of beasts. If what Mindersnatch says is true we may be able to help them reach those hills.” She pointed to where the Wolfrider banners waved.
Leowin looked down at the fighting and grimaced.
“I hope so. Lore, Hueron and Vanye are down there.”
Luthiel glanced at the dwindling army and frowned.
“Let’s go. Or there won’t be anyone left to help.”
Lady of Beasts
With half the Senasarab behind her, she sprang through the trees, making her way toward the rivers of light rising into the sky. Beside her, they glided through the branches without a sound. She wondered if they had even needed her enchantment. Khoraz broke into two flocks—one following Leowin and the other escorting her. Mindersnatch launched off her shoulder and flew in the air beside her as she sprang.
Luthiel's Song: The War of Mists Page 17
