Valashu Elahad is the seventh son of the King of Mesh, one of the Nine Kingdoms on the continent of Ea. One day, Val – as he is sometimes called – travels to the woods to hunt. Val is a precocious lad, able to empathically feel the pain of animals, the currents of nature, and the fear and hatred that exist within all men. When he is attacked by assassins, he hesitates to kill, even in self-defense, for he knows that death brings nothing but everlasting darkness and closure. This is why you don’t invite empaths to parties.
The Kingdom of Mesh is embroiled in a boundary war with the Kingdom of Ishka to its north. But meanwhile, the Red Dragon – or Morjin – seems intent on taking over all of Ea for his own nefarious needs. While emissaries from the other kingdoms insist it’s important to unite to bring down Morjin, most noblemen are content to continue to fight their petty squabbles among themselves. A united front seems very unlikely. Into this political maelstrom steps Valashu, who is willing to quest to the far Sakai Mountains, the stronghold of Morjin, and attempt to regain the Lightstone, a source of considerable power. Only through the death of Morjin can all the lands of Ea begin to learn to live in peace, a goal that is of the utmost import to Valashu. Because of his implicit understanding of all those around him, he eschews conflict, battle, death and hatred, and hopes to live the peaceful, harmonious life.
Well, a little of that in a book goes a very long way. And of course, because it is a quest-based fantasy, Valashu must face not only innumerable deadly foes, but his own internal demons as well. For kill he must, even though killing others is akin to taking part of his own soul.
David Zindell’s THE LIGHTSTONE seems a fairly bog-standard narrative fantasy, replete with elements of the Holy Grail, the Lady in the Lake and whatnot. The characters are decent enough, but the writing is a wee bit pedestrian (tables “groaning with food” appears at least twice, and weapons “harder than adamant” have become an almost ur-cliché in the genre). To be fair, Zindell has gone a great way to attempting to build his world. There’s a decent map, and even appendices on heraldry and the genealogy of the stones themselves. This attention to detail convinces the reader that Zindell cares about his world, and you should too.
But it is constructive to compare this book to R. Garcia y Robertson’s FIREBIRD, which is far more interesting in my view. While each book consists of a quest to wrest power from the evil and return it to the pure, Robertson’s book was strong at weaving traditional folklore into improbable fantasies, and bringing unusual imagery and flights of fancy into the realm of believability. Zindell’s book seems more content to rely on hoary old imagery and hope you like the characters well enough to continue reading.
This he almost pulls off, and since THE LIGHTSTONE is the first in a series, if you like this book, you may want to pick up the others. But perhaps I am too Ishkan to care about the fate of Valashu and his beloved Atara, and their quest for the seven powerful stones that will lead them to the most powerful stone of all and thus to the battle with ultimate evil. It all sounds a bit like a D&D campaign I went through oh so many years ago. –Mark Rose




