The Subtle Magic of Mercedes Lackey

The author's Valdemar ongoing Valdemar series hides surprising complexity beneath its surface charms.

Mercedes Lackey is someone whose work I’ve been aware of for quite some time but who I’ve never quite got around to reading. At first, it was because I was, to be quite honest, a bit turned off by the covers of many of her novels, which prominently feature the talking horses known as Companions and can look a bit cartoonish. However, I’ve known for a while that I wanted to read them, if only because the Valdemar books are widely regarded as classics of the fantasy genre. In fact, Lackey continues to write books in the series to this day. 

So, I finally dove into her work, and I was immediately struck by how deep and rich her it is, not just in terms of its fully-developed secondary world, but also in its engagement with weighty thematic material. Given that, as a rule, Lackey’s work has been viewed as comfort fantasy, the type of fantasy that you return to whenever you want an escape from the world and its troubles, this complexity is all the more welcome and surprising. 

Take The Heralds of Valdemar. At first, it seems like this is going to be a coming-of-age story like many others that have emerged from the fantasy genre. Talia, born into the religiously dogmatic and relentlessly dour Holderkin, quickly finds that she is in fact fated to be a Herald, one of the legendary figures of Valdemar. What’s more, she is not going to be just any Herald, but the Queen’s Own, who will one day become the foremost adviser to the queen herself. Thus begins her extraordinary adventure, and she becomes ever more central to the doings of the kingdom. 

While the story is relatively light in the first volume, Arrows of the Queen, Lackey never allows us to lose sight of more sinister goings-on. As Talia is getting used to what it means to be among those who appreciate and love her, there are those in the court who see her as a threat and who will do anything they can to sabotage both her importance as the Queen’s Own and turn the heir to the throne into a monster who won’t be able to inherit. Obviously, some of this follows the traditional lines of a coming-of-age story, with little dribs and drabs of romance, but you have to admire the way that Lackey allows us to see into Talia’s mind, even as we as readers are aware of the deeper currents going on around her. 

 It’s the second novel, though, that really astonished me with its emotional depth. By the time that book begins, Talia is poised to undertake her internship, riding out to journey around the kingdom. At first, things seem to be going well, but it soon becomes clear that some of her training wasn’t as thorough as it should have been, and as the internship goes on she finds it more and more difficult to control her powers as an empath, until she gets to the point where she is near total emotional and physical collapse. It’s only the love and affection of her Companion Rolan and her fellow Herald Kris that she’s able to survive and learn how to be overwhelmed.  

On paper, this might not sound terribly exciting, but when you’re reading the novel itself it’s impossible not to find yourself swept up in the powerful emotions that Talia encounters. As an empath, she has the ability to both absorb the feelings of others and to project them outward, and while this serves her well in her dealings with the court, it also proves to be a double-edged sword, especially once she learns that there are those who believe she is using her powers for not-entirely laudatory ends. The fact that she has had to endure quite a lot during her young life makes her trial all that much more wrenching. Through Talia’s struggles, Lackey allows us to see just how deeply the traumas of one’s past can infect us and damage our ability to handle the pressures of the present. 

And then there’s the third and final novel, Arrow’s Fall. By this point, Talia has settled into her role, but things are still not as they seem. As the novel progresses, the shadows of the past rise up to overwhelm the present, when it’s revealed that the prince of a neighboring kingdom has been corrupted by the same nurse that nearly did the same to the heir of Valdemar. More sinisterly, magic has made a return, and Talia, kidnapped by the scheming prince, suffers grievous injuries before being rescued. Lackey doesn’t shy away from telling us what happens, but nor does she dwell on it in prurient detail. 

Just as importantly, Talia is the sort of heroine who isn’t going to just give up entirely, though it does take an extraordinary act of sacrifice on the part of her beloved, Dirk, to bring her back from the precipice. In less talented hands, this sort of plot device–true love really does conquer all!--would seem trite. Lackey, however, has already paved the way for us in the previous two novels, so it makes sense that these two characters would find redemption, both physical and spiritual, with one another. 

That, to me, is the true brilliance of Mercedes Lackey. Yes, hers is the type of fantasy that is incredibly comfortable to read, and to some degree you know that you’re going to get by the end. Even the most noteworthy aspects of her secondary creation–her inclusion of queer characters–is often delivered in such an understated way that you can’t help but appreciate the fact that she doesn’t make a big deal about it. In this world, queer people are just allowed to exist. However, there is a peculiar magic inherent in her prose that keeps you up way past your bedtime, eager to find out what happens next. It takes a special sort of genius to take the well-worn conventions of high fantasy and turn them into something, not necessarily new, but still dazzling in its own peculiar way.

I can’t wait to experience more of the wonders of Valdemar.