Chronicles of the Overworld Book 1 — Nihal of the Land of the Wind (19 page)

More and more often, Laio came to her tiny little room in the evening for a chat, and Nihal learned that his father, a great general who wanted him to become a valiant warrior, had pushed him to enter the Academy.

But Laio had other aspirations. “I want to travel, you know? Travel all over the Overworld, far and wide. I want to discover unexplored territories, new lands. That’s what I’d like to do. If it were up to me, I swear, I’d lay down my weapons tomorrow.”

Nihal couldn’t understand how it was possible for him to be forced into doing something he didn’t want to do.

“If you don’t like fighting, you should stop! A warrior’s life is no fun, Laio. There’s no sense in doing it if you aren’t convinced.”

Laio shrugged his shoulders. “What else can I do? My father would never put up with his son spending all his time traveling. He’d call me a vagabond. He’s always wanted me to become a warrior, so I guess I’ll be a warrior,” he said with a happy shrug.

Nihal had always made her decisions for herself. She’d chosen her own path, and she was convinced that everyone else did the same. Now, though, she was discovering that there were people who could not choose what to do with their lives because others had determined their paths.

When she protested, Laio came back with a simple answer. “We all have our destinies. For some people, it’s the same as what they want to do. For others, it isn’t. That’s life. It’s not like there’s anything we can do about it.”

Nihal often found herself wondering about her own destiny after Laio went back to the dorm.

Laio wanted to know about Nihal, too. The first time he asked questions about her past, Nihal shoved him out of her room and was silent for days.

It took time for Nihal to feel comfortable telling Laio about her roots, about Livon. When she finally did, it was utterly draining. The pain of her father’s death and the death of her people was still very strong, and her feelings of guilt had not subsided.

Nihal also told Laio about Sennar, about how close their friendship was and how much she missed him. She even told him about her unrequited love for Fen.

Laio was confused. “Well, I guess if love makes you happy …” he said, obviously unconvinced. “
I’m
not interested in love. Girls are always sniveling and acting shy. I don’t think they’re remotely interesting.”

“I happen to be a girl, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Nihal said dryly.

“Yes, but you’re a warrior. That’s another thing altogether.”

Nihal didn’t know whether to feel flattered as a warrior, or wounded as a woman.

Nihal had been at the Academy for seven months when Sennar finally came to see her.

Nihal was unaware of the pains her friend had taken to see her. The Supreme General refused to give him a pass. After an endless wait and a series of fruitless audiences, Sennar decided to ask his master for help.

Dagon made it a habit to maintain a distinction between the political and military spheres, but he was fond of Sennar and he knew how important it was for him to see Nihal.

The ancient member of the Council of Sorcerers took Sennar with him one morning to see Raven. “I’m told she hasn’t been allowed to leave since she entered the Academy. Don’t you think it’s time for her to see the light of day?”

The Supreme General, indignant over this intrusion into his jurisdiction, held his tongue.

“Raven, the girl is very important. She’s the only surviving half-elf, and Reis says she is destined for great things. She’s like a weapon. You take care of your weapons, don’t you?”

The meeting dragged on, but Dagon was patient.

After hours of negotiations, Raven finally gave in. He gave the command to open the gates and cursed Nihal’s name once again.

Sennar almost didn’t recognize Nihal when he saw her. She was thinner, and her uniform hung loosely off her. She strode with a military gait across the square in front of the Academy.

That can’t be her
, Sennar said to himself. He wished more than anything that his friend could leave her sorrow behind and return to the way she was. When she drew near, he smiled happily and made to hug her. Nihal pulled away from his grasp.

“What do you want?” she asked crossly.

Sennar was caught off guard. “What do you mean, what do I want? I came to visit you.”

“You told me you’d come every month. You promised.” Her voice was cold.

“I know, but it was harder than I thought. I didn’t …”

“It’s been hard for me, too,” she said harshly. “There’s nothing more for us to say to each other.”

Nihal turned to go, but Sennar grabbed her arm and made her stop. She freed herself from his grasp, then burst into angry tears.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through the last few months? I felt so alone, so abandoned. All sorts of terrible things went through my mind—that you’d died, that you’d gone off to some unreachable place, that you’d forgotten all about me.”

Sennar pulled her to him. “Forgive me.”

She tried to wriggle away from his grasp, but he kept his arms around her.

“Forgive me. I’m here now.” His voice was soft, soothing.

Only then did Nihal surrender to her friend’s embrace. “I hate you,” she said under her breath. “I missed you.”

When they got to her little room, Sennar felt guilty for having left Nihal—his Nihal—in such a horrible place.

They sat down. They had so much to say.

“I wanted to come see you right away the first month, but I didn’t have a moment’s rest. When I did come to Makrat, it was only long enough to attend Council meetings, and then I had to race off. The situation in the Land of the Wind is serious.”

Nihal almost stopped him there. She would have preferred not to know about the worsening conditions back home, but Sennar told her everything.

“I couldn’t believe it. It was hard to imagine that the barren place before me was the Land of the Wind. It was so terrible. I wanted to leave, but Dagon helped me find the courage to face it. It was as if I were reliving my childhood: war and desolation on all sides, death and desperation everywhere. It was like being a little kid again . I felt just as lost and defenseless as I ever did back then.” He looked up, thinking. “Do you remember the morning air, the way life pulsed through the towers, the sunsets … ?”

Nihal felt like she was being dragged back in time. She sighed. “There was something magic about it. The breeze, the way sunlight swooped across the grass, the plains turning red …” Her voice caught in her throat.

Sennar continued in a solemn tone. “There’s nothing left, Nihal. It’s all covered in smoke and fog. There are fires blazing everywhere; you can hardly see the sun. The atmosphere is unreal. After battle, these … creatures appear. They roam across the rubble like ghosts. They’ve lost everything; they’re wandering around looking for salvation—or death, who knows. And it’s so quiet. When there’s no fighting, there’s only complete silence. Do you remember how hard it was to have a moment’s peace in Salazar? The noise from the shops, people talking, the music coming out of the taverns … Now you can’t hear a single sign of life.”

Sennar paused to catch his breath.

“The country is split in two; our army holds one half, the Tyrant’s forces have the other. We don’t know everything that’s going on there, but a few lucky souls have managed to make it across the front without being killed. Their stories are terrible. Apparently, the entire population is living like slaves, working to feed the Tyrant’s troops. That fiend is cutting down the Forest to build weapons, and he’s got the slaves cultivating the stripped land. Governer Dola enjoys seeing people suffer. He’s in charge of the army. His battle skills are amazing; he often fights right at the vanguard, mounted on his black dragon. It’s said that the Tyrant gave him the gift of immortality. Nothing seems to harm him. His army is made up of Fammin, men, and dwarves who all fight without mercy, as though their lives depended on it. It’s thanks to the Dragon Knights that we’ve managed to hold out this long, but they haven’t been able to take back a scrap of land in the last six months.”

Nihal’s voice trembled. “Tell me about Salazar.”

Sennar looked at her sadly. “Salazar doesn’t exist anymore. After the first attack, Dola locked up all the prisoners he’d taken and ordered that the city be torched. He let it burn for days. He had all the prisoners brought to him in a line. He ordered them to bow before him and beg for mercy, saying he would only save the lives of those who accepted submission. Those who refused to obey were burned. He executed a dozen more randomly.” Shaking his head he said, “That’s Dola.”

Sennar studied the sky through the narrow window.

“For a long time, I thought the Tyrant was after power. I thought he wanted to rule over the entire Overworld. But with all the things I’ve seen, it’s clear that power has nothing to do with it. He’s after destruction for its own sake.”

Nihal’s hands were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. Sennar took them in his own and squeezed them tenderly.

“I know what you’re feeling.”

Sennar also told Nihal about his role in the Land of the Wind.

“I was working closely with the army. Fen was my military counterpart. He and Dagon and I planned a number of offensives to conquer territory and weaken the enemy—none of them amounted to anything, though. I had to use magic all the time, things like collective spells on the troops or on their weapons. It was so tiring. We’d wake at dawn and work until the middle of the night, and some nights we’d have to relocate or organize some makeshift defense.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “I want you to know that I
was
thinking of you, Nihal. Every time I came to Makrat, I hoped I could come see you, but between the Council, the meetings, the other sorcerers, the war and all the death I’d seen …”

Nihal listened in silence. Here with Sennar, she felt like she’d felt back in the woods four years ago, as if she were no longer alone. It was as if the ghosts that had been consuming her vanished. She told Sennar about her daily routine, how Raven hated her, about her friendship with Parsel and the new weapons she’d learned to use. Then she dove into a more serious topic: the dreams that still haunted her.

“Don’t you see, Sennar? The people I dream of are real: they were alive, they existed. How can I ignore their cries?”

Sennar had long hoped that Nihal would be free from the things that haunted her, but he saw that she had a long road ahead before she could find her way.

Someone knocked on the door.

A smiling face peered in. Laio was shocked when he saw that there was a boy in Nihal’s room. “Oh, you have a visitor. Sorry.”

Sennar was surprised, too. He’d expected Nihal to make friends, but his face darkened all the same at the sight of Laio. What did he want?

“No, come in. This is my friend Sennar I’ve told you so much about.”

Nihal stood and held the door for Laio. “This is Laio, my comrade-in-arms.”

Laio and Sennar shook hands.

Sennar’s mind was racing. The nerve of that guy, coming into Nihal’s room uninvited. Were they that close? She said they were friends. What kind of friends? The more he looked at Laio, the less he liked him.

An arctic chill settled over the room.

“Hey, why don’t we go out for a while?” Nihal proposed. “Today’s my day off!”

They spent the afternoon wandering around the chaos of Makrat.

Nihal hated all the clamor and felt as much an outsider as she had when she first arrived in the city. Sennar was at her side, sulking, and Laio felt like a third wheel.

It was a rather unpleasant afternoon.

As evening fell, it came time for Sennar to leave. He and Nihal stood alone outside the main entrance to the Academy.

“So you’ll be here for a while now?” Nihal asked.

“Yes. From now on I’ll be learning about councilors’ peacetime duties. I’ll be able to come visit more often.”

“Okay. See you around.”

Nihal couldn’t stand long good-byes so she kissed Sennar’s cheek and turned to head inside, but Sennar mustered up his courage and held her back.

“Tell me … what’s this Laio guy to you?”

Nihal stared at him in amazement, then burst out laughing. “What’s this, are you scared someone’s going to take your place? Laio’s just a little boy. He adores me. Thanks to him, I’ve felt a little less lonely around here. He doesn’t care that I’m not a human like the others.”

“Yeah, no. Of course,” Sennar stumbled over his words. “I was just wondering, that’s all.”

Nihal laughed again and shook her ahead. They exchanged happy good-byes and parted ways.

Over the next few months, there were notable improvements in Nihal’s life.

She grew fond of Malerba, their first meetings long forgotten. She learned he was tenderhearted. He would save the best dishes for her in the dining hall, and he kept her room tidy. Every so often he even brought her a bunch of wildflowers. Nihal always smiled at this; it had been so long since anyone had shown her such kindness.

Sometimes they would talk. The dwarf would string phrases together to tell her about what he had been through; they were the same horrors Nihal saw in her dreams. Seeing their similarities, she confessed her fears to him, and her desire for revenge. Despite the fact that he was slightly unhinged, Malerba demonstrated great empathy for Nihal. He understood the pain Nihal felt and her sense of loss. She could not hold it all inside anymore.

Laio had also become an important presence in Nihal’s life. It was comforting for Nihal to know someone was there to listen to her and console her in her darkest moments.

Laio seemed unaffected by the months of training and the rigid discipline at the Academy. He was still a child, full of enthusiasm and optimism. Having him near her reminded Nihal of the happy days when she still lived in Salazar with Livon.

They made a strange pair. She was the most promising student in the school, while he was the weakest and least talented. But they were always together.

Sennar came to the Academy once a month, like clockwork. Fen sometimes came with him, and on those days, Nihal would give herself over to the delicious torments of unrequited love.