Chronicles of the Overworld Book 1 — Nihal of the Land of the Wind (22 page)

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Nihal replied. Then she set off at a run.

She found Laio curled up in a corner of the tent. He was sobbing and sniveling. She curled up next to him and patted his head.

“It’s all over, Laio. There’s no need to be afraid,” she soothed. “Now you can talk to your father. You can explain how you feel. Everything will be all right.”

Laio looked at her. His eyes were red and puffy from crying. “It was terrible. I never would have thought it could be like that, all those people dying, the Fammin running all over the place, soldiers falling to the ground one after another. It’s horrible, Nihal. Horrible.”

Nihal didn’t know what to say to him. Everything he said was true. It really was horrible—death, blood, monsters. But that was war.

“Why does all this have to happen? Why does the Tyrant hate us? Why does he hate people who never did him any harm?”

“There’s no reason, Laio. He hates us, that’s all. That’s why we’re fighting.”

“
You’re
fighting. I’m not brave enough to do it. I was scared. I put your life at risk.” Quietly, he added, “I hate myself. I know we have to fight, but I also know that I’m not cut out for it. I feel like a coward. How can I live with myself after what I saw today?”

“Not everyone is cut out for fighting, Laio. There are a lot of ways to help our world besides being a warrior. Think of the councilors, or the rulers of the free lands. They don’t use weapons, but they do a lot for the freedom of the Overworld. You’ll find a way to be of use.”

Laio continued weeping.

Nihal stepped out of Laio’s tent and saw that something was wrong.

She grabbed a man by the arm and asked, “Hey, what’s going on?”

He twisted his arm out of her grasp and kept trotting down the lane of tents, yelling back, “Casualties among the Dragon Knights.”

Fen! She hadn’t seen him after the battle.
Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing’s happened to him
, she told herself. Still, she could not shake her feeling of unease.

She walked up to the command tent, hoping to hear Fen’s voice from inside. She heard murmurs and hurried voices, but none of them were Fen’s.

She turned to one of the cadets. “Do you know what happened?”

“I think they’re talking about the battle. It didn’t go as well as we thought. A lot of foot soldiers died and a Dragon Knight is seriously injured. Four more are missing in action―”

Nihal felt her heart in her throat.

“―One’s called Dhuval. The other is Pen, or Ben or something. …”

Nihal grabbed the boy by his shirt. “It’s not Fen, is it?”

“Hey, what’s with you?”

“Was it Fen?” she repeated, raising her voice.

“It could be! I don’t know!” he said.

Nihal pushed him off and ran toward the infirmary. When she arrived, there was a sorcerer seated beside a man, reciting healing spells.

Nihal grabbed him by a shoulder. “Who is this?”

The sorcerer was annoyed at the interruption. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Who is it? I beg you, tell me his name!” Nihal could barely keep from yelling.

“It’s Dhuval, a veteran knight. He won’t be here for long, though. The healing spells aren’t doing any good.”

Nihal ignored him and ran out of the tent.
There’s still hope. We’ll find him. Maybe he stayed on the battlefield, or maybe Gaart is wounded. Nothing’s happened to him
. She kept running at breakneck speed. She ran and prayed that Fen was not dead. When she reached the command tent, the general was questioning a young soldier.

“And when do you say you saw him?” the man asked.

“When we broke through the gate and the army began to retreat. There were knights flying low over the tower.”

“Are you sure of what you’re saying?”

The boy nodded. “A lot of us saw him, sir. The catapult struck him and he fell onto the tower in flames.”

“And you are sure it was him?”

“Yes, sir. I recognized his dragon. It was Fen.”

Nihal was in complete disbelief. “No!” she yelled from the crowd. The men turned to look at her. “No, it can’t be true! Fen’s been in worse battles than this one. He can’t be dead!”

Her eyes were wild as she looked at the men’s faces. Clearly, they believed Fen was dead.

“They’ve taken him prisoner!” she told them. “That’s it, they’ve taken him prisoner and we have to go find him! He’s not dead!”

The general grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “That’s enough. Get a grip on yourself!”

Then Nihal fell to her knees and gave in to desperate sobs. The general looked at her with sympathy, then ordered a young soldier to accompany her to her tent and keep watch over her.

Nihal cried uncontrollably. When she finally calmed down, she curled into a ball in a corner, her head between her knees, silent. She wanted to hole up inside herself and forget everything, but images of Fen kept flashing in her mind. She could see his smile, hear his voice. She remembered the moments they had spent together over the last few months, the words he’d said to her before her first battle, their duels, the first time they had met.

The soldier looking after Nihal felt sorry for her. He knew who she was. The first time he saw her he had been amazed by how slender she was. She was a strange creature, but beautiful, too. Then he had seen her on the battlefield. It did not seem possible for a girl to wield a sword like that. But now as she lay there crying, she looked like a normal, defenseless little girl.

For a while he simply gazed at her, but finally he asked, “He was your teacher, wasn’t he?”

She did not answer.

“That’s what I heard, anyway. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

Nihal would not even lift her head, but he persisted anyway.

“I haven’t had a teacher like that, but I think I understand what you’re going through. I’m twenty-two and I’ve been fighting since I was sixteen. I’ve seen a lot of my friends die. The first time I cried like you are now, but then I got used to it. That’s just how war is. People die all the time and crying, unfortunately, doesn’t make it any better.”

Nihal did not respond. There were no words that could console her. All she wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow her whole so she would no longer feel such pain.

“I believe what the priests say,” the soldier told her. “I’m sure that after this life there’s a world without war and without any sorrow. My friends are all there. I feel it. And your teacher is there, too, and he’s so proud of you. I saw you fight. You’ll be an incredible Dragon Knight. But now you have to do what you can to stay strong. I’m sure your teacher …”

Nihal lifted her head and fixed her violet eyes on the soldier. “Leave me alone.”

The soldier was startled by the break in her silence, but then he nodded and said the only thing he could think of: “Buck up.” He lifted the flap and walked out of her tent.

When night fell, Laio went to stand in for the soldier. He was shocked to see the strong girl he knew curled up on her cot. She was pale and her eyes looked empty. Laio did not say a word. He simply lay down beside her, put an arm over her shoulder, and went to sleep.

Nihal convinced herself that Fen was only missing. Yes, the soldier had seen what he had seen, but he could not have recognized Fen from so far away. He was mistaken. The enemy must be holding him prisoner.

Nihal had to go looking for him. She would find him and bring him back to the camp safe and sound. The next day they would laugh about their adventure and about how crazy she had behaved.

A desperate smile traced itself across her lips.

Fen is alive and I’ll save him.

The night was dark. Nihal did not worry about the enemy spotting her as she rode out across the plain. Fen was all she cared about.

The charred gate lay on the ground and many parts of the fortress were still on fire. Nihal strode in without hesitating. The bitter fumes bothered her throat and she coughed. Inside the tower the ground was littered with bodies. The collapsed roof had crushed some of them; others were burned.

She began to call Fen’s name. The only response was her own sad voice, echoing. She stopped and set to digging through the rubble. She lifted bricks, debris, and large stones still warm from the flames.

“Fen!” she called. “Fen! Where are you?”

Her fingernails were broken and bleeding from her frantic digging. Hot tears streaked down her face

“Answer me, Fen! It’s me! It’s Nihal!”

She set off again.
He’s not dead. He’s not dead
. But then she saw it: a large, black carcass, a dragon carcass.

She sobbed and ran toward it. Gaart lay there with his giant wings outstretched. She reached out gingerly to lift his wing and found Fen’s body beneath it. He lay there in a pool of blood.

Nihal stared in breathless disbelief.
He’s so pale.

She bent down to wake him, but his skin had already gone cold. She shook him over and over again, screaming his name.

The next day, the commanding officer found Laio in tears. “I fell asleep. I fell asleep and she left,” Laio cried.

They looked for her all over the camp and then in the surrounding areas, but it was in vain. The search team that had been assembled to find Fen and the other knights was ordered to look for Nihal instead.

Meanwhile, the cadets were called together to hear the results of the trial. They had been lucky: no deaths and only one injury. Three of the six had demonstrated enough courage, skill, and initiative to successfully pass the trial. Nihal was among their number.

The search team found Fen’s body quickly. They also located two of the three missing knights. The third knight had vanished into thin air. He had likely been taken prisoner, a fate worse than death. There was no trace of Nihal.

Sennar rode to the military camp as soon as he heard the news of Fen’s death. He knew Nihal would be in a world of pain and try something drastic. When he reached the camp, he learned that his fears were justified.

“What do you mean she’s left?” he asked angrily.

“The night he died she packed her stuff, stole a horse, and left. That’s it,” a soldier answered.

Furious, Sennar raced to the general. “I’ve been told that a cadet from the Academy ran away.”

The general nodded. “That is correct.”

“Did it not occur to you to protect the last living half-elf in the Overworld?”

The general was unperturbed. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s a cadet. After they go through the trial, what happens to them is not my business.”

“The lives of the cadets are your responsibility, General!”

“That girl came out of the trial alive, safe and sound. Then she left. That is not my responsibility, Councilor.”

“Don’t you go looking for your missing soldiers?”

The general finally lost his patience.

“Don’t come tell me how to do my job. I had a team out looking for her for an entire day. What more could I do? I turned a blind eye to her insolence because I understood her situation. If I’d really stuck to the rules, your friend would already have been expelled from the Academy.”

Sennar was unimpressed. “I want you to organize another search team right away. Maybe she’s somewhere nearby. We will find her. She must be lost or confused―”

“Let me be clear with you,” The general interjected. “I have no intention of keeping my war-beaten men out looking for your friend. Leave soldiering to those who know what they’re doing. Excuse me.” The general walked around Sennar and left the tent.

Sennar pounded his fists on the table. The general had a point.

Sennar went to the tent that had been set up for him. He set a basin full of water on the ground and sat down beside it.

A localization spell required full concentration. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.
Where are you, Nihal?
He moved his hands over the basin.
Let me see you
.

After a few moments, the surface of the water began to ripple. A black-clad figure was riding a horse across a plain.
Give me some sort of sign. Where are you?
The image faded for an instant.
Nihal!
The tearstained face of the young half-elf appeared on the surface of the water and then disappeared a moment later.
Nihal!

Sennar cursed. His worry for his friend was making it impossible for him to cast the spell correctly. The basin would not show him anything.

That same night, Sennar went to a meeting with the high command of the camp in order to plan their next attacks against the Tyrant’s army.

Sennar disliked those sorts of meetings. The military officers dismissed his input because of his age, and any time he spoke, the men would roll their eyes as if he were completely inept.

Still, it was his duty to persevere in the name of peace. Sennar outlined the errors made on the battlefield and proposed a series of tactical improvements. He had not finished speaking before one of the colonels began shaking his head and interrupted him with a condescending smile.

“Forgive me for saying so, Councilor, but you weren’t there, so there’s no way you can know precisely how things went. Furthermore, this is your first war and you are not a strategist. It’s my opinion that you should let us have our say before you butt in with your proposals.”

Sennar tried to remain calm. There was no use in pointing out that he had already discussed things with the strategists, that he had drawn his conclusions at the front, and that his proposals were based on analysis. The men would reject his suggestions regardless.

The young sorcerer finally lost his patience when the colonel made a scathing insinuation.

“Perhaps your judgment is impaired. We all know of your … friendship with the half-elf.”

Sennar got to his feet. “We are done here.”

He left without saying good-bye to anyone. The power struggle between the military and the councilors had always existed. The soldiers argued that their efforts were what kept the Overworld safe, while the councilors reasoned that their tactics, and frequently their magic, were pivotal in battle.

Sennar did not want to argue. He wanted to free the oppressed, restore peace to their world, and live in peace himself. The narrow-mindedness of some of the members of the Council and of many military officials disgusted him.