Chronicles of the Overworld Book 1 — Nihal of the Land of the Wind (25 page)

Nihal began to grow angry. It was as if this guy could read her every move. His prowess had nothing to do with strength, but with the way he moved his wrist. If Nihal tried to get near him, he held her back. If she tried to strike from above, he had no difficulty parrying.

Once she had exhausted her store of maneuvers, Nihal threw herself on him with a shout of rage, seeking new paths to get around the dwarf’s blade.

Then Ido moved. He ducked, crawled through her legs, and flipped her over.

Nihal was muddied once again.

“That’s better,” he told her. “But I want more. You’ve got to try to hurt me. Let’s start again.”

Nihal got back to her feet. The rain made it hard to see and the mud made it hard to stand. She decided to close her eyes. She could concentrate better on the regular sound her sword made when it struck Ido’s. She tried to break the rhythm by striking against the beat, but Ido adjusted immediately to any changes in speed that she tried to introduce. Then she tried to trip him, but he was skilled at keeping his opponent at a distance. In the end, she seized the moment, turning the dwarf’s sword on him and trying to wrest it from his hands. The sole result was that he raised it higher in the air. Exasperated, she threw herself at him wildly, only to find a knife pressed against her belly.

“I bet this isn’t the first time they’ve used this trick to beat you,” Ido said with a smile as he set down his weapons. “You’re not half bad. Your technique is more than sufficient for Fammin and normal warriors. But a knight fights against other knights, and you don’t have the skill for that sort of encounter yet. Not bad. You’ll learn.”

Nihal clenched her fists.

“You have one big flaw,” Ido went on. “You fight like a wounded animal. It’s important to remain clearheaded in battle. You let rage get the better of you. Remember, anger blinds a warrior and leads to stupid mistakes. Anger will take you straight to the grave.”

It was all true, every blasted word.

Ido wrung out his sopping beard. “This rain really is a bother. Let’s go back in. You can go take care of Vesa later. That way you’ll start learning about dragons.”

Dripping wet, Nihal stood in the arena and watched the dwarf go.

It seemed she had completely misjudged him.

She spent much of the afternoon watching the rain.

When she was at the Academy, all she could see from the tiny window in her room was a sliver of sky, but now from the door of the hut she could see the entire thing.

She liked the rain. Under the drops of water, everything felt calmer, neater, cleaner. She caught herself thinking that Fen was part of the clouds. The rain was returning him to the earth. She dreamed of flying away and disappearing like smoke in the wind.

Ido, for his part, sat on his bed smoking and thinking over his first impression of Nihal. Yes, she definitely had the makings of an excellent warrior, but there was something about her that he could not quite grasp.

Ido wondered what secret she carried around inside.

The dragon stables were in a big, impressive building set in the center of the fort. Nihal stood at the doors and listened to all the animals breathing inside. She was excited.

She strode in and took a long look around. The room had dozens of enclosures recessed into the walls. Each one housed a dragon. The beasts came in all shades of green and in all sizes. The largest she saw measured an astonishing four cubits across the withers.

Nihal’s breath caught in her throat. How she wanted a dragon of her own!

Nihal spotted Ido and walked through the stables reverently. She stopped before Ido and peered into the pen. Inside was a large, red dragon, a rarity. His green eyes stood out against his crimson hide. He was beautiful.

The animal was uneasy with this stranger near his pen. “Good boy, Vesa,” Ido said, stroking him. “That’s right, there’s nothing to be afraid of. She’s my cadet. You’ll have to get used to her.”

The dragon seemed to calm down, but he continued to eye Nihal, snorting through his nostrils. Nihal wisely kept her distance.

“He’s just worried. Come closer.” Ido encouraged her.

Nihal took a few steps. When Vesa did not react, she went closer and even held out her hand. The dragon drew away disdainfully.

Ido burst out laughing. “Hold on there! He’s not a puppy! He’s a warrior, and that’s how he wants you to treat him.”

For a moment, it seemed to Nihal that Ido and his dragon were very similar.

“Why is he called Vesa?” she asked Ido.

“In the language of my native land, the Land of Fire,
vesa
means
fast
.”

Ido mounted Vesa with a leap. Vesa playfully tried to shake him off, but Ido held himself upright on the animal’s back.

“I know, I know. You’re the boss,” he said as he patted the dragon loudly on the flank. He turned to Nihal. “I want you to feed him today. The food’s down there.”

Nihal was scared. She had not forgotten the time Gaart had tried to roast her with his fiery breath. She stood there frozen, her eyes moving back and forth between Vesa and Ido.

“Look, if you’re scared, he won’t even let you get near him. You’ve got to make him accept you. And a dragon will only accept you if he deems you worthy. Keep that in mind for when your dragon arrives.”

In a corner stood a row of wheelbarrows overflowing with pieces of bloody meat.

With some effort, Nihal pushed one of the carts over to Vesa’s hollow, but the dragon didn’t seem interested in the food. He continued looking her over with suspicion and snorting through flared nostrils.

Nihal had not been frightened by battle nor by Fammin, but she was now.

Ido watched her, his arms folded over his chest. “You have to stay calm. It’s like a battle. Show him you feel confident.”

Nihal swallowed and moved a few steps forward.

Vesa let out a low grumble that became a growl when he saw Nihal coming closer.

Nihal stopped mid-stride, terrified.

Vesa rose up on his hind legs and assumed the attack position.

“Don’t drop the wheelbarrow. You have to bring it right below his nose.”

Steeling herself, Nihal took one step forward, then another and then another as Vesa clawed at the dirt beneath his feet. When she thought she had come close enough, Nihal set down the wheelbarrow and darted away, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Well, that’s enough for your first day,” the dwarf said.

Ido moved to Vesa’s side. “My poor, poor dragon,” he said teasingly as he pet the animal’s muzzle.

It stopped raining in the evening, just in time for Nihal to enjoy a beautiful sunset. Sitting outside the hut with her back against the wooden boards, she watched as the sun blazed over the trees through half-closed eyelids. She felt at peace.

Ido was not so bad. And Vesa was a marvelous animal. Maybe her time in the fort would not be so bad after all.

As her eyes closed, her voices began clamoring. Nihal clutched her hands to her temples. The sight of the fiery sunset gave way to the inferno of Salazar. Once again she saw Livon’s lifeless body and Fen’s burning pyre. Her head felt like it would explode.

No. No. Please.

Ido pulled her out of her nightmare. “Come on. You did well today. It’s time to eat.”

The days passed uneventfully. Nihal spent the mornings sparring with Ido, afternoons getting acquainted with Vesa, and evenings polishing her tutor’s weapons.

Ido himself did not seem to have a whole lot to do. He was almost always in the hut and only sporadically took Vesa out for a flight. Occasionally he participated in strategy meetings with the other knights, but mostly he spent his time observing his cadet.

When they fought, he could spot Nihal’s rage, and in that rage he recognized something that he had felt before, too.

He was excited by the idea of training her, of teaching her all he’d learned in years of battle. What’s more, he was teaching a half-elf.

He knew it was too early to be sure, but he was beginning to think he might enjoy this assignment.

One afternoon, Nihal stood at the top of a hill with Ido, taking in their surroundings. The fort, or the “base” as the men called it, was the staging ground for missions into the Land of Days. Nihal was struck by how close she was to her people’s native land.

Ido gestured to the scene of desolation that stretched as far as the eye could see.

“There. There stands the land of your ancestors. Well,
stood
might be more accurate.”

Nihal said nothing. One day her rage would overflow and her people would finally be avenged.

Twenty days had passed since Nihal’s arrival at the base and there was still no news of her dragon.

Not that she had much time to think about it. She spent the better part of her days practicing combat moves with Ido. She had come to appreciate her tutor for his sword handling, but chiefly for his character.

One night, tired from practice, Nihal went out for some fresh air. She left the hut, lay down on the grass, and looked up at the stars. There were thousands of them. She thought of Sennar. He liked nighttime. When they were younger, they had spent dozens of nights like this one on the rooftop terrace or in the field behind Soana’s house. It felt like a thousand years had gone by since then. Then her mind began to wander. Fen. Livon. The half-elves. She began to hear the weak echo of their voices in her head.

“Beautiful sky, isn’t it?” Ido sat on the ground, holding his pipe between his teeth.

“It’s amazing,” Nihal answered. She didn’t mind that the dwarf had joined her.

“There’s something I’ve been wondering about.”

Nihal turned toward him, curious.

“You’re a pretty girl. You would have had no problem finding a husband,” Ido said, taking a long drag from his pipe. “War is horrendous, Nihal. Why did you decide to become a warrior?”

Nihal raised an eyebrow. “Why did you?”

Ido smiled and exhaled a cloud of white smoke.

“Me? One day I understood the difference between good and evil. I understood that the people of the Overworld have a right to peace. So I took up my sword and put it at the service of the army. That’s it.”

Nihal nodded slowly. “I’ve always known the difference between good and evil, ever since I was a little girl. I never thought of being anything else.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years of fighting, Nihal, it’s that neither good nor evil belongs exclusively to one side.”

Nihal sat upright. “Is that so? Well, all I know is that the Tyrant wants to destroy our world. And I know what he’s done. That’s where evil lies. The blood that has been shed must be redeemed.”

Ido harrumphed and lay on the grass. “There are a lot of puffed-up little soldiers who talk like that.”

“I talk the way my father taught me. I fight for him above anything else.”

“Is it thanks to him that you’re a warrior?”

“It’s thanks to his death that I’m a warrior.”

Ido remained silent as Nihal let out all her emotions. She told him about the day her childhood ended in Salazar, the discovery of her origins, and her desire for revenge.

Ido continued smoking in silence.

She was sure he understood her point of view. He was a warrior. He must feel the same way.

“The Tyrant slaughtered my people, Ido. I was a newborn baby when they found me beneath a pile of corpses. The blood of the fallen fills my soul, and it is my job to avenge them.”

When she had finished, Ido took his pipe from his mouth and sat up. “There’s no way to avenge the dead, Nihal. Nothing can replace life.” He got to his feet. “Let’s go back in. Winter’s coming. It’s getting cold.”

To everyone’s amazement, Nihal’s dragon finally arrived. Normally, novices were assigned young dragons that only required one handler. Nihal’s dragon was accompanied by three.

As Nihal moved admiringly toward the cage, Ido carefully studied the dragon. It was a splendid beast, strong and healthy with flaming red eyes. Its hide was the emerald green color of new spring leaves. And yet …

“Why is he caged?” Ido asked.

One of the soldiers swore. “This beast is a curse! He won’t let anyone near him. He almost killed a knight who tried to mount him. Scoundrel.”

“He’s covered in scars,” Ido noticed.

“Of course he is. He’s seen combat,” another soldier answered. “His knight died in combat recently. Do you remember Dhuval?”

Ido rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. “Nihal …”

Nihal didn’t take her eyes from the cart. “Yes?”

“Would you mind telling me what on earth you did to Raven?”

Nihal turned to him. “What do you mean?”

Ido crossed his arms over his chest. “This dragon had a knight who died in battle. Do you know what that means?”

Nihal was not listening. She had turned back to the dragon. “What’s his name?” she asked one of the soldiers.

“His last knight called him Oarf.”

Ido raised his voice. “Are you listening to me?”

Nihal rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes. I’m listening.”

“A dragon whose knight has died refuses to accept a new owner. Only a seasoned knight can mount him and ride him into battle.”

Nihal turned to her tutor with a determined expression. “So what? I have survived worse things. I’m certainly not going to let this dragon stop me.”

Ido’s temper flared. “Fine,” he growled. “We’ll start this afternoon.” Then he stalked off.

If it had been up to her, Nihal would have started then and there.

They went to the arena in the afternoon.

Oarf stood stock still in the center, expecting an attack at any moment. When he saw Nihal and Ido, he spread his wings wide, threatening the intruders. Nihal caught her breath—Oarf’s wings were identical to the dragon wings Livon had sculpted on her sword.

Ido made her sit on the bleachers beside him. “Now listen up, Nihal. This dragon is not like the others. Keep that in mind whenever you go near him. His knight is dead. He no longer trusts humans.”

Nihal nodded seriously.

“He’ll try to attack you. You cannot be afraid. You have to stand before him like a warrior and never lower your eyes. Now go ahead.”