Chronicles of the Overworld Book 1 — Nihal of the Land of the Wind (32 page)

“Bad,” whispered Nihal.

The woman smiled. “That’s normal. Those were some serious wounds and you had a high fever.” The woman paused for a moment. “I don’t know how to thank you for saving my son. I’m so grateful.”

With real effort, Nihal recalled what had happened: the child, the wolves, the journey through the woods.

“No need for thanks,” Nihal murmured, hoping they’d leave her alone.

The woman must have noticed Nihal’s pain, because she resumed speaking very softly. “You had a fever all day yesterday. It went down last night. I used some herbs to heal the cut on your arm. You lost a lot of blood, but now you’ll be OK. Get some sleep.”

She left the room, closing the door behind her.

Nihal relished the silence. She glanced out the window. Snow was falling, slow and calm. She pulled the sheets up under her eyes. She felt safe.

Nihal realized it was lunchtime because a pleasant, spicy smell began to fill the cottage. Muffled sounds, punctuated now and then by Jona’s piping voice, came from behind the door.

The woman came into the room bearing a wooden tray with a bowl and a hunk of black bread. Nihal tried to sit up, but she felt too weak.

“Wait, I’ll help you,” the woman said. She set the tray down, helped Nihal to a sitting position, and propped a pillow behind her.

Nihal looked around. The room was small. The only furniture was a bed, a big mirror and a large trunk below the window with its pale blue cotton curtain. To Nihal, it was like a palace. She lowered her eyes and saw that she was wearing a woolen nightshirt with a ribbon closure at the neck.

“Where’s my sword?” she asked in alarm.

The woman pointed to a corner. “Don’t worry. It’s right there.” The sword, still in its sheath, leaned against the wall. “I had to wash your clothes. They were drenched with blood. I hope my nightshirt is warm enough for you.”

Nihal blushed. She hadn’t been very polite. “Yes, of course. Thank you,” she murmured.

The woman set the tray on Nihal’s lap. Nihal threw herself upon the bowl, sipping its contents noisily before turning her attention to the bread.

Jona stared at her from the doorway.

The woman smiled. “It must have been a long time since your last meal.”

Nihal stopped for a moment and looked at the bowl. “Actually … yes.” She was embarrassed by the woman’s kindness.

“Am I mistaken, or isn’t it time for your nap?” the woman asked the child.

“Come on, Mamma. Let me stay with the lady.”

“To bed. No more discussion!”

Jona grumbled as he went.

“That way he won’t bother you. He can be an unbearable chatterbox when he sets his mind to it!”

Nihal resumed eating in silence. She’d landed in a tricky situation. If she wanted to reinvent herself, she’d have to get as far as possible from the war. It would be dangerous to stay here. She had to get away fast.

The woman studied her. “My name’s Eleusi. And yours?”

Nihal looked at her with suspicion.

There was a moment of embarrassed silence, which Eleusi raced to fill. “It doesn’t matter, you don’t have to tell me.”

Nihal had almost finished her soup. She set down the bowl and briefly shook Eleusi’s extended hand. “Nihal.”

“What a strange name. Not the type of thing you hear around here. Where are you …”

She’s starting to get curious
. Nihal made to get up. “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me.”

Eleusi stopped her. “No, wait. I apologize for being nosy. I just wanted to talk a little.”

Nihal felt ill at ease. “That’s not why. It’s that I really can’t …”

Eleusi gently forced her to lie down. “Listen, you’re in no shape to travel. You’ve had a high fever. You’re weak. And besides, I had to stitch your leg.”

Nihal was astonished. “How?”

She’d heard people talk about the practice. When there was no sorcerer around to recite healing spells, it was up to priests to heal wounds, and sometimes they used a needle and thread. Once, when passing by the infirmary at the base, she’d heard a soldier yelling as he received such a cure. She’d told herself that she’d rather die than submit to something so painful.

“The cut had opened again.” Eleusi explained. “You have to rest. A week at the very least. Believe me, I’m saying it for your sake.”

Dammit
. Nihal lay back on the pillow. “Are you a priestess?”

“No, but my father was a priest. I learned from him. You had a lucky break—I’m a well-known healer,” Eleusi joked.

Nihal had finished eating.

Eleusi noticed the empty tray. “Are you still hungry? Would you like some cheese? I have a few apples. …”

Nihal nodded weakly and Eleusi bustled out of the room.

She came back with a plate bearing a few chestnuts, some walnuts, a couple of apples, and a miniscule piece of cheese. “It’s not much. I’m sorry. The harvest this year was nothing to speak of.”

Nihal bit into the apple. It was extraordinarily sweet.

Eleusi sat on the trunk. “When I was little, I always played in the woods. Wolves never attacked people back then, only sheep, but not that often. Now, with the war, they’ve been forced out of their habitat and they’re becoming aggressive. It’s the fourth time since the beginning of the winter that they’ve attacked children. Damned war.”

Nihal was done with the apple. She cleared her voice. “Listen, Eleusi.”

“Yes?”

“I … I don’t want to take your bed. I’m fine with some straw on the floor.”

Eleusi shook her head. “I won’t hear of it. You saved Jona. It’s the least I can do.” Then she took the tray and started out of the room.

Nihal stopped her. “Wait. You’ve been far too kind. You’ve cured me, offered me food. You don’t even know who I am.”

Eleusi smiled at her before she left the room. “I judge people by their actions, and you can be nothing but an honorable girl.”

For a few days, Nihal had no choice but to stay in bed. Jona was a frequent visitor. He was a funny, inquisitive little chatterbox, just as his mother said. Early in the morning when he came into the room to say hello, he was like a little cyclone.

The thing that most interested him was her sword. He showered her with questions. Is it heavy? What is it made of? Is it very sharp?

Nihal felt an instinctive fondness for him. “Go ahead and pick it up, if you like it so much,” she said one day.

“Really? Can I?” he asked excitedly.

Nihal wondered whether she’d worn a similar expression when she’d admired Livon’s weapons.

Not without some effort, Jona raised the sword in its sheath. They were nearly the same height. He handed it to Nihal. She helped him unsheathe it.

His eyes were shining. “It’s so shimmery.”

“It’s made from a material called black crystal.”

Jona looked at it from all angles. “And this white thing?”

“It’s called a Tear. A wood sprite gave it to me.”

Jona’s face lit up. “You know the wood sprites?”

Nihal smiled. “Of course!”

“What are they like? Are there any here?”

“They’re not much bigger than your face and their hair is all different colors. And they have wings and they flutter all around. That white stone is a sign of thanks. It means I’m a friend of the wood sprites. And it also makes my spells stronger.”

Jona’s jaw dropped. “Spells? You know how to cast spells?”

“No. Well, yes. But just little things,” Nihal tried to evade the question.

“Please, can you show me just one? Please?”

“Not now, Jona. Maybe when I’m better.”

Jona clapped his hands excitedly.

The days Nihal spent in convalescence passed pleasantly. Eleusi was a wonderful host. She found a thousand little ways to take care of her patient, making sure Nihal had everything she needed. She had not asked Nihal any more questions, but every now and then she’d come in to chat and pass the time. She had amazing stories about her life.

Nihal learned that Eleusi was very young and that her husband was a soldier. He was fighting in the Land of the Wind and he came back to the house once a year, for a month.

“Usually they give him leave in the fall and he gets here in time to plow the fields. But sometimes he surprises us and manages to come again in the winter, or the summer. That hasn’t happened much lately, though. You know, the war isn’t going very well.”

Nihal was astounded. “Don’t you miss him? I mean, aren’t you sorry he’s never here?”

“Of course I miss him. We argued about it a lot when he decided to leave. But he couldn’t stand it anymore to see injustice all around, and he was tired of seeing his friends leave and not come back. When I’m sad, I remind myself that he’s fighting so that Jona will be able to live in freedom one day. What kind of future would our child have under the Tyrant?” Eleusi paused for a long time. “I’m proud of my husband.”

Her words struck Nihal. Eleusi’s husband knew what he was doing, and for whom. He had someone to protect. He was fighting for a reason. She felt petty compared to this person she didn’t even know, who had sacrificed a tranquil life for the sake of his wife and son.

Nihal had a lot of time to think. There was something otherworldly about the warm and cozy atmosphere of the cottage. It gave her a chance to bring order to her thoughts.

First of all, she resolved once again not to brood over her nightmares. It was difficult, but the rhythms of daily life with Eleusi and Jona helped her. She’d never seen how a real family lived. The simplicity of their interaction and the genuine affection that bound them were novelties for her. She hadn’t experienced anything like it, not even when she’d lived with Livon.

The flow of time was punctuated by Eleusi’s chores: tidying up, making bread, going to the market, weaving cloth to sell. At night, the woman sat with her son beside the hearth and spoke to him, telling him stories and teaching him things, preparing him for when he went with the other children to learn from the village wise man.

Is that what a good mother does?
Nihal watched Eleusi. She’d never known a woman like her.

One day, three days after Nihal’s arrival, Eleusi came back from the market with a pair of crutches.

She entered Nihal’s room triumphantly. “Look what I found! You can get up and walk around in these if you want.”

Nihal wanted to try them right away. She sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for the crutches, but when she tried to stand, her head began to spin and her heart began to race.

Eleusi was worried. “Maybe you’re still too weak.”

Nihal shook her head. “No, no. It’s fine.” She swayed back and forth a couple of times, but managed to stay on her feet.

She took a couple of tentative steps. The early morning light was all around her. It was the first time in years she’d worn something other than her battle garb. She looked at herself. The nightshirt fell all the way to her ankles. She stood looking at herself, amazed.

“What’s wrong, Nihal?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just that …” Nihal blushed. “I’ve never seen myself in a skirt before.”

Eleusi widened her eyes in disbelief. “How old are you?”

“Almost eighteen,” she muttered.

“And you’ve never worn women’s clothes?”

“Well … no.”

Nihal and Eleusi looked at each other for a moment, and then they burst out laughing.

Nihal insisted on going out for some fresh air.

Thick, soft snow still covered the ground. Nihal asked for help putting on her boots. Then she wrapped herself in her cloak and went out. Eleusi and Jona stood watching from the threshold.

She walked back and forth, crutches sinking into the snow. She was happy, but her legs were shaky. It wasn’t long before she fell facedown in the snow. Cold stung her skin and woke her from the lethargy of convalescence. Nihal pulled herself up to a sitting position and burst into laughter. Jona began laughing, as well, and threw himself upon her, covering her with snow.

Eleusi smiled. “That’s enough, you two! Jona, get in the house. And Nihal, are you trying to catch a cold?”

Nihal looked at the clear sky. “We almost never had snow in my land. It’s beautiful.”

Nihal spent the rest of the day practicing with the crutches.

Eleusi pleaded with her to take it easy, but Nihal emphatically refused. After such a long time in bed, she could hardly believe she was walking. She felt alive again.

She managed to convince Eleusi to let her move to the main room of the cottage so that Eleusi could have her bed back. Eleusi filled a big jute sack with straw, then made it up with freshly laundered sheets and two heavy woolen blankets before setting it in front of the fireplace. For an impromptu bed, it certainly was comfortable. Nihal knew right off that she’d sleep well.

That night, for the first time, she joined her hosts at their table. After supper, she watched Eleusi weaving at the loom.

Nihal had never seen such a machine. It was enormous and made entirely of wood. There was something surprising about it. Fascinated, she watched the rapid, precise movements Eleusi made as she moved the shuttle back and forth across the warp.

Later, Eleusi helped her to bed. “You’re a peculiar girl. You’ve never worn a skirt, you don’t know how to weave, you have short hair, and you know how to use a sword. You know, I’d really like to know where you come from. Just out of curiosity.” She smiled a sincere smile at Nihal. “But I completely understand if you don’t feel like talking. Really.”

Nihal sat on her straw pallet and watched the coals as they gradually burned out. It would be nice to surrender to that tranquility. After all, Eleusi had been so kind to her. It was right for her to know who she’d welcomed into her home. She heaved a deep sigh. “I’m a warrior, Eleusi. I came here from the battlefield on the other side of the mountains. The base, that’s what they call it. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

“Are you a deserter?” Eleusi whispered.

Nihal laughed. “A deserter? What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know. I was wondering why they sent off a wounded warrior without taking care of her.” All of a sudden, Eleusi seemed a bit intimidated by her strange guest.

“I didn’t desert,” Nihal answered. “My tutor gave me leave and I decided to set off, though I hadn’t yet recovered. That’s all.”