Chronicles of the Overworld Book 1 — Nihal of the Land of the Wind (4 page)

Soana nodded but remained impassive. “And may I ask what brought you to this realization?”

The question struck Nihal as cryptic. She told Soana the whole story, softening the truth to make it more palatable, but she had the curious impression that Soana was not hearing it for the first time.

When Nihal reached the end of her account, Soana bluntly asked, “And don’t you think that’s a silly reason to want to learn magic?” Her tone stunned the girl.

“Strong motivation is important, Nihal, because studying magic is very difficult. Furthermore, a sorcerer harnesses great powers, and it’s essential to employ them wisely and for noble purposes. The fact that the Tyrant uses magic in the service of evil is precisely what makes him a tyrant.”

Nihal tried to defend herself. “I don’t want to learn magic for evil or stupid purposes. I only want to be a well-rounded warrior.” Wasn’t this the truth, more or less?

“I’m not entirely convinced, but I want to give you a chance to show me that what you say is true. Sennar will be coming soon.”

Nihal jumped in her seat. “What do you mean,
Sennar
?”

“He’s my student. I want you to shake his hand and promise not to use magic to take revenge against him.”

It was as if a cold wind had swept through the room. No wonder Soana seemed to know the entire story. How stupid! Sennar had said that he came from the edge of the Forest. That snake had been raised in the bosom of her own family.

A terrible thought came to mind. Her voice was nearly a whisper when she asked, “Did you send him to challenge me?”

“Why would I do that? Sennar only told me about it a little while ago. Besides, I’d never get involved in kids’ quarrels.”

Nihal worried she’d offended the sorceress. It was so hard to figure out what she was thinking.

Soana glanced out the window. “He should be here any minute.”

Nihal was deep in thought. Shaking Sennar’s hand would be like acknowledging defeat—and to heck with any notion of honor. On the other hand, refusing to do it would be a de facto admission that she’d told Soana a pack of lies.

In the end, she decided to accept. She’d promise, for the moment.

She’d worry about revenge later on.

Sennar arrived bearing herbs of all kinds.

“I’ve gathered everything you needed, Soana. I hope now you’ll forgive me.”

He was so surprised to see Nihal that he stopped mid-phrase, but after a moment’s confusion he said cheerily, “Hi there. Have you come for my head?”

“No, Sennar. Nihal is here to become my student and to make peace with you. Right, Nihal?”

Nihal fought back her disgust and prepared to make the biggest sacrifice of her life. She stood, looked Sennar directly in the eyes, and shook his hand forcefully. “No hard feelings. It was a fair battle.”

And with this last sip, the bitter chalice has been drunk to the full
, she told herself.

“Good. All the better. I’m going to go sort the herbs,” said Sennar, and he left the room with his harvest.

Nihal took a deep breath and Soana smiled at her.

“You did the right thing. Now you can tackle the trial.”

A trial? Wasn’t that handshake
trial
enough? Nihal felt her resolve waver. Maybe this magic thing wasn’t worth so many blows to her pride.

“We’ll talk about it when the time comes.”

The sorceress herself prepared lunch. There was a small garden behind the house and some chickens pecking around the edges. Soana gathered some vegetables and made a soup. Nihal watched her as she sliced zucchini. Her aunt seemed ordinary enough, but then Soana went to the fireplace, stretched out a hand, and murmured a few strange words. The wood burst into flames.

“Wow! Will I learn to do that?”

“Maybe, Nihal. Perhaps.”

They ate in silence. Soana seemed to feel at ease, but Sennar kept looking back and forth between the girl and the sorceress, and Nihal kept her face so low it almost touched her plate.

It wasn’t until after they’d finished eating that the atmosphere warmed up a bit.

Perhaps Soana understood that Sennar made Nihal feel uncomfortable; she sent him out to work on a spell. She and Nihal remained at opposite ends of the table. Nihal felt so awkward she would have liked to sink through the floor. But as the silence of early afternoon filled the house, Soana began to ask her questions. She seemed very interested in what her niece had to say.

Nihal thought this might be the right time to ask about her mother. “What do you know about my mom?”

“Not much. She was with us for such a short amount of time.”

“Dad never talks about her.”

Soana seemed not to have heard. It was like this every time she brought up her mother, but why?

“It would be enough for me to know what she looked like.”

“She was very young, much younger than your father, and very beautiful.” As she spoke, Soana’s eyes were focused on the forest rather than on Nihal. “You were just a few days old when she died.”

“And this hair? These eyes? These stupid pointy ears?”

“Very few people are born with the traits you share with your mother. One every thousand years, they say. You should consider yourself lucky.”

Soana smiled. Nihal smiled back.

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about Soana and Livon’s childhood in Salazar. Nihal enjoyed herself, and although the sorceress kept a tight rein on her emotions, it was possible to read her feelings when her face colored with tenderness or mirth. In those moments, Nihal was able to see Soana’s resemblance to Livon.

It was already dark when Sennar came back. Nihal and Soana had prepared supper together. When it came to handling swords, Nihal had no rival, but she was a disaster in the kitchen.

At supper it was as if the understanding that had developed between aunt and niece dissolved. The sorceress spoke with Sennar about the magic arts, boring Nihal. Apparently, it was only in rare moments that Soana was willing to reveal herself to others.

The level of discomfort peaked at bedtime.

“You’ll share Sennar’s room,” Soana said. “He’ll be glad to give you his bed. He can sleep on the floor.”

Nihal turned red as a beet. “I’d rather sleep alone.”

“I don’t bite,” Sennar retorted, his arms full of sheets and blankets.

“Good night, you two.”

Soana withdrew into her room. That was the end of discussion.

Nihal sat on Sennar’s bed, a grim look on her face.

“Do you need to change? Shall I leave the room?”

Nihal shot him an angry look. “I sleep in my day clothes.”

“I don’t. Do you mind turning around?”

That was enough for Nihal. She burrowed her head as deeply as possible into her pillow.

“All set!”

When she turned, Sennar was lying on the floor under a pile of covers. A small, pale-blue fire burned in the center of the room, giving off a pleasant glow. Nihal couldn’t help but gaze at the spell with admiration.

“Is that going to bother you?”

No answer.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave it on. Good night.”

Sennar was quiet for a while, but then he couldn’t help himself. “Look, I know you hate me. You only shook my hand because Soana asked you to, but you really surprised me. I figured you’d beat me up to get your dagger back. I’d never have guessed you’d decide to learn magic.”

Nihal remained obstinately silent.

“Okay, I admit it. I saw a weak point and took advantage of it. It wasn’t really fair, all right? But I needed the dagger. There are a lot of spells that require a pointed blade. Maybe I can teach you some.”

Nihal continued to hold her tongue, but Sennar didn’t let that stop him. Pushing aside his covers, he sat up and crossed his legs. “I’m not tired. If I bother you, just tell me to stop.”

From that moment on, he didn’t stop talking.

He talked about his love for dreary autumn weather and his admiration for Soana, who was such an incredible woman and sorceress. He said that sometimes Soana talked about Nihal. Then he chattered on about any number of random topics.

Nihal kept silent and did what she could to maintain a lack of interest in what he was saying, but in the end it was impossible. She wanted to know more about her aunt. And she liked listening to Sennar’s deluge of stories.

Some time later, she decided to interrupt Sennar’s monologue. “Listen, do you mind telling me what I did to you? What made you want to humiliate me in front of everyone?”

“You play war without knowing anything about it, Nihal.”

“What do you know about war?”

“I grew up on the battlefields between the Land of the Sea and the Great Land. And believe me, war isn’t what you imagine. It’s anything but a game, and there’s nothing fun about it.”

Nihal was at a loss for a response.

“Anyway, it’s really late now. Tomorrow you’ll have to undergo the trial; you should get some sleep. Good night.” The red-haired boy burrowed beneath his covers.

For a while, Nihal lay listening to his breathing in the dark.

Nihal woke to a clear sky and bright sunshine. On days like this, it was as if nature were doing what it could to delay winter’s cold.

Sennar wasn’t in the room. Nihal breathed a sigh of relief. She still felt the sting of his words.

She stayed in bed for a few minutes before getting up and joining Soana in the main room.

The sorceress was sitting at the table, reading intently..

“Good morning, Nihal. Sit down and have some breakfast.” She gestured toward a steaming earthenware cup and a slice of black bread.

The herbal tea was delicious. The bread was still warm. Nihal felt her mood begin to brighten.

“If you’re ready, I’ll tell you about the trial,” Soana said. Nihal focused on what Soana was saying.

“In order to decide whether or not to train you, I have to understand whether or not you have potential. Magic is, in part, an innate ability. If you don’t have this predisposition, I can’t teach you anything. You see, Nihal, what sets a sorcerer apart is the ability to connect with the primordial spirits of nature; this is where we derive our power. We appeal to the vital force that permeates the world and, if we are able to do so in a way that merits response, we are granted its goods in return. The ability to communicate with nature can be trained and refined, and that is where a teacher comes in, but it must be innate to start with. The trial will test for this ability.”

This was beginning to sound interesting to Nihal. She interrupted Soana. “Are you saying that a sorcerer’s power depends on the will of the spirits of nature?”

“At first,” responded Soana, pleased to see the light of curiosity in Nihal’s eyes. “The formulae for the simplest spells are nothing but prayers to the spirits of nature. The milder healing spells and some of the simpler defense spells belong to this category. One must master them first before moving on to the next level.” Soana’s voice took on a serious tone. “The end goal is to dominate nature and bend it to your own will. At that point, it’s no longer the spirits who guide the sorcerer, but the sorcerer who mobilizes the elements. All of the combative spells, for example, belong to this category, including the spells used to set enchantments on weapons. The name of sorcerer is granted only to those who are able to do this.”

“And does it take a long time?”

“It depends. Sennar has been my student since he was eight years old and he’s still not ready. And yet, I’ve never met another sorcerer with such a marked talent for magic. I still spend time studying because nature is an infinite book, rich in mysteries and power.”

Soana’s words inspired Nihal to the point of forgetting that Soana had spoken of years of training. She felt ready for anything. “Okay. Tell me what the trial is.”

“You have to go into the Forest and there, in the deepest, thickest part of the woods, look inside yourself for communion with nature. I’ll give you two days and two nights. If you don’t manage in that amount of time, it means the magic does not belong to you, and you’ll have to give up. If you do manage, we’ll begin your training.”

Nihal’s determination melted entirely away, like snow in warm sun. She had imagined that the trial would be difficult, but what Soana was proposing was terrifying. All the stories she’d ever heard about those woods came back to mind—that no one ever came out alive, that terrible evil spirits lived there, not to mention criminals, the absolute dregs of humanity.

A reassuring thought came to dispel her fear. “Well, if we’re both going …”

“No, Nihal. You’ll be alone.”

Terror gripped her again. “But … but why do I have to be alone? People say a lot of terrible things about the Forest, and I … uh …”

“Do you think that your father’s sister would send you to a dangerous place? Believe me, the Forest is probably one of the safest places in the region. People with bad intentions are just as frightened of the Forest as honest folks are, and there aren’t any ferocious beasts. The stories you’ve heard are just fairy tales to frighten children. I can’t stay with you. You must be alone in order to concentrate.”

Nihal stuttered something else. “I can’t … please …”

Soana smiled. “Come on. Cheer up. Go ahead and face the trial like a good warrior.”

They turned to a discussion of what Nihal needed to do to get ready. Soana gave her a knapsack with a few basic items. She only let Nihal take her sword after much debate.

They walked through the quiet woods.

The sun filtered through the bare branches of the trees and projected spots of light onto the dry leaves of the forest floor. Nihal was still terrified, but every now and then her fear subsided as she noticed some detail of her surroundings. Then the shadows and rustling sounds that filled the woods would bring to mind the scary stories she’d heard, and her fears would return.

Nihal began to feel as if a thousand eyes were watching her, almost as if the leaves themselves were looking upon her with an evil gaze. Nihal turned her head at every sound as she walked uneasily right behind Soana. More than once she felt herself about to say that she had changed her mind—that nothing, not magic or anything else, was worth such a sacrifice. But, in the end, her pride was stronger than her fear.