Chronicles of the Overworld Book 1 — Nihal of the Land of the Wind (7 page)

That wasn’t to say she wasn’t bored by meditation. She found the countless preparatory exercises that were required for learning any new spell tedious. But at the same time, she found something invigorating about the endeavor. A calm she’d never felt before descended upon her spirit.

It didn’t take long, however, for her to understand that magic was not her destiny. Nihal was a quick learner, but she lacked the mastery of magical forces typical of the great sorcerers, the mastery Sennar so clearly possessed.

Their relationship had improved since the night he came to help her in the Forest. Initially, Nihal had kept up with her haughty act and angry glances, but not for long. Slowly, almost without realizing it, she ended up considering him her best friend.

They spent all their time together, and Nihal even stopped hanging out with her old gang in Salazar. The boy with red hair was the friend she’d always wanted.

They were both Soana’s students, but what really united them was the fact that they both felt different from other people. He was a sorcerer, and under the Tyrant, sorcerers were seen in the worst light. She was a warrior, and it was common knowledge that the destiny of women was to close themselves inside their houses to have children and make their husbands happy. Nihal and Sennar felt like rebels. They did what they wanted and fantasized about the heroic deeds they would perform in the future. Nihal was now certain she would join the troops fighting against the Tyrant.

Soana and Sennar told her frequently about the Tyrant. They told her about how he was using force to usurp the thrones of the kingdoms of the Overworld and establish governments that ruled by terror. They said the lands he conquered were full of misery and decay, that the Tyrant hated all races and wanted to gather them under his dark dominion.

Lately, strangers had been coming to Livon’s workshop with greater and greater frequency. They helped themselves to weapons without paying, in the name of the Tyrant and King Darnel. Livon seemed to fear them and when they came, he made Nihal hide. She was forced to watch helplessly while they ransacked the workshop and mistreated her father. On those occasions, her whole body seethed with rage, and her hand raced to her sword.

It was a new sword.

True to her promise, she’d asked Livon to make a little sword. Phos accepted it with great enthusiasm.

She’d given the Tear to her father.

“Pop, can you make me a sword with this mounted on it?”

Livon agreed. During Nihal’s absence, he’d spent some time thinking about their relationship. It was clear that Nihal was beginning to grow up. It didn’t seem right to clip her wings just because he wanted her by his side. Until then, he’d always followed his instinct, but he vividly remembered his own youthful desire for freedom and the clashes he’d had with his own father because of it. He understood now that he had to let Nihal make her own choices and watch her flight from a distance, always ready to support her when there were problems, ready to catch her if she fell.

He wanted to show Nihal that he was ready to let her grow. He couldn’t think of a better way to do so than making her a sword.

Livon took his time. He wanted to create an extraordinary sword, one that would never abandon Nihal and that would always make her think of him.

It just so happened that one of his suppliers, a cunning dwarf with a keen business sense, sold him a big block of black crystal for a reasonable price. Black crystal was the hardest material in the entire Overworld. It could be found only in the Land of Rocks, and the Tyrant’s Fortress itself was made of it. Livon had never worked with it, but he knew the technique, and he liked the idea of a black sword. All that was left to do was come up with the right design.

The armorer thought about Nihal—her character and the things she liked—and decided to make a sword with an image of a dragon, which struck him as the best animal by far to represent his daughter’s spirit. Besides, Nihal admired knights, and the Dragon Knights were the most powerful of all the knights in the Overworld.

The sword began to take shape in his mind. He worked for a long time, mostly at night so that he could surprise Nihal. He spent hours, chisel in hand, sweating over the chunk of black stone. He took advantage of every moment Nihal was out, to the point that he started neglecting his work and his clients began to complain.

“You’ve become such a slouch!” Nihal teased. But then she grew serious. “Do you need help, Pop?”

Livon shook his head and replied that a certain project required all his attention. He couldn’t tell her that it was for her and he couldn’t think of a better excuse.

All armorers, all artisans, all artists look forward to a creative moment like the one he was experiencing as he saw the sword come to life.

The crystal sword would be his masterpiece.

Then, one morning, Livon called Nihal. He wore the strained expression of someone who had been up all night. His coverall was filthy.

“Are you OK?” Nihal asked, worried.

“I’ve never felt better. This is one of the best moments in my life,” said Livon as he handed her a leather-wrapped package.

Its contents took Nihal’s breath away. The long black sword sparkled in the clear light of morning. It was as shiny and translucent as glass. Its flat blade, as sharp as a razor, narrowed toward the hilt, around which a dragon wrapped itself. The dragon’s white head—the Tear—rose up out of the black stone. The animal’s jaws were opened wide, as were its great wings, which stretched out toward the sides of the blade. Livon had paid such attention to detail that the creature’s very veins were visible; the wings were so thin as to be transparent.

It was a breathtaking weapon. Nihal didn’t dare touch it. Livon had created many beautiful objects, but this was a true work of art.

“You asked for a sword. Here it is. This isn’t a toy. It’s your sword. As I made it, I thought of you. It’s a weapon that can defend and attack. A real weapon for a real warrior.” Livon smiled and Nihal looked at him with shining eyes. “Go on, the least you can do is pick it up!”

When Nihal finally lifted it, she was amazed by the way it fit her hand. It was so light and manageable.

Livon laughed. “Come on, it’s not made of glass! That’s black crystal, the hardest material known. Watch this!”

He took the sword from Nihal’s hands and set it on his workbench. Then he brought a hammer down on the dragon’s wings.

Nihal flinched, but then she saw that the blow had left no trace.

“You can go on all the adventures you want with this sword.”

Nihal threw her arms around Livon’s neck in a loving hug. Then she pulled away and took her new sword in hand, raising it high in the air. “This is my sword! I will never be separated from it!”

Livon laughed again. “Then I can die happy.”

Nihal smiled at the shining blade.

The sword became her inseparable companion. It hung at her side each and every day. She often trained on her own; she didn’t have a sparring partner. Sennar was too busy studying, and when he agreed to fight, he was no match for her. Sometimes Nihal dueled with Livon, but it had become easy for her to beat him, too. And besides, she almost always slept at Soana’s house.

When she took a break from her studies, Nihal would go into the Forest and enlist Phos’s help. The wood sprite would throw seeds for her to try to catch with the sword, or else she’d swipe at dry branches. It wasn’t the best way to train, but it was a way of staying in shape while increasing her agility and strength. She tried to make the best of what little training she could manage because she felt a pressing need to use her sword.

The opportunity to do so was long in coming, but come it did.

Two years had passed since Nihal first arrived at Soana’s door. Two years of study and growth and of bonds, especially the bond with Sennar—her friend, confidante, accomplice and, at long last, a bona fide sorcerer.

The initiation ceremony was to take place during a meeting of the Council of Sorcerers, and it would be even more intense than usual because Sennar had decided to carry on with his studies in order to one day become a councilor himself.

The Council of Sorcerers changed its headquarters each year so that each land could have the honor of hosting it. It was comprised of the eight most powerful sorcerers—both in terms of magical powers and wisdom—one from each of the eight lands.

The Council was the last vestige of the old democratic institutions of the Overworld. In the past, it had guided cultural life and research, but for forty years now, it had been coordinating the war against the Tyrant along with the rulers of the free lands.

The Council was also in charge of the Overworld’s sorcerer community, and all new sorcerers went through the Council for conferral. Since the Tyrant’s appearance on the scene, it had in fact become normal for at least one sorcerer to serve with the army in order to cast spells on the weapons or even, in the most desperate cases, to enter the battlefield to add the strength of his or her magic to the fight.

This was to be the first real voyage of Nihal’s life. Not that she’d spent the time until now closed within the walls of Salazar. She’d had frequent opportunities to visit other towers in the Land of the Wind when accompanying Livon to see his suppliers, but she’d never traveled farther than half a day of travel, and she’d always been home by sunset.

This time would be different. They were to walk for leagues and leagues, stopping at night to sleep in the open air, until they at last reached their destination in a land Nihal had never seen and about which she had heard many incredible stories.

Nihal was very excited, and the excitement lasted the whole trip. Even as the miles were passing beneath her feet or as she rested beside the fire in the evenings, her legs aching and her mind numb with fatigue, she couldn’t help but think that she would like a traveling life—one journey after the next, from land to land, sharing a thousand adventures with her sword.

Sennar’s mood was quite different. Entirely caught up in his new role, the only thing he could think about was his imminent initiation. He couldn’t have said which was stronger: his excitement about finally becoming a sorcerer, or his fear about the ceremony. On the one hand, he worried he wouldn’t be up to it. On the other, he couldn’t wait.

The third member of the traveling band was Soana, who was behaving in a very peculiar way. Usually so measured and inscrutable, here she was all of a sudden acting sunny and relaxed, even jolly. Nihal had grown to know and love her, but rarely had she seen her show joy so openly. It was as if she were waiting for something and the expectation filled her with a new light, a light that made her beauty shine.

On the tenth day of walking, they came within sight of the border.

The Land of the Wind was still considered friendly territory. The border was not yet under guard and there was no one supervising the passage of people or goods.

Nihal was walking with the others, communing, as frequently happened, with the voices inside her, when a huge shadow—one that moved far too quickly to have been made by a cloud—drew her attention. She raised her eyes to the sky. The sight stopped her in her tracks.

A dragon hovered not far above them. The animal was tracing lazy circles in the morning air. Rays of light shone through its sheer wings. It was just like the dragon on her sword: the same forcefulness, the same vigor, the same beauty. Its harness and saddle were golden. The man astride it was completely covered by a shining suit of armor.

The dragon traced a wider circle and then glided delicately to a stop on the grass a few feet away from the little group of travelers. Nihal looked at it with wide eyes, almost as if she wanted to fill her eyes and her heart with the spectacle. She didn’t notice as Soana ran with uncharacteristic verve to greet the knight. The man leaped gracefully down from the dragon, took Soana’s hand in his own, and planted his lips upon it in a long kiss.

Soana smiled. “My love.”

The knight smiled. “It’s been too long.”

Soana, who usually held everyone’s gaze,looked down.

“A dragon! Did you see? A dragon!”

Sennar’s cry brought Nihal back to earth. Her friend was excited. He moved toward the beast.

After a moment’s hesitation, Nihal decided to follow. As she approached the dragon, she gradually took in details. His penetrating red eyes studied her with wisdom from ages past while his wings pulsed with life even as they sat folded over his majestic flanks. He stood still as stone, with a statue’s pride. He was light green, but it was a green full of surprising nuances. It took on reddish overtones at the sides of his head, grew darker over his spine, and turned lighter over his massive chest.

Nihal told herself that there was nothing so beautiful and strong, nothing so noble and powerful, as this creature. She wondered what it would be like to ride it, to feel its heartbeat, to plough through the sky on its back.

The knight noticed immediately when Sennar began to stroke the dragon’s nose. “Hey, kid, be careful!”

“Don’t worry,” Sennar answered, without stopping.

The knight watched, ready to jump at the slightest sign of danger. But he was surprised to see that his dragon was calm. In fact, the creature was completely at ease.

Nihal couldn’t resist. She drew nearer to the dragon and stretched out her hand. Soana’s voice stopped her in midair.

“Not you, Nihal,” she warned. “A dragon is devoted to its knight alone and refuses to let strangers near. It’s different for Sennar because of his powers.”

Nihal lowered her hand in disappointment. She so wanted to pet the creature. The Dragon Knights represented, for her, all that she would like to be. They were the most powerful warriors in the Overworld; they fought on the side of the free lands against the Tyrant, and they flew through the sky in telepathic communication with their dragons, melded into a single identity.

“Kids, this is Fen, a general of the Order of the Dragon Knights of the Land of the Sun. Fen, let me introduce you to Sennar, my student, and this is Nihal … Nihal?”