Chronicles of the Overworld Book 1 — Nihal of the Land of the Wind (23 page)

He went back to his tent and sat at his table.

There was food laid out for him, but he was too angry to eat. His mind turned to Nihal. He imagined her spending the night in some makeshift camp. He wanted to see her the way she had been just one year before: happy and full of life. He wondered why her path was so ruthless. He grew even gloomier at the thought that he might never find her again.

Then a face appeared at the door to his tent. Sennar saw who it was and scowled.
Now what does he want?

“May I?” Laio asked shyly.

Sennar tried to fight his dislike for the boy. “Come in. How did the trial go?”

“Badly. I didn’t pass. It’s thanks to Nihal that I’m even alive.”

Sennar wondered what Laio wanted. Maybe he was here to ask if Sennar would put in a good word for him. “I’m sorry to hear you didn’t pass, but I can’t do anything to help you.”

Laio took a deep breath. “It’s my fault Nihal got away.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was with her on the night of Fen’s death. She was so sad. She wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t move. I didn’t have the strength to say anything to her, even though she needed consoling. I didn’t even manage to stay awake. The next morning, she was gone.”

Sennar was silent for a long time. Then he sighed. “It’s not your fault, Laio. That’s the way Nihal is. When she’s sad, she closes off completely. She wouldn’t have listened to anything you said. And she would have run off whether you were awake or not, believe me.”

“But I’m her friend, and the least friends can do is console each other!”

“I’ll say it again: it’s not your fault. Go back to your tent, Laio. Go on to bed.”

As Laio trudged out of the tent, Sennar felt a pang of nostalgia for the days when he and Nihal were inseparable.

“No, wait!” He stopped Laio. “Tell me more about what happened with Nihal.”

Laio told him everything: about the battle and Nihal’s courage, about the way she saved him and tried to comfort him after the battle.

“She’s … she’s amazing, Sennar. And that’s why I think she’ll come back. Because she’s strong. It’s not like her to run from trouble. She’s always wanted to fight. She’ll be back. I’m sure of it.”

Laio’s words comforted Sennar. “What are you going to do now?” he asked the boy.

“I’ve thought about it a lot over the last few days. If I can’t be useful in battle, I can at least be useful to those who fight. I’ve decided to become a squire.”

Sennar smiled. “You’ll make a great squire.”

They clasped hands and Laio left the tent.

Sennar felt relieved. Nihal would come back: not for him, not for anyone, but because her sorrow would give her another reason to fight.

Sennar and the cadets left the next day, bearing the bodies of Dhuval and Fen.

The sorcerer paused for a moment in front of the camp in hopes that Nihal would see them, but she did not appear.

Sennar kept his eyes trained on the fields as they rode. The fields became woods, then woods thinned out to reveal the ragged hills of the Land of the Sun. He could not believe Nihal had given up. It was desertion.

They reached the Academy without any sign of her.

Sennar could only hope that the news of Nihal’s disappearance had not yet reached Raven. He would not show the same understanding the general had.

Sennar requested an audience with the Supreme General before Raven could request a meeting himself.

“I’m delighted that you’ve presented yourself, Councilor. We must begin immediately to plan our future actions.”

“To be honest, that’s not the reason I’m here.”

Raven looked at him in surprise, about to lose his temper.

“That is, that’s not the reason I’m here right now. Naturally, my intention was to consult with you over the next few days. I hold your opinion in high regard.”

The general regained his composure. Sennar could understand why this haughty man disliked Nihal; she was so utterly lacking in diplomacy.

“The fact is that a very unpleasant incident took place in the land under my jurisdiction during the trial of the cadets. Are you already aware of what happened?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I imagine you remember the young half-elf …”

Raven groaned and signaled Sennar to continue.

“Well, when I arrived at the camp I was told she’d disappeared. She left without leave, to be precise.”

“That confounded girl! I knew she’d …”

“Wait, General. I have proof that Nihal did not desert. She left me a message. She said she’ll return to the Academy on her own. Fen was her teacher, as you know. And her grief over his death is profound. It’s understandable that she would want to …”

The Supreme General stood. “That female has done nothing but cause problems. I rue the day she ever entered this Academy! She may be a good warrior, but she can’t go around doing whatever she wants. This is insubordination. Is she here?”

“Not yet, sir. I fear she may be lost, or perhaps she encountered enemy forces. It would be a magnanimous gesture on your part if you were to send out a search party.”

The Supreme General rolled his eyes. Sennar understood he was overstepping his limits.

“I’ll see to her punishment when she returns to the Academy. I have no time for this nonsense. Two of my best men are dead. I beg you to take your leave, Councilor.”

Sennar left, torn between anxiety and relief. He hadn’t managed to convince Raven to send out a search party, but at least Nihal was still a student at the Academy.

The funeral ceremony for Dhuval and Fen took place that afternoon.

In attendance were the notables of the Land of the Sun, all of the cadets, and the entire Order of the Dragon Knights.

The bodies were dressed for battle and laid out on two big pyres. Fen’s pyre also contained the remains of Gaart. The dragon would accompany his master’s last flight toward the sun.

Raven’s speech was surprisingly tranquil.

He spoke of Fen with particular affection and high regard for his talents as a warrior, his moral integrity, and his kindheartedness.

Sennar watched sadly.

He had never really liked the knight; he was too fond of war for Sennar’s tastes. But there was no denying that they had gotten along well during Sennar’s apprenticeship. Fen had always taken Sennar seriously, despite his young age, and he had been there for Nihal in her most difficult moments. The sorcerer thought of Soana, too, who was traveling with no way of knowing that her love had been killed in battle.

Then the fires crackled beneath the pyres and flames consumed what was left of the two knights, entrusting them to the wind and the clouds.

It was a custom that a loved one of the deceased light a torch in the flames. Sennar felt it was his duty to do it, for Soana, for Nihal, and deep down, for himself, too. He drew near the fire along with many other soldiers, knights, civilians.

It was then that he noticed a black-cloaked figure clutching a burning branch.

Hope filled his chest. He ran through the crowd looking for her, but Nihal had disappeared. It was impossible to find her among so many people.

When the pyre had nearly burned off and the mourners began leaving, Sennar resumed his search. The black cloak continued to appear and disappear around him.

He hastened his pace and rested a hand on a shoulder. “Nihal!”

She was dirty and pale. They looked at each other for a moment.

“Not here. Follow me,” she said.

They sat at the top of a hill overlooking the Tyrant’s Fortress. Sennar ran his hand over her short hair.
She looks like a baby chick
, he thought.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Nihal shook her head.

“Could you at least tell me where you’ve been?”

“I needed space to think.”

“I know, but where were you? What did you do?”

Nihal did not answer.

“What do you plan to do now?”

“I’ve got to go back to the Academy. I passed the trial and I have a right to my dragon. What did Raven say?”

“He said he’d punish you. That’s all.”

Nihal stood up without a word and set off for the Academy.

Sennar followed her, exasperated. He felt completely powerless. “Why don’t you want to talk? You need to get it off your chest. Why don’t you cry? Why won’t you do something, anything, to let me know what’s going on inside your head?”

Nihal kept walking.

“You’ve got to react, Nihal! Don’t let yourself be eaten alive by this. Do something! Please!”

Nihal stopped and looked her friend in the eyes. “There’s nothing to say, Sennar. Fen is dead. That’s all. Now I have to go to the Academy.”

Raven had prepared a long and impressive speech.

He was vicious and threatening, but Nihal’s reaction caught him totally off guard.

“I know what I did was wrong and I beg you to forgive me. I will accept whatever punishment you give me. I swear it won’t happen again. All I want is to continue my training.”

She fell to her knees beneath his throne and bowed her head. “I beg you, Supreme General.”

Raven was struck by Nihal’s behavior, but even more so by the expression in her eyes, so disheartened. He saw that she had lost herself. He descended from his throne and approached her for the very first time.

Resting a hand on her shoulder, he said, “I’m sorry about Fen. He was my comrade-in-arms. It’s an enormous loss for me, too.”

Then he withdrew his hand and assumed his usual tone.

“You may continue with your training, but you’ll have to spend a week in the brig. A warrior must be capable of mastering his emotions.”

Nihal clenched her fists. “Thank you, General.” Then she rose, bowed, and left to begin her punishment.

Three hundred years ago, the eight lands began an endless fight for supremacy. The Two Hundred Years War tore the Overworld apart.

At that time, the Land of Days was home to the half-elves, descendents of the ancient elvish race and of humans. The half-elves were a peaceful race dedicated to science and wisdom. For many years, they refrained from taking part in the hostilities of the war. Nonetheless, their agility made them particularly gifted in the art of combat. Leven, their most ambitious king, was determined to expand his domain and therefore decided to make use of their aptitude for fighting.

The half-elves had not fought for centuries, but their sovereign was an extraordinary strategist. In just a few years, their army became the most powerful in the Overworld. Leven, however, did not live long enough to enjoy his power. He died, leaving his newly expanded kingdom to his son, Nammen.

After his coronation, Nammen summoned the sovereigns of the Overworld. The conquered kings came before him, ready to obey, but the young king surprised them. “I refuse to accept the power my father won by bloodshed,” he said. “The eight lands shall be free once again.” Then he dictated his conditions.

Each land would have to renounce a part of its territory. Put together, these segments would form the Great Land. There, the Council of Kings would have its seat, as would the Council of Sorcerers, which would supervise intellectual and cultural affairs. Representatives from each land would have a place on the Councils. Each land would also contribute to the army of the Overworld.

Nammen’s last act was to announce the end of all the kings’ reigns, allowing the citizens of each land to select their own rulers.

All of his desires were carried out.

—Excerpt from the
Archive of the City of Enawar

Of all the atrocities committed by the Tyrant, the worst was the annihilation of the half-elves. In one month, the Land of Days was reduced to a desert. The survivors of the massacre sought refuge.

A year later, only one hundred half-elves remained. They built a colony in the Land of the Sea, but when the Army of the Free Lands lost control of the territory … the Fammin carried out their final execution.

—Excerpt from the
Annals of the Council of Sorcerers

Nihal spent a week in the brig. She thought of nothing; she felt nothing. She simply slept and recovered her strength. The day she was let out, she was ready to start anew.

She was surprised when she was led out of the Academy. “Aren’t they supposed to assign me a dragon now?” she asked her guide.

“First you have to meet your tutor, the Dragon Knight you’ll live with from now on. He’ll teach you everything, including dragon handling.”

“But don’t the knights who aren’t in combat live at the Academy?”

“Yes, but not all cadets are assigned to a knight who isn’t in combat. A few things changed after the Battle of Therorn; there aren’t enough tutors left at the Academy. Many of them have left for the front.”

Nihal and her guide reached the stables. They took two horses and rode away from the Academy.

They headed across the Land of the Sun toward the south. Nihal’s guide loved to race. They traveled through a forest at full speed. Nihal was not particularly impressed; riding on a dragon’s back was the only form of travel she could get excited about. All things considered, it was good that her new tutor was at the front—she would get to fight. That was all that mattered.

They stopped for a break after half a day’s ride. The horses were tired and there was still a long way to their destination. Nihal and her guide sat down beside a stream to eat. Food made the guide talkative.

“You’re the half-elf who killed a bunch of Fammin in the last battle, aren’t you?”

Nihal was not in the mood for conversation and did not take her eyes from her food.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Nihal stood. “I need to stretch my legs.”

“Okay,” he muttered.

Nihal wandered through the woods.

She had not spent time in a forest since leaving the Land of the Wind. Autumn had changed the color of the leaves, making the trees look stunning. She walked over a carpet of fallen leaves and felt their softness beneath her feet. How wonderful it would be to melt into that sea of leaves, to go back to being just a part of nature.