Chronicles of the Overworld Book 1 — Nihal of the Land of the Wind (31 page)

“What was I supposed to do? What?” she asked her tutor, her red face raised to his. “I was just a little girl, do you understand? A little girl! What do you know about what I’ve seen in my dreams, the massacres I’ve witnessed?”

Ido bent over to look her in the eyes. “What are you talking about? What’s all this?”

Nihal continued sobbing. “I saw my people being slaughtered. Children, women, and men! Night after night, my whole life long. They whisper words I can’t understand. They persecute me and tell me I have to avenge them. What was I supposed to do?”

Ido was thoughtful for a moment. Then he sat down in front of his cadet. He spoke gently. “You’re free, do you understand? Free! The land of spirits is not here. That hatred is theirs, not yours.”

“What about all the ones who died? Why did it happen? Someone has to avenge that massacre. I’m the only survivor of an entire people. Why me?”

“The dead are dead, Nihal. Someone who’s been killed has no more chances in this world. You can’t do anything for them. But you can do something for the living, for those who fall victim to the Tyrant’s atrocities every day.”

Ido brushed the hair off Nihal’s wet face. “Listen to me. I’ve also seen terrible things. I’ve also had to struggle against the hatred within. That’s why I decided to fight. I don’t know why you survived. But you’re here, and you’re alive. You can’t waste your life, because it’s not only yours. It belongs to your entire race.”

Nihal burst again into desperate tears.

Ido put an arm around her shoulders. “Go ahead and cry. Cry it all out. When was the last time you cried?”

Nihal couldn’t stop. “I saw my father die. And then Fen. I loved him, Ido. He was my only tie to this world. He was my reason for living. After that, hate was the only thing left.”

Ido looked at Nihal and felt pity for her.

“You won’t find an answer in hate, Nihal. Only an ideal can give meaning to combat. It’s not easy to find, it’s not easy to let it guide you, but a life and a struggle without ideals are meaningless.”

He patted her head.

Nihal cried all day. The violent sobs subsided, but her tears did not stop.

Ido said nothing more. He was convinced she had to find her own way. He had left her sitting on the floor of the hut, sobbing, her eyes pressed to her knees.

He ate alone. For that whole somber dinner, he remembered many things he thought he’d forgotten but that he’d never actually managed to banish from his mind. His memories came back to haunt him.

When he’d finished eating, he realized there were no longer any sounds coming from Nihal’s room.

He peered through the door.

Nihal was lying fully dressed on her bed, her sword at her side. She was sleeping, and at long last she seemed serene.

The next morning when Nihal woke, it seemed like a day like any other. Then she began to remember with increasing sorrow all that had happened. She buried her head in her pillow.

Ido stuck his head in the door. “Good morning. You slept a long time. How do you feel?”

“My leg still hurts,” she said, chasing back the tears.

“Come have something to eat. Afterward, I’ll take you to the infirmary,” Ido said as he handed her a mug of warm milk.

Nihal’s stomach protested, but she drank it anyway.

In the infirmary, they did a healing spell. The wound was infected.

Nihal remembered how she had lain for three days on the verge of death; Sennar had cast the strongest spell he knew, contending for her life against death. She wished he were here now to lay his hands on her. If her friend Sennar were with her, things would not seem so hopeless.

Ido came back to the infirmary toward evening.

He found her looking out the window. Everything was so peaceful out there. Nihal found that the sleepy white landscape somehow resembled her soul. She had been emptied out by her crying. Now she was calm.

“Nihal.”

She turned toward her tutor.

“I have to talk to you.” Ido sat beside her on the cot. Nihal waited in silence.

“I think it would be best if you left the camp for a while.”

Nihal smiled bitterly as tears began once again sliding down the oval of her face.

“I’m not sending you away for good, girl. But there’s no sense in your being here now. All I want is for you to go on leave. Of course, if you decide to stay, there’s no way I can force you to go. But I think you have to go away if you really want to find a reason for what you do.”

Nihal looked at him. “I need someone, Ido. I can’t make it on my own.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. You’re strong and you’ll manage. I can’t help you any more than this. You have to choose. Do you want to take this leave?”

“Can I stay away from here as long as I want?”

“As long as you want. I’ll wait for you here.”

Nihal nodded.

She decided to go away that very night. She’d understood how much she cared for Ido. She didn’t want to see him when she left. She’d been through too many good-byes to withstand another.

She got up at dawn and snuck out of the infirmary with her cloak wrapped around her. It was very cold. She slipped into Ido’s hut through the window, careful not to make a sound.

She didn’t have many things to take with her, just a few items of clothing and her sword.

And the scroll with the picture of Seferdi. The tattered scroll had acquired a second meaning. It was all she had of her people and her only tangible memory of Sennar.

She studied it for a long time and asked herself where she’d gone wrong.

Did that scroll really contain the whole meaning of her existence? She’d thought so many times, but she was no longer sure of anything. She rolled the scroll carefully and put it into the little bundle that was all she would carry.

She stopped at the stables; there was no way she could leave without saying good-bye to Oarf.

He was sleeping. He didn’t look ferocious at all when he slept. Nihal felt a surge of tenderness for the animal. She petted him.

Oarf woke. Over time, he’d come to understand her. He knew when she was suffering. He looked at her and knew she was leaving him.

Nihal petted him with greater vigor. “I have to go, Oarf. There’s something I have to understand. Only then will we be able to fly together.”

Oarf moved his muzzle away from her hand. Nihal threw her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest. “Forgive me. I’ll come back.”

Oarf rested his muzzle on Nihal’s head and they stayed that way for a while, close together, dragon and girl.

The sun was beginning to light up the sky, white with snow. Soon the base would wake.

Nihal found a horse and mounted with some difficulty, her leg still in great pain from the wound.

As soon as she’d reached the end of the base, she set the animal at a gallop toward the woods.

Ido woke with a feeling of foreboding.

He raced to the infirmary without even changing from his nightclothes, running barefoot over the soft snow.

Nihal’s bed was empty.

He cursed himself a thousand times over because he should never have suggested leaving to Nihal before she had recovered.

He went back to the hut cursing all the gods and burst into Nihal’s room. There was a letter on her bed.

Dear Ido,
Forgive me for leaving like this.
I didn’t say good-bye because I knew that you wouldn’t let me leave right away, and maybe because I was sure that if I saw you again I’d change my mind.
I’m going. I’m leaving my tears and my pain behind. I’ve decided to throw them away.
I don’t know if I’ll be back.
I don’t know if I’ll manage to live away from the battlefield.
All I know is that for the very first time I’m certain that I want to try to understand who I am.
Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.
It’s been very important for me to have you as my tutor. You’re the best warrior I’ve ever known, and the only person who’s opened my eyes. Farewell.

your only cadet

Nihal descended the mountain along a stream that trickled over sun-bleached rocks.

She traveled along rambling trails and didn’t reach the plain until the sun was already high in the sky. The woods began to thin out. Every so often, she caught a glimpse of sky through the brown pattern of leafless branches.

The horse was tired and Nihal was exhausted; she felt hotter and hotter and her leg was burning. She stopped. In half a day’s ride, she’d managed to put enough distance between her and the base to keep her from succumbing to the temptation to go back.

Her head started spinning as soon as she dismounted. She sat on a rock and took a deep breath. She tried to recite a healing spell, but she nearly fainted. She couldn’t go any farther. She needed to find food and a place to rest for a while. Everything would be easier after a bit of sleep; maybe she’d even manage to heal herself.

She bent and drank thirstily from the stream. The icy water was like nectar to her parched mouth.
I’m burning up. I must have a fever
. She was tired, and not just physically. She felt homeless now.

She looked up. The sky was now a deep and cloudless blue.
Fly away, go far away, never come back
.

A yell woke her. Nihal rose with difficulty and began to run toward the sound.

More yelling, then desperate sobs. It was a child’s voice.

She sped up as best she could, unsheathing her sword as she went.

She reached a little clearing that was almost identical to the place where she’d undergone Soana’s trial.

She saw a terrified child. Two enormous wolves stood growling before him, ready to attack.

One of the two animals leaped forward. In a flash, Nihal put herself in front of the child and aimed a blow at the wolf, but only grazed it. Once again, the animal hurled itself at the boy. Its companion followed. This time the blade struck its mark. The head of the first wolf came off, splattering a vermillion trail all over the snow, but the second animal was quick and managed to close its jaw over Nihal’s arm.

The child covered his eyes and bawled.

Nihal shrieked in pain and threw herself to the ground as she attempted to get the starving beast off her. The wolf’s pointed teeth pierced her skin. Then, with superhuman effort, she dug her feet into the wolf’s belly and pushed it away.

The wolf tried to stand, but Nihal was on it in a second. She cut its throat. The choked whimper of the dying wolf gradually diminished, giving way to the silence of the clearing.

Nihal collapsed, sword in hand, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. She looked around. The child had crouched, quietly sobbing, at the foot of a tree.

Using her sword as a cane, she limped over to him. “Don’t cry. It’s all over.”

The child stood and threw his arms around her legs. Nihal had an image of herself as a child, alone and terrified in the woods. She rubbed his head. “Come on, now. You’re a brave little man.”

The child raised his tear-filled eyes to look at her. He was very young. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

Sir? Does he think I’m a man?
“Are you lost?”

The child shook his head. “No. I was playing hide-and-seek with my friends. The others were hiding and then the wolves came,” he sniffled.

Nihal forced herself to smile at him, even as pain wracked her entire body. She shuddered. The sweat was turning to ice on her skin. “Do you want me to take you home?”

The child nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“Jona, sir.”

“Have you ever ridden a horse, Jona?”

He shook his head.

“Well, that means this will be the first time.” She took his hand and they walked together through the woods.

The horse came immediately when she called.

“Put one foot there and pull yourself up,” Nihal said as she used her unwounded arm to help him mount. Then, with great difficulty, she mounted as well.

She held Jona with one arm and urged the horse on. The child leaned back against her chest. “You’re a woman! You’re soft like my mother,” he said, astonished.

Nihal smiled weakly. “That’s right.” She was trembling and her eyes were beginning to blur.
Come on, Nihal. You can do it.

“Is your house far from here?”

“No. It’s just past the village. I’ll tell you the way.”

“How old are you?”

“Seven,” he said. He was over his fright.

“Didn’t your mother tell you not to go into the woods?”

“Yes, but if I don’t go, the others say I’m afraid.”

“Well, you tell them they’re stupid. You were lucky that I came along. What if you’d been on your own?” Nihal thought about the far more dangerous things she’d done at his age in the company of her troublemaker friends. “Is it much farther?”
Everything’s OK. I’m fine.

“No. Turn right here. We’ll get there quicker.”

“You’re an excellent guide, Jona.”

Nihal kept talking to keep from fainting, but she felt exhausted.
It was much worse that time in Salazar. I’m fine.

She heard Jona yelling. “Mamma! Mamma!”

A woman ran out to the child and pulled him from Nihal’s weak embrace. “Jona! What happened? Where’s all this blood coming from?” She held him tight and checked to see if he was wounded.

“I was in the woods. There were wolves. This lady saved me.” Safe at last in his mother’s arms, Jona began crying again.

“How many times have I told you not to go in the woods?” The woman caressed her son’s face.

Then she heard a thud.

The knight who’d brought back her child had collapsed to the ground like a rag doll.

When Nihal regained consciousness, the first thing she noticed was the softness of the covers that enveloped her. She opened her eyes. A child’s face was bent very close over her own.

“Mamma! Mamma, she’s awake!”

The child’s cry echoed in her aching head. Jona resumed studying her with curiosity. The light bothered Nihal; she fluttered her eyelids.

“Jona! Get away from there. Let her have a bit of air!”

A woman came into view. She was young, with a friendly and attractive face.
Where am I?

“How do you feel?”