Chronicles of the Overworld Book 1 — Nihal of the Land of the Wind (34 page)

There was no changing the topic of conversation.

“You’ll see. The war will end soon. In the meantime, you have to be a good little man and help your mother not be sad.”

She hadn’t managed to convince Jona. “Yes, but … Come on. Let’s play war sometime, OK? Just once!”

“Oh, so you’re challenging me to a fight, huh?” Nihal said as she made a snowball out of his line of sight.

“Yes!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Jona yelled, more and more excited.

“Then watch out!”

Nihal jumped up and threw the snowball at him. He was delighted.

They chased each other through the alleyways, laughing and throwing snowballs until they were both exhausted. Nihal had regained her good humor. She felt as carefree as when she was a child. She would have liked to feel that way forever.

At her stall, Eleusi offered cloth she wove at home, some eggs from her hens, and a few vegetables from her garden. It was all she had managed to produce this winter without her husband’s help. She and Jona lived off her market sales and what she earned as a healer.

Nihal took a seat beside Eleusi and studied the passersby. There were only humans, no trace of any other races. The refugees had all gone to the big cities, where it was more likely they’d find a job and something to eat.

“The cities are rich,” Eleusi explained. “The people who have a lot of money live there—nobles and warriors who managed to purchase big plots of land thanks to the war. Everyone else lives in the country. Many of the farmers you see here don’t even own the land they farm. They work it for someone else. There’s not a whole lot of justice in this land.”

A knight stopped before their stall.

Nihal covered herself as much as possible with her hood. He was from the base, one of the fighters in the first line. Eleusi knew him well; they were chatting.

But the knight kept looking at Nihal. He smiled at her. “Hello. Am I mistaken, or have we met somewhere?”

Nihal lowered her eyes and shook her head. Her heart beat madly in her chest. She realized she was afraid of the soldier. She was afraid his mere presence might shatter the magic of these days.

“I don’t think so. She’s my cousin,” Eleusi lied. “She’s come for a visit from Makrat.”

The soldier did not take his eyes off Nihal. “A very pretty cousin,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Lada,” Nihal murmured. It was the first name to come into her head. As she said it, she remembered hearing an old man say the name as he wandered through Salazar a few days before the invasion.

“Lada! What a beautiful name. And how do you like …”

Eleusi interrupted this attempt at conversation. “Lada, would you please go find Jona for me?”

Nihal nodded and rose quickly. She went as far as she could from the stall.

That night they returned home with a few more coins in their pockets.

Nihal felt like an intruder when she saw the meager earnings. Before she went to bed, she looked at Eleusi with a serious expression. “Are you sure I can stay?”

Eleusi was astonished. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“I’m one more mouth to feed. You don’t have much money.”

Eleusi smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to put you to work. Now go to sleep. Enough of this foolish worrying.”

Nihal went to bed feeling reassured.

That night, alone in her bed, she thought about everything that had happened in the days since she’d left the base. She was beginning to like wearing feminine clothes and walking among other people without the sword hanging at her side. She felt as if she’d been born again, as if she really were Lada, a normal girl leading a normal life.

Nihal had never lived anywhere so calm. She understood now what a real family was; she even thought it better than the life she’d had with Livon. She and Pop hadn’t been a family. They were two misfits forced by life to bear with each other’s oddities. They loved each other, but Livon hadn’t known how to give Nihal what Eleusi provided for her son. Nihal hadn’t ever known the tranquility or the sense of safety that were taken for granted in this house. She was amazed she’d never realized this before. But now she had the chance to make up for it, take back what was her due. Being here was like having a second chance.

Before she fell asleep, she fantasized about staying in the little yellow cottage forever.

Her sword, leaning up against the wall, was beginning to gather dust.

Mornings, Nihal helped around the house. She knew nothing about household tasks, but she was brimming over with the desire to learn. She followed Eleusi around while she did her chores and tried to make herself useful.

She learned to cook. She discovered she liked it, despite her early failed attempt with the bread. What was more, she had a certain talent. She let her instinct guide her; the results were tasty.

But above all, she tended the garden. Thanks to all those years of training with the sword, she was strong, and she liked to employ her stamina working on the bit of land that provided their sustenance.

At night, Jona told them the stories he learned from the wise man and recounted his daily adventures with his playmates. Nihal listened without thinking about anything in particular.

She no longer missed Livon. She’d consigned Soana to a remote corner of her mind and even the image of Fen’s face had blurred by now. But she couldn’t forget everyone. Sennar continued to be a vivid, present memory that tugged at her heart. She tried to chase him from her thoughts, but in the depths of her soul she felt that sooner or later she’d have to settle things.

It was a harsh winter and their wood supply was dwindling. They needed more, and Eleusi asked Nihal to take care of it.

“I’m no good with an axe,” she apologized. “Usually my husband does it.”

Nihal gladly accepted. “Don’t worry. I’m happy to do it. In fact, I can take Jona with me and that way he can take a walk in the woods.”

Nihal and Jona often went to the woods to play or tell each other stories. Jona looked at Nihal with dreamy eyes. He felt it was incredible to have met a woman soldier. Usually, females made him nervous, with all their sweet talk and precious ways, but she was different. She liked throwing herself into the snow, she never tired of listening to him, and she was as strong as a man. Jona showed her to his friends with pride, introducing her as a soldier.

Jona reminded Nihal of herself as a little girl. She felt cheerful in his company. She liked the innocent way he looked at things. She liked playing with him or amusing him with little magic tricks. A couple of times, she even agreed to spar with wooden swords, but she was evasive when he asked her to tell him war stories, claiming she did not remember.

That morning, they bundled up well and headed for the forest. As they walked, they sang a song Jona had taught her. The axe hanging from Nihal’s hands traced a long curving line in the snow.

When they reached the little clearing where they’d met for the first time, Nihal saw a nice dry tree, perfect for the fireplace.

“Move away, Jona. I think we’ve found what we’re looking for.”

When she hoisted the axe she felt something like an electrical shock. She looked at the blade as if she’d never seen one before.

“What’s wrong?” Jona asked. He’d noticed Nihal’s pensive air.

She shook it off. “I was just remembering when I used to fight with one of these.”

Jona didn’t let the opportunity pass. He began to jump around her. “Show me what you used to do! Come on! Show me!”

It was as if the axe were calling her.
Why not? If it will make him happy
. She held it firmly. Then, her muscle memory guided her.

Nihal began to spin the axe ever-more quickly. Then she began to slice through the air with quick, precise movements. As the axe spun she remembered every exercise, every single day at the Academy, every training session. Her homesickness for the place surprised her. She had been unhappy there, and lonely, apart from Malerba and Laio. And yet she missed the lessons, the sword practice, the sweat. She missed battle, the fleet movements of her body, the black blade glinting in the sun, the rediscovery of her roots in the fight and
—No!

She let the axe fall to the ground.

You don’t want war and fighting. Evenings before the fireplace, life with Eleusi and Jona, pretty dresses—that’s your future.

Jona saw Nihal’s face darken and his smile died on his lips. “Are you angry?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s nothing,” Nihal answered, still upset. “Just bad memories. Let’s hurry up before it gets too late.” Without a single word more, she set to felling the tree with sure, firm strokes.

They walked back home in silence.

Jona glanced her way. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

“What, Jona?” asked Nihal, her tone curt. She didn’t feel like talking. Then she realized that his eyes were full of tears.

“That you’re sad.”

Nihal stopped and smiled at him. Then she bent to plant a kiss on his cheek. “No, sweetie. I’m not sad. Really. Now let’s go. We have to go home and have a snack!” She gave him an affectionate pat on the back.

Relieved, Jona resumed trotting along at her side. But Nihal knew she’d lied.

Eleusi made a proposal one afternoon. They were sitting at the table. Jona was outside playing. Eleusi set down the apron she was mending and looked at Nihal. “Listen, you’re a sorceress, right?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“I thought you could come help me when I go to heal people. You could give me a hand with your spells.”

Nihal was skeptical. The mere idea of being seen by people made her nervous. “I don’t know.”

“We can say you come from another land, some place far away. We’ll say you’re a refugee, the daughter of a nymph. No one here has any idea what nymphs look like. And, anyway, you can’t hide forever, Nihal.”

Eleusi wanted Nihal to put down roots. Maybe, if she started to feel useful, she wouldn’t go away.

Their first summons came one night in the middle of a heavy snowstorm. A village child fell down the stairs and didn’t regain consciousness. Eleusi and Nihal hurried down the path in the dark night. The cold chilled their bones.

They tiptoed into the house. The child lay on a bed, as pale as snow. There was a large red stain on his forehead. They could see from the state of his makeshift bandage that the blood was still flowing. The image immediately brought war to Nihal’s mind, but she tried to chase away her memories.

“It’s me, Mira. Don’t cry. I’ve come to take care of your son,” Eleusi whispered. She had to take the woman gently by the shoulder and lead her away from the bed. There was a man in the room and a blond little girl who peered out from behind him. Eleusi turned to the man. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

As the man spoke, Nihal looked around. She felt out of place. She wasn’t a priestess. She couldn’t say what was wrong with the child. Until now, she’d only healed herself, and she’d used very mild spells. The little girl was staring at her.

“Don’t be afraid,” Eleusi said. “I don’t think it’s serious.” She moved toward the boy and signaled to Nihal to do the same.

Eleusi unwrapped the bandage and began to examine the wound. Her expert, attentive eyes scanned the child’s entire body.

“For now, why don’t you just do something about the cut,” she said to Nihal. “I’ll take care of bringing him back to consciousness. He’s got a slight fever, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Nihal nodded. She rolled up her sleeves, sat on the bed, and joined her hands. She could feel the family’s eyes on her like needles. All the same, she tried to concentrate and lay her hands on the wound. It wasn’t deep. It wouldn’t be that hard to heal.

The mother grew restless. “Who’s this woman with you?”

“A friend of mine. She’s visiting from the Land of Water. She’s staying with me for a while.”

“What is she doing to my Doran?”

“Don’t worry. She knows what she’s doing. She’s my helper.”

But when Nihal started to recite her spell and a blue aura began to emanate from her hands, the woman hollered. “A witch! You’ve brought a witch to my house!” She pushed Nihal away from the bed with force.

Nihal fell to the ground. A lock of hair fell from the turban she’d fashioned with Eleusi’s shawl.

The little girl pointed at her. “Look, Mamma! She has blue hair!”

The woman looked at Nihal with hatred. “Get her away from my son!” she yelled.

Eleusi went to her. “She’s a friend. I’ve known her a long time. She knows what she’s doing.”

But Mira continued yelling. “She’s a witch! She’s a witch!”

Nihal retreated into a corner. It was just like at the Academy. She remembered the hostile gazes, the mistrust.

Eleusi refused to give up. She raised her voice. “I need her to help me if I’m to save your son. I’ve been healing the people in our village for years. Why can’t you trust me now?”

“I don’t want witches in my house.”

“As you wish, Mira. Let’s go, Nihal.” Eleusi headed for the door.

“Wait!” With great reluctance, the woman rose from her son’s bed and stared Nihal in the eyes. “Pray that nothing bad happens to him. Or, God help me …”

When the little boy came to, Mira tearfully clutched him to herself.

They paid Eleusi with a few coins and a little bag of flour.

They refused even to speak to Nihal.

Word spread through the village. Mira spoke with her friends and the story went from house to house.

“There’s a witch in the village.”

“She’s got blue hair.”

“She’s cast a spell on poor Eleusi.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you noticed that they’re always together?”

“Maybe she’s a spy sent by the Tyrant.”

“I told my son he’ll get a spanking if I catch him with Jona.”

Nihal had predicted how things would turn out. Her year at the Academy had taught her that fear can strike deep in people’s souls.

“It’s better I not come with you. People are afraid of me, Eleusi,” she’d said as they left Mira’s House.

“No, they’ve just never seen you before! Don’t let what just happened discourage you. People will get used to you.”