Chronicles of the Overworld Book 1 — Nihal of the Land of the Wind

by Licia Troisi

  Her final opponent advanced resolutely. Nihal felt a pang of fear. He wasn’t the most impressive looking of the bunch, but his expression was discomfiting. His eyes were so pale that the irises seemed almost non-existent.

  Nihal tightened her grip on her sword, ignoring the pain in her wrist. Her opponent stopped in front of her. At first, she could not see his weapon, but then he moved an arm and a long black whip slid to the floor like a snake. Nihal had never seen a weapon like it. She prepared for the clash but paled when the whip slithered past her face and then fell motionless to the floor.

  “I can kill you when I want to, girl.”

  Once again, the whip was rippling close around her. Nihal couldn’t see it coming. It played around her body, as if it enjoyed brushing past her without hitting her.

  “Remember my name: Thoren of the Land of Fire. Because I’m the one who’s going to tear you to shreds.”

  The whip traced a circle that came closer and closer to her, each time smaller and more precise.

  Nihal closed her eyes.

  For a moment there was absolute darkness, but soon she was able to focus on just the sound of the whip. She could tell where it came from and how it would land, so she began to fend off the blows with precision.

  The man aimed for her legs to make her lose her balance, but she blocked and jumped, dodged and turned, managing to avoid every blow. Her tricks kept her too far to strike her own blow, however. She was stuck in a defensive position with no hope of launching an attack of her own.

  Luckily, her opponent had begun making different passes with the whip, which he did by keeping it closer to his body. It was a miracle. Nihal moved in closer, until she was close enough to smell him.

  It took her a single blow to cut the whip away from her opponent. But the smile of triumph died on her lips. An iron chain had wrapped itself around her sword. The man threw the stub of his whip to the ground.

  “Your inexperience will kill you, little girl,” he sneered.

  Nihal felt lost, but she didn’t want to give her opponent the satisfaction of victory. “You talk too much. Only the victor deserves to speak during battle.”

  “I have won.” Thoren took a sword from the sheath hanging at his side. “Do I need to come get you or will you come to die on your own?”

  Nihal tried to pull her sword free but the chain held it tight.

  “A testy pony, huh?” he teased.

  Thoren was stronger. Nihal dug in her heels to keep from being dragged. Her wrist hurt, but there was nothing she could do.

  Raven, high up on his throne, was enjoying every minute of the dramatic tug-of-war that could send Nihal to her death.

  “Save her!” came the yells from the public. “She followed the rules! Let her into the Academy!”

  But Thoren would not be satisfied until he had shed Nihal’s blood. “Enough of this stupid game.”

  Nihal imagined herself stretched out on the ground, dead. The thought made her eyes fill with tears and her heart fill with rage. It would be senseless to die there. Her whole life would have had no meaning, and neither would those of her people.

  Thoren pulled the chain with incredible force.

  Fury gave Nihal the energy to spring into action. Using Thoren’s strength against him, she threw herself forward when he pulled the chain back. Thoren didn’t have a chance to figure out what was happening. The half-elf fell on him and the black sword went through his arm from one side to the other.

  They both tumbled to the ground. A pool of blood began to spread beneath their bodies. Then, slowly, Nihal tried to stand. She had to get back on her feet or her victory would not count.

  Her legs trembled, but she managed to reach the center of the arena, where she proudly raised her dust-streaked face toward Raven.

  This girl was extraordinary. The great Raven, Supreme General, had no choice but to acquiesce. “You’ve gained entry to the Academy, little girl.”

  The audience exploded in a shout of jubilation.

  “But wait to start crying victory. The real challenge begins now.”

  People surrounded Nihal. Hundreds of hands began to touch her, to pat her, to give her friendly slaps on the back. Nihal could no longer stay on her feet. She fell to the ground like an empty sack.

  When Sennar made his way to her side through the swarm of people, Nihal hugged him and a smile lit up her tired face.

  13

  THE ACADEMY OF THE DRAGON KNIGHTS

  Sennar carried Nihal to the inn and kept a close watch on her. His memory of the days when she’d hovered between life and death was still vivid, and he was very worried.

  But Nihal slept blissfully, her dreams alternating between visions of herself as a Dragon Knight and visions of Fen.

  A cheerful ray of sunshine shone woke her the next morning. She stretched and sat up. For the first time in ages, she felt almost at peace.

  Sennar saw her wake and teased, “Being your friend is exhausting. You risk your life every other day.”

  Nihal smiled at her friend. Then a twinge in her belly drew her attention away.

  “Did I make it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to go to the Academy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was I wounded?”

  “It’s no big deal,” Sennar informed her. Your wrist is hurt and you nearly got your belly sliced open.” He shrugged, “Small potatoes. All right, back to bed with you, warrior. I have to do another round of the spell.”

  Nihal watched Sennar move aside the fabric of her top and lay his hands on her stomach and wrist.

  It wasn’t the first time Sennar had used a healing spell on Nihal, but there was something different this time.

  “Sennar, what’s going on? Are you blushing?”

  Sennar changed the subject. “I heard rumors that our dear Supreme General didn’t play fair. Your last opponent wasn’t a cadet; he was a mercenary paid by Raven to fight you. You almost took his arm off, by the way.

  Nihal did not care. She couldn’t wait to start training. Every minute spent doing anything else felt like a waste of time.

  “When can I start at the Academy?”

  “Whenever you want, although I don’t think Raven is in a big hurry to see you.”

  Nihal harrumphed. “That’s his problem.”

  Sennar finished his healing spell and looked at her with a serious expression. “Listen, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  “What?”

  “Well … I’ve become a member of the Council.”

  Hearing the news, Nihal leaped out of bed in excitement. “That’s great, Sennar! Fantastic! We’re a pair of winners! We’ve already realized our dreams and we’re not even really adults yet!”

  “Whoa! Hold on! It’s not that fantastic!”

  Sennar told her that he’d been subjected to endless trials, participated in interviews, and performed a countless number of spells. Then, he had waited during what seemed like an endless private audience between the Elder Member Dagon and Soana. Only then did Dagon finally ask to speak with him.

  Dagon had welcomed Sennar into his study. It was a circular stone room overflowing with books of all sorts. The sorcerer invited the young man to sit on a marble seat in the center of the room.

  All of a sudden, Sennar felt like a little boy. He imagined that was Dagon’s goal: to make him feel small and humble.

  “After a careful examination of your abilities and motivation, we have reached a decision,” Dagon said soberly.

  Sennar’s hands were shaking.

  “We believe you to be worthy of membership on the Council, Sennar. You will take Soana’s place.”

  Sennar had opened his mouth to thank Dagon, to say he was honored and that he would do his best to serve the interests of the Overworld and every other sort of formal nonsense that might come to mind at such a time, but Dagon gestured to him to be quiet.

  “A word of caution is in order. A councilor is more than just a sorcerer. H
e’s a wise man, a politician, a leader. The futures of many people depend on his decisions. You are still a young man. Until now, the Tyrant was the only person who ever entered the Council at such a young age. I’m sure you understand why I reflected for so long before deciding to give you this opportunity. For one year, you will shadow a member of the Council who will teach you the duties of a councilor and evaluate your conduct. For the first six months, I will serve as your master. We’ll go to the front in the Land of the Wind so that you may learn about the duties of a councilor in wartime. You’ll spend the second six months here in the Land of the Sun, because a councilor must also learn how to act in times of peace. Flogisto has jurisdiction here, so he will be your guide during that time. That is all. Welcome to the Council of Sorcerers.”

  “Oh,” Nihal murmured. “So you’ll be going away.”

  Sennar lowered his eyes. He would have liked to tell her that the separation would be hard for him, and that all he wanted was to be with her, but not one word of that passed his lips. “It’s my duty,” he told her.

  “And Soana?”

  “She wanted to wait until you were awake to say good-bye. She’ll be leaving this afternoon.”

  Nihal jumped to her feet and grabbed her sword.

  “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Sennar asked, surprised.

  “I have to go practice.”

  She stormed outside. She wasn’t sure where she was headed, and the chaos of the city made her feel even more alone. She ran until she reached a watchtower overlooking the Forest. The sharp contours of the Tyrant’s Fortress stood out on the horizon.

  She sat on the railing, empty space beneath her feet. She told herself how silly it was for her to feel this way, so lonely at the idea of Sennar leaving and Soana going to chase after Reis, both abandoning her in this noisy land.

  She gazed at the Fortress. Don’t be afraid. What does it matter if you’re alone? You’re a warrior now. You have to concentrate on fighting and destroying the Tyrant.

  She decided she would start at the Academy that same day.

  When Nihal went back to the inn, she found Soana waiting for her, ready to leave. She looked as beautiful and stately as ever.

  Soana hugged Nihal close. “I’m making this trip for you, too. I know you’re strong and that you will follow your path no matter what.”

  Even though she was not the one leaving, Nihal felt like a daughter parting from her childhood home. This was more of a fare thee well than a see you soon.

  “Thank you, Soana,” was all she could say.

  Soana then embraced her pupil. “I hope you will do a better job than I did, Sennar.”

  “And I hope that we will meet again soon. By then, I will have proven myself worthy of your faith in me.”

  Soana gave one last smile, then set off without looking back. A part of Nihal’s and Sennar’s lives went with her.

  When Soana’s figure had become a tiny speck on the horizon, Nihal turned to Sennar. “Come take me to the Academy.”

  “Already? You could at least wait until after I leave. That way we can spend some time together.”

  Nihal shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, but I can’t watch you leave, too. There’s no point in putting it off.”

  They made their way through Makrat. Even though they were walking side by side, they already felt like they were thousands of miles away from each other. They didn’t exchange a word until they’d reached the gate. Nihal carried nothing but a knapsack, the clothes she wore, and the scroll of the half-elves. Her black sword glittered at her side.

  “This isn’t really good-bye, Nihal. The Land of the Wind isn’t that far away. I’ll visit every month. I promise.”

  Nihal didn’t answer.

  There was an embarrassed silence. The two friends stood looking at the ground for a moment. Then Sennar hastily resumed speaking.

  “You’ve got to be tough. Don’t give up. I know what you’re going through, but you have to be brave.” He looked at her and said, “I’ll be far away, but I’ll always be with you. Always.”

  “I’ll always be with you, too.” Her voice broke. “Don’t forget me.”

  “I won’t.”

  Nihal planted a quick kiss on Sennar’s cheek and turned to the gate.

  The sentry recognized her right away. “We weren’t expecting you so soon. You may enter.”

  The gate opened wide and darkness fell over Nihal.

  The sentry led her into the Great Hall. Nihal wasn’t expecting to be welcomed by the Supreme General himself. The sentry pounded her back, forcing her to kneel. Nihal frowned up at him.

  “Get used to it, girl. From now on you’ll have to obey me,” the sentry told her.

  Raven descended from his throne and began pacing back and forth in the hall, his lapdog in his arms. “So, you made it. I imagine you feel very proud of yourself. Believe me, it will be a very short-lived triumph. Your life here will not be easy. I have a good memory; you made a fool of me and I shall not forget it. True, you’re an extraordinary warrior, but this won’t make things any easier for you. Every minute you spend here you will have to prove your worth, and you should know that I’ll be waiting to pounce on you should you stumble.” Raven was silent for a moment before resuming disdainfully. “Lahar will show you around the school and tell you what you need to know.” With that, he turned his back and left the room.

  Nihal got back on her feet. Don’t think you scare me, she thought.

  A lanky fellow appeared behind her and said, “Follow me, girl.”

  They went down a long corridor with a high vaulted ceiling. It seemed dark and endless. Finally, he led her into a large empty room.

  Lahar addressed Nihal haughtily, with ill-concealed hostility in his voice.

  “This is the beginner’s training ground. Sword handling is the first thing cadets at the Academy learn. Then they may begin to practice with other weapons. There are many rooms like this one, each reserved for different fighting techniques. A dragon warrior has to know how to handle all sorts of weapons. Today no one’s around because the cadets have a day of rest every week. But you won’t. You’ll have to earn it.”

  They walked through another maze of corridors to an open-air arena.

  “This is where the older cadets get to know their dragons. You might never use this place.” Lahar laughed sarcastically.

  Nihal couldn’t stop herself. “And why wouldn’t I?”

  “Don’t use that tone with me! After the first phase of training, cadets have to show that they have learned how to fight by serving as foot soldiers on the battlefield. And I can assure you that the Fammin won’t go easy on you just because you’re a girl.”

  “I know about Fammin,” Nihal shot angrily. “I killed …”

  “Silence! You speak only when spoken to,” he hissed.

  They went by the dining hall, where dozens of tables sat in perfect rows. Then they came to the dormitory, a series of vast rooms with twenty beds each. Beside each simple cot stood a rough wooden table where the cadet could store his belongings. There was no other furniture.

  Lahar took Nihal to a tiny little room that smelled of mold. The bed was a pile of straw on the floor. A slit in the wall let in a blade of light.

  “This is where you’ll sleep, since you’re the only female.”

  Nihal looked around with a mix of disgust and dismay. “There’s no air,” she said.

  “What were you expecting, a palace? Cadets come to the Academy to learn, not to rest. Now listen carefully, because I’ll only say this once. Weapons practice starts at sunrise. After lunch, which is served at twelve o’clock sharp, we study theory and strategy. Supper is at sundown, and then the cadets go to their rooms. It’s forbidden to wander around the Academy after sunset.” He continued, ticking points off on his fingers. “You’ll have one day off each month. You have to wear the cadet tunic until you’ve finished the first phase of training. After that, you will be assigned to a Dragon Knight for further tr
aining, and he’ll set the rules for you from then on. That’s it. You don’t have any obligations until tomorrow morning, but I advise you to sit tight here. Have a nice stay.”

  Lahar was about to leave when he added, “Oh, I almost forgot. Cadets aren’t allowed to hold weapons. Give me your sword.”

  Nihal tightened her grip on the hilt. “I’m sure you’ll be willing to make an exception in my case.”

  “For a half-blood tramp? Why should I?” He jeered.

  Nihal held the black crystal to Lahar’s throat. “Maybe no one told you, but I won entry to the Academy by beating the ten best cadets, and I won the right to live by killing two Fammin in the Land of the Wind.”

  Lahar was sweating. He had not heard the story. He looked at her with disgust, spat on the ground, and left, slamming the door behind him.

  Nihal sheathed her sword. She needed some air.

  She tried to look out the window, but all she could see through the slit was a tiny, teeming corner of Makrat.

  She threw herself on the bed of straw and lay looking up at the ceiling.

  She tried to occupy herself with thoughts of her future adventures as a warrior, but she could not. Instead, her mind turned to thoughts of Livon, and her heart sunk in despair.

  A loud ruckus woke her. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep. The noise was coming from the dorm rooms.

  Nihal was getting up from her bed when she saw her door open slowly.

  The sun had already set and left her room in darkness. When the door fully opened, Nihal was able to make out a stocky shape limping toward her.

  “Who is it?” she asked, uneasy.

  The figure stopped. “I no bad, I no bad. Dark here, you want light maybe. I come in, I bring light. No be scared.”

  The being had a sharp, plaintive voice. It moved forward and began to stroke Nihal’s arm.

  Nihal jumped to her feet. “What do you want?”

  “I no bad, I bring light, now you see. Call for supper, too.”

  Nihal’s eyes adjusted to the faint light and she could finally see him.