Sennar's Mission

by Licia Troisi

  As a whole, the village was something of a mosaic, and yet it seemed to have its own, unique style. To take a walk through its streets was like traversing the entire Overworld. And the people, too, were as various as the village itself, all coexisting in peace. The equilibrium they’d managed to establish seemed perfect and serene.

  Sennar was on the lookout for information. He needed all the help he could get to carry out his mission.

  In the end, it was Rool who led him to the person who could help him most. He took him to a tavern, whose host pointed them toward the house of Moni, the village elder.

  Sennar was expecting to meet an old, wrinkled lady with a fading memory, but instead found himself standing before a woman with golden skin as smooth as a baby’s and in complete control of her faculties. A single band of grey hair was all that betrayed her age.

  The woman asked them to take a seat at a table just behind her small stone house, under the shade of an arbor. The kind expression on her face won Sennar’s confidence immediately.

  “So this is the young man who wants to die,” Moni commenced as she took Sennar’s hand in hers.

  The language she spoke was familiar, but with an ancient-sounding accent. The way she pronounced her words, the cadence of her sentences, reminded Sennar of the ancient ballads sung by storytellers on festival days. It was the language of the Overworld, but as it had been spoken two centuries prior.

  “It’s not that I want to die. I have a mission to complete,” Sennar responded, somewhat ashamed.

  The woman smiled. “I know. I see. Your heart is an open book, young sorcerer.”

  “What makes you think I’m a sorcerer?”

  She let go of his hand. “I have the gift of clairvoyance. Or, perhaps I should say, the curse. For as long as I can remember, time and space have opened their doors to me, revealing traces of the past and future as they please.” Moni leaned toward Sennar and looked intently into his eyes. “When we arrived on this island, three hundred years ago, the horrors we’d witnessed were still vivid in our eyes. But hope led us onward.”

  “Were you among those who abandoned the Overworld?” Sennar asked, stunned.

  “We are the ones who abandoned the Overworld. You’re young, too young to know how it was in those years—a living hell, every Land consumed by greed for power. We were still children. The war drained our will to live, robbed us of our youth. The struggle for power nauseated us. We were sick of battle, sick of seeing others die. We came from different Lands, divided by race, by war, and yet we were united by one profound desire: peace. We were convinced the Overworld was doomed, that it would sink into an abyss of pain and death. We craved another world.” She paused and Sennar nodded his head, filled with thought. “We left our Lands, our belongings, and crossed the war-torn Overworld. It was a horrifying voyage. Many died along the way, but we were driven on by the certainty that a better world existed and that one day we would inhabit it. Having reached the Land of the Sea, we pushed onward into the unknown.”

  Moni stopped speaking for a long while. Specks of gold flashed in her grey eyes, the same stone grey as the walls of her house. Sennar and Rool waited silently for her to begin again.

  “Our ships were undersized, our pantries under-stocked. None of us knew for sure what awaited us that far out in the ocean, whether there was even land to be found, but we set out all the same. I know you and your crew risked your lives to reach this island, but it wasn’t always that way—the sea welcomed us as family and carried us peacefully on our voyage. Still, there were troubling moments. Who knows, perhaps it was the gods, testing the resilience of our spirit, ensuring that we were fit to begin a new world. When we finally arrived here, we were at the end of our strength. The islands seemed a miraculous discovery. Nature itself, we felt, was inviting us to stay. So we stayed, and we began a new life. For many years we lived at peace, we built our city, we raised our children and labored to realize our dreams. And then, the ships began to arrive.

  “Ships?” Sennar echoed.

  “Yes. Armed vessels, loaded with greedy, violent men, eager to steal what we’d worked so hard to create. We defended ourselves. We fought with all our strength. We stained our hands with blood. Once again, we lived the very life we’d fled. It was then that we created the storm.”

  “You were right, Sennar. That storm was the work of sorcery,” Rool muttered.

  “Precisely, Captain. A powerful sorcerer helped us to protect ourselves from a potential invasion. He freed us from having to arm ourselves.” Moni closed her eyes, as if it were too painful a memory. “By then, though, hate had spread its poison among our people. Many were convinced these islands were no longer sufficient, that we needed to build an empire far away from the rapacious people of the Overworld. An empire with its own army, prepared to defend itself. And thus the kingdom you call the Underworld was born.”

  Sennar shook his head. “I don’t understand. How did they build it? How did they manage—?”

  Moni silenced him with a wave of her hand. “Let me finish, young sorcerer,” she murmured. “As a group, they left the island and set back out to sea, no longer driven by the hope of peace, as they once were, but filled with hate and resentment. In the middle of their voyage, a storm took them by surprise, sinking one of their ships. That was how they came to know the people of the sea, who’d lived for centuries in the farthest depths of the ocean. It was they who rescued our old companions from the fury of the waves, showing them new islands to inhabit. For a short while, these islands seemed a good solution, but soon they came to fear invasion by the Overworld again. No place was remote enough for them to feel safe. And so they began to consider the sea. If they could settle under water, no one would be able to harass them ever again. The ocean, the one safe place … It was the people of the sea who helped them to build their kingdom, I know, but as for how they built it, I’ve heard only vague legends and conflicting accounts. These days, we no longer think of our old companions. For us, the Underworld represents our failure as a people. A dark episode in our past that we’re happy to forget.”

  “Can you tell me anything about the attempt of the Overworld to seize their kingdom?” Sennar asked.

  The old woman smiled. “There’s not much to say, except that not even the ocean’s depths are safe from harm. All I know is that, at around the same time as their attempted invasion, the sea’s inhabitants flared up with anger. They increased the storm’s intensity and created an enormous whirlpool to defend the entrance to their kingdom. And then …” Moni paused.

  “And then, what?” Sennar asked.

  “They say there’s some sort of guardian, some obscure being that lives along the path to the whirlpool. But that’s all I can say. My vision permits me nothing else. Who or what it is, I don’t know. All I know is that in the past one hundred and fifty years, not a single one of your people has reached the Underworld, or the Vaneries, alive. For decades, the sea has washed up the corpses of men who thought themselves capable of conquering us.”

  The old woman turned to Sennar. “Our people have never found peace. We were forced to build it upon blood. Our dream never came true. That’s all there is to it, young sorcerer.”

  “The Overworld isn’t the way you remember it anymore,” Sennar muttered. “At the end of the Two Hundred Years War, a magnanimous king, Nammen, ruled us for many years in peace. It’s because of the Tyrant that—”

  Moni cut him short again. “There are many things you don’t know, Sennar, but it’s not my place to reveal them to you. Go back to your Land.”

  Sennar shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “Listen to me. I know how you were able to make it this far. But no one has ever breached the doors of the Underworld, and neither will you.”

  Sennar could feel his heart stop beating. “Did you … did you see death in my near future?” he asked.

  Even Rool was holding his breath.

  “No,” she responded, “but I saw with perfect clarity the destr
uction of your ship in the whirlpool.”

  When Sennar stood, his legs were trembling. Rool grabbed his arm.

  “May you pass safely and soundly through gracious waters, young sorcerer, and return as a herald to your people,” Moni whispered, as they walked away.

  Sennar watched the sunset from the beach. An immense sun bled crimson into the sea and sky, merging them into a single scarlet sheet. It was just as in Salazar, when he and Nihal would climb the tower and watch from a terrace as the sun ignited the steppe. Who knew where Nihal was now, what she was doing. Sennar would have liked to have her there beside him, to hear her voice, to ask her advice.

  A rustling noise interrupted his thoughts. Aires sat down next to him.

  “My father told me everything,” she said.

  Sennar didn’t respond. He was reluctant to ruin the sunset, the peaceful calm of nature, with the sound of his voice.

  “Who are you, Sennar?” asked Aires.

  The sorcerer turned to her. “What do you mean, who am I?”

  “Who are you, for real?” she insisted. “What makes you want to go to the Underworld?”

  What do I have to lose, at this point? Sennar took a medallion out from the inside pocket of his tunic, the one he’d received the day he was appointed councilor. “I’m on the Council of Sorcerers. I’m Councilor of the Land of the Wind.”

  Aires took the medallion and turned it over in her fingers. “Why didn’t you say so from the beginning?”

  “Would you still have allowed me on your ship?”

  “So, what, you’ve come to spy on us? Were you sent by the king of the Land of the Wind?”

  Sennar burst into laughter. “Exactly. And to spy on you more effectively, I climbed up into your ship’s lookout tower and tried my best to kick the bucket.”

  Aires laughed.

  Sennar turned serious again. “I’m here because the war is a mess, Aires. The Armies of the Free Lands are losing battle after battle. We can’t seem to gain any ground. And the Tyrant is by no means short of warriors—he creates them himself. Our men, meanwhile, are dropping like flies. I’ve been watching people die since I was a child. I wanted to do something. Something other than casting spells to bolster weaponry and attending endless meetings. Then I found the map.” He paused and turned toward Aires. “That was when I had the idea of asking for reinforcements from the Underworld.”

  Sennar tried to determine what sort of impression his last statement had made on her, but Aires’s expression was indecipherable, until her two black eyes flashed again with their usual irony. “And you plan to risk your life for such idiocy?”

  Sennar was dumbstruck. Of all the possible reactions, this was one he never expected. “I … I don’t understand,” he stammered.

  “Wake up, sorcerer! If you die, none of these people you’re dying for will even bother to thank you.”

  “That’s not why …” Sennar tried to cut in.

  But Aires was in full swing and wouldn’t let him interrupt. “Life is short, and you only get one. To waste it for the sake of someone else makes no sense at all. I do only the things I want to do. I want to feel joy, pain, passion, despair … everything. Because I know that when death comes to carry me off, the life I’ve lived will be the only thing I have.” She was speaking with great passion, her cheeks turning crimson. “I can understand dedicating your life to a lover, a child, a friend. But whoever goes wasting time trying to ‘do good’ is just stupid. The majority of people think only about trudging forward and surviving. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t care if the entire population of the Overworld ends up burying itself. It’s like they’re out there begging for death to come and take them. And then when it does, they have only themselves to blame. I know you don’t agree with me. Obviously,” she concluded. “You love to play the hero.”

  Sennar was silent for a moment. He needed to think. Then he cleared his voice. “Let me tell you a story. Two years ago, when I was fleeing from the Land of the Wind, after the Tyrant’s invasion, I passed a house that had been demolished. The house of a family of farmers—a father, a mother, a daughter. They were all dead, the little girl, too. A soldier had run his sword through her and left her to rot there in the doorway. My friends and I buried the bodies. How could that little girl have defended herself, Aires? Why do the weak have to fall, too? Not everyone’s as strong as you. Sure, a person can have courage without strength, but courage isn’t enough.” Sennar wiped his face and looked Aires in the eye. “Of course I’m afraid. I don’t want to die. But I know I have to keep pushing forward. And not because I love playing the hero. I took a boat and went to sea. I don’t think that counts as being a hero. I did it because I couldn’t tolerate living anymore with death all around me. I did it out of fear. Fear of remorse.”

  The sun had disappeared below the horizon. Aires was still sitting with her legs crossed on the sand, looking out at the water. She smiled. “Yes, it’s true, I like you, sorcerer. You’re a good guy. You could do great things. But I’ve realized I can’t make you change your mind.”

  Sennar could feel his melancholy pass. He was relaxed. For the first time, he felt at ease in Aires’s presence. It didn’t matter anymore that he was a man and she a splendid woman. It was like they were friends.

  His thoughts were interrupted when a foot struck the back of his skull. He fell on his side, dazed.

  Aires leaped to her feet, infuriated. “Have you gone mad?”

  Benares was standing behind her, red in the face with rage. “What do you think, I’m blind? A romantic, sunset meeting. Wonderful …”

  Aires guffawed. “I never realized how much of an idiot you were, Benares.”

  “I never knew you were such a tramp, either,” he retorted.

  “Watch it, Benares. Now you’re playing with fire.”

  Sennar was still flat on the ground. He could hear the lovers’ muted quarrel, could see the white sand an inch from his nose. When he tried to stand, his head spun.

  As soon as he was on his feet, Benares struck him again. Sennar fell flat. Perhaps facing a jealous boyfriend wasn’t as easy an endeavor as he’d thought. Aires and the pirate were nose to nose, hurling insults back and forth. The whole thing struck Sennar as ridiculous. Now, that’s enough. He dragged himself up into a seated position and extended his hand toward Benares.

  The pirate froze, spellbound and speechless. Now he’ll have to use his brain, the sorcerer said to himself as he got back to his feet.

  Aires looked from Benares to Sennar, from Sennar to her Benares, perplexed. “What did—?”

  Sennar drew his finger to his lips and stepped toward the immobile pirate. “I have to confess, Benares, when I first laid eyes on you I took you for an imbecile. Then, when I heard about your rescuing Rool, I changed my mind. But as far as I can tell now, it’s the first impression that counts, isn’t it?”

  The pirate’s eyes reddened like two hot coals.

  The sorcerer snapped his fingers and Benares regained use of his voice.

  “Swear to me you’ll keep your mitts off her,” he wheezed.

  “My mitts have never been on her.”

  “Swear it, or as sure as I’m still breathing, I’ll strangle you with my bare hands the second I’m free. Your little spell can’t last forever.”

  “Who says so? You want to try me?” Sennar egged him on. This sort of attack spell required a significant amount of energy, and he couldn’t sustain it much longer, but what did Benares know?.

  Indeed, he fell for the bluff like a leaf in autumn. “I want your word!” he roared.

  Sennar gave a heavy sigh. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a bore? I never once tried to seduce your woman and I never will. Happy now?”

  Benares shifted his eyes toward Aires, who’d been watching all along with a satisfied grin. “Fine, this time I’ll let it pass, Aires. But don’t forget, my patience has a limit,” he warned.

  Aires walked toward him, swinging her hips. She held him in her gaze f
or a moment and smiled, caressing his face sweetly. Then she leaned in as if to kiss him.

  The spit landed directly in one of Benares’s eyes. Aires turned her back and walked away, her chin raised.

  By then, the enchantment’s effect was petering out. Sennar released Benares and the pirate took off after Aires, hissing: “We’re not done yet, sorcerer.”

  8

  Laio’s Battle

  The letter was short and to the point.

  Laio,

  Your behavior up to this point has been unspeakable. Not only have you tarnished the family name, failing to pass the initial trial battle, but then you ran off and led the life of a vagabond. Now I discover you’re living on a military base, carrying out a role that is far below your capacities and your rank.

  I demand that you end this ridiculous behavior immediately. You were born to fight and you will be a warrior. To oppose your father’s will is foolish, and ultimately pointless. I therefore command you to return to our residence in the Land of Water, where, under my supervision, you will continue with your training to become a knight. If you do not step through the doorway of this house within twenty days, I will come to retrieve you myself, regardless of your wishes.

  Just below the text was an elaborate wax seal featuring a dragon with wide-open jaws. Above the creature were a faint sickle moon and three stars, in remembrance of the Land of Night, the home of Laio’s ancestors. The signature, penned in dark red ink, stated emphatically: “General Pewar, Order of Dragon Knights of the Land of the Sun.”