Nihal of the Land of the Wind Read online

  Fen treated her with tenderness; they would talk and spar together. When she was dueling, Nihal’s mind would empty. It was to the best way to escape her sadness. With her black sword in hand, it seemed she could still feel Livon’s life pulsing through it. Her body would begin to move on its own, and her mind would go blissfully blank.

  Sennar threw himself into his studies. He had argued forcefully against Soana’s decision to leave the Council. Of course he wanted to become a member right away, but not like this. He was fond of his teacher, and it did not make him happy to see her renounce her position. But Soana would not budge, so Sennar was forced to accept her choice. He resolved that if it was his destiny to join the Council, the least he could do was prepare to do so to the best of his abilities.

  He spent his days deep in the books of the royal library and only returned to Loos in the evening, tired and hungry. Often, he was so tired he didn’t even bother to visit Nihal. But though their customary sunset conversations became increasingly rare, he hadn’t forgotten her.

  One day, Nihal went to train in the woods where Phos and his companions had set up residence. Things weren’t going very well for the wood sprites.

  “The nymphs treat us like servants,” Phos had complained. “In your eyes, they’re beautiful and full of grace, but let me assure you that they’re unbearable. ‘Bring me this.’ ‘Fetch me that.’ We didn’t come here to be their pages!” It was clear that soon the wood sprites would be migrating elsewhere.

  That day, though, there was no one in the woods except for Nihal. Deep in concentration, she sent her sword slashing through the air. Sennar appeared silently, as usual, but Nihal had learned to perceive his presence.

  “You’re not studying today?”

  “No, I’m not studying today.”

  Sennar handed Nihal the scroll he’d been carrying under his arm.

  “I found this for you. I’ve been looking for it for a while.”

  The crumpled and slightly charred page contained a big drawing of a city with extraordinarily high buildings over which a white tower reigned. The blue hair of half-elves going about their daily business was visible among the buildings. Below the image, an inscription in elaborate calligraphy read: “City of Seferdi, Land of Days.”

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It’s the only testimony to your people I was able to find in the library. I thought you’d be happy to have it.”

  Nihal didn’t answer. She looked again and again at the timeworn scroll. Her eyes filled with tears.

  When Sennar noticed, he was mortified. “What a fool! I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would hurt you.”

  But Nihal hugged the scroll to her chest and smiled through her tears.

  They talked about all sorts of things that afternoon—Soana’s decision to step down from the Council, Sennar’s upcoming induction as a member, the green land around them. They chatted as if everything were like before, when Nihal was still a little girl obsessed with the idea of becoming a warrior and Sennar a promising student of magic.

  Sennar, however, knew his friend well. “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Nihal, you can fool everyone else, but you can’t fool me. What’s on your mind?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Listen, you’ve done everything possible to speed your recovery. You haven’t missed a chance to spar with Fen and you spend your afternoons slicing through the air with your sword. Would you mind telling me what you’re up to?”

  Nihal was amazed once again by how well Sennar knew her. “I want to fight.”

  Sennar shook his head. “I knew it.”

  “No. Wait. I don’t just want to throw myself into the fray and die. If I have to die, it will be after I’ve avenged Livon and my people.”

  “And how are you planning to do it, pray tell?”

  “I’ve decided to become a Dragon Knight.”

  “Are you joking?”

  “I couldn’t be more serious.”

  “Nihal, the Order of the Dragon Knights of the Land of the Sun is the most powerful army in the Overworld.”

  “I know. That’s why I want to become one.”

  “What I mean is that they’ll never let a woman into such an important order.”

  Nihal knew Sennar was right. It wouldn’t be easy. The Order of the Dragon Knights was ancient and renowned.

  Even for a keen and talented man, it would be difficult to enter, let alone for a teenage girl. Even if she managed to enter the Academy, completing the course of training would be a grueling enterprise. There were only a couple hundred Dragon Knights in the entire Land of the Sun, and a mere handful of aspiring youths joined their number each year. But Nihal had made up her mind, and she wouldn’t give up until she’d gone into battle on the back of a dragon.

  “I’m not a woman, Sennar. And I’m not a little girl anymore, either. I’m a warrior. There must be a reason why I survived; it must be that I’m destined to fight. This isn’t some childish whim. It’s a necessity. I have to fight for those who died and those who will die.”

  Sennar studied his friend. The girl standing before him was a real warrior; her eyes shone with the fire that burns in those who know what they must do. He sighed, then took her hand and pressed it with his own.

  Nihal was no longer alone in her decision.

  Ten days after their arrival in Loos, Nihal had recovered completely. It had been a peaceful interlude, but the time had come for Sennar, Soana, and Nihal to leave the Land of Water. They had to get to the Land of the Sun, where the Council of Sorcerers was in session that year.

  Each of the travelers set off toward an uncertain future.

  Soana was going to renounce her position and embark on a voyage to an unknown destination. She wanted to find Reis. Sennar—who at barely eighteen years of age was going to become a councilor—wondered if he would be up to the task. And Nihal could think of nothing but war, the war she’d wage on the battlefield and the war of feelings inside her.

  They set off one morning at dawn.

  Fen, taking advantage of a few days leave, offered to accompany them. Soana was about to set off on a long quest, and he wanted to enjoy her company while he could.

  Nihal was happy. She wanted to tell him about her goals herself.

  They were already far from the Land of Water when Nihal brought up the subject. They had stopped near some woods to rest and eat. The atmosphere was relaxed.

  Nihal summoned up her courage. “I have something to tell you all. I’ve been thinking a lot about this and I’ve decided to become a Dragon Knight. I’d be so happy if Fen would take me to the Academy once we get to the Land of the Sun.”

  Her words fell like lightning out of a clear sky.

  After long seconds of stony silence, Fen, her teacher and mentor, finally spoke. “Do you realize what you’re saying? There’s nothing wrong with a few training sessions, but here you’re talking about war. Real war.”

  Nihal felt the ground give way beneath her. She had imagined that Fen would react with joy to her decision, that he’d support and admire her. “I haven’t been training just to play games.”

  Soana shot Fen a look and he changed tone. His face softened into one of his usual smiles, but Nihal caught on to his condescending tone when he said, “That’s not what I meant.”

  Tears welled in Nihal’s eyes. “I’m not asking for your help. I’m not even asking for your approval.”

  “Nihal, listen. Think about what you’re saying.”

  Nihal leaped to her feet. “I’ll do it by myself. I don’t need anyone.”

  Then she grabbed her sword and headed into the trees. She didn’t want anyone to see her crying. As she ran, hoping with all her might that no one would follow her, she asked herself why Fen—of all people—had been so patronizing. It was a betrayal. Why did he want to shatter her dreams?

  She sat at the foot of a tree and put her head between her knees. She fantasized that Fen caught up with her and told her he’d only react
ed that way out of concern for her, because he loved her, because he wanted to be with her. Who am I trying to fool? Tears began to flow down her cheeks. Fen loves Soana. I’m just a little girl.

  By the time Fen appeared, Nihal had stopped crying.

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  She didn’t look up from the grass.

  “I’m your teacher, and I know better than anyone how talented you are. But the training there is incredibly tough. And you’re a girl. That’s all.”

  “I know I’m a girl. I really don’t need everyone to keep reminding me,” Nihal said, without raising her eyes.

  “What I mean is that there will be countless obstacles for you to deal with.”

  “I know that, too.”

  Fen sighed. “Are you really sure this is what you want?”

  Nihal nodded gravely.

  “All right, then. I’ll take you to meet Raven, the Supreme General, and ask him to grant you admission to the Academy. Does that make you happy?”

  Fen bent to get a better look at Nihal’s face, which was pressed between her bent knees. “Come on. I really can’t stand to see a woman cry.”

  Nihal raised her reddened face and looked at him. His gaze no longer contained that note of pity. “Thank you,” she said in a low voice.

  He held out a hand to help her stand up and Nihal couldn’t resist. The minute she was on her feet she hugged him tight.

  The journey was over soon after. Thanks to their strong horses, they had made it to the Land of the Sun in just five days. The name, Land of the Sun, had evoked for Nihal the idea of a magnificent country full of splendors. Instead, she found herself confronted with a chaotic, swarming mess.

  It was full of crowded cities with houses piled on top of each other in a labyrinth that was practically impossible to navigate. There were, however, a number of luxuriant forests that made Nihal think that it would be the ideal place for Phos and his companions.

  It was an opulent land, with all its wealth on display. The inhabitants wore luxurious clothes and their houses were adorned with sophisticated decorations.

  Every city, whether large or small, was organized around a square-shaped building that served as the seat of the city government, where delegates and the governor held their meetings. A market overflowing with goods filled the vast plaza that stretched away from this building. The marketplace was the only open space to be found in the cities of the Land of the Sun. The rest was a proliferation of little streets that unraveled without any apparent order, intersected here and there by twisting boulevards just slightly wider than the tiny alleys. Everywhere one’s eyes rested they found golden walls, statues, fountains overflowing with water and a frenetic hustle and bustle of people.

  This display of wealth bothered Nihal, who found it poor taste during wartime. The only poor areas were those occupied by the refugees who had fled their lands when the Tyrant had attacked. Nihal couldn’t help but think of her own people when she saw them. Before their destruction, the half-elves were probably forced to live in similar conditions, begging from people who were oblivious to the tragedy unfolding around them.

  They crossed a multitude of cities, or at least that’s how it seemed to Nihal, before they finally reached Makrat, the capital, home to both the Council of Sorcerers and the Academy of the Dragon Knights.

  Nihal’s initial impression of the Land of the Sun was reinforced by what she saw in Makrat: a mishmash of princely houses, people coming and going from all directions, refugees begging from passersby. All together, it created a sense of chaos and suffocation.

  Fen pointed to a surprisingly sober building, at least by Land of the Sun standards. It was the seat of the Academy. Nihal took a good look at it. She wanted to meet Raven the very next day.

  That night, they slept in an inn. There weren’t many rooms, and for a moment Nihal hoped she would have to share a room with Fen.

  Of course she ended up rooming with Sennar. Because there was only one bed, the sorcerer was obliged to sleep on the floor.

  Neither of them could sleep.

  Sennar was the first to break the silence. “Are you sleeping?”

  “No.”

  “I’ve been wondering whether everything will change tomorrow. Maybe you and I will end up taking completely different paths.”

  Nihal smiled. “I have no intention of losing my best friend. What about you, Councilor? Will you be too busy to come visit me?”

  “I’ll try to find some time between spells.”

  Nihal threw a pillow at him.

  Early in the morning, Nihal and Fen set out for the Academy through the as-yet deserted streets of Makrat.

  The knight was not his usual self. Nihal got the sense that he still did not fully approve of her decision. Now and then, he looked over at her inquisitively, but she kept walking determinedly, concentrating on what she was about to do.

  The long black cloak Nihal was wearing left only her sword visible. The hood hid her face. What she wore underneath was no less somber—a black leather bodice and trousers. She felt like a demon of revenge. She had made a promise to herself to wear mourning until the Tyrant was brought to justice.

  The Academy was housed in a palace along an ample square. Two young soldiers armed with halberds stood guard at the gate.

  “We’re here to confer with the Supreme General of the Order, His Excellency, Raven,” Fen announced.

  Nihal thought to herself that this was only the start. She wondered how much she would have to risk before she achieved her goal.

  One of the two guards went to check with a superior. He returned quickly. “The Supreme General will receive you. You may wait in the Great Hall.”

  Nihal felt ill at ease in the room. She had grown up in the small spaces of Salazar and this vast chamber made her feel as tiny as an insect. The room was divided into three sections separated by two rows of columns so wide that Nihal’s arms could not even reach halfway around. The room had obviously been designed to make those awaiting an audience feel utterly insignificant.

  They waited for almost an hour. Nihal, beginning to feel irritated, asked, “What’s the Supreme General like?”

  “Short-tempered, arrogant, and not very tolerant,” Fen replied. He didn’t mince words.

  “Wonderful,” Nihal muttered, trying to make light of the situation. She didn’t have a chance to ask anything else because the elusive Raven was finally making his entrance.

  Diamonds decorated his golden armor. How on earth could anyone fight in a get-up like that? Nihal wondered. As if that weren’t enough, he carried a furry little lapdog, constantly stroking its back.

  The Supreme General took a seat on a throne at the front of the room. “My good Fen,” he said, “it is a matter of great pride that a hero of your caliber would honor me with a visit. I’ve heard the situation is improving on the front. I am very pleased. The Order is fortunate to count you among its ranks.”

  Fen gave a quick bow. It was best to get right to the point. “Thank you, General. I have come to you because a young and very promising pupil of mine wishes to enter the Order and …”

  “You did well, young Fen. You know that no student may enter the Academy without my authorization, but if your young pupil is as talented as you say …” He let his words trail off and turned his gaze toward Nihal. “This masked boy must be him.”

  Her moment had come. Nihal took a deep breath, drew off her hood and opened her cloak.

  Conflicting emotions played across the Supreme General’s face: first, astonishment at the sight of a girl with blue hair and pointed ears, then disbelief, and then, finally, rage. Raven angrily gripped his lapdog who yelped in pain. Then he turned to Fen and hissed, “Is this some kind of joke?”

  Fen forced himself to respond with respectful determination. “It’s not a joke, Supreme General. This girl is one of the most talented sword fighters I have ever encountered.”

  Furious, Raven leaped to his feet. “I would never have expecte
d something this foolish from you of all people! You bring this girl here and claim she’s a warrior. Have you forgotten the honor of the Order?”

  Fen was tempted to beg forgiveness, grab Nihal by the arm, and drag her away. The whole situation felt crazy, but at the same time he was fond of Nihal and confident in her potential.

  Nihal came to his rescue. “I’m the one you should be yelling at.”

  “And who gave you permission to open your mouth?” Raven was irate. He turned toward Fen. “Say something to this meddlesome schemer. I will not tolerate her lack of manners.”

  Nihal stepped forward, saying, “You should believe Fen when he says I’m a talented sword fighter. Put me to the test.”

  “Little girl, we train warriors who defend the free lands. Go off and find somewhere else to play.”

  Nihal remained undaunted. Her goal was too important to allow some arrogant general to stand in her way. She looked Raven in the eyes and replied with a firm voice, “I am not a little girl. I am a warrior and I asked you to put me to the test. Is it your usual practice to prevent aspiring knights the opportunity to show what they can do?”

  Raven stood and made to leave.

  Nihal raised her voice. “I am a half-elf, the last one left. I am here to fight and avenge my people. You cannot refuse me a trial.”

  Raven turned and shot her a scathing look. “It is of no interest to me who you are or where you come from. There are no women in the Order of the Dragon Knights. This conversation is over.”

  Nihal’s last words rang out as the Supreme General reached the doors. “I swear I won’t leave until you put me to the test.”

  12

  TEN WARRIORS

  Nihal was resolute. Fen’s attempts to dissuade her, to make her see reason, to drag her away with him when he left—were all in vain.

  “I’ve made up my mind,” she said. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her drawn sword on the flagstones in front of her, and began the long wait.