by Licia Troisi
The Tyrant seized Sennar’s sweat-covered face in his hands. “Do you think you can keep me out?” he said. “Sure, at first you might manage, but my powers stretch far beyond your imagination, and I’ll stop at nothing. Until I know what I want to know, you’ll have no peace. All of your thoughts will be mine, all of your pathetic desires. I will become you, Sennar. No secret will be left undiscovered. My fingers will pry into every corner of your soul.”
With his last word, a ray of light beamed from the Tyrant’s eyes and into Sennar’s. Sennar fell prey to a wild terror. Those eyes were not human eyes. Their terrifying green held cruelty beyond all measure. At last, the Tyrant revealed his merciless face, the face that Sennar had longed so much to see, though he was sorry now he’d ever caught a glimpse. Sennar could feel the Tyrant assaulting his mind, trying to worm his way into his thoughts, but he resisted, crying out with all the breath that remained in his lungs.
36
Before the Battle
The final leg of Nihal’s trip was bitter. As she traversed the Land of Water, she found it had fallen almost completely into enemy hands, all but a single strip of land in the northwest corner, along the border the Land of the Sea, where the inhabitants were putting up a final and fragile resistance.
As for the rest, the region was ruined, the land in its death throes. Several of the streams had dried up, and still more were infected. The forests were showing the first signs of destruction. The villages had long since been razed to the ground. How many nymphs could possibly have survived?
Nihal was beginning to fear that the Free Lands no longer existed. She thought back to her last battle, to the ruthless assault carried out by the army of the dead and to the faces of her fellow soldiers, racked with terror. They couldn’t hold out for long against an army like that. In truth, maybe her mission was already over.
Nevertheless, she traveled as quickly as possible, pushing herself to the limit of her strength. In just over two weeks, she was back in friendly territory.
Even there, what she found was unsettling. Hunger plagued the inhabitants and crops were scarce—though freedom, at least, still flourished.
As soon as she crossed into the Land of the Sea, Nihal made her way to the nearest encampment, where she sent a message to Soana with news of her imminent arrival and made arrangements for a horse to ride the rest of the way.
Nearly a week later, Nihal reached the base. A heavy snow was falling. Indeed, it was nearly December, a year since her departure.
Nihal dismounted her horse and knocked. A hatch door creaked open.
“Who goes there?” came a voice, though all Nihal could see were two, narrowed eyes.
“Nihal of the Tower of Salazar, Dragon Knight. I’ve returned from my journey. You should have been notified.”
The hatch door slammed shut and she heard the sound of latches and door chains and, at last, the heavy deadbolt sliding open. “Welcome back to the fold,” the guard said with a smile, and hugged her.
Nihal left her horse in the stables and made her way through the base. A heavy gloom seemed to have settled over the camp. As she walked, her eyes met one weary face after another. Many of those she passed stopped her to shake her hand or give her a hug.
Nihal scanned the grounds in search of Sennar, though in her heart, she knew she wouldn’t find him. After walking past two lines of soldiers, she noticed a figure standing at the far end of the encampment, waiting for her.
Nihal murmured his name and sped toward him, faster and faster until she was running. She threw her arms around his neck.
“Sennar?” she asked immediately.
“We thought he was with you,” Ido replied.
Nihal’s heart clenched and she sought shelter in her teacher’s arms.
Ido’s house was just as she remembered it, only messier. When they’d lived together, she had tidied things up a bit. Now, however, it was as if Ido had given up all hope of maintaining appearances.
The dwarf himself, on the other hand, was no longer the same. Nihal hadn’t noticed it at first—she’d been so happy to see him again, to find him still alive—but one of Ido’s eyes was sealed shut and traced by a terrible scar.
For a while they sat facing each other in complete silence, each with a mug full of beer. Ido was the first to stir the troubled air.
“What happened to Laio?” the dwarf asked.
“He was killed in battle near the border of the Land of Night. He died a hero,” she replied, betraying no emotion.
Ido lowered his head above his glass and was silent. When at last he lifted his eyes to her again, it was to ask another question. “And Sennar?”
“He was wounded more than a month ago in the Land of Rocks. He insisted I leave him behind.” Nihal glanced over at the dwarf and knew right away that he needed no further explanation, that he understood full well how painful the decision had been.
“He told me that whenever I made it back to the base, he’d be waiting for me,” she went on. “One of his legs was broken. It would have taken at least a month for it to heal, but … I’m worried something’s happened to him. He hasn’t sent word at all.” The tears she’d been holding back for so long began trickling down her cheeks. When she looked up again, it seemed Ido had suddenly aged.
“Sennar is one of the most powerful sorcerers in the Overworld,” said the dwarf, running a hand along her hair. “Nothing bad could have happened to him. He’ll be here soon.”
Nihal dried her cheeks. “What happened to your eye?” she asked.
Ido smiled. “A little exchange of pleasantries with Deinforo, the Black Dragon Knight who forced you to battle Fen. I took one of his hands; he took one of my eyes.”
“You mean to say that …”
“Indeed,” Ido muttered casually, “I’m down to one eye.” He gave her a light tap on the cheek. “Don’t go shedding a tear for me now. Look, it wasn’t so great a loss. I’ve still got the other, and my vision’s as strong as ever.” He smiled, though his smile was tinged with bitterness.
“How did it happen?”
Ido leaned back on his chair and took a long draft of beer. “It happened the day we were defeated,” he began, and recounted the several months since Nihal’s departure—his initial duel with Deinforo, his training with Parsel, the way Soana had stood by him. The half-elf listened in silence, trying to conceal her emotions. Only when Ido revealed to her the hidden secret of Reis’s past did she lose her composure.
When Ido had finished his story he took his pipe from his pocket and lit the end. From behind the first few clouds of smoke, he noticed Nihal’s eyes had glazed over.
“So you’re taking orders from Londal, now, is that right?” she remarked.
Ido shook his head. “Taking orders, giving orders, it makes no difference to me. All that matters is that I can still fight against the Tyrant. Besides, Londal is a fine general, and smart. He understands the situation and he’s never treated me with anything but the respect deserved of an equal.”
Once again, silence filled the room. As Nihal gulped down the last of her beer, Ido took a moment to look her over. He was glad she was there in front of him after so many months spent feeling the weight of her absence. Nihal’s affection was one of the few things that still brought him pride, that could still stir his timeworn emotions. But the girl seated across from him now wasn’t the same Nihal. Something must have happened to her on her journey, something she’d yet to tell him.
The news of Laio’s death and Sennar’s disappearance had shaken the dwarf. Not even all the trials of his past had been enough to harden Ido’s heart completely, but he’d done all he could to mask his suffering, afraid he’d only add to Nihal’s burden. Now, however, the time to speak had arrived, and he asked her to tell him her story.
And so he learned of the young squire’s heroic battle, of his death in Nihal’s arms, of the
injury Sennar suffered during their escape, of their time spent down in the cave, and of their parting. At one point, as she spoke, Ido noticed the half-elf blushing, and in the silence that followed her tale, he knew she’d finally found herself.
Nihal tossed the dagger on the table, still hidden in its sheath. “When I left the cave, he gave me this. It’s enchanted. As long as he’s alive, the blade will glow and point to where I can find him. Sennar told me that if he wasn’t at the base when I got here, not to come looking for him until I’d completed the mission.” Ido glanced down at the dagger and could feel its immense power. “Since the day he gave it to me, I haven’t had the courage to check the blade. Not even once,” Nihal added.
“I’m positive that he’s okay,” said Ido, though he knew his words were a useless lie.
“He has to be okay,” Nihal insisted, with such vehemence that the dwarf was taken aback. Then she lowered her eyes. “I love him,” she murmured, staring down at her empty glass.
Ido took in a heavy drag of his pipe and a rapid succession of emotions washed over him—at first, a sort of indignation; then, a paternal jealousy; then, at last, a heartfelt tenderness. Deep down, he knew, Sennar was the only one who could make her happy.
“I’ve always known, from the day he showed up breathless at the base,” the dwarf observed.
“For me, on the other hand, it took a while to figure out, but now it’s the only thing I know for certain,” said Nihal. “I looked everywhere, near and far, for a reason to live, and it was always right there at my side,” she went on. “He’s what I fight for now, and it’s for him that I’ll destroy the Tyrant. I have no interest in revenge any more. All I want is peace, a world where I can be with Sennar. And I realize that mine is a small, selfish desire in comparison with the ideals that drive you and many others in the army to fight this war, but—”
“Love is not small and it isn’t selfish,” the dwarf broke in. “Whatever it is that drives us to live, for the sole fact that it gives us a purpose, is never insignificant.”
“I’ve realized I can’t save the entire world, but I know I can save a single life. And that’s why I can’t bear to look at the dagger.”
“Never give up hope,” said Ido. “When all this is over, I want to see you together with Sennar, for the rest of your lives.”
Nihal smiled and wrapped him in her arms.
Her next order of business was Oarf. Nihal rushed to the stalls. When she found him safe and sound, as strong as ever, she could hardly hold back tears of joy. She held him tight in her arms, an immense gratitude filling her, until even the dragon’s fierce eyes seemed to water over.
The next morning, she took him for a long-overdue ride. High up in the air, she looped and spun in a dizzying display of acrobatics. Even after months apart, she was happy to find that she and her dragon were still perfectly in tune.
“The bond we share is indestructible,” she said to Oarf, once they’d touched back down. “From now on, I’ll never leave you behind. No matter what happens, you’ll be there with me. If this battle isn’t ours to win, we’ll fail together. But if it is, it’ll be astride your back that I fly to victory.”
The dragon cocked his head with pride.
The following days were spent in preparation for the battle as the bitter cold of winter gripped the earth.
Their fate, they knew, and the fate of their world, hung in the balance. At last it would be clear whether any hope remained for the Overworld and the Underworld.
Three days after her arrival, Nihal finally had her chance to see Soana. The sorceress had been busy in meetings with the Council, deliberating over the number of troops to allocate along the western front. As soon as she received Nihal’s message, she’d informed Nelgar and begun all the necessary preparations to return to base.
As Nihal watched her approach, it seemed as if far more than a year had passed for Soana. There was no question of her beauty, she was as ethereal and elegant as ever, but wrinkles now lined her face, and her skin had paled, as if altered by the weight of new suffering, endless exertion, and immense responsibility. She wore the same long black tunic she’d worn upon returning from her search for Reis. Reaching Nihal, she enveloped the half-elf in a euphoric hug.
The two of them spoke at length. Soana told of the grave defeat they’d suffered in the Land of Water, and of the countless times that she herself had taken to the battlefield, employing her magic against the enemy. Of Ido’s wound and recovery she made only rapid mention, though from the look in her eyes, Nihal could tell how truly the sorceress had suffered on his behalf. In turn, Nihal recounted her own story, telling of her many trials and of the friends she’d left behind.
Hearing of Sennar’s disappearance, Soana’s eyes darkened, though she too assured the half-elf that all was well. “Sennar is the most powerful sorcerer I know, other than the Tyrant, and I can sense that he’s still alive. For you, if for nothing else.” She smiled. “Believe in him. Have faith in his survival, that in the end you’ll find the happiness you both long for.”
Nihal blushed at her words. “But how?” she stammered.
Soana smiled. “How did I know you two loved each other?” She gazed at Nihal for a moment. “Because I’m a woman, and because I’ve known you since you were little. Some secrets cannot be guarded from the eyes of another woman, and everything in you sings of love.” She sighed, and Nihal understood that her thoughts had turned to Fen. “Have faith in that fragile flame, Nihal,” the sorceress urged her, “and you’ll find what you’re looking for in the end.”
The date of battle was set for the end of December. They would have two weeks to finalize their preparations. The Free Lands burst into a frenzy, with messages and commands ricocheting in all directions.
The Council called upon the aid of every last Dragon Knight. For the first time in years, Raven, the Supreme General, came to the front.
To the astonishment of all, he arrived at the base early one morning. The sight of him struck Nihal speechless. No longer was he decked in his usual, ornate armor. Nor was he tailed by his inseparable yappy dog. The Supreme General wore simple iron armor.
“I couldn’t just sit there idly at the Academy. A warrior’s place is on the battlefield, and I’m still a soldier,” he said. Then he turned to regard Nihal, speaking with his usual curtness. “I made a grave error years ago when I tried to bar you from the army. You’ve succeeded where many, myself included, have failed. You’ve given us hope, just when all hope seemed lost.”
In those final two weeks, Nihal gave herself, body and soul, to combat training. She feared her months of travel had drained her capacity as a warrior. Together with Ido, she spent the large part of her days in the practice ring. On land and in the air, with sword and all manner of weapons, she refined her technique.
Her teacher, she discovered quickly, hadn’t been lying. Despite the loss of his eye, Ido was the same formidable warrior. Nor had she lost her shine. After only a few rounds of sparring, her old zeal and agility came back to her. Nihal even tried sparring with a few of the other knights at the base, though only Ido proved an even match.
Day after day as she trained with her teacher, she realized more and more that he had become a father to her after all this time. Livon had raised her, had trained her to wield a sword, had pointed her down the path she’d follow in life, but it was Ido who’d taught her what it really meant to fight, who’d shown her what a true warrior was, who’d rounded out her character, made her whole. Nihal sensed that this revelation was not a betrayal, but an honor to the memory of her father.
At the base, too, Nihal was reunited with her armor. Ido had kept it in mint condition for her, unsullied by a single speck of dust. As she lifted the trunk’s lid, the black crystal shone forth, gleaming as brightly as it had on the day the dwarf gave it to her.
Nihal’s heart ached at the sight of it. She remembered Laio’s
words, spoken with his last few breaths: What I truly wanted was to make it to the very end with you, to help you suit up for the final battle. All the times he’d tightened her straps before she took to the field came flooding back in her memory.
As soon as she took the black crystal armor in hand, Nihal knew exactly what she had to do. It was time to put the decision she’d made in Seferdi into action.
The symbol of Nammen’s rule, the crest she’d seen in the royal palace, was still deeply impressed in her memory. It was divided into two sections. Depicted in the upper section was a tree, half of it flourishing with leaves, the other half barren. In the lower section was a celestial body, half moon, half sun. The crest represented the unceasing flow of time, in part because Thoolan, Time, was venerated above all in the Land of Days, and in part due to the dual nature of the half-elves, born from the fusion of men and elves.
Nihal brought her breastplate and an image of the crest to Makrat, to the very same armorer who’d worked on Ido’s sword. The symbol, she explained to him, was to be engraved above the dragon design in a white so strikingly bright it would stand out dramatically against the black of the crystal.
Two days before the final battle, the armorer returned the breastplate to Nihal. The crest had been etched in with great skill. Most importantly, he’d made the engraving in the brilliant white Nihal knew would be visible for miles, exactly as she’d wanted.
On the day she crossed into the Great Land to recite the final ritual and activate the talisman, the Tyrant would see the crest emblazoned on her chest, and in that moment, he’d understand, he’d know that all the cruel, brutal acts of his forty years in power had not been forgotten and that in the end, he’d pay for his wicked deeds. Nihal wanted him to know that her race still survived, that he’d failed to eradicate her people, that after everything, it was a half-elf, risen from the mouth of hell, to end his reign of terror.