by Licia Troisi
A desperate smile traced itself across her lips.
Fen is alive and I’ll save him.
The night was dark. Nihal did not worry about the enemy spotting her as she rode out across the plain. Fen was all she cared about.
The charred gate lay on the ground and many parts of the fortress were still on fire. Nihal strode in without hesitating. The bitter fumes bothered her throat and she coughed. Inside the tower the ground was littered with bodies. The collapsed roof had crushed some of them; others were burned.
She began to call Fen’s name. The only response was her own sad voice, echoing. She stopped and set to digging through the rubble. She lifted bricks, debris, and large stones still warm from the flames.
“Fen!” she called. “Fen! Where are you?”
Her fingernails were broken and bleeding from her frantic digging. Hot tears streaked down her face
“Answer me, Fen! It’s me! It’s Nihal!”
She set off again. He’s not dead. He’s not dead. But then she saw it: a large, black carcass, a dragon carcass.
She sobbed and ran toward it. Gaart lay there with his giant wings outstretched. She reached out gingerly to lift his wing and found Fen’s body beneath it. He lay there in a pool of blood.
Nihal stared in breathless disbelief. He’s so pale.
She bent down to wake him, but his skin had already gone cold. She shook him over and over again, screaming his name.
The next day, the commanding officer found Laio in tears. “I fell asleep. I fell asleep and she left,” Laio cried.
They looked for her all over the camp and then in the surrounding areas, but it was in vain. The search team that had been assembled to find Fen and the other knights was ordered to look for Nihal instead.
Meanwhile, the cadets were called together to hear the results of the trial. They had been lucky: no deaths and only one injury. Three of the six had demonstrated enough courage, skill, and initiative to successfully pass the trial. Nihal was among their number.
The search team found Fen’s body quickly. They also located two of the three missing knights. The third knight had vanished into thin air. He had likely been taken prisoner, a fate worse than death. There was no trace of Nihal.
Sennar rode to the military camp as soon as he heard the news of Fen’s death. He knew Nihal would be in a world of pain and try something drastic. When he reached the camp, he learned that his fears were justified.
“What do you mean she’s left?” he asked angrily.
“The night he died she packed her stuff, stole a horse, and left. That’s it,” a soldier answered.
Furious, Sennar raced to the general. “I’ve been told that a cadet from the Academy ran away.”
The general nodded. “That is correct.”
“Did it not occur to you to protect the last living half-elf in the Overworld?”
The general was unperturbed. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s a cadet. After they go through the trial, what happens to them is not my business.”
“The lives of the cadets are your responsibility, General!”
“That girl came out of the trial alive, safe and sound. Then she left. That is not my responsibility, Councilor.”
“Don’t you go looking for your missing soldiers?”
The general finally lost his patience.
“Don’t come tell me how to do my job. I had a team out looking for her for an entire day. What more could I do? I turned a blind eye to her insolence because I understood her situation. If I’d really stuck to the rules, your friend would already have been expelled from the Academy.”
Sennar was unimpressed. “I want you to organize another search team right away. Maybe she’s somewhere nearby. We will find her. She must be lost or confused―”
“Let me be clear with you,” The general interjected. “I have no intention of keeping my war-beaten men out looking for your friend. Leave soldiering to those who know what they’re doing. Excuse me.” The general walked around Sennar and left the tent.
Sennar pounded his fists on the table. The general had a point.
Sennar went to the tent that had been set up for him. He set a basin full of water on the ground and sat down beside it.
A localization spell required full concentration. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Where are you, Nihal? He moved his hands over the basin. Let me see you.
After a few moments, the surface of the water began to ripple. A black-clad figure was riding a horse across a plain. Give me some sort of sign. Where are you? The image faded for an instant. Nihal! The tearstained face of the young half-elf appeared on the surface of the water and then disappeared a moment later. Nihal!
Sennar cursed. His worry for his friend was making it impossible for him to cast the spell correctly. The basin would not show him anything.
That same night, Sennar went to a meeting with the high command of the camp in order to plan their next attacks against the Tyrant’s army.
Sennar disliked those sorts of meetings. The military officers dismissed his input because of his age, and any time he spoke, the men would roll their eyes as if he were completely inept.
Still, it was his duty to persevere in the name of peace. Sennar outlined the errors made on the battlefield and proposed a series of tactical improvements. He had not finished speaking before one of the colonels began shaking his head and interrupted him with a condescending smile.
“Forgive me for saying so, Councilor, but you weren’t there, so there’s no way you can know precisely how things went. Furthermore, this is your first war and you are not a strategist. It’s my opinion that you should let us have our say before you butt in with your proposals.”
Sennar tried to remain calm. There was no use in pointing out that he had already discussed things with the strategists, that he had drawn his conclusions at the front, and that his proposals were based on analysis. The men would reject his suggestions regardless.
The young sorcerer finally lost his patience when the colonel made a scathing insinuation.
“Perhaps your judgment is impaired. We all know of your … friendship with the half-elf.”
Sennar got to his feet. “We are done here.”
He left without saying good-bye to anyone. The power struggle between the military and the councilors had always existed. The soldiers argued that their efforts were what kept the Overworld safe, while the councilors reasoned that their tactics, and frequently their magic, were pivotal in battle.
Sennar did not want to argue. He wanted to free the oppressed, restore peace to their world, and live in peace himself. The narrow-mindedness of some of the members of the Council and of many military officials disgusted him.
He went back to his tent and sat at his table.
There was food laid out for him, but he was too angry to eat. His mind turned to Nihal. He imagined her spending the night in some makeshift camp. He wanted to see her the way she had been just one year before: happy and full of life. He wondered why her path was so ruthless. He grew even gloomier at the thought that he might never find her again.
Then a face appeared at the door to his tent. Sennar saw who it was and scowled. Now what does he want?
“May I?” Laio asked shyly.
Sennar tried to fight his dislike for the boy. “Come in. How did the trial go?”
“Badly. I didn’t pass. It’s thanks to Nihal that I’m even alive.”
Sennar wondered what Laio wanted. Maybe he was here to ask if Sennar would put in a good word for him. “I’m sorry to hear you didn’t pass, but I can’t do anything to help you.”
Laio took a deep breath. “It’s my fault Nihal got away.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was with her on the night of Fen’s death. She was so sad. She wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t move. I didn’t have the strength to say anything to her, even though she needed consoling. I didn’t even manage to stay awake. The next morning, she was gone.”
; Sennar was silent for a long time. Then he sighed. “It’s not your fault, Laio. That’s the way Nihal is. When she’s sad, she closes off completely. She wouldn’t have listened to anything you said. And she would have run off whether you were awake or not, believe me.”
“But I’m her friend, and the least friends can do is console each other!”
“I’ll say it again: it’s not your fault. Go back to your tent, Laio. Go on to bed.”
As Laio trudged out of the tent, Sennar felt a pang of nostalgia for the days when he and Nihal were inseparable.
“No, wait!” He stopped Laio. “Tell me more about what happened with Nihal.”
Laio told him everything: about the battle and Nihal’s courage, about the way she saved him and tried to comfort him after the battle.
“She’s … she’s amazing, Sennar. And that’s why I think she’ll come back. Because she’s strong. It’s not like her to run from trouble. She’s always wanted to fight. She’ll be back. I’m sure of it.”
Laio’s words comforted Sennar. “What are you going to do now?” he asked the boy.
“I’ve thought about it a lot over the last few days. If I can’t be useful in battle, I can at least be useful to those who fight. I’ve decided to become a squire.”
Sennar smiled. “You’ll make a great squire.”
They clasped hands and Laio left the tent.
Sennar felt relieved. Nihal would come back: not for him, not for anyone, but because her sorrow would give her another reason to fight.
Sennar and the cadets left the next day, bearing the bodies of Dhuval and Fen.
The sorcerer paused for a moment in front of the camp in hopes that Nihal would see them, but she did not appear.
Sennar kept his eyes trained on the fields as they rode. The fields became woods, then woods thinned out to reveal the ragged hills of the Land of the Sun. He could not believe Nihal had given up. It was desertion.
They reached the Academy without any sign of her.
Sennar could only hope that the news of Nihal’s disappearance had not yet reached Raven. He would not show the same understanding the general had.
Sennar requested an audience with the Supreme General before Raven could request a meeting himself.
“I’m delighted that you’ve presented yourself, Councilor. We must begin immediately to plan our future actions.”
“To be honest, that’s not the reason I’m here.”
Raven looked at him in surprise, about to lose his temper.
“That is, that’s not the reason I’m here right now. Naturally, my intention was to consult with you over the next few days. I hold your opinion in high regard.”
The general regained his composure. Sennar could understand why this haughty man disliked Nihal; she was so utterly lacking in diplomacy.
“The fact is that a very unpleasant incident took place in the land under my jurisdiction during the trial of the cadets. Are you already aware of what happened?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I imagine you remember the young half-elf …”
Raven groaned and signaled Sennar to continue.
“Well, when I arrived at the camp I was told she’d disappeared. She left without leave, to be precise.”
“That confounded girl! I knew she’d …”
“Wait, General. I have proof that Nihal did not desert. She left me a message. She said she’ll return to the Academy on her own. Fen was her teacher, as you know. And her grief over his death is profound. It’s understandable that she would want to …”
The Supreme General stood. “That female has done nothing but cause problems. I rue the day she ever entered this Academy! She may be a good warrior, but she can’t go around doing whatever she wants. This is insubordination. Is she here?”
“Not yet, sir. I fear she may be lost, or perhaps she encountered enemy forces. It would be a magnanimous gesture on your part if you were to send out a search party.”
The Supreme General rolled his eyes. Sennar understood he was overstepping his limits.
“I’ll see to her punishment when she returns to the Academy. I have no time for this nonsense. Two of my best men are dead. I beg you to take your leave, Councilor.”
Sennar left, torn between anxiety and relief. He hadn’t managed to convince Raven to send out a search party, but at least Nihal was still a student at the Academy.
The funeral ceremony for Dhuval and Fen took place that afternoon.
In attendance were the notables of the Land of the Sun, all of the cadets, and the entire Order of the Dragon Knights.
The bodies were dressed for battle and laid out on two big pyres. Fen’s pyre also contained the remains of Gaart. The dragon would accompany his master’s last flight toward the sun.
Raven’s speech was surprisingly tranquil.
He spoke of Fen with particular affection and high regard for his talents as a warrior, his moral integrity, and his kindheartedness.
Sennar watched sadly.
He had never really liked the knight; he was too fond of war for Sennar’s tastes. But there was no denying that they had gotten along well during Sennar’s apprenticeship. Fen had always taken Sennar seriously, despite his young age, and he had been there for Nihal in her most difficult moments. The sorcerer thought of Soana, too, who was traveling with no way of knowing that her love had been killed in battle.
Then the fires crackled beneath the pyres and flames consumed what was left of the two knights, entrusting them to the wind and the clouds.
It was a custom that a loved one of the deceased light a torch in the flames. Sennar felt it was his duty to do it, for Soana, for Nihal, and deep down, for himself, too. He drew near the fire along with many other soldiers, knights, civilians.
It was then that he noticed a black-cloaked figure clutching a burning branch.
Hope filled his chest. He ran through the crowd looking for her, but Nihal had disappeared. It was impossible to find her among so many people.
When the pyre had nearly burned off and the mourners began leaving, Sennar resumed his search. The black cloak continued to appear and disappear around him.
He hastened his pace and rested a hand on a shoulder. “Nihal!”
She was dirty and pale. They looked at each other for a moment.
“Not here. Follow me,” she said.
They sat at the top of a hill overlooking the Tyrant’s Fortress. Sennar ran his hand over her short hair. She looks like a baby chick, he thought.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Nihal shook her head.
“Could you at least tell me where you’ve been?”
“I needed space to think.”
“I know, but where were you? What did you do?”
Nihal did not answer.
“What do you plan to do now?”
“I’ve got to go back to the Academy. I passed the trial and I have a right to my dragon. What did Raven say?”
“He said he’d punish you. That’s all.”
Nihal stood up without a word and set off for the Academy.
Sennar followed her, exasperated. He felt completely powerless. “Why don’t you want to talk? You need to get it off your chest. Why don’t you cry? Why won’t you do something, anything, to let me know what’s going on inside your head?”
Nihal kept walking.
“You’ve got to react, Nihal! Don’t let yourself be eaten alive by this. Do something! Please!”
Nihal stopped and looked her friend in the eyes. “There’s nothing to say, Sennar. Fen is dead. That’s all. Now I have to go to the Academy.”
Raven had prepared a long and impressive speech.
He was vicious and threatening, but Nihal’s reaction caught him totally off guard.
“I know what I did was wrong and I beg you to forgive me. I will accept whatever punishment you give me. I swear it won’t happen again. All I want is to continue my training.”
Sh
e fell to her knees beneath his throne and bowed her head. “I beg you, Supreme General.”
Raven was struck by Nihal’s behavior, but even more so by the expression in her eyes, so disheartened. He saw that she had lost herself. He descended from his throne and approached her for the very first time.
Resting a hand on her shoulder, he said, “I’m sorry about Fen. He was my comrade-in-arms. It’s an enormous loss for me, too.”
Then he withdrew his hand and assumed his usual tone.
“You may continue with your training, but you’ll have to spend a week in the brig. A warrior must be capable of mastering his emotions.”
Nihal clenched her fists. “Thank you, General.” Then she rose, bowed, and left to begin her punishment.
SAVING HER SOUL
Three hundred years ago, the eight lands began an endless fight for supremacy. The Two Hundred Years War tore the Overworld apart.
At that time, the Land of Days was home to the half-elves, descendents of the ancient elvish race and of humans. The half-elves were a peaceful race dedicated to science and wisdom. For many years, they refrained from taking part in the hostilities of the war. Nonetheless, their agility made them particularly gifted in the art of combat. Leven, their most ambitious king, was determined to expand his domain and therefore decided to make use of their aptitude for fighting.
The half-elves had not fought for centuries, but their sovereign was an extraordinary strategist. In just a few years, their army became the most powerful in the Overworld. Leven, however, did not live long enough to enjoy his power. He died, leaving his newly expanded kingdom to his son, Nammen.
After his coronation, Nammen summoned the sovereigns of the Overworld. The conquered kings came before him, ready to obey, but the young king surprised them. “I refuse to accept the power my father won by bloodshed,” he said. “The eight lands shall be free once again.” Then he dictated his conditions.
Each land would have to renounce a part of its territory. Put together, these segments would form the Great Land. There, the Council of Kings would have its seat, as would the Council of Sorcerers, which would supervise intellectual and cultural affairs. Representatives from each land would have a place on the Councils. Each land would also contribute to the army of the Overworld.