by Licia Troisi
Nammen’s last act was to announce the end of all the kings’ reigns, allowing the citizens of each land to select their own rulers.
All of his desires were carried out.
—Excerpt from the Archive of the City of Enawar
Of all the atrocities committed by the Tyrant, the worst was the annihilation of the half-elves. In one month, the Land of Days was reduced to a desert. The survivors of the massacre sought refuge.
A year later, only one hundred half-elves remained. They built a colony in the Land of the Sea, but when the Army of the Free Lands lost control of the territory … the Fammin carried out their final execution.
—Excerpt from the Annals of the Council of Sorcerers
17
IDO
Nihal spent a week in the brig. She thought of nothing; she felt nothing. She simply slept and recovered her strength. The day she was let out, she was ready to start anew.
She was surprised when she was led out of the Academy. “Aren’t they supposed to assign me a dragon now?” she asked her guide.
“First you have to meet your tutor, the Dragon Knight you’ll live with from now on. He’ll teach you everything, including dragon handling.”
“But don’t the knights who aren’t in combat live at the Academy?”
“Yes, but not all cadets are assigned to a knight who isn’t in combat. A few things changed after the Battle of Therorn; there aren’t enough tutors left at the Academy. Many of them have left for the front.”
Nihal and her guide reached the stables. They took two horses and rode away from the Academy.
They headed across the Land of the Sun toward the south. Nihal’s guide loved to race. They traveled through a forest at full speed. Nihal was not particularly impressed; riding on a dragon’s back was the only form of travel she could get excited about. All things considered, it was good that her new tutor was at the front—she would get to fight. That was all that mattered.
They stopped for a break after half a day’s ride. The horses were tired and there was still a long way to their destination. Nihal and her guide sat down beside a stream to eat. Food made the guide talkative.
“You’re the half-elf who killed a bunch of Fammin in the last battle, aren’t you?”
Nihal was not in the mood for conversation and did not take her eyes from her food.
“Cat got your tongue?”
Nihal stood. “I need to stretch my legs.”
“Okay,” he muttered.
Nihal wandered through the woods.
She had not spent time in a forest since leaving the Land of the Wind. Autumn had changed the color of the leaves, making the trees look stunning. She walked over a carpet of fallen leaves and felt their softness beneath her feet. How wonderful it would be to melt into that sea of leaves, to go back to being just a part of nature.
She heard a noise and turned to see where it came from. Something was moving among the branches. Silently, she unsheathed her sword, moved toward a bush and struck the branches with a hard blow.
A scared wood sprite fluttered out.
“Hey! Jeepers creepers! Are you trying to kill me? Why don’t you stick that sword …” The wood sprite broke off in mid stream. “Nihal?”
“Phos!”
Phos began to twirl around her happily, singing her name. Nihal smiled, but after a couple of somersaults the wood sprite halted and looked her in the eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Come on. Anyone could tell there’s something wrong from a mile away.”
Nihal sat on a fallen tree.
“What are you doing in the Land of the Sun, Phos?”
Phos flitted into her lap. “We couldn’t take it any more in the Land of Water. Those stupid water nymphs were always bossing us around, so we packed our things and left.”
“This is a nice place,” Nihal said, motioning to the bright colors across the trees.
“We thought so, too. The nature is fresh and alive, there’s even a tree like the Father of the Forest, and we don’t have to worry anymore about those sadistic nymphs. However …”
“What?”
“Men started coming through. They capture us and use us as spies. Some of us sprites joined the armies willingly at first. You know, we wanted to help out. But then when the men saw how useful we were, they started to kidnap us. That’s why I’m headed to Makrat. I want to make our voice heard at the Council of Sorcerers. It’s not fair that the wood sprites are not represented.”
“Sennar is a councilor now. Go to him. He’s about to leave for the Land of the Wind, but I think he’s supposed to be in Makrat for a few more days.”
Phos clapped his hands enthusiastically. “You’re a real friend!” Then he fluttered up and hovered near her nose. “Why don’t you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
Nihal stood up. “I’ve got to go, Phos. See you soon.”
“Wait! Maybe I can help you!”
But Nihal was already walking off through the trees.
Nihal and her guide traveled for the entire afternoon. The sun set while they were still riding. It was pitch dark when they finally reached the camp. They dismounted and approached a sentry.
“I’m here to see Ido. This is his cadet,” the guide said.
“You’ll find him at the far end of the camp,” the sentry responded, nodding to his right.
The guide turned to Nihal. “My duty ends here. You can find him on your own. Good luck, half-elf.”
Nihal handed the boy her reins and walked past the sentry without a word.
The place was huge. It was more like a fort than a camp. The stockade was strong and stretched as far as she could see and the soldiers slept in wooden huts rather than tents. There was even an arena like the one at the Academy.
Nihal had to stop frequently to ask the way to Ido’s lodgings, but at last someone pointed the way to a little shack. She strode toward it purposefully, but when she reached the door her confidence dwindled. She was nervous. She was about to meet the most important person in her training.
She paused a moment, swallowed the lump in her throat, and knocked on the door.
No one answered, but the door creaked open when she set her hand on it.
The inside of the hut was shabbier than outside—there were piles of clothes in every corner, weapons scattered recklessly, and leftover food and herbs on the table and the floor.
A voice called lazily from the shadows. “Who’s there?”
“I’m … I’m your cadet.” Nihal responded, searching for him in the room.
“My what?”
Nihal walked forward falteringly. “The cadet assigned to you.”
At the sight of him she was struck dumb.
A dwarf lay on an unmade bed, smoking a pipe. He had a long beard with a braided mustache, and his hair was a tangled mess.
The dwarf yawned and began to stretch so dramatically that his pipe fell from his hand and scattered its contents across the floor. He leaped up and began to stomp on the embers, cursing.
It was a while before Nihal could speak again. “I was looking for Ido, the Dragon Knight.”
“You’ve found him. Who did you say you are?”
A Dragon Knight? Him?
“Your cadet, sir.”
The dwarf studied her. He seemed perplexed. “My cadet? I was expecting a squire today, not a cadet. And—I beg your pardon—but aren’t you a girl?”
Nihal raised her chin with pride. “Yes, I’m a girl. What of it?”
“Well girls didn’t fight back in my day. They didn’t serve as squires, either, for that matter. And I’m not all that old.”
He sat back on the bed and relit his pipe.
“Not for nothing, but you’re not a human, are you? You look like a half-elf.”
“I’m the last half-elf of the Overworld, sir. I take it that you, sir, are a dwarf?”
“Oh come on, enough with ‘sir.’ You make me feel old. There are
some chairs somewhere around here. They’re well hid, but they’re here.”
Nihal looked around and noticed a stool below a mountain of blankets. She perched atop it without moving the covers off.
“Well? Say something,” exhorted the dwarf.
“I come from the Academy. A week ago I passed the battlefield trial and now I have to finish my training. They brought me here because two knights died in the battle I participated in and others were wounded. Long story short, I’ve been assigned to you.”
Ido blew smoke halos from his mouth, then said, “Of course. The Battle of Therorn. Fen was one of the knights who died, wasn’t he?”
Nihal nodded.
“So you come from the Academy. Someone mentioned something about a girl who’d become a cadet. I didn’t believe them.” Ido chuckled. “I mean, who would believe that old puffball Raven would permit such mischief? Anyway,” he paused, “I don’t remember anyone telling me you were coming. Doesn’t matter, here you are. What’s your name, then?”
“Nihal.”
“That’s not a half-elf name.”
“Why? Did you know any half-elves?”
“No, not personally,” Ido said. “How on earth did you get such a name?”
“My father named me.”
“How long have you been training?”
“Forever. My father was an arms maker. Then I trained with Fen until I turned sixteen. I entered the Academy a year ago.”
Ido studied her carefully. “I’m sorry about Fen. We fought together a couple of times. A great warrior, that one.”
Nihal said nothing.
The conversation turned into an interrogation. Nihal kept her answers short.
“So, you survived your battle.”
“Some say I performed well.”
“You were lucky. I’ve seen many promising fighters die before their first battle; that’s just the way it goes.”
Ido emptied his pipe by noisily banging it against the headboard of the bed.
“Survival remains a matter of luck even for experienced fighters. Death plays dice with every soldier’s destiny.”
Nihal was offended but remained silent. The whole situation was absurd. The dwarf, the messy room—nothing was as she had expected.
“Listen, do what you want this evening. Take a walk around the camp if you feel like it. In the meantime, I’ll check in with the commander and find a place for you to sleep. Run along now.”
Nihal left quickly, grateful to be out of that hut.
While Nihal wandered around the camp, Ido went to the command post.
“Are you crazy?” Nelgar, the commander of the fort, was very serious. “No, Ido. She’s your cadet.”
“Listen to me. I can’t have pupils, especially not a girl. You can tell Raven that he’s out of his mind if he thinks I’m going to take responsibility for her.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Ido. It’s been decided. The half-elf is your cadet. I didn’t tell you beforehand because I knew you’d react this way. There’s no talking your way out of this one with the Supreme General.”
“Supreme General of my boots! He just wants to get rid of both of us!”
Ido stomped back to his lodgings. He was furious. He did not like the idea of having a cadet. He was the only dwarf to serve as a Dragon Knight. He’d spent ages carving out a niche for himself in the army and now here was something to make his life more difficult. And she was a half-elf to boot!
He wondered what he should do. Sending her back to the city was out of the question. Raven would not stand for any nonsense.
He thought about her for a moment. She seemed very determined. There was a strange glimmer in her eyes. Sorrow, perhaps? In any case, she was interesting. Maybe the best thing would be to figure out what made her tick and decide whether or not it made sense to train her. If worse came to worst, he could always say she failed to meet expectations.
It took him a while to find her. She was sitting on a rock at the edge of the forest outside the fort.
“You like to be alone,” he commented. “It’s time to eat. Come on.”
Nihal followed him quietly.
They ate in silence.
On the walk back to Ido’s hut, they passed the arena. It was a big round space with a beaten earth floor. Through the darkness, they could hear water burbling from a fountain that fed the watering trough.
Ido walked ahead, not realizing Nihal had stopped to look around.
“When will I get my dragon?” she asked. They were the first words she’d spoken in hours.
Ido stopped and stroked his beard. “Your dragon? I haven’t the faintest idea.”
Nihal looked at Ido in surprise when he said she could take his bed.
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve set up a cot for myself in the entryway.”
Nihal shook her head. “No. This is your hut, and that’s your bed. You’re the knight. I’m the cadet. I’ll sleep in the entryway.”
“Not on your life. Hospitality is fundamental for us dwarves.”
“But …”
“Don’t argue. It’s an order.”
Ido left, closing the door behind him.
Nihal was alone. As she took off her clothes, she thought she should try to find a way to wash them the next day. Then she sat on the bed and bounced a couple of times. It had been ages since she’d slept on a real bed. She lay down with her sword by her side and closed her eyes. She slid gently to sleep thinking of Fen’s serene face.
The next day the fort became a swamp.
Nihal awoke to the sound of rain pounding on the roof. She looked out the window and saw the sky was black with clouds. She sighed, irritated. Now she would be stuck spending the entire day indoors with a slob she wasn’t sure she liked.
She thought of shutting herself in the room and washing her cloak, but Ido’s voice thundered from the other side of the door.
“May I come in?”
“No!” she called.
“Get ready. We’re going out.”
Going out? Nihal dressed in haste and burst out of the room. “Where are we going? It’s raining!”
“As far as I know, war’s never stopped for a bit of rain. The beings of this world kill each other in good weather and in bad, my dear,” Ido said. Then he turned toward the table, where breakfast was waiting.
“Eat. It’s going to be a busy day,” he said, dipping some black bread into his mug. “When you finish you can show me how you fight.”
Nihal looked at him skeptically. He was a half-man without a clue.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to fight today,” she said irritably.
Ido shot Nihal a displeased glance over the top of his mug. Then he calmly set down his bread, took a last noisy sip, and cleaned his mustache. “I know what you’re thinking, girl. What can this dwarf teach me? You’ll find out soon enough.” He paused for a moment. “I’m what you got. If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave. But if you stay, you will show me proper respect. I’m a knight. You’re a nobody. The choice is yours.”
Ido resumed eating his breakfast. Nihal was still for a moment. If she wanted to fight, she would have to make the best of her situation. She picked up her mug and drained it.
After they finished breakfast, they went outside, where it was drizzling heavily.
Nihal wrapped herself in her cloak and followed Ido, who seemed not to notice the rain dripping over his face and beard.
The arena was empty.
“What do you fight with?” asked Ido.
Nihal reluctantly removed her cloak and showed Ido her sword.
“Black crystal. That’s quite a weapon.”
“My father made it for me.”
“A talented arms maker,” Ido commented as he unsheathed his own weapon. It was long and thin, or maybe it looked that way because Ido was short. The hilt was covered with carvings and symbols, some of which had been scraped off the wood.
>
Ido twirled it in the air for a few moments. Nihal thought he was testing his hold, but all of a sudden she saw the sword coming down toward her from above. She dodged the blade, but lost her balance and fell into a puddle of mud.
“What, is that the best you can do?”
Nihal stood up, furious. “I didn’t know we’d started!”
“This isn’t one of those ballet dances you’re used to back at the Academy. I want to see how you fight in battle, good manners be damned.”
Ido attacked again before he had even finished speaking.
Nihal began to counter, but she had been caught off guard. She felt clumsy and the rain was uncomfortable. Mud splashed into her eyes and she instinctively brought her hand to her face. Ido seized the opportunity to trip her. When Nihal opened her eyes she was lying on the ground with Ido’s sword pointed at her throat.
“That’s not fair!
“I see I wasn’t clear. I’m fighting for real. You’re not. There are no rules to respect here. This is war. Try to fight for real or you’ll end up with a sword going through you from one side to the other. Get up!”
Nihal could tell from the expression in Ido’s eyes that he wasn’t joking. What is this little man thinking? She leaped back to her feet and began to fight in kind.
Ido did not lose his cool. His fighting style was astonishing. He stood almost immobile, dodging her blows every so often with delicate lateral movements and moving only the hand that held the hilt. His technique rested entirely in the way he handled the sword and toyed with his adversary’s blade, teasing it, striking it. Then, at just the right moment, he’d lunge unexpectedly.
Nihal began to grow angry. It was as if this guy could read her every move. His prowess had nothing to do with strength, but with the way he moved his wrist. If Nihal tried to get near him, he held her back. If she tried to strike from above, he had no difficulty parrying.