Nihal of the Land of the Wind

by Licia Troisi

  Each group would be placed under the direct command of a veteran fighter who would evaluate field performance and save anyone who got into trouble.

  All the cadets wore bright-colored tunics to distinguish them in battle, so the supervisors could observe their performances.

  Before the battlefield trial, there were even more training sessions than usual.

  Sunrise found the aspiring knights out in the arena, perfecting their skills on every single weapon, correcting mistakes.

  When the sun finally set, they were exhausted—everyone except Nihal.

  Alone in her room, she’d toss and turn under her covers without managing to fall asleep. In her mind, she was already at the front. Her nightmares were about to come true. At long last she would have a chance to destroy the Tyrant. She couldn’t believe she’d managed to make it this far, and she couldn’t wait to fight. Perhaps the battle would help her find meaning in her existence. Fighting would give her a chance to atone for having been the only member of her race to survive, for not having loved Livon enough, for having allowed him to die.

  She was counting down the days.

  Not everyone felt as happy as Nihal.

  Laio’s father had intervened to make sure his son would be included in the group facing the trial. Laio was terrified. Until now, he’d accepted with nonchalance the fate chosen for him by his family. The day of his entrance into battle had seemed so far away that he’d managed not to worry about it.. If he didn’t die in battle, he’d die of fright.

  Nihal tried in vain to cheer him up.

  She made a deal with him. “Listen, Laio. I swear I’ll save you if things start looking bad. But you have to promise you’ll talk with your father and convince him to let you do what you want.”

  Laio agreed and hoped with all his heart that Nihal would keep her promise.

  Sennar was worried about Nihal, but he knew she would not rest until she got a taste of battle.

  The months spent in the Land of the Sun had served him well. It had been marvelous to live at last in peace after witnessing the horrors of war. He was beginning to like the disordered land. Flogisto, the sorcerer mentoring him, was an extraordinary person. He was an old, almost ageless-seeming, forgetful and bent by aches and pains, but the passing years had granted him wisdom and empathy.

  He taught Sennar patience, diplomacy, compassion, and an ability to understand others.

  Sennar was ready for his official entry into the Council of Sorcerers.

  To mark the occasion, a formal initiation ceremony took place, in which Sennar was officially introduced to high society. A large banquet was also held in his honor in the royal palace of the Land of the Sun. The palace chefs busied themselves for days with the preparations. The banquet hall was adorned with antique tapestries and other precious ornaments, and the tables were set with golden cornucopias containing fruits from the farthest corners of the Overworld.

  The nomination of a councilor was an important occasion. Nobles from all over the Land of the Sun descended upon Makrat, as did representatives from other lands.

  After countless requests, Nihal managed to obtain Raven’s permission to participate. On the day of Sennar’s swearing-in ceremony, she donned her own clothes. She’d missed them so! She felt beautiful out of that horrid school tunic.

  She polished her sword, braided her hair, and smiled all the way to the royal palace.

  When she made her entrance into the great sparkling hall with its bas reliefs and frescoes, many were struck speechless.

  There was no way a girl dressed in a warrior’s clothing, with blue hair and a mannish walk, could pass unnoticed among the elegant men, women, and sorcerers dressed in their best.

  Nihal felt out of place with so many eyes on her. For the first time in her life, she wished she had a feminine gown and jewelry. Oh, no. What am I doing here?

  But then she saw Sennar.

  His hair was long and rumpled, and he hadn’t shaved. Furthermore, he was wearing his old black tunic. All attempts to convince him not to wear it had fallen on deaf ears.

  “Why on earth not? This isn’t my outfit! It’s my second skin, and I’m not in the habit of changing skin like a snake,” he’d responded.

  They had also implored him to tie back his hair and to shave, explaining he looked like a castaway, but he had laughed them off. There were stupid rules he enjoyed breaking and he did so every chance he got.

  He greeted Nihal with a wink just as the ceremony began.

  The chamberlain stood at the dais and gave a long-winded speech on the importance of the occasion before finally introducing the councilors. One by one they stood and made their remarks, listing the various qualities that demonstrated Sennar was worthy of the auspicious position he was about to assume.

  By the time the third councilor took the floor, the audience was getting restless. Nihal’s attention began to wander. Her eyes scanned the room, and a young girl sitting on a small throne caught her eye.

  She looked younger than Nihal, but she had the bearing of a woman. She was beautiful and dignified. Nihal thought she must be the daughter of a king or a noble, but she did not see anyone with her.

  The ceremony continued for what seemed like an eternity. Nihal shifted in her seat and hid a yawn. She was toying with the ties on her shirt when she saw the girl on the throne stand and walk toward Sennar.

  The girl presented a golden medal and said, “I, Sulana, ruler of the Land of the Sun, hereby bestow you with the insignia of the protectors of peace and liberty. May you serve well and honorably from this day forward.”

  The room filled with warm applause. Sennar bowed and kissed the queen’s hand.

  The ruler is a girl! Nihal thought with surprise.

  A dandified courtier standing near her noted her perplexed expression. “I take it you’re amazed by the queen’s youth.”

  Nihal turned, eyes still wide. “Well, yes. … I thought there must be a king or something.”

  The courtier sighed exaggeratedly. “We had a king, but he died in battle. Ah, what a king he was. A fighter who cared about peace, so strong, yet so diplomatic. What a loss.” He shook his head sadly, hand on his chest.

  Nihal did not appreciate the man’s melodramatics, but she was too curious to abandon the conversation. “Wasn’t there anyone who could serve as regent?”

  “Of course. For a while the king’s brother was in charge, but on the day of her fourteenth birthday, Sulana declared that she wished to take the throne. Her uncle tried to dissuade her, but she was adamant” Raising an eyebrow slyly, he added, “She accused him of starving his people and profiting from the war.”

  “Was it true?” Nihal asked, hooked.

  The courtier bent and whispered, “Absolutely.”

  Then he reassumed his dramatic air and said, “The queen said she felt ready. Her father had appeared to her in a dream and told her that she had to take power for the good of the people of the Land of the Sun. And in fact, it must be said that the queen is an exemplary ruler.”

  Nihal was full of admiration. Sulana was a girl who was wise and mature enough to rule over an entire land!

  “And what about yourself? One would guess you are a warrior. And foreign.”

  “Yes. It’s a long story. I beg your pardon, but there’s someone I must speak to.”

  Nihal slipped away quickly. She made her way to Sennar, a councilor at last. With a smile, she threw her arms around him.

  “Congratulations, super sorcerer. Your dreams have come true at last!”

  They moved toward a corner of the room. Sennar shrugged slightly. “I guess so, but it’s nothing like what I had imagined.”

  Nihal raised a brow. “Why not?”

  Sennar explained in a low voice, “The Council is not as perfect as I thought. Even among these elite servants of peace, I’ve found folks whose only thought is of power or of their own interests. Not everyone, of course. But sometimes some of the councilors have such tunnel vision that it’s re
ally discouraging. Anyway, I don’t want to think about it right now.” He gazed around the room and said, “I’m due back at the front in the Land of the Wind. I’ll have a lot on my hands. There will be time enough later on for all this diplomatic bickering.”

  Nihal didn’t quite understand what her friend was getting at. As far as she knew, the councilors were all heroes dedicated to saving the Overworld, but Sennar’s words left her with a vague sense of foreboding.

  The next week, Nihal learned that she and Laio would be leaving for the Land of the Wind. She suspected that Sennar had done what he could to get her assigned to his territory. This made her very happy, since she might even end up fighting under Fen’s command.

  The pair set off on late summer morning. They rode on a covered wagon that was part of a convoy carrying supplies and soldiers to the front.

  As they crossed the land, people came out of their houses to watch them pass. Children waved. The bemused gazes of the adults suggested they did not quite understand that the convoy was a sign of the approaching war.

  The villages gave way to the woodlands of the Land of the Sea, then the green fields of the Land of the Wind. Nihal clutched her sword and thought of Livon.

  She remembered him working in the forge, covered in soot, sparks flying all around him. He had seemed so large to her back then, so indestructible. She thought back over the evenings of her childhood, when he would tell her tales of war. She thought of their sparring sessions. Then the image of his dead body flashed in her mind, and she had to focus hard to keep her anger from erupting.

  For a moment, Nihal imagined her land exactly the way she had left it a year earlier, but Sennar’s words kept playing in her mind: I couldn’t believe it. It was hard to imagine that the barren place before me was the Land of the Wind.

  Soon enough, she saw for herself what he meant.

  Silence came over them slowly. There were leagues and leagues of dry, deserted plains, and the afternoon sun was tinted red as it filtered down through a dense blanket of smoke.

  They came upon the first ruins. What was once a tall tower city had been reduced to a blackened stump by fire and battering. Bodies were scattered among the rubble and the fields were scorched.

  There were a few survivors scavenging in the debris, looking for anything of use or value. Nihal watched as they carelessly turned the bodies over to find whatever might be underneath them.

  Death weighed heavily over the land Nihal had so often admired from the rooftops. The aspiring knights remained silent as they approached the active war zone. Laio grew more fearful as he looked out upon the landscape. It was impossible to make sense of so much destruction.

  “Is this where you come from?” He asked quietly.

  Nihal nodded, silent.

  Soon after, the troops finally came within sight of the first army camps. Little communities of survivors had sprouted up around the camps. Ragged-looking children ran alongside the wagons, begging for food.

  The cadets began throwing bread rations to the children, but a commander reprimanded them harshly.

  “Enough of that! You’ll see thousands of beggar children between here and your camp, and those rations aren’t yours to give. You tenderhearted fools are in the wrong profession!”

  They rode on all day. Until they reached the war zone, they had slept on the side of the road, but now they made each night for the nearest camp, where they rested before continuing toward their destination.

  The journey was exhausting. At first, the aspiring knights acted like they were on a pleasure trip; they spoke of the trial as though it were a game rather than a matter of life and death. Now that they had seen the horror of war, however, not one of them had the heart to joke around.

  Nihal was the only one who kept her eyes on the land. Fill your eyes with this horror, she told herself, and remember it when you’re in battle.

  At sunset on their twenty-seventh day of travel, they reached the plain of Therorn. The scene was far from encouraging: worn tents had been set up near the ruins of a tower. There were many wounded soldiers.

  Sennar was not there. She asked about him and learned that he lived in the main camp, a distance away. Fen’s troops, on the other hand, were relatively close, and they would lead the next day’s action. When she heard this news, Nihal’s heart leaped. She didn’t have time to dwell, though. She and the five other members of her group were being taken to the general’s tent.

  The general was a tough man. His words were meant to strike fear in their hearts.

  “This is not a game,” he began. “At the Academy they teach you a lot of foppish nonsense. War is another thing altogether. There’s no room for niceties or textbook sword fights. When you’re in the fray, all that matters are what your commanding officer has ordered and how many enemies you manage to kill.”

  He looked at each of them gravely. “We’re not here to take care of you. Your first duty is to obey. If you end up in trouble because you don’t follow orders, you’ll have to fend for yourself. Do not depend on your commanding officers; in battle your survival is your own responsibility. As for tomorrow’s battle, we’ll be attacking a fortress. Their supplies of water and food have almost run out, so it’s a good time to attack. We’ll start an hour before dawn. The archers will do what they can to create a bit of confusion on the inside. Then the Dragon Knights will attack from above while the first line of foot soldiers charges the walls and the gate. You’ll be in the second line. After the walls have given way, you’ll go in with the others. At that point, all you’ll need to worry about doing is getting into the castle. You’ll receive further details before the attack. Wake-up is at three a.m., so I advise you to make an early night of it. Mess will be in two hours. In the meantime, you’ll meet your commanding officer.”

  The general gave them one last, hard look, then turned on his heels and left. The six aspiring knights stood at the center of the tent feeling unsettled and disheartened. Laio was almost in tears.

  “You’ll be OK,” Nihal whispered.

  The commanding officer was more hospitable than the general had been; he remembered what it had felt like to be a cadet on the eve of his first battle.

  He explained the mission anew, told them that they were to answer to him and that he was responsible for their lives. He showed them the weapons and armor they would use in battle and then dismissed everyone but Nihal.

  “So you’re the half-elf?”

  Nihal nodded.

  “The enemy must not know you are here. Do what you can to disguise yourself in battle.”

  “Why? I don’t think I matter much to the Tyrant,” she said, baffled.

  “The Tyrant annihilated your people; you’re the last one. If he knew about your being here, the entire camp would be in danger. It could mean the loss of an entire division.”

  His words reminded Nihal, once again, that her existence endangered those around her. She tried to hide her anguish.

  The officer gave her a helmet to hide her hair and ears. It was painfully tight. The suit of armor posed the opposite problem: not a single piece would stay on her slim figure.

  Seeing this, the officer lost his patience. “Women! They’re meant to stay home and take care of children for a reason!”

  Nihal threw the armor to the ground.

  “I don’t need all this stuff!” She retorted.

  “You think you’re invincible, do you? There’s one in every group. Do you know what I have to say to that? They last less than the rest. They either die in battle or they hole up in some corner at the first offensive, scared out of their mind.”

  “I’m not here to play games, sir. I’m here to fight.”

  “Do whatever you want,” he growled. “Just make sure you don’t endanger the lives of your comrades.”

  Nihal wandered around the camp. There were people writing letters, sleeping, washing clothes. All of them quiet. The gravity of war seemed to seep into every aspect of life.

  The cadets consumed
their meager rations in silence, as well. Nihal looked down the table, wondering if it was always like this before war. Were they all thinking about the next day’s battle? Did soldiers grow accustomed to risking their lives? Whatever anyone else felt, Nihal couldn’t wait to fight.

  They all returned to their tents after supper. Nihal struggled to sleep. The minute she closed her eyes, battle scenes played in her mind. She quickly gave up on sleep and went for a walk.

  It was bitter cold outside. She wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and walked through the foggy, sleepy camp. The winding rows of tents were calm and peaceful, contrasting with the chaos of the battle ahead.

  Nihal walked for a long time, until she reached the crumbled tower. She climbed a damaged stairway to where a balcony had once been; the floors above it had collapsed entirely.

  She explored the city, comparing it to Salazar. During her wanderings she found a forge like Livon’s. She walked past it and made her way toward the wall of windows. Looking out onto the courtyard she saw the remains of the tower’s central garden, where the inhabitants had tended their vegetable plots and enjoyed the cool shade of its trees. Nothing survived but a single olive tree.

  Seeing it there alone brought Nihal a flood of emotions. Suddenly, she recalled her initiation in the woods, how she had heard the earth’s heartbeat. Slowly, she began to hear that same beating once again. She was once again connected with nature.

  Her feelings of nostalgia, loneliness, and regret were heightened, but her heart did not waver. She wanted her childhood back—all the fun, innocence, and peace she had felt.

  Over the past year, she had begun to feel her life would always be full of sadness, pain, nightmares, and doom. But now she did not want to die. She would not die. She would win back the happiness she had lost and make her life worth living again.

  She looked up at the full moon. Why didn’t she just give up war and live like other girls? She could go to the Land of the Sun, find love, enjoy children and a long full life, and die happily of old age.