Nihal of the Land of the Wind

by Licia Troisi

  “Can I stay away from here as long as I want?”

  “As long as you want. I’ll wait for you here.”

  Nihal nodded.

  She decided to go away that very night. She’d understood how much she cared for Ido. She didn’t want to see him when she left. She’d been through too many good-byes to withstand another.

  She got up at dawn and snuck out of the infirmary with her cloak wrapped around her. It was very cold. She slipped into Ido’s hut through the window, careful not to make a sound.

  She didn’t have many things to take with her, just a few items of clothing and her sword.

  And the scroll with the picture of Seferdi. The tattered scroll had acquired a second meaning. It was all she had of her people and her only tangible memory of Sennar.

  She studied it for a long time and asked herself where she’d gone wrong.

  Did that scroll really contain the whole meaning of her existence? She’d thought so many times, but she was no longer sure of anything. She rolled the scroll carefully and put it into the little bundle that was all she would carry.

  She stopped at the stables; there was no way she could leave without saying good-bye to Oarf.

  He was sleeping. He didn’t look ferocious at all when he slept. Nihal felt a surge of tenderness for the animal. She petted him.

  Oarf woke. Over time, he’d come to understand her. He knew when she was suffering. He looked at her and knew she was leaving him.

  Nihal petted him with greater vigor. “I have to go, Oarf. There’s something I have to understand. Only then will we be able to fly together.”

  Oarf moved his muzzle away from her hand. Nihal threw her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest. “Forgive me. I’ll come back.”

  Oarf rested his muzzle on Nihal’s head and they stayed that way for a while, close together, dragon and girl.

  The sun was beginning to light up the sky, white with snow. Soon the base would wake.

  Nihal found a horse and mounted with some difficulty, her leg still in great pain from the wound.

  As soon as she’d reached the end of the base, she set the animal at a gallop toward the woods.

  Ido woke with a feeling of foreboding.

  He raced to the infirmary without even changing from his nightclothes, running barefoot over the soft snow.

  Nihal’s bed was empty.

  He cursed himself a thousand times over because he should never have suggested leaving to Nihal before she had recovered.

  He went back to the hut cursing all the gods and burst into Nihal’s room. There was a letter on her bed.

  Dear Ido,

  Forgive me for leaving like this.

  I didn’t say good-bye because I knew that you wouldn’t let me leave right away, and maybe because I was sure that if I saw you again I’d change my mind.

  I’m going. I’m leaving my tears and my pain behind. I’ve decided to throw them away.

  I don’t know if I’ll be back.

  I don’t know if I’ll manage to live away from the battlefield.

  All I know is that for the very first time I’m certain that I want to try to understand who I am.

  Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.

  It’s been very important for me to have you as my tutor. You’re the best warrior I’ve ever known, and the only person who’s opened my eyes. Farewell.

  your only cadet

  21

  A NEW FAMILY

  Nihal descended the mountain along a stream that trickled over sun-bleached rocks.

  She traveled along rambling trails and didn’t reach the plain until the sun was already high in the sky. The woods began to thin out. Every so often, she caught a glimpse of sky through the brown pattern of leafless branches.

  The horse was tired and Nihal was exhausted; she felt hotter and hotter and her leg was burning. She stopped. In half a day’s ride, she’d managed to put enough distance between her and the base to keep her from succumbing to the temptation to go back.

  Her head started spinning as soon as she dismounted. She sat on a rock and took a deep breath. She tried to recite a healing spell, but she nearly fainted. She couldn’t go any farther. She needed to find food and a place to rest for a while. Everything would be easier after a bit of sleep; maybe she’d even manage to heal herself.

  She bent and drank thirstily from the stream. The icy water was like nectar to her parched mouth. I’m burning up. I must have a fever. She was tired, and not just physically. She felt homeless now.

  She looked up. The sky was now a deep and cloudless blue. Fly away, go far away, never come back.

  A yell woke her. Nihal rose with difficulty and began to run toward the sound.

  More yelling, then desperate sobs. It was a child’s voice.

  She sped up as best she could, unsheathing her sword as she went.

  She reached a little clearing that was almost identical to the place where she’d undergone Soana’s trial.

  She saw a terrified child. Two enormous wolves stood growling before him, ready to attack.

  One of the two animals leaped forward. In a flash, Nihal put herself in front of the child and aimed a blow at the wolf, but only grazed it. Once again, the animal hurled itself at the boy. Its companion followed. This time the blade struck its mark. The head of the first wolf came off, splattering a vermillion trail all over the snow, but the second animal was quick and managed to close its jaw over Nihal’s arm.

  The child covered his eyes and bawled.

  Nihal shrieked in pain and threw herself to the ground as she attempted to get the starving beast off her. The wolf’s pointed teeth pierced her skin. Then, with superhuman effort, she dug her feet into the wolf’s belly and pushed it away.

  The wolf tried to stand, but Nihal was on it in a second. She cut its throat. The choked whimper of the dying wolf gradually diminished, giving way to the silence of the clearing.

  Nihal collapsed, sword in hand, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. She looked around. The child had crouched, quietly sobbing, at the foot of a tree.

  Using her sword as a cane, she limped over to him. “Don’t cry. It’s all over.”

  The child stood and threw his arms around her legs. Nihal had an image of herself as a child, alone and terrified in the woods. She rubbed his head. “Come on, now. You’re a brave little man.”

  The child raised his tear-filled eyes to look at her. He was very young. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

  Sir? Does he think I’m a man? “Are you lost?”

  The child shook his head. “No. I was playing hide-and-seek with my friends. The others were hiding and then the wolves came,” he sniffled.

  Nihal forced herself to smile at him, even as pain wracked her entire body. She shuddered. The sweat was turning to ice on her skin. “Do you want me to take you home?”

  The child nodded.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Jona, sir.”

  “Have you ever ridden a horse, Jona?”

  He shook his head.

  “Well, that means this will be the first time.” She took his hand and they walked together through the woods.

  The horse came immediately when she called.

  “Put one foot there and pull yourself up,” Nihal said as she used her unwounded arm to help him mount. Then, with great difficulty, she mounted as well.

  She held Jona with one arm and urged the horse on. The child leaned back against her chest. “You’re a woman! You’re soft like my mother,” he said, astonished.

  Nihal smiled weakly. “That’s right.” She was trembling and her eyes were beginning to blur. Come on, Nihal. You can do it.

  “Is your house far from here?”

  “No. It’s just past the village. I’ll tell you the way.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Seven,” he said. He was over his fright.

  “Didn’t your mother tell you not to go into the woods?”

  �
��Yes, but if I don’t go, the others say I’m afraid.”

  “Well, you tell them they’re stupid. You were lucky that I came along. What if you’d been on your own?” Nihal thought about the far more dangerous things she’d done at his age in the company of her troublemaker friends. “Is it much farther?” Everything’s OK. I’m fine.

  “No. Turn right here. We’ll get there quicker.”

  “You’re an excellent guide, Jona.”

  Nihal kept talking to keep from fainting, but she felt exhausted. It was much worse that time in Salazar. I’m fine.

  She heard Jona yelling. “Mamma! Mamma!”

  A woman ran out to the child and pulled him from Nihal’s weak embrace. “Jona! What happened? Where’s all this blood coming from?” She held him tight and checked to see if he was wounded.

  “I was in the woods. There were wolves. This lady saved me.” Safe at last in his mother’s arms, Jona began crying again.

  “How many times have I told you not to go in the woods?” The woman caressed her son’s face.

  Then she heard a thud.

  The knight who’d brought back her child had collapsed to the ground like a rag doll.

  When Nihal regained consciousness, the first thing she noticed was the softness of the covers that enveloped her. She opened her eyes. A child’s face was bent very close over her own.

  “Mamma! Mamma, she’s awake!”

  The child’s cry echoed in her aching head. Jona resumed studying her with curiosity. The light bothered Nihal; she fluttered her eyelids.

  “Jona! Get away from there. Let her have a bit of air!”

  A woman came into view. She was young, with a friendly and attractive face. Where am I?

  “How do you feel?”

  “Bad,” whispered Nihal.

  The woman smiled. “That’s normal. Those were some serious wounds and you had a high fever.” The woman paused for a moment. “I don’t know how to thank you for saving my son. I’m so grateful.”

  With real effort, Nihal recalled what had happened: the child, the wolves, the journey through the woods.

  “No need for thanks,” Nihal murmured, hoping they’d leave her alone.

  The woman must have noticed Nihal’s pain, because she resumed speaking very softly. “You had a fever all day yesterday. It went down last night. I used some herbs to heal the cut on your arm. You lost a lot of blood, but now you’ll be OK. Get some sleep.”

  She left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Nihal relished the silence. She glanced out the window. Snow was falling, slow and calm. She pulled the sheets up under her eyes. She felt safe.

  Nihal realized it was lunchtime because a pleasant, spicy smell began to fill the cottage. Muffled sounds, punctuated now and then by Jona’s piping voice, came from behind the door.

  The woman came into the room bearing a wooden tray with a bowl and a hunk of black bread. Nihal tried to sit up, but she felt too weak.

  “Wait, I’ll help you,” the woman said. She set the tray down, helped Nihal to a sitting position, and propped a pillow behind her.

  Nihal looked around. The room was small. The only furniture was a bed, a big mirror and a large trunk below the window with its pale blue cotton curtain. To Nihal, it was like a palace. She lowered her eyes and saw that she was wearing a woolen nightshirt with a ribbon closure at the neck.

  “Where’s my sword?” she asked in alarm.

  The woman pointed to a corner. “Don’t worry. It’s right there.” The sword, still in its sheath, leaned against the wall. “I had to wash your clothes. They were drenched with blood. I hope my nightshirt is warm enough for you.”

  Nihal blushed. She hadn’t been very polite. “Yes, of course. Thank you,” she murmured.

  The woman set the tray on Nihal’s lap. Nihal threw herself upon the bowl, sipping its contents noisily before turning her attention to the bread.

  Jona stared at her from the doorway.

  The woman smiled. “It must have been a long time since your last meal.”

  Nihal stopped for a moment and looked at the bowl. “Actually … yes.” She was embarrassed by the woman’s kindness.

  “Am I mistaken, or isn’t it time for your nap?” the woman asked the child.

  “Come on, Mamma. Let me stay with the lady.”

  “To bed. No more discussion!”

  Jona grumbled as he went.

  “That way he won’t bother you. He can be an unbearable chatterbox when he sets his mind to it!”

  Nihal resumed eating in silence. She’d landed in a tricky situation. If she wanted to reinvent herself, she’d have to get as far as possible from the war. It would be dangerous to stay here. She had to get away fast.

  The woman studied her. “My name’s Eleusi. And yours?”

  Nihal looked at her with suspicion.

  There was a moment of embarrassed silence, which Eleusi raced to fill. “It doesn’t matter, you don’t have to tell me.”

  Nihal had almost finished her soup. She set down the bowl and briefly shook Eleusi’s extended hand. “Nihal.”

  “What a strange name. Not the type of thing you hear around here. Where are you …”

  She’s starting to get curious. Nihal made to get up. “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me.”

  Eleusi stopped her. “No, wait. I apologize for being nosy. I just wanted to talk a little.”

  Nihal felt ill at ease. “That’s not why. It’s that I really can’t …”

  Eleusi gently forced her to lie down. “Listen, you’re in no shape to travel. You’ve had a high fever. You’re weak. And besides, I had to stitch your leg.”

  Nihal was astonished. “How?”

  She’d heard people talk about the practice. When there was no sorcerer around to recite healing spells, it was up to priests to heal wounds, and sometimes they used a needle and thread. Once, when passing by the infirmary at the base, she’d heard a soldier yelling as he received such a cure. She’d told herself that she’d rather die than submit to something so painful.

  “The cut had opened again.” Eleusi explained. “You have to rest. A week at the very least. Believe me, I’m saying it for your sake.”

  Dammit. Nihal lay back on the pillow. “Are you a priestess?”

  “No, but my father was a priest. I learned from him. You had a lucky break—I’m a well-known healer,” Eleusi joked.

  Nihal had finished eating.

  Eleusi noticed the empty tray. “Are you still hungry? Would you like some cheese? I have a few apples. …”

  Nihal nodded weakly and Eleusi bustled out of the room.

  She came back with a plate bearing a few chestnuts, some walnuts, a couple of apples, and a miniscule piece of cheese. “It’s not much. I’m sorry. The harvest this year was nothing to speak of.”

  Nihal bit into the apple. It was extraordinarily sweet.

  Eleusi sat on the trunk. “When I was little, I always played in the woods. Wolves never attacked people back then, only sheep, but not that often. Now, with the war, they’ve been forced out of their habitat and they’re becoming aggressive. It’s the fourth time since the beginning of the winter that they’ve attacked children. Damned war.”

  Nihal was done with the apple. She cleared her voice. “Listen, Eleusi.”

  “Yes?”

  “I … I don’t want to take your bed. I’m fine with some straw on the floor.”

  Eleusi shook her head. “I won’t hear of it. You saved Jona. It’s the least I can do.” Then she took the tray and started out of the room.

  Nihal stopped her. “Wait. You’ve been far too kind. You’ve cured me, offered me food. You don’t even know who I am.”

  Eleusi smiled at her before she left the room. “I judge people by their actions, and you can be nothing but an honorable girl.”

  For a few days, Nihal had no choice but to stay in bed. Jona was a frequent visitor. He was a funny, inquisitive little chatterbox, just as his mother said.
Early in the morning when he came into the room to say hello, he was like a little cyclone.

  The thing that most interested him was her sword. He showered her with questions. Is it heavy? What is it made of? Is it very sharp?

  Nihal felt an instinctive fondness for him. “Go ahead and pick it up, if you like it so much,” she said one day.

  “Really? Can I?” he asked excitedly.

  Nihal wondered whether she’d worn a similar expression when she’d admired Livon’s weapons.

  Not without some effort, Jona raised the sword in its sheath. They were nearly the same height. He handed it to Nihal. She helped him unsheathe it.

  His eyes were shining. “It’s so shimmery.”

  “It’s made from a material called black crystal.”

  Jona looked at it from all angles. “And this white thing?”

  “It’s called a Tear. A wood sprite gave it to me.”

  Jona’s face lit up. “You know the wood sprites?”

  Nihal smiled. “Of course!”

  “What are they like? Are there any here?”

  “They’re not much bigger than your face and their hair is all different colors. And they have wings and they flutter all around. That white stone is a sign of thanks. It means I’m a friend of the wood sprites. And it also makes my spells stronger.”

  Jona’s jaw dropped. “Spells? You know how to cast spells?”

  “No. Well, yes. But just little things,” Nihal tried to evade the question.

  “Please, can you show me just one? Please?”

  “Not now, Jona. Maybe when I’m better.”

  Jona clapped his hands excitedly.

  The days Nihal spent in convalescence passed pleasantly. Eleusi was a wonderful host. She found a thousand little ways to take care of her patient, making sure Nihal had everything she needed. She had not asked Nihal any more questions, but every now and then she’d come in to chat and pass the time. She had amazing stories about her life.

  Nihal learned that Eleusi was very young and that her husband was a soldier. He was fighting in the Land of the Wind and he came back to the house once a year, for a month.