Nihal of the Land of the Wind

by Licia Troisi

  Eleusi listened, full of rage and, sometimes, a shadow of doubt. It was true, she knew nothing about the girl, and it had been rash to welcome Nihal into her home with no questions asked. But then the image of Nihal lying wounded beneath her horse would come to mind, and all doubts would vanish. She would defend her new friend at all costs. She needed her desperately.

  Nihal tried to go on with her life, but the magic was beginning to fade.

  She felt a sort of unease, like a subtle pain that kept trying to strike in the depths of her soul. She wondered when it started. Maybe when she picked up the axe. Maybe when she’d felt the hateful glances of the people she’d gone to help. She didn’t know. But she heard a distant call that entranced her—and frightened her.

  One day, her eye fell on her sword where it leaned against the wall in its dusty sheath. The next thing she knew, she’d drawn it. She turned it over and over in her hands and admired Livon’s craftsmanship on the hilt. It was still possible to see where his hammer had struck, the marks his tools had left. She spent a long time looking at it. Then she left the house and went to the hayloft. She put it in a corner so that she wouldn’t have to look at it every day.

  One late winter morning, she went to the market alone. It wasn’t the first time; Nihal understood that Eleusi wanted her to become more independent. She was in a good mood as she walked along and breathed in the brisk cool air. She decided to go to a nearby village, where no one knew her. There, she could mingle with the anonymous crowd, one more face among many.

  She had fun wandering among the stalls. She bought some sweets for Jona and a headscarf for herself. She had accumulated a number of them. Her hair was growing back in, soft and shiny like before she cut it.

  She enjoyed wandering about the square and listening to the chitchat of the village women. People were talking about the war, about who was far away and who was dead, about the winter and the harvest and their children. But the subject of the day was the band of mercenary soldiers who’d managed to slip past the regular troops of the army of the free lands. These deserters had taken up looting. Nihal shuddered when she heard the news but she forced herself to stay calm. It’s none of your business, Nihal. Go back home.

  She walked back through the woods. It made for a slightly longer journey, but she hated to pass up a chance to walk among the trees.

  Then she saw the tracks. They came from the thickest part of the forest and then mingled with the others on the path toward the village. Horse tracks.

  Nihal bent over and studied them carefully. They’d passed by quite recently.

  Her heart leaped. She quickened her pace, faster, faster, until she was running. She tripped and fell in the snow. The dress was cumbersome. She leaped to her feet and started running again. First, get the sword. It’s in the hayloft. Even if no one’s there, and of course no one’s there, it’s best to get the sword first of all. She was scared, terrified, but she was completely clear headed.

  When the house came into view her heart stopped for a moment. There were two horses in the yard, sniffing at the dirt.

  She tensed her ear, but all she could hear was the blood pounding in her temples.

  She moved silently around the house, crouching so as not to be seen, and climbed into the hayloft.

  She unsheathed her sword and it was as if her hand melded with the hilt, as if she and her weapon were a single being.

  Then a yell, followed by laughter, made her flesh creep.

  When she burst into the house, a man was standing over a struggling Eleusi; another man held Jona.

  The man holding Eleusi turned. “Oh, I see we have visitors. Well, the more the merrier,” he said, laughing. He flung Eleusi into a corner. “What a pretty girl. I see you like swords. You can come and play with us. Come on!”

  Nihal leaped forward and felled him with a single blow.

  The man fell to the ground without a sound. Dark blood spurted from his throat. Eleusi screamed.

  The other man wielded his sword as he charged Nihal like a fury. The duel began.

  In a second, Nihal’s body found all its old agility and swiftness. She moved quickly, dodging and countering with skill. Her heart sang with joy. After so much confusion, it felt like she was herself again.

  After a first charge, the man retreated, fuming with rage.

  Nihal wiped away her sweat and snickered. “Is that the best you can do, scumbag?” Then she threw herself into the attack once again and made a deep cut in the man’s arm. A moment later, she’d disarmed him.

  The mercenary fell to his knees, Nihal’s weapon pointed at his throat. “Don’t hurt me, I beg you. Forgive me.”

  Nihal looked at him with contempt. “Pick up that animal you came with and get out of here. I’m not going to waste my nice sharp blade on the likes of you.”

  The man obeyed. He lifted his companion and made his way to the door, but Nihal stopped him. “And remember, if you dare set foot in this village, I swear I’ll cut you to bits.”

  “No, no. Thank you, thank you,” the man said, in tears, before he disappeared.

  Nihal stood stock still in the center of the room.

  She’d fought again. Once more, she’d taken her sword in hand. And she’d liked it. She could feel her weapon palpitating, inviting her to return to the path she’d left behind, return to fighting. She was happy, ridiculously happy.

  Eleusi was huddled in a corner, hugging Jona tight.

  “It’s all over,” said Nihal, crossing toward them, but Eleusi drew back with a scream.

  She’s afraid of me. The knowledge of Eleusi’s fear struck Nihal like lightning.

  Eleusi, the woman she’d held on to like a safety anchor, was scared of her. The sword slid from her hand.

  Eleusi stood, went toward her, made to hug her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean …” But this time it was Nihal who pulled away. She stepped back, saw the sword on the ground, the blade red with blood.

  She ran away.

  A rhythmic dripping sound echoed through the hayloft. It was probably the snow melting. After all, the sun was shining.

  Nihal’s head was hanging between her knees. How many times had she sat like this in her life? She almost felt like counting them.

  Eleusi’s head appeared at the top of the spiral stairs. “There you are. Thank goodness.”

  Silence.

  “Forgive me, Nihal. I couldn’t help myself. I’m infinitely grateful to you for saving me. Infinitely. It’s just that all that blood, and the man on the ground, and you were like someone else. … Please, say something.”

  Nihal lifted her head and looked at her without speaking.

  “It’s not good for you to hold it all inside. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I don’t know what I think.”

  “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

  Nihal covered her face with her hand. “Yes.”

  Eleusi’s eyes filled with tears. “Okay. As you wish.”

  Nihal opened her eyes and saw light through the space between her knees. She’d used her sword again a single time and everything was a mess.

  All of a sudden the splendid colors of the months with Jona and Eleusi had faded. Yes, it had been wonderful, but she was not that shy girl she’d glimpsed in the mirror.

  These last few months had been a break from her life. She was still a half-elf with a sword, the one who always fought in the front lines, the one who always leaped into battle.

  What am I supposed to do? Nihal hit her head against her knees. What am I supposed to do?

  She went back into the house for supper. Without a word, she sat at the table and began eating.

  Eleusi watched her for a while, unsure of what to do.

  Jona silently sought his mother’s eyes with his own.

  When Nihal had finished eating, she set down her spoon and prepared to leave the table.

  That’s when Eleusi began to scream.

  “Dammit, I’ve had enough of this silent treatment! At
least tell me what’s going through your head!”

  Jona flinched.

  Nihal looked at Eleusi with resentment. “Haven’t you ever needed a break, Eleusi? Haven’t you ever had a time when words weren’t enough? Haven’t you ever had a moment of doubt? I suppose you’ve never needed time to think.”

  Eleusi flushed and jumped up from her chair. “I … whatever I’ve done, I certainly don’t deserve to be treated like this.”

  “Try to understand!” Nihal was also yelling. “Do you think the world revolves around you? I’m not angry with you. I’ve got other problems, and talking about them won’t help. You live here in this house, all wrapped in cotton wool. What can you know about what’s going on in my head, about what happens in war?”

  “Right!” Eleusi yelled. “What do I know? I’m just a stupid peasant woman. There’s no point in telling me anything. As for the cotton wool here in my house, it doesn’t seem to have bothered you that much, given the way you’ve settled in.”

  Nihal grabbed her cloak and left. That night she slept in the hayloft.

  For a few days, it was as if time stood still, as if the yellow cottage were closed inside a glass ball. The hours flowed within an unnatural calm. Everyone was waiting for something—Jona, to understand why everything was different; Eleusi, to see what effect her words would have on her friend; and Nihal, for an answer. Wasn’t that what she’d always done in life? Who was she? Why had she survived? What was her task in life? She had been wondering forever. Who knew if she’d ever find an answer.

  They’d finished eating some time earlier. Jona was in bed. His regular breathing punctuated the silence of the house.

  Nihal was outside. From the window, Eleusi could see the curve of her back.

  Eleusi went out into the freezing night. Once again, Nihal wore her battle clothes. She was holding her sword. Blue locks lay about her on the snow.

  “Weren’t you going to grow it out?” Eleusi asked.

  Nihal lowered her sword and looked at Eleusi. “Believe it or not, I had really long hair once. I cut it the night before my first battle.”

  Eleusi refused to understand. “What are you trying to tell me? What’s that got to do with now?”

  Nihal smiled gently. “You know, Eleusi. I can’t stay here anymore. I have to go back to my life.”

  Eleusi tried to quell her tears with rage. She raised her voice. “Why not? Haven’t you been happy here? Maybe you’re leaving because of the other villagers? They’ll get used to you. You have to give them time. You’re made for this life and you know it! You can’t go!”

  Nihal had not stopped smiling. She raised her sword and looked at it glinting in the moonlight. “Listen to me. The other day, my sword spoke to me when I picked it up. It told me I have to follow it, that I have to trust it, because it carries my destiny. Fighting is all I know how to do.” Nihal paused. “It’s all I like to do.”

  Eleusi said nothing. It was really over. Nihal was already far from her. She no longer belonged to her.

  “I’ll miss you a lot. I owe you so much. If it hadn’t been for you, I don’t know what would have become of me,” Nihal said, turning toward Eleusi.

  Eleusi kept her eyes on the ground. Her tears made holes in the carpet of snow. “You made me believe my loneliness was over. I thought you were going to stay. Jona and I both believed it. Now that you don’t need us anymore, you’re going to leave.”

  “I never promised I’d stay,” Nihal whispered.

  “You made me believe it in a thousand different ways. Do what you want. Leave. Go kill and die, if that’s all you want.” Eleusi stood and hurried back inside.

  Nihal could hear her sobs through the walls of the house.

  She was ready to leave a little while before dawn. She saddled her horse, gathered her things and donned her cloak. Then she went into the little room where Jona slept. The child was breathing quietly, his mouth open. Nihal shook him gently. He opened his sleepy eyes.

  “What is it?”

  “I came to say good-bye.”

  He sat up with a start. “Why?”

  “I’m leaving, Jona.”

  “No,” he whimpered. Two big tears rolled down his cheeks.

  “Don’t cry, sweetie. We’ll see each other again. I’m going dueling, but I’ll be back. And when I come back, your Daddy will be here too, and the two of us together will teach you to use a sword. You just have to be patient for a little while.”

  “Don’t leave,” Jona sobbed. He hugged her tight.

  Nihal helped him lie back down and pulled up his covers. “I have to go. You look after your mother. You’re the man of the house, all right?” she said, forcing herself to smile.

  She kissed his forehead. Then, the sound of Jona’s crying still in her ears, she ran to her horse and set off at a gallop.

  The whetstone unleashed little sparks as it moved back and forth along the blade. Ido liked to sharpen his sword himself and when he did so he concentrated entirely on what he was doing. Even though the noise blocked out every other sound, he sensed that someone had come in. He raised his eyes.

  A small, black-clad figure stood at the edge of the hut, waiting. His heart leaped in his chest. He was happy, but he didn’t want to show it. He resumed his work. “Well?”

  “I lived, just like you said.”

  “Did you figure out what you’re fighting for?”

  “I’m not sure. I know what life is, and I know peace, but I still feel I have to fight. It’s the only thing I can do. All that’s changed is that I’m not compelled by revenge anymore. It’s something else. Something I still haven’t quite grasped. I don’t know. … Maybe my reasoning isn’t clear enough for me to start training again yet. If you don’t want to take me back, I’ll understand, but …”

  “That’s enough,” Ido interrupted.

  Nihal stood there, head bowed. She was scared. Her life depended on the next few seconds.

  Then she noticed that Ido had crossed to stand near her. “Oarf is waiting for you. We’ll start training tomorrow.”

  The girl hugged her tutor and laughed. She was back.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Originally published in Italy as Cronache del Mondo Emerso: Nihal della Terra del Vento

  Translated from Italian by Ann Gagliardi

  Copyright © 2011 by Arnoldo Mondadori Editore, S.p.A.

  English translation © 2014 by Arnoldo Mondadori Editore, S.p.A.

  Cover illustration by Corrado Vanelli © Arnoldo Mondadori Editore S.p.A.

  Graphic designer: Stefano Moro

  Art director: Fernando Ambrosi

  Ebook ISBN 978-1-4804-1796-0

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