The letters began to align; emerging one after the other from the cloud of blue at an exasperatingly slow rate, each letter was clear and distinct. The message was brief, a few terse words that nonetheless reanimated Nihal like a glass of fresh water on a sweltering day: “I’m back. Sennar.”
Nihal leaped to her feet and ran to tell Ido, leaving Laio there to stare blank-faced at the bizarre sphere of blue smoke. She wasn’t quite sure why she felt compelled to tell Ido, but she knew she had to tell someone.
“That’s fantastic news!” Ido exclaimed.
“Who knows where he is now, if he’s close by, or when I’ll be able to see him …” Nihal paced up and down, taking long strides across the small tent.
Ido eyed her curiously. “Why not just ask him?”
Nihal slapped her hand to her forehead. “You’re right! How stupid. Of course I should ask him where he is. Of course! The stones are back in my tent. And the spell? What was it?” She sprinted back the way she’d come.
Nihal had to repeat the spell three times in order to remember it exactly, but at last she sent the message. And so began the excruciating wait.
It took two days, and for Nihal they were two days of torture.
“Maybe you could try and think about something else sometimes, Nihal,” Laio suggested, but his words were lost on her.
At last, the answer came. In three days, Sennar would arrive at the border of the Land of the Wind, and he proposed he and Nihal meet there. Three days. They hadn’t seen each other for almost a year, but to Nihal three days seemed like an eternity. So much had changed in the past months. She felt like a different person. What would it be like to see Sennar again? What would he think of her?
On the morning of the big day, Nihal woke up plagued by an irresolvable conundrum. The entire night, atop her table, her green dress and her armor had lain side by side. Nihal had bought the dress for special occasions, though she knew full well it didn’t really suit her personality. So perhaps the armor would be better. But it seemed strange to think of hugging her best friend after such a long time all decked out for battle.
She was busy mulling this over when she heard Ido’s voice from outside the tent. “Can I come in?”
Nihal snatched the dress and sat on top of it on the bed as quickly as possible. “Sure … come on in. …”
Ido peeped in through the doorway and eyed her. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, everything’s fine,” she said casually.
Ido noticed a piece of colored fabric sticking out from underneath Nihal’s leg. “What are you doing sitting on top of a dress?”
Nihal blushed. “It’s just … I don’t know what to wear,” she confessed at last.
Ido shot her an amused look. “So, you don’t know whether to show up as a warrior or as a woman?”
“More or less …” Nihal’s face was cherry red.
Ido smiled and lodged his pipe back in his mouth. “I’m sorry, Nihal, but that sort of advice goes beyond my role as a teacher. I’ll leave you to your dilemma.”
Once the dwarf had taken his leave, Nihal sat for a while contemplating the two possibilities. Finally, exasperated by her own indecision, she chose her armor.
Before her departure, Nihal had to request a few days’ leave. The general was relatively understanding and granted her the time off without too many questions, though he did insist on knowing the reason for her request.
“A friend’s come home,” she responded evasively.
Once released from duty, she had half a mind to go back to her tent and change, but she felt ashamed of herself. Enough, Nihal. Don’t be ridiculous. Just leave, once and for all!
Flying over the Land of the Wind, she could feel her anxiety gradually melt away. On the back of her dragon she felt at ease, and the excitement of knowing she’d soon see Sennar pushed away her doubts and insecurities.
Once in view of the border, she decided to land in a vast, open prairie. The field was covered in grey grass, with several patches of bare earth. It was so desolate, it didn’t even seem like the same steppe she’d known as a child. She still hadn’t grown used to the changed landscape.
Nihal lay on her back and gazed up at the sky. A cloud or two floated by on the brisk air of approaching autumn.
Oarf curled up beside her, and she rested her head on his scaly shoulder. She wasn’t sure from which direction Sennar would arrive, or how he’d arrive, or when. The image of him on their last meeting came back to mind, sadness in his eyes, blood trickling from the wound on his cheek. … What could she say to earn his forgiveness?
Nihal sat up and scanned the horizon. Nothing, just prairie. She lay down again and observed the drifting clouds. The weather was changing, the wind picking up. Who knew if Sennar would like the person she’d become. And who was she to say he too hadn’t changed, that he hadn’t met new faces along the way, new friends, new women … What kind of thought was that! What do women have anything to do with it?
Once again, she sat up. There was no more sun to light the prairie. Wind, wind, and more wind. The low bushes nodded, now one way, now the other, and waves rippled through the sea of scorched grass.
A patch of sky opened between the clouds and a ray of sunlight glimmered against her armor. Suddenly she felt absurd, all dressed up as if for a parade. If everything was really the way it used to be, I wouldn’t even have thought about what I was wearing, I’d have just run out with whatever I had on. It can never be the way it was. But I don’t want to lose him.
Two hours passed and she began to wonder whether Sennar would show up at all. The smell of rain was in the air and the sky was a menacing blue-grey. Nihal lowered her gaze from the mass of clouds above her head. Then she saw him, trudging along the horizon. A little dot, that was all, but it was him. Her heart began to race. She stood up to get a better view. He wore a long, black tunic, the same as always, the one with the eye on it, the one that frightened her.
She stood there watching him approach, savoring the moment of Sennar’s arrival, safe and sound. She could see him perfectly well now.
Nihal began sprinting toward him, screaming his name. The figure paused, threw down a giant sack, and looked in her direction.
Nihal just kept running, running breathlessly, her leg muscles burning from the weight of her armor. As soon as she was within leaping distance she sprung, landing directly on him and knocking him off balance. Together, they crashed to the ground and Nihal hugged him with all her strength. It was him, it was really him, and the feel of him in her arms moved her to tears. “Sennar,” she whispered. She went on squeezing him, as if to prove he was really there, right in front of her. She ran her hand over the scar on his cheek. “Forgive me. I was such a fool. Forgive me.”
Sennar laughed. “No need to ask for forgiveness,” he said, gasping for air under her weight. “But would you mind rolling over for a second? You weigh a ton with that armor on.”
They both broke into laughter, rolling in the grass, happy.
“So, what happened to your hair?” Nihal asked, wiping tears away with the back of her hand.
Sennar patted his disheveled mop. “Long story. Let’s just say the seawater got to it. Why, you don’t like it this way?”
Nihal shot him a playful look. “I don’t know. With long hair you were more … mystical.” Nothing’s changed. It’s still just us. Nothing’s changed.
Sennar glanced first at Oarf, then at her armor. “You did it.”
“Dragon Knight Nihal, at your service, Councilor!” She rose to her feet and gave a twirl. “And what about you? How’d the mission go?”
“I’ve come back with an ambassador. He’s already in discussion with the Council.” Sennar looked her in the eyes. “I left the meeting to come see you.”
A moment of embarrassment passed between the two like a gust of wind. Then Nihal took Sennar by the arm and pulled him toward Oarf. “Hop on, I’ll take you on your first dragon ride. We can head back to the encampment.”
br /> Sennar hesitated. He wasn’t so thrilled by the idea of flying. “Um … is there a saddle?” he asked with apprehension.
“Just hold on tight to me,” Nihal replied, and mounted her dragon.
Just as they took off, the first heavy drops of rain began to fall. Sennar gripped Nihal tightly and felt happy in a way he hadn’t in a long time. Even the rain, that day, seemed a marvellous surprise.
They arrived during lunch hour and Nihal showed Sennar around the encampment. When he discovered that his friend was in command of an entire platoon, Sennar was dumbfounded. “I knew you were good, but isn’t this just a bit much?” he teased.
Her encounter with Dola had earned Nihal the general’s high esteem, and he’d assigned a stable company of soldiers to her command. After a brief moment of enthusiasm, however, Nihal had come to realize that the promotion was more of an onus than an honor. She wasn’t just responsible for her own actions on the battlefield anymore, but for the lives of so many others. No, a career in the army was not exactly what she had her sights set on.
Nihal blushed. “I’ll explain everything later. For now, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
They lunched at the mess hall with Ido. At first, Nihal had the impression that the dwarf, despite his earlier proclamations, was struck with a fatherly embarrassment, as if meeting the man who’d won his daughter’s heart. But that didn’t last for long. Sennar had a whole host of stories to share and lunch went by in a flash.
It wasn’t until later in the afternoon that Nihal and Sennar really got the chance to speak, the way they used to. They found a shady tree along a hillside at the edge of the encampment and stared out at the falling rain.
Sennar told Nihal of his voyage, of his fear of death, of the cold terror he’d felt in the whirlpool, of Zalenia’s splendor. He recounted the monster, the storm, his struggle to win a hearing with the count. He spoke of how he’d foiled an assassination attempt on the king, of the mixed joy and sadness he felt at achieving his mission. Nihal listened with fascination.
“So essentially, my friend’s a hero,” she said when he had finished.
Sennar raised his eyebrows. “Who, me? Wasn’t it always you who wanted the heroic role all to yourself?”
Nihal smiled and whacked his arm. “Who gave you permission to make fun of me, Councilor?”
“Now I want to hear what you’ve been up to,” said Sennar.
Nihal looked up at the falling raindrops, up through the network of leaves and branches above their heads. She felt ashamed of what she’d done. Too much of it brought her suffering. Now that he was here, all she wanted was to enjoy his presence.
“Come on, I want to hear about your victory,” Sennar insisted.
Nihal didn’t begin her story with a victory, but with a defeat. She told him of how Ido had sent her on leave from the army, of her attempt to live the life of a normal girl, of her disillusionment, of her realization that the call of the sword was inexorable. She spoke of her training, of her induction as a knight, of how important Ido was to her. In the end, she told him of Dola, too, though with no mention of the name Megisto, nor of the forbidden spell. By the time Nihal had finished speaking, night was beginning to fall.
“I thought of you often while I was away,” Sennar said, turning to her.
“Nothing good, I’m sure.”
“Don’t be stupid. You were the one link I felt to the world above. Thousands of times I found myself asking where you were, if you were okay, if you’d changed. And then—” Sennar’s words broke off.
“And then?” Nihal asked.
“And then I came back and I saw you running toward me. How long have we known each other now? Four years? And in four years, you know, it was the first time you’d ever done that.”
Nihal glanced at him, curious.
“What I mean is, I just wanted to tell you that … I’m proud of you, proud of the life you’re making for yourself.” Sennar seemed on the verge of adding something else, then shook his head and smiled.
A few days later, Sennar left, with a solemn promise to return as soon as he could. Duty called. His presence was requested at the Council, to continue negotiations with Zalenia.
Nihal went back to life as usual. As autumn tinted the leaves and wrung the sky, war became a dismal habit, each battle a succession of murder and sweat. Nihal felt she lacked a true aim, and began to suspect that the key to her life lay somewhere outside the battlefield.
25
Death of a Traitor
Sennar had thrown himself into negotiations for military aid from Zalenia. Someone needed to mediate between Pelamas and the councilors. After the trials and adventures of his voyage, Sennar was bored by the Council’s cautious diplomacy, though he understood that even the slow road to peace was a road to peace nonetheless. When he noticed negotiations were coming to a dead end, he decided to bring the ambassador of the Underworld with him to the Land of the Wind. He wanted him to see the war with his own eyes, to understand how direly they needed help.
Sennar, of course, chose Nihal’s encampment as their destination, so he’d have an excuse to see her. Pelamas was taken aback by what he saw. All he’d known before then was the precious peace of his own world. Confronted with the war, he seemed like a newborn child faced with an incomprehensible puzzle.
Sennar’s instinct proved valid, and within a few weeks an agreement was finally reached. By winter, half of Zalenia’s army would be fighting alongside the Army of the Free Lands. Sennar’s mission had come to a successful conclusion, and the Council permitted him to return to his duties in the Land of the Wind.
Now and then Sennar found himself thinking of Ondine, wondering if he’d been right to leave her. But then, at the sight of Nihal, his doubts would scatter. He relished the sight of her moving about the camp, giving out orders with a stern expression on her face. It was wonderful to see her so confident, so strong. Sennar had always known she was strong, but now she, too, seemed aware of her strength. Then he thought of Ondine’s eyes, and of Nihal’s, and he knew were his heart truly lay. Ondine’s were two shiny mirrors of pure silver, reflecting every thought that passed through her mind. Nihal’s, on the other hand, were deep, inscrutable, the eyes of someone who had yet to find her true path. By now, Sennar was certain of his love for that gaze, filled as it was with mysteries.
On the front in the Land of the Wind, the situation had improved. Dola’s capture had sent the enemy lines into a panic, and the Free Lands took immediate advantage, recapturing part of the territory they’d lost. A wave of hope swept through the troops, and even though winter was knocking at the door, it felt as if spring had arrived.
It was a long day of battle. Nihal’s forces had been relocated to an area near the encampment in order to provide support for a group of soldiers charged with attacking an isolated enemy deployment. While fighting down on the ground, Nihal suddenly noticed Laio standing at the edge of the battlefield, staring blankly into the midst of the skirmish. What in the world is he doing? Does he have a death wish? Nihal demolished the Fammin assaulting her with one fatal blow and ran toward her squire.
“Laio! Laio! Get away from here!” she shouted, still running.
The boy shook himself awake and began to back away slowly, though still staring into space. Nihal followed his gaze. For an instant, she noticed a fleeting shadow among the other soldiers. A chilling fear gripped her bones.
That evening in the tent, as she was busy cleaning her sword and Laio was polishing her armor, Nihal brought up the strange episode.
“What happened to you out there today?” she asked, approaching the topic head-on.
“I just spooked a bit, that’s all,” he replied casually.
“But why?”
Laio was silent.
“Laio, I’m talking to you. What were you looking at?”
Laio lifted his gaze from the leg guard in his hands and stared at Nihal. His face was pale. “What about you? What did you see?”
“I …” Nihal shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing, Laio, I didn’t see anything.” I didn’t see anything. It was an illusion.
“There was something,” said Laio. His voice was trembling. “There was something there in the midst of the battle, something that … Oh, maybe I’m just going crazy. It’s nothing.”
“What did you see?” Nihal insisted, though she wasn’t so sure she wanted to hear his response.
Laio gulped. “There was a man there on the battlefield. A soldier. But he seemed … I don’t know how to explain it, somehow different. It felt like I was trapped, as if I couldn’t turn my gaze. So I just kept staring at him and … I know this sounds absurd, and I was probably just mistaken, but in that moment I was certain … well, do you remember Mathon?”
Nihal scanned her brain for the memory. She knew that name. “The soldier who accompanied us on the journey to your father’s?”
“Yes, him, exactly. I knew you’d remember him.”
Nihal felt the blood freeze in her veins. Yes, she remembered him well. How could she forget the end he’d suffered at the hand of the thieves? A spirit. A shade. Just like in her nightmares.
“It was him, Nihal. When he saw me, he smiled, and it was him, I swear. But then his smile turned to a sneer and I …” Laio stopped speaking.
It’s not possible. Calm down. It’s not possible. Nihal closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She looked at Laio. “Just an observation, Laio, but as far as I know the dead stay in the dirt.”
Laio seemed relieved. “I know. I was thinking the same thing,” he replied with a smile.
After that evening, neither of them brought it up again.
Dola was subjected to exhaustive interrogations, but to every question, to every threat, he responded with the same triumphant smile. “You’re already dead. All of you,” he repeated. “You’re all dead.”