Sennar's Mission

  When the Council of Sorcerers made the decision to execute him, Sennar was the only one to oppose the measure. Nonetheless, he passed the message on to Nihal. Dola was to be decapitated publicly in Laodamea, the capital of the Land of Water, where the Council was headquartered that year. Nihal was the first one at the camp to hear the news and could hardly restrain the joy in her heart. Then she thought of Ido. When it came to her teacher, she made for a terrible liar. She had to be the one to tell him.

  She found him in his tent at dusk.

  The dwarf was stretched out on his cot, reading a report. When Nihal entered, he sat up and stretched, yawning sonorously. “Look who it is. From the day you were assigned your own troops, you haven’t said two words to me. These young bloods, the second they start a career, you’re no longer worthy of their attention.”

  Nihal looked down at her boot tips with a strained smile.

  Ido gave her a once-over. “What’s going on, Nihal?”

  “Dola was condemned to death,” she said in a rush.

  The dwarf remained motionless. “Is that what you came to tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to have to find out from someone else.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Ido, I …”

  “You can go.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You can go.”

  Nihal walked out in silence, leaving Ido to his own thoughts. Even in that moment, it was joy she felt most of all. Dola would pay with his blood. He’d suffer for all the lives he had destroyed. My only regret is that I won’t be the one to swing the axe. Heading back to her tent, she scolded herself repeatedly for her deplorable thoughts, but nevertheless her joy persisted.

  Sennar cut her off before she could even finish explaining. “I’m not with you on this,” he said emphatically.

  “I need to be there.”

  “Then go, but don’t expect me to join you.”

  “Sennar, I’m begging you …”

  Sennar looked up at Nihal. “Why? Why do you want to torture yourself?”

  “I don’t want to torture myself,” she shot back. “But I have to be there, do you understand? He was there when Livon died, and I want to be there when he does. And I need you beside me.”

  In the end, Sennar consented. He would go with her to Dola’s execution.

  It was not far to Laodamea. On back of Oarf they made it in half a day, thanks mainly to the ground gained in recent battles.

  For Nihal, it seemed like centuries had passed since the first time she’d been there. The capital of the Land of Water was like an oversized village, populated by men and nymphs. Just as in any other city, the houses of men were piled atop one another, only here there was one major difference. Between one housing block and the next loomed the majestic figures of tall, luxuriant trees—the homes of the nymphs.

  The execution was to take place in the central square.

  When Nihal and Sennar arrived, the square was already brimming with people, all gathered around the raised platform where the chopping block awaited.

  Nihal was content to stand among the crowd rather than fight for a spot in the front row. Sennar, meanwhile, stood with his back to the stage.

  “You really don’t support this, do you?” she asked.

  “No, Nihal. I’ve never witnessed an execution and I don’t plan to now. A decapitation is not entertainment,” he snapped at her.

  Just then, two muscular guards transported Dola onto the stage. The dwarf was bound in heavy chains. He’d suffered days and days of prison and interrogations, and yet his eyes betrayed no fear. He walked straight, head high, dignified. When he reached the chopping block, he cast a pitying, odious glance on the crowd, and Nihal tasted again the very hate that had brought her to learn a forbidden spell.

  The speaker read the verdict. “It is the decision of the Council of Sorcerers, gathered here in the Land of Water, to execute by decapitation Dola of the Land of Fire, betrayer of the Free Lands, for the numerous innocent lives he’s taken, for the infinite suffering he’s caused, for his assault on liberty.”

  A heavy silence fell in the square, a silence filled with tension, satisfaction, hate, joy. At sight of the executioner approaching, axe in hand, Nihal’s heart began to race. She counted the steps that separated the axe from Dola’s head, as if his death could change something, as if the men, women, and children that Dola had murdered could rise again from his blood.

  One of Sennar’s hands gripped her arm. “Look at him, Nihal. Look long and hard. Will you suffer any less for having witnessed this?” he whispered in her ear.

  Then the axe fell, and Dola sneered for the last time in this world.

  Later on in the afternoon, Sennar received a message from Dagon. His presence at the Council was requested. The meeting had been set for the following day, and the fact that it had been pushed forward didn’t surprise him. Since the day of his return, the meetings had been relentless. With the forthcoming arrival of troops from Zalenia, there was no end to planning and strategizing.

  What did surprise him, however, was Dagon’s explicit request that Nihal be present as well.

  “Me? What do I have to do with any of this? I don’t know the first thing about politics or strategy,” Nihal lamented.

  “To tell you the truth, I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Sennar, scratching his chin.

  As the sun went down, they made their way to the royal palace, where the Council kept its headquarters. Nihal had been there once before, when Sennar had taken his final test to become a sorcerer, but she’d only caught a passing glimpse of the room. The palace rose up on the edge of a waterfall, and the sound of water crashing into the lake below brought back sweet and painful memories. With merciless clarity, she recalled every moment she’d passed there with Fen, his every expression, every thrust and parry of their training duels.

  Dagon came to greet them in person. “Welcome, Sennar. And greetings to you as well, knight. Your reputation precedes you.”

  Nihal was confused. She wasn’t used to such pleasantries, and she responded with a mere bow of her head, blushing.

  “Her Majesty Astrea begs your forgiveness for not being here to welcome you, but the protection of her Land keeps her occupied day and night,” said Dagon, pacing before them through the glass entrance lobby.

  Nihal’s eyes widened. “Even the queen helps maintain the magic force field?” she whispered to Sennar. The sorcerer nodded.

  The palace seemed deserted. On and on they walked, down high-ceilinged corridors, through grand, silent rooms. Eventually they came to a stairway and set about climbing its infinite steps.

  When Dagon stopped before a large, bronze door, Sennar cast him an inquisitive glance. “This isn’t the hall of the Council.”

  Dagon left the door ajar behind him and gave them a sign to follow.

  The room was vast and bare. At its center was a stone table.

  The woman seated there rose slowly from her chair. Tall and graceful, she was clad in a simple, black wool tunic that trailed along the floor. Her raven black hair was tied back in a braid, leaving her face unveiled and setting off her dark eyes. She smiled. “It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?” said Soana.

  Soana was Nihal’s aunt. She had also been Sennar’s teacher, and had even trained Nihal in magic for a short time. More than two years had passed since she had left the Council. From that time on, neither Sennar nor Nihal had heard any word of her. Now here she was before them, hardly changed at all. Her face was somewhat drawn and a few hairs had turned grey, but her movements were as graceful as ever, and she still inspired the same sense of awe in Nihal.

  Sennar ran up to greet her, but Nihal stood, incredulous, in the doorway.

  Soana extended a hand to her. “Not going to say hello?”

  Only then did Nihal draw near and hug her.

  After the emotional greeting, Nihal and Sennar were at a loss for words.

  “Don’t worry,” said Soana, a sad sm
ile on her lips. “I know what happened to Fen. I knew it first in my heart, and then I found out from those I met along the way. …”

  Soana was silent for a moment. Then she shook her head and the expression on her face was once again peaceful, though Nihal could tell she suffered still, and perhaps would suffer always.

  “Where have you been this whole time?” Sennar asked.

  “I traveled. I searched for people, places, clarity. …” The sorceress turned toward Nihal. “And answers.”

  “Did you find them?” she asked.

  “Yes, Nihal, and we’ll discuss that. But not now. For now I just want to enjoy being with you two again. I want to hear everything about you.”

  They spoke all through the evening. Nihal told of Oarf and of her battles, Sennar of his endless voyage to Zalenia. But the air was heavy with all that was left unsaid. The words of Megisto on the night of their last meeting continued to echo in Nihal’s mind. “You’re nearing a crucial moment in your search for truth, Nihal. But the truth is a dreadful gift.”

  It was already late when they returned to the rooms that had been prepared for them. Nihal had the door halfway closed when Sennar’s face peeked through, bearing a doubtful expression.

  “Is something the matter?” the sorcerer asked.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “Are you happy Soana’s back?”

  “Yes, I am, but …” Nihal hesitated. How can I tell him?

  “Is it the palace? Bringing back sad memories?”

  Nihal sighed. She’d been foolish to wait this long. “Come inside, Sennar.”

  She told him everything: of Megisto, of the forbidden spell, of his strange prophecy. Sennar was furious.

  “Have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  “Sennar, please, spare me the sermon.”

  “I’m not sermonizing, dammit!” he railed. “Forbidden spells are dangerous. For you, for anyone! You’ve taken an enormous risk, Nihal. And for what?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this now,” said Nihal.

  “Oh, no? Then what is it you want to talk about, if you don’t mind me asking?” He was truly infuriated. “Let’s talk a little bit about your dreams, why don’t we?”

  Nihal shook her head.

  “No, really, let’s talk, Nihal,” the sorcerer insisted, raising his voice. “Tell me what your dreams have been like lately.”

  Nihal had to admit that from the time she’d learned the spell for the Inextinguishable Shadow, her nightmares had grown more intense and persistent. “That’s not the point, Sennar; that’s not what I’m worried about. What did Megisto mean when he said those words? Why should the truth be dreadful? My whole life I’ve been trying to find out why I survived, to disover the truth …”

  Sennar made for the door without responding. Before walking out he turned and eyed her coldly. “You can’t base your life on truths that are out of your control, Nihal. You’re the one who has to find your own path. I thought you’d figured that out.”

  Early the next morning, Nihal knocked on Soana’s door. The sun had yet to rise and a wintry mist encircled the palace.

  “I have to know,” was all she said.

  Soana nodded and grabbed her cloak. “Come, let’s take a walk.”

  The hanging garden was located just above the waterfall. Soana leaned on the railing and watched the water thunder downward. “Have you forgiven me?”

  There was no easy way to answer. Her discovery that Ido and Dola were brothers had forced Nihal to reconsider everything Soana had kept from her. Nihal had long known of her origins and of the extermination of the half-elves, but Soana had never once mentioned it. She’d held her tongue so long that in the end Nihal had found out in the worst way possible—through Livon’s death. But so much time had passed since then. …

  Standing beside her there, Nihal realized that she had at last forgiven her. She met Soana’s gaze and nodded.

  Soana answered with a smile. “I’m proud of who you’ve become, Nihal. You are a strong woman, I can see it in your eyes. A brave warrior. That’s why I’m tempted to hold my tongue, to protect you from the truth.”

  Nihal didn’t understand. Soana had left her position on the Council in order to seek out Reis, her teacher of long ago, the only one who knew the truth of Nihal’s origin. “Why? I don’t—”

  “Wait. Give me a chance to explain,” Soana interrupted. “My journey was a long one. Reis didn’t leave a single trace of her whereabouts. For a while, I believed she was dead. For more than a year, in fact, all I did was scour for hints, but nothing seemed to turn up. Then I met someone who claimed to have seen her. I began to suffer strange dreams at night, mixed-up images, unknown landscapes. And the sound of a voice calling out, like a lament …”

  Nihal felt a chill run up her spine. It was the same voice she heard in her own dreams.

  “The more I discovered of her, the more often I heard the voice calling in my mind. I wandered the entire Overworld, I spoke to hundreds and hundreds of people, I passed through places I never knew existed.” For a moment, Soana was silent. The sun greeted them with its first rays of light. “Three months ago, I found her.”

  Nihal’s voice trembled. “Did she tell you anything?”

  “She wants you to come to her.”

  “Tell me where she is,” said Nihal, unflinching.

  Soana sighed. “I don’t want you to do this. Don’t go.”

  Her words, like heavy footfalls, broke the dawn’s serenity. Nihal could feel her cheeks flushing with blood. “Why not? You don’t know what I’ve gone through, how many questions are still stuck in my brain.” Her emotions flared. Soana, meanwhile, maintained her usual, sagacious calm.

  “Reis has changed, Nihal. When she was my teacher, she was strong, confident, but now … There’s something off about her, something dark. I fear for you.”

  Nihal felt a surge of rebellion. “I have a right to know the truth.”

  “Some truths are better left unknown,” Soana replied, her tone grave.

  Her words struck Nihal. Why is everyone telling me the same thing?

  “I can’t keep you from going,” Soana went on. “You have to decide for yourself. Just don’t forget that I’ve lost my trust in Reis.”

  “I won’t forget,” Nihal cut her off. “Just tell me where she is.”

  Nihal hurried out of the palace, not wanting to lose another minute. She’d already reached the stables when she heard a voice calling.

  Sennar was out of breath by the time he caught up with her. “Where are you going?”

  “To see Reis.”

  Sennar considered her reply for a moment, then looked her in the eyes. “I’m coming with you.”

  Nihal smiled. “I had the impression you weren’t so fond of traveling on back of Oarf.”

  “I’ll find a way to like it,” Sennar replied, and mounted the dragon with feigned effortlessness.

  26

  REIS

  Reis lived on the western end of the Land of Water, a mountainous, uninhabited region, the home of the majestic waterfalls of Naël. According to Soana, the sorceress’s house was situated atop a cliff overlooking the cascading water.

  Nihal and Sennar soared above Laodamea, above its plains, above the Western Forest where Megisto was a stone by day and a man by night. From above, they admired the network of countless rivers lining the Land of Water. Nihal wore her armor. She wasn’t quite sure why she’d put it on, but it made her feel protected. Sennar was behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, holding himself steady.

  Once again, Nihal felt the joy of having Sennar at her side. Whatever truth Reis had in store for her, this time she wouldn’t have to face it alone.

  Toward noon, they stopped in a village and asked directions from a young woman holding a baby.

  “The waterfalls are still a ways off,” the woman replied. “Just keep following the river, but you’ll need at least two days’ travel.”

/>   Nihal was vexed. How much longer did she have to wait?

  All afternoon they flew, following the Saar’s many branches that surged from its delta. Before spilling into the sea, the Great River split off into a thousand waterways that cut across the Land. These were fed by several tributaries emerging from a low range of mountains to the south. The branch they chose to follow was one of the widest, winding its way peacefully below them.

  As night fell they landed at the edge of the woods, the river still in sight, and set up camp. Nihal had left in a rush, without even considering the potential length of the journey. Sennar, however, had purchased a few provisions from the village they’d stopped in earlier that morning, and he roasted a cut of meat for the two of them.

  “You’re a real mess of a traveler,” Sennar joked with her. “If it weren’t for me, we’d be eating acorns right now, like two wild boars.”

  Nihal was happy to be there. To be there with him. She sunk her teeth into a piece of roasted meat and it tasted exquisite, just as it had years before, when she’d been forced to pass a night in the Forest as part of her initiation to train as a sorceress. She’d been scared to death then, but Sennar had come prepared with food, and he’d kept watch over her the entire night.

  “Do you remember that night in the woods, after we just met?”

  “Of course I remember. I kept you from starving then, too. Ah, if it weren’t for me!” Sennar sighed.

  Nihal broke into laughter. “Fair enough. Who knows how I survived when you were gone. … You told me your whole life story that night, do you remember?” Nihal took another cut of meat. “Sometimes I think I’m really meant to be traveling, the way you did. I’ve spent so much of my life just dreaming of flying off …”

  “It’s not as great as it seems,” Sennar replied. “Most of the time you feel out of place. You wish you’d never left. The unknown is far more fascinating in your imagination than in reality. The truth is, this feels like home to me, my feet on the ground, doing my job.”