Dodi seemed stunned. “And how do you know all this stuff?” he asked after a minute. “Sure, the Council, the Tyrant … but what does any of it have to do with you?”
“Nothing, it has nothing to do with me. I studied, that’s all,” Sennar said curtly.
The cabin boy was silent for a moment. “In any case, you owe me five dinars, sorcerer.”
“Five dinars? But why?”
Dodi flashed him a bright smile. “Because, thanks to me, your seasickness went away. Why do you think I kept you so busy talking?”
Sennar burst into laughter and slapped Dodi on the back.
Dodi could talk forever and Sennar enjoyed listening. Soon enough, he knew the history of every pirate on the crew. Some had taken to sea to escape death sentences, others out of a spirit of adventure, still others because they had lost all their money gambling. Aboard that ship, there was a world of stories and memories.
Sennar was particularly interested in the captain. He and his past were shrouded in mystery. Dodi gave contradictory accounts, often tinged with legend. Some were certain he’d been born at sea and had been sailing ever since, some claimed he was running from a failed love, some swore he’d set sail because life on land sickened him.
The only one who could have told Sennar the truth was Aires, but she was even less approachable than her father. Mornings she strode about the deck wearing only a light gown, revealing her long legs with every step. Whenever she ran into the sorcerer, she shot him one of her smiles, ironic and malicious at once, leaving him perplexed. He’d never met a woman like her. She was the embodiment of sensuality, and yet as tough as a man. At times she reminded him of Nihal. But Nihal was still growing into her own. Aires was mature and self-confident.
For several days, they sailed in view of shore. Sennar wasn’t sure why, but he refrained from asking questions.
One morning, however, while coming up from the hold, he noticed a certain agitation among the crew. Before he had time to ask himself what the bustle was about, he saw Aires approaching in a sort of dress uniform—a deep-red velvet coat, close-fitting boots over skin-hugging pants, and a studded belt. A sword hung at her side.
When she drew near Sennar, she tapped him lightly on the cheek. “Ready to see how we restock our provisions?” she asked with her usual smile.
The sorcerer’s cheeks flushed and he tried to maintain his composure. “Of course. To be honest, I rather miss being on solid ground.”
Aires broke out into laughter. “Solid ground! That’s a good one,” she said, and continued on her way.
The ship they were to attack had been sighted at dawn. So that was why they’d been traveling along the shore, Sennar thought. They’d probably been on its trail for days now while he was down reading in the hold. After the sighting, they’d turned briskly toward open sea so they could approach their prey from behind in a swift surprise attack.
Sennar disapproved completely of the whole affair. He’d seen his share of battlefields and he’d had enough of war. Above all, he was worried about the possible consequences for his mission. What would happen if someone from the other ship recognized him as a member of the Council of Sorcerers? He descended belowdecks and immersed himself in his books, trying his best not to think about what was happening.
But his peace was short-lived. The ship changed course sharply and Sennar was thrown from the heavy sack he’d chosen as a seat. The attack was about to begin. He heard the pirates’ footsteps pounding above on deck, howls of excitement, and the clangor of weaponry. He plugged his ears. This doesn’t concern me, he repeated, there’s no reason for me to get involved, but he could only hold out for so long. He could not allow for a band of pirates to attack a ship right there under his nose. He was a councilor, after all.
The pirate ship sliced through the waves, its red sails unfurled, devouring one nautical mile after another. Rool directed his men from the prow.
When he saw Sennar scramble up on deck, he slapped him heartily on the back. “Good, the reinforcements have arrived,” he jeered.
“I need to speak with you, Captain,” Sennar said firmly.
“Perhaps another time, no?”
Sennar kept his cool. “I’d like you to change course. Immediately.”
“Out of the question,” said Rool without flinching.
The sorcerer insisted, “As long as I’m on board, I don’t want any bloodshed.”
“Did you all hear that? He said he doesn’t want any bloodshed!” Rool shouted to the crew. Then he fixed Sennar with a cold stare. “If you’ve got a weak stomach, then go back down in the hold.”
“Captain, I’m asking you for the last—”
But before he could finish, Aires grabbed him by the tunic and thrust his head out over the ship’s edge. Sennar could see the ocean ripping by beneath the keel as the wooden structure skimmed the water’s surface.
“Listen here, kid. We need these provisions. With an empty pantry, we go nowhere. Is that clear enough for you?”
Sea and sky blurred in the boat’s rapid sprint. Suddenly the other vessel was within range.
“Everyone to their places!” Rool ordered. “Prepare to board!”
When the pointed prow pierced the hull of the other ship, Sennar jerked forward. Then the counterblow launched him backward, and he landed faceup on deck. He arose just in time to see Aires advancing rapidly, sword unsheathed, shouting for the others to back her up.
The sorcerer followed her with his gaze, half blinded by the shimmer of swords in the sun. Then he noticed the other ship’s crew, all men, all of them armed.
It was as if time stood still for a moment. Angry threats from both sides, fists clenched tight around swords, muscles charged for battle. In short, a sudden and thunderous uproar of shouts and clanging weapons amidst a flash of crossing blades.
Sennar was nailed to the spot. This was no routine assault, but a settling of scores between pirates. They’d attacked another band of buccaneers.
In a matter of minutes, the ship’s deck was slick with blood. Several bodies littered the ground and still others had been thrown overboard.
Overwhelmed by disgust, Sennar decided he’d seen enough. He stormed down into the hold and tucked himself away in a corner, safe from the battle. They’re a bunch of worthless throat-slitters settling old accounts, it doesn’t concern you, he repeated to himself. But from above he could still hear shouting, groaning, the grim thud of bodies as they collapsed on deck. Sennar pressed his hands tightly over his ears.
In less than a half hour, it was all over.
Above him, Sennar heard the sound of footsteps grow less frantic and the shouting die down. When the noise ceased completely, he took his chances and climbed back up the ladder, still reeling with anger.
Only a few of the pirates had been seriously injured. If not for the blood-stained deck, in truth, you’d never know that a fierce battle had just taken place. Evidently, all of the remaining bodies had already been tossed into the ocean.
Beneath Aires’ satisfied gaze, several pirates were hauling heavy trunks, pots, and barrels onto the ship.
When the last chest had been brought aboard and everyone was ready to set sail again, she came over to Sennar. “Impressed?”
The sorcerer said nothing.
She laughed under her breath. “Just as I thought. Never seen anyone killed before, have you, poor baby?”
Sennar could feel his blood boiling. “I’ve seen more than enough deaths for one lifetime, believe me,” he said matter-of-factly.
Aires shrugged and turned toward the crew. “Have you brought the most precious cargo aboard?”
Two men stepped forward, carrying a third who was unable to hold himself up, his face veiled beneath long hair and a beard.
Aires leaned toward the man and smiled. “So nice to see you again, my love.”
As she kissed him, the entire crew let loose a triumphant howl.
3
A Prodigy
Nihal an
d Ido were in the practice ring, as on most mornings. They made for a rather unusual spectacle on the base where they lived. Nihal, an aspiring Dragon Knight, was the only woman at their camp—or in the entire Army of the Free Lands, for that matter—while Ido, her teacher, was the only dwarf to have ever become a Dragon Knight. And so a decent-sized crowd had begun attending their morning training sessions. After all, it was a pleasure to watch them. They wrote couplets with their blades, staged duels that might have been dances, clashed in frenzied rhythms. And, it must be admitted, Nihal wasn’t hard on the eyes, even though she was a ruthless warrior. Hidden beneath her military garb were two long, lean legs, an abdomen sculpted from years of training, a shapely chest. And then there was her exotic blue hair and deep purple eyes, typical of her race. Dozens of men had made passes at her, though she’d hardly given them the time of day. Nihal was far from sociable, and the last thing on her mind was finding love.
That morning, the crowd was relatively thin, perhaps due to the bitter cold, perhaps because the sky threatened rain. Such minor obstacles did nothing to discourage Nihal and Ido. As usual, they sparred without pause, and the soldier was forced to call for them several times before they finally laid down their swords.
“Nelgar is expecting both of you, now.”
Somewhat astonished, Nihal made her way to the commander’s tent. It was unusual to receive a summons to speak with the base’s commander in person. Not that he was the sort to inspire reverential fear. On the short side and rather stout, he seemed more like an easygoing host than the commander of one of the largest bases in the Free Lands. But though he wasn’t fixated on rankings or discipline, he knew how to command obedience and was respected and admired by all.
Nihal entered Nelgar’s tent cautiously. Ido entered without hesitation and threw himself sprawling into the first chair he saw.
“Please, have a seat,” said Nelgar cordially. “I’ve called you in because I have a mission to entrust you with.”
Nihal’s heart leaped. She’d never been assigned her own mission. Up until now, she’d always acted as Ido’s partner.
“The mission involves the transport of a letter across the border, to a camp in the Land of the Sea. We must request backup for an attack. You will be responsible for carrying this request and will return with their response.”
That’s it? Nihal was disheartened.
Nelgar explained the details and gave her a map of the forest. “You’ll leave tomorrow. You may go.”
Nihal parted with a nod, followed by Ido.
“What, have I been demoted? From aspiring Dragon Knight to orderly?” she asked her teacher, clearly upset. “It seems to me there’s no shortage of squires for this sort of job.”
“I’m the one who proposed you,” Ido responded calmly.
“Well, thank you. I can’t wait to take a walk in the woods.”
“Do not take this lightly. It’s time you began acting on your own. Your training is going well. You could become a knight within the year.”
Nihal whirled to look at him, her eyes beaming.
Ido maintained his composure. “Up until now, you’ve been glued to my side like a chick to its mother hen. This time, though, you’ll have to trust in your own strength. The mission itself is not complicated, but you’ll be traveling along borders where your safety is by no means guaranteed. It will be good training.”
Nihal had done all her combat training on the battlefield. The other aspects of war were unknown to her. At the very worst, she told herself, it would be a learning experience.
“Besides, you’ve been trapped here in the Land of the Sun for months now. A bit of sea air will do you some good,” the dwarf concluded.
“Sea air? But the camp isn’t on the coast.”
“You’ll see. …” Ido grinned. “You’ll see.”
Nihal left the base with the first light of dawn. No Oarf for this trip—the mission required a certain level of secrecy, and large, flying reptiles tended not to slip by unnoticed. She mounted a horse and set off, feeling rather unenthusiastic about the journey.
There had been a time, before the destruction of Salazar, when she loved to travel. She remembered how thrilled she felt when she was a little girl and got to go with Livon when he traveled to see his suppliers. Or how much she’d enjoyed galloping to the Land of Water with Soana and Sennar, where Sennar’s induction ceremony as a sorcerer had been held. It was the first time she’d left the Land of the Wind, and the entire journey had seemed full of wonder. Centuries had passed since then, or so it seemed.
If only Sennar were around. It was always great camping with him, sitting around the fire, looking up at the stars, talking about everything and nothing. Who knows where he is now.
Even with Ido’s company, the trip might have been more enjoyable. Instead, left to herself, she felt defenseless against the ghosts of her past. As the base faded in the distance, her thoughts turned gloomy.
The Land of the Sun and the Land of the Sea shared an enormous forest, the most expansive in the entire Overworld, the Inner Forest.
Its landscape was monotonous—when Nihal crossed the border, after two days of travel, the forest continued to be a dense maze. The air, though, had changed, laced now with the smell of salt.
Nihal had never seen the ocean. Just the smell of it made her want to press onward until she reached the coast. She was reminded of stories Sennar had told her about his land. The Small Sea, only a short distance from the border of the Land of Water. The Dessa Lighthouse, the last vestige of the Overworld’s bounty. The vastness of the ocean. And perhaps, farther still, the Underworld. She felt a pang of nostalgia.
Throughout the journey, she kept up her guard, especially at night. The Great Land, an undisputed territory of the Tyrant, bordered the woods, and they were overrun with spies. Human spies, for the most part—the Fammin were in no way fit for such delicate work. Slaughter was their specialty, thanks to their long, powerful arms, ideal for crushing, not to mention the sharply clawed hands and feet they used to slash their victims and their malevolent snouts with mouthfuls of flesh-tearing teeth. Massive, completely covered in a hideous, reddish, frizzy fur, they were suited only for inflicting horror.
The Tyrant preferred to employ humans and dwarves when it came to surveillance of the Great Land’s borders. They gathered information regarding the offensive strategies of the Army of the Free Lands and murdered anyone who dared cross the line. Nihal herself never saw any of them, but more than once she felt their vigilant eyes upon her. The journey, nonetheless, was brief and solitary. Within four days, she’d arrived at her destination.
The guards were taken aback—coming toward them was a woman with blue hair and pointed ears, dressed as a soldier.
“I’m a knight’s apprentice,” Nihal introduced herself. She blushed. “I’m here to deliver a message to your base command.”
The camp was set up like her own. An ample, fortified citadel, it served as a home not only to warriors, but to women and children as well. Here, however, things seemed to be going somewhat better than in the Land of the Sun. The borders of the Land of the Sea were secure—only to the south, where the Great Land loomed, was it exposed to a potential attack. The Tyrant’s Fortress rose darkly between the trees, larger than anything Nihal had ever seen.
But apart from the tower’s menacing shadow, the atmosphere was pleasant and provisions were abundant. Lunch was lavish and delicious. Nihal ate in the main mess hall, where children scampered around and the men joked with their wives. It felt almost like peacetime. As she cut into her meat, Nihal smiled to herself, though when she lifted her eyes from the plate, her fork froze in mid-air.
Parsel had been her first sword instructor at the Academy and, in a certain sense, her only friend for months. Their bond was peculiar, composed of few words and arduous training duals.
Nihal was happy to see him again and he hugged her like an old comrade. He was a tall, solid man, with dark skin and eyes an unusual shade of gr
ey-green. His cropped black hair was beginning to grey at the temples.
“What are you doing here?” asked Nihal.
“On leave. Before I became an instructor at the Academy, when I was still an active warrior, I lived here. Whenever possible, I try to visit.” Parsel winked. “If only to keep myself from forgetting the smell of the battlefield. And you? I see you’re looking well.”
“I’m getting by,” she replied.
“Well, we’ll have to celebrate this fortunate occasion. What would you say to a duel, like old times?”
He didn’t have to ask her twice.
For Nihal, this run-in with the past was an unexpected pleasure. Not that she’d forgotten the misery and solitude of her first year at the Academy, but some good had come of it nonetheless. And Parsel reminded her of that with every jab. It was just the way it used to be, except that she had grown more skillful. In only a few lunges and without much difficulty, Nihal breeched his guard.
“You’ve gotten really good,” said Parsel, as he wiped his forehead.
“That’s partly thanks to you.”
They spent the rest of the day together. Parsel told her about his new students and Nihal was struck again with nostalgia. Time changes the face of things, even of memories.
“You’ll never guess who I saw recently,” he said out of nowhere. “That friend of yours from the Academy, the small blond one … Laio, that’s his name.”
A wave of memories swept over Nihal. Laio the frail, baby-faced boy, the weakest student at the Academy. They’d spent a great deal of time together. He’d worshipped her like a hero. Laio, her one true friend in those solitary days. …
Nihal’s ears pricked up. “Did you really?”
“Yes. He lives here, in the forest. He’s given up on becoming a warrior, he told me. He didn’t seem to be doing all that well.”