Sennar's Mission (36 page)

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.

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.”

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.