Chronicles of the Overworld Book 1 — Nihal of the Land of the Wind by Licia Troisi Page B
Authors: Licia Troisi
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opening that was wide enough. Then she drew in a mouthful of air and simply let herself drop.
The impact with the water was unpleasant. Nihal was cold and felt weak. She was completely uncoordinated. She felt like she was about to drown and so, exhausted, she gave in. The current dragged her along for what seemed like a long time. Every now and then she noticed she was closer to the bank, but she had no strength left. All she wanted to do was float with her eyes shut. Rest. Forget.
Suddenly, she felt someone grab her arm.
Here we are
, she said to herself.
It’s over. Finally.
Someone was dragging her along the bank, but she couldn’t make out the face.
“Nihal!”
The voice seemed to come from far away.
“It’s Sennar. Nihal!”
She closed her eyes. “Livon. Livon is dead,” she whispered.
Then it was like in her dream.
She slid backward, and darkness enveloped her.
FIGHTING
He was little more than a boy when he became a member of the Council of Sorcerers. A native of the Land of Night, he was blessed with extraordinary magical powers and struck others as a wise young man, dedicated to good and to justice. He was welcomed into the Council unanimously. It wasn’t until he was nominated Head of the Council and began excluding councilors from the most important decisions that his true nature became apparent. …
The young sorcerer was dismissed dishonorably, but he had planned everything to perfection. With men and weapons provided by kings deposed by Nammen, who were eager to take back their lands, he led an assault on the Council hall.
Only a few sorcerers managed to escape the massacre. They took refuge in the Land of the Sun, but the man destined to become the Tyrant took little notice. In just a few hours, he had become master of half of the Overworld. Gradually, he deposed even those rulers who had supported him, until he assumed control over four lands: the Land of Days, the Land of Fire, the Land of Rocks, and the Land of Night. That was when war between the four free lands and the Tyrant became a permanent condition.
—
Excerpt from the
Annals of the Council of Sorcerers
9
THE TRUTH
Nihal was unable to move a single muscle. She didn’t know where she was or what was happening. She heard muffled sounds something like a prayer. She felt something warm along her side. Then she saw a light. Nothing else.
It was early morning when Nihal woke again. A dim light filtered in through the window near where she lay. She remembered little apart from a long journey through a narrow passage—an escape from something.
Her memory returned slowly and in fragments. She could remember running away from an army and being captured. But the room where she now lay was nothing like a prison cell. She tried to move her head. Someone was sitting at her side. Her vision was blurry, but she tried to force her eyes into focus in order to make out the person’s face. At last, she recognized him.
“Nihal, you’re awake!”
Sennar looked pale and weary. There were questions she would have liked to ask him, but not a sound would come from her throat.
“
Shh
. You’re at Soana’s. There’s no reason to be afraid. Try to rest. We can talk when you’ve recovered.”
Nihal closed her eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep that lasted a day and a night.
When she opened her eyes the next morning, the sun, already high in the sky, was casting a light that looked unusually wan. Then she understood. An acrid odor filled the air and dense clouds of smoke blotted out the sky. The army must have finished its sack of Salazar and set fire to the city.
She still felt very tired, but now she remembered everything.
Livon is dead.
It was her first thought. She relived the scene in her mind’s eye, his body falling to the ground, the monster as it pulled back its sword. She closed her eyes again. Her chest felt like it would burst.
Livon is dead.
Sennar was still there beside her. “How are you?”
“I don’t know,”
The impact with the water was unpleasant. Nihal was cold and felt weak. She was completely uncoordinated. She felt like she was about to drown and so, exhausted, she gave in. The current dragged her along for what seemed like a long time. Every now and then she noticed she was closer to the bank, but she had no strength left. All she wanted to do was float with her eyes shut. Rest. Forget.
Suddenly, she felt someone grab her arm.
Here we are
, she said to herself.
It’s over. Finally.
Someone was dragging her along the bank, but she couldn’t make out the face.
“Nihal!”
The voice seemed to come from far away.
“It’s Sennar. Nihal!”
She closed her eyes. “Livon. Livon is dead,” she whispered.
Then it was like in her dream.
She slid backward, and darkness enveloped her.
FIGHTING
He was little more than a boy when he became a member of the Council of Sorcerers. A native of the Land of Night, he was blessed with extraordinary magical powers and struck others as a wise young man, dedicated to good and to justice. He was welcomed into the Council unanimously. It wasn’t until he was nominated Head of the Council and began excluding councilors from the most important decisions that his true nature became apparent. …
The young sorcerer was dismissed dishonorably, but he had planned everything to perfection. With men and weapons provided by kings deposed by Nammen, who were eager to take back their lands, he led an assault on the Council hall.
Only a few sorcerers managed to escape the massacre. They took refuge in the Land of the Sun, but the man destined to become the Tyrant took little notice. In just a few hours, he had become master of half of the Overworld. Gradually, he deposed even those rulers who had supported him, until he assumed control over four lands: the Land of Days, the Land of Fire, the Land of Rocks, and the Land of Night. That was when war between the four free lands and the Tyrant became a permanent condition.
—
Excerpt from the
Annals of the Council of Sorcerers
9
THE TRUTH
Nihal was unable to move a single muscle. She didn’t know where she was or what was happening. She heard muffled sounds something like a prayer. She felt something warm along her side. Then she saw a light. Nothing else.
It was early morning when Nihal woke again. A dim light filtered in through the window near where she lay. She remembered little apart from a long journey through a narrow passage—an escape from something.
Her memory returned slowly and in fragments. She could remember running away from an army and being captured. But the room where she now lay was nothing like a prison cell. She tried to move her head. Someone was sitting at her side. Her vision was blurry, but she tried to force her eyes into focus in order to make out the person’s face. At last, she recognized him.
“Nihal, you’re awake!”
Sennar looked pale and weary. There were questions she would have liked to ask him, but not a sound would come from her throat.
“
Shh
. You’re at Soana’s. There’s no reason to be afraid. Try to rest. We can talk when you’ve recovered.”
Nihal closed her eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep that lasted a day and a night.
When she opened her eyes the next morning, the sun, already high in the sky, was casting a light that looked unusually wan. Then she understood. An acrid odor filled the air and dense clouds of smoke blotted out the sky. The army must have finished its sack of Salazar and set fire to the city.
She still felt very tired, but now she remembered everything.
Livon is dead.
It was her first thought. She relived the scene in her mind’s eye, his body falling to the ground, the monster as it pulled back its sword. She closed her eyes again. Her chest felt like it would burst.
Livon is dead.
Sennar was still there beside her. “How are you?”
“I don’t know,”
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