Sennar's Mission

  Sennar’s Mission

  Chronicles of the Overworld Book 2

  Licia Troisi

  Contents

  Prologue

  Between Land and Sea

  1 Preparing for the Journey

  2 Pirates

  3 A Prodigy

  4 Storm

  5 Laio Becomes a Squire

  6 The Secret of the Tear

  7 The Vaneries

  8 Laio’s Battle

  9 In the Whirlpool

  The Prisoners

  10 The Underworld

  11 An Old Man in the Forest

  12 The Count

  13 Rescue

  14 War Comes to Zalenia

  15 The Man in the Shadows

  16 Farewell to the Sea

  The Search

  17 A New Knight

  18 The Enemy

  19 Nihal’s Recovery

  20 Descent into the Underworld

  21 The Temptation of Death

  22 Ido’s Secret

  23 Ido of the Land of Fire

  24 Together Again

  25 Death of a Traitor

  26 Reis

  27 An Army of the Dead

  List of Characters

  Characters

  Aires: Rool’s daughter.

  Anfitris: girl from Zalenia.

  Assa: capital of the Land of Fire.

  Astrea: nymph, queen of the Land of Water.

  Barod: Nihal’s childhood friend.

  Benares: pirate, Aires’s lover.

  Cob: boy from Zalenia.

  Daeb: dwarf, ancient king of the Land of Fire, Ido’s grandfather.

  Dagon: elder member of the Council of Sorcerers.

  Deliah: Sorcerer from Zalenia.

  Dodi: cabin boy aboard Rool’s ship.

  Dola: dwarf, warrior in the Tyrant’s army, Ido’s brother.

  Eressea: village near the whirlpool.

  Faraq: innkeeper from Sennar’s hometown in the Land of the Sea.

  Fen: Dragon Knight, Soana’s lover, died in battle.

  Flogisto: sorcerer from the Land of the Sun, was Sennar’s teacher in preparation for joining the Council.

  Gaart: Fen’s dragon.

  Galla: king of the Land of Water.

  Ganna: young sorcerer from the Land of the Wind.

  Ido: dwarf, Dragon Knight, and Nihal's teacher. Dola’s brother.

  Kala: Sennar’s sister.

  Laio: squire from the Land of Night.

  Laodamea: capital of the Land of Water.

  Livon: Nihal’s adoptive father, Soana’s brother, killed by Fammin.

  Lophta: soldier of the Army of the Free Lands.

  Makrat: capital of the Land of the Sun.

  Man: Kala’s daughter, Sennar’s niece.

  Mathon: soldier of the Army of the Free Lands.

  Mauthar: bounty hunter.

  Mavern: general of the Herzli Forest camp.

  Megisto: historian and sorcery, the Tyrant’s right arm for many years.

  Moli: Ido and Dola’s father, king of the Land of Fire.

  Moni: village elder from the Vaneries.

  Nammen: former king of the half-elves, Leven’s son, who brought forth a time of peace following the Two Hundred Year’s War.

  Nelgar: base commander in the Land of the Sun.

  Nereo: king of Zalenia, the Underworld.

  Nihal: warrior woman, Dragon Knight, the last half-elf in the Overworld.

  Oarf: Nihal’s dragon.

  Ondine: girl from Zalenia.

  Parsel: Dragon Knight, Nihal’s sword fighting instructor at the Academy.

  Pelamas: ambassador from Zalenia.

  Pelavudd: merchant from Zalenia.

  Pewar: General of the Order of Dragon Knights of the Land of the Sun.

  Phos: elf, leader of the community of woodsprites in the Forest.

  Raven: Supreme General of the Order of Dragon Knights from the Land of the Sun.

  Reis: dwarf, former member of the Council of Sorcerers.

  Ried: Dragon Knight.

  Rodhan: sorcerer from the Tyrant’s forces. Flogisto’s former student.

  Rool: pirate ship captain, Aires’s father.

  Sakana: county in Zalenia.

  Salazar: tower city in the Land of Wind.

  Sate: dwarf, member of the Council of Sorcerers, representative from the Land of the Sun.

  Seferdi: capital of the Land of Days.

  Sennar: member of the Council of Sorcerers, representative for the Land of the Wind, Nihal’s best friend.

  Sheireen: Nihal’s true name, meaning “the Consecrated.”

  Shevrar: god of Fire and War.

  Soana: sorceress, former member of the Council of Sorcerers, Sennar’s first magic teacher, Livon’s sister.

  Sulana: young queen of the Land of the Sun.

  Theris: nymph, a member of the Council of Sorcerers, representative of the Land of Water.

  Tyrant: Aster, had been a young member of the Council of Sorcerers, was Reis’s lover.

  Vanerie: islands on the way to the Underworld.

  Varen: count from Zalenia.

  Vesa: Ido's dragon.

  Zalenia: the Underworld.

  Zirea: capital of Zalenia.

  My name is Nihal. I grew up in Salazar, a tower city in the Land of the Wind. My family was Livon, the finest armorer in all eight lands of the Overworld. He was my adoptive father, the person who trained me to use a sword, who taught me what life is.

  I owe him everything. My childhood was spent at his side, among swords, shields, and armor, fostering my growing desire to become a warrior.

  For many years I lived peacefully, unaware of the meaning behind my blue hair and pointed ears.

  Even so, for as long as I can remember, I heard voices, suffered recurring nightmares populated with pained and contorted faces whispering indecipherable words.

  Then, one autumn evening, the Tyrant’s army arrived. I saw them advancing across the plains outside of Salazar, a black sea crushing and swallowing everything in its path.

  Of my life before that day, nothing remains.

  The city was captured and burned, my friends slaughtered, my father pierced with a sword before my eyes. He died protecting me from two Fammin, brutal monsters created by the Tyrant. I killed them both. I was sixteen years old.

  Though I was good with a sword, I wasn’t good enough. I was injured, and when I awoke from the torpor of my long recovery, it was to pain and desperation.

  I learned that I am the last member of the entire population of half-elves, annihalated by the Tyrant years earlier. I was only a newborn when the sorceress Soana, Livon’s sister, discovered me in a village of the Land of the Sea. My mother’s lifeless body had protected me from the rage of the Fammin. I was the only survivor of the massacre.

  From then on, I began to change. I was no longer a happy little girl, but a young woman who’d grown up too fast. Nightmares continually tormented me, and I swore I’d do everything in my power to bring down the Tyrant. It was then that I decided to become a Dragon Knight.

  Getting into the Academy wasn’t easy—I had to win a spot by the strength of my sword. It was Raven, the Supreme General of the Order of Dragon Knights, who chose the ten warriors I would have to battle before becoming a student. I defeated them, one by one.

  At the Academy, I spent a year in solitude: the other students avoided me because I was a girl, because I was different. Their distrustful gazes followed me wherever I went.

  At first it pained me. But soon I became impervious to their hate, to suffering, to everything. All that mattered was avenging my father, my people.

  My nights were crowded with spirits urging me on toward vengeance, my days an endless stream of rigorous training. I
wanted to become a weapon, devoid of pain or emotion.

  I wanted to annhilate myself.

  After the initial phase of training came the trial of my first battle. That day, on the battlefield, my mind emptied. My pain dissolved. Everything faded from reality but my black crystal sword—Livon’s last gift to me—and the blood of the Fammin. I fought, I killed, I was merciless toward my enemies. The generals were pleased with me, and I was convinced I’d achieved my goal.

  But that wasn’t the case. That same day, Fen died. He was a Dragon Knight, and Soana’s lover. And to me he was a hero; I was in love with him. It was the one emotion I had left, my last link to life. When I saw his ruined corpse, my devotion to war became absolute.

  My training complete, I was entrusted to Ido, a Dragon Knight and member of the dwarf race. It was Ido who planted the doubts in my mind: Was what I was doing honorable? Was vengeance a sufficient reason to fight?

  At long last, I was assigned my dragon. Winning his trust was no simple task; he was a war veteran and had already belonged to another knight. He refused to approach me. He’d had enough of flying. His passion for battle had faded when his previous owner was killed. But I sensed we were two of a kind, each of us alone and thick-skinned. He was my dragon. He is my dragon. His name is Oarf.

  During it all, Sennar was always there at my side. We were practically children when we met, and we grew up together, laughed, dreamed, and suffered together. We fought for the same cause.

  I think of him often.

  Sennar, my best friend. Sennar the sorcerer. Sennar the councilor.

  I don’t know if he’s reached the Underworld yet, or if I’ll ever see him again.

  At our last meeting, we parted in a way I’ll never forget.

  I live every day with the pain of his absence.

  Between Land and Sea

  During the Two Hundred Years War, many inhabitants of the Overworld, weary of the constant fighting, abandoned their Lands to live in the sea. The last contact with them dates back one hundred and fifty years to the time when the Land of Water and the Land of the Wind joined forces to invade the Underworld. They were guided in this endeavor by a map they’d received from an inhabitant of the underwater realm who’d returned to live above ground. The invasion ended tragically. Not one survivor returned to recount what had taken place. Since then, nothing more has been heard of that continent, and all memory of how to reach it has been lost.

  —Excerpt from the Annals of the Council of Sorcerers

  Thus is established the right of the king of the Land of the Wind to safeguard this copy of the map to be used in the military expedition against the Underworld.

  —Excerpt from a parchment bearing the seal of the Land of Water, found in the Royal Library of Makrat

  1

  Preparing for the Journey

  Sennar carried nothing but a sack bearing a few books and some clothes. He hoisted it over his shoulder and stepped out into the open air.

  Beneath his cloak he wore a black, foot-length tunic with an intricate red pattern that swirled inward to form a large, gaping eye on his abdomen. He hadn’t adapted to the climate in Makrat yet. In the Land of the Sea, where he’d been living, the springs were mild, and the Land of the Wind was perpetually hot. But here, in the Land of the Sun, where the Council of Sorcerers were meeting this year, spring was almost as cold as winter, and the sultry, suffocating summer heat came out of nowhere. Sennar shivered and pulled his hood up over his long red hair.

  He was nineteen years old and he was a sorcerer. A marvelous sorcerer. But no hero. Nihal was the one who threw herself in death’s way without hesitation. Sennar was always behind the scenes, strategizing. And now that he had the chance to do something for their tormented world and its people, he was frightened. The moment had come, after months of military summits and meetings with the sorcerers on the Council. He would leave and set sail across the seas toward a continent that, for all he knew, might no longer exist.

  Alone—so the Council had decided.

  I’m a coward.

  Five hundred years had passed without any word of the Underworld. His mission was to find his way there and convince the king to aid the Overworld in a seemingly endless war, the war against the Tyrant. In the growing light of dawn, it struck him as a hopeless mission.

  His horse was saddled and ready. He hesitated a moment before mounting. There’s still time. I can go back to the Council. Tell them I made a mistake, that I changed my mind.

  He took one last look around. Not a soul in sight, the entire city immersed in slumber. He had to leave without bidding farewell to anyone. Out of habit, he reached up and ran his fingers over the scar on his cheek. Then he spurred his horse and set off.

  His first stop would be the Land of the Sea, where he’d look for someone willing to brave the ocean with him.

  It was the land of his birth, the land he’d left at the age of eight to follow Soana, his teacher, to the Land of the Wind. The trek was so long and arduous he’d rarely been able to return.

  It had been two years since his last trip back.

  He was at a crossroads, and he felt the need to see his mother again.

  It was late morning when he arrived in his village, Phelta. The sky, black and swollen with rain, hung menacingly like a dark cowl over the few houses of his birthplace. The streets were empty. Everyone had holed up inside to wait out the downpour most likely. The air was humid, and Sennar breathed in the heavy odor of the sea that penetrated inland.

  The village was a cluster of small, brick-walled, thatch-roofed houses, typical of the region, encircled by an imposing wooden fence. It was a humble-looking village, with no more than two hundred residents in all. The houses were crowded one on top of the other, like scared children in enemy territory. Sennar had very few memories of the place. He’d been born there, but it wasn’t long before his family took to the battlefields, coming back only a few times a year, whenever his father was on leave. Only then could he see his friends again and piece together his tattered relationships. But this was his home. His native soil, his Land.

  Before going to his mother, Sennar decided to take a walk through town, to make it his own again, to feel its stone roads under his feet, to inhale its scents, to touch the weathered plaster of its houses. He lost himself wandering through the winding alleys, stopped in the tiny central square where they held the market on feast days, lingered on the pier, a thin tongue of wood suspended out over the ocean.

  Suddenly, he saw the village as he’d seen it as a child and he was overwhelmed by a multitude of buried memories: fleeting glimpses of games in the street, of lost friends, of small joys. Things forgotten, perhaps with too much haste.

  Sennar was anxious and excited at the thought of seeing his mother again. As he stood before the door, he could hear the clinking of silverware coming from inside. He hesitated a moment, then knocked.

  A petite, freckled woman opened the door, much aged since the last time Sennar had seen her. She wore a simple black dress—the sort a poor woman might keep, her only scrap of clothing, infinitely mended—which she had improved with a lace collar. Her hair had once been the same fiery red as her son’s, but her mane, gathered up into a loose bun, was wisped with white now. Still, her eyes were girlish, a bright and cheerful green, and they glowed at the sight of Sennar.

  “You’ve come home.” She wrapped her arms around her son.

  Fresh flowers on the table, embroidered doilies on the furniture, the impeccable cleanliness. Sennar recognized his mother’s touch at once.

  She was already at the stove, loading it with wood. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I’ve got nothing to give you but the crumbs I have on hand. This is a special occasion. We should celebrate!” Meanwhile, she bustled about the kitchen, opening cupboards and seizing pots.

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” Sennar reassured her.

  It was a joy to see her busy at the stove, and he imagined himself a child again, his father s
till alive, his family all in one place.

  As she cooked she chatted incessantly, asking of his life, telling him of her own, lingering over trivial, everyday things—the kind of talk Sennar missed.

  When lunch was ready, they sat down at the table. His mother had always been an excellent cook. Even with meager ingredients, she could whip together a king’s feast. She’d prepared a vegetable-and-fish soup, with walnut bread to sop it up.

  Now that they were seated before their steaming plates, in the peaceful calm of the house, she could finally take a good look at her son. “Look at how you’ve grown. …”

  Sennar’s cheeks flushed.

  “You’ve become a man … a councilor …” Her eyes welled with pride. “It’s still so strange to me, the whole idea. You must tell me. How do you live, how have you gotten by?”

  Sennar told his story, despite his suffocating sense of remorse. Even though years had passed, even though his mother had never once expressed resentment over the decision he’d made, Sennar was convinced, deep down, that he’d abandoned her, and his sister, too. And what was worse, by leaving home to follow his dreams, hadn’t he allowed Soana to carry him off to a land unmarred by war? It all seemed too much like an escape to him, an excuse to run off. When he was finished, he took her hand. “And you, Mom? How are things with you?”

  “Things are the same as always. The lacework’s still selling, though not as much as in the past, and we’re still up to our necks in this war. But I can’t complain; I make enough to get by and manage better than most. I live a full life, you know? Friends are always coming by to visit.”

  Sennar lowered his eyes. “And Kala?”

  “Kala’s just fine. I miss her, of course, but I see her often enough.” She took her son’s face in her hands. “Sennar, look at me. Don’t you mind what your sister says. You made the right choice. I’m so proud of the man you’ve become.”

  “I have to see her,” Sennar said.

  His mother looked at him gravely. “What is it, my son? You seem … I don’t know … out of sorts, not yourself.”