Chronicles of the Overworld Book 1 — Nihal of the Land of the Wind (6 page)

“To me, she looks just like a …” volunteered another. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“Impossible! There aren’t any left,” said another.

A third one joined in. “That’s right. The Tyrant …”

“Silence!” yelled the one in front of Nihal, and they all obeyed. “Maybe she’s really a human. There are lots of strange humans in the Land of the Wind.”

Nihal had partly recovered from her amazement. “Who are you and all the rest of these … thingies, like you? What are you doing here?”

The creature looked a bit peeved. “Young lady, I’d beg you to choose your words with more care. We are not ‘thingies.’ We are wood sprites. My name is Phos, and I am the head of the wood sprite community of the Forest. We live here. And what about you? Weren’t you humans supposed to be afraid of the Forest?”

“My name is Nihal; I come from Salazar. I’m here because I want to become a sorceress. I have to undergo a trial.”

“Ahh,” said Phos, with the air of someone who had just understood everything. “You’re one of Soana’s.”

A general murmur of approval rose up from the assembled sprites.

“That means you’re a friend. Soana’s a good human. I have to confess that when we first saw you, we were scared. Not to mention all that racket you made last night!”

With a little pirouette, Phos fluttered closer to Nihal’s ear. “Many of us are survivors of the Tyrant’s persecutions and no longer trust a soul.”

Nihal was beginning to like this funny little creature who acted as if he’d known her forever. “Listen, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I have some food with me. Why don’t you and your friends have breakfast with me?”

Phos and his friends accepted right away. The clearing filled with little voices and laughter. The wood sprites were fluttering all around. Many stopped to give Nihal elaborate thanks. Nihal helped Phos to a cozy seat on her knee.

“So, you’re the head of all the wood sprites.”

“Not precisely. I am not the head of all wood sprites, only of the ones who reside in the Forest. You know, our community is the biggest one in the Overworld. Nowadays, the forests are disappearing as fast as the eye can see, which means death or flight for our kind.”

“But why? Can you only live in the woods?”

“Are you kidding? We
are
the woods! A sprite without a forest is like a fish out of water. Some of our kind have tried to live in other places, even with humans, but they’ve gradually shriveled up—that’s the best way to put it—and died. We can’t survive if we don’t have woods to look at and the smell of trees to breathe. What could be more beautiful than a forest? In the winter you can play hide-and-seek among the branches and sing lullabies to hibernating animals. In the summer the leaves provide shade and you can play in the rain!”

“The Forest looks perfectly healthy to me,” said Nihal.

Phos’s eyes became sad and his ears flopped over like a beaten dog’s. “The Tyrant destroys the woods in the lands he conquers in order to produce weapons. And his lackeys, those wretched Fammin, hate us. They’ve captured many of our kind and forced them to become their jesters. It’s a sad end, you know? We’re free as the air. All we want is a green place to live.”

“I know what you mean. I want to be free, too, and fly from one adventure to the next. …” Nihal pulled herself up. “You know what? I’m a warrior—that is, I’m going to become one—and I’ll fight the Tyrant! I’ll fight for all the wood sprites. I’ll join some army and free you from slavery so you can go back to life in the woods!”

Phos gave her a world-weary look. “That would be nice, but the world as we know it is disappearing. All we can do is hole up here and do our best to defend ourselves.”

The ancient Forest was reflected in Phos’s eyes as he sat cross-legged on Nihal’s knee and gazed off into the distance. Nihal felt strangely connected to the threatened race. For a moment it seemed as if her inner voices were crying out to the wood sprite’s wounded heart.

“Maybe you’re right. But evil cannot always reign. In the future, there will certainly be a place for your people.”

Phos smiled. A moment later he was bright and happy again, as if he’d never uttered those somber words. “So come on, already! Tell us why you’re here. You mentioned a trial.”

“Soana said I have to commune with nature. She needs to know if it accepts me.”

“What do you mean by commune with nature?”

“You know, feel it inside me, feel it flowing through my heart. At least, that’s what I think she means.”

“Is that all? That’s natural for wood sprites.”

“How do you do it?”

“It’s not something you do. You just feel it.”

Discouraged, Nihal threw herself down on the grass. “How will I ever manage? Soana says I have to concentrate, but I can’t. There are so many little noises all around. I can’t help it—I’m so scared!”

Phos burst out laughing. “Scared?”

“Oh, great. I have a problem and you laugh!”

Phos got a hold of himself. “Oh, all right. I like you, and you shared your breakfast with us, so I’ll do what I can to help you. We’ll ask the plants and trees to help you. All you have to do is—what was it you said? Oh, yes. Concentrate.”

Nihal couldn’t thank him enough.

Phos called the wood sprites to his side. When the assembly was finished, Phos gave Nihal a thumbs-up signal.

Silence settled over the clearing.

Nihal crossed to the rock and sat down, ready to concentrate. She had decided that this time, nothing and nobody would distract her.

It was harder than she expected. Even with the help of the wood sprites, it seemed to Nihal as if she could hear nothing but the simple sounds of the woods: the wind blowing through the trees, the flutter of wings, the trickling water of the spring. Then, slowly, she became aware that the sounds contained a hidden music. At first, she thought it was just an impression, a flight of fancy brought on by the exertion of sitting still on the rock. Then the music grew more insistent and it was as if the sounds of nature were following their own melody. The wind blowing through the trees played the part of the upright bass and the drum. The evening dew sounded like a harp as it fell drop by drop into the spring. The twittering of the birds was a voice in song. Even the grass took part. Nihal could hear it grow. Its whisper served as the countermelody to the rest.

That was when Nihal felt the sensation of the rock strong beneath her, and then of the earth itself. She felt their rhythmic pulsing like invisible arteries that flowed through her to the beat of a heart throbbing in every branch.

Nature was speaking cryptic words that Nihal didn’t know, but all the same she understood their hidden meaning. They were saying that all is one and one is all. That everything begins and ends in the beauty of nature. That all the world’s beings are part of the great body of creation.

Nihal felt an immense light flow through her and a warmth embrace her. She felt as if this breathtaking beauty were too much for her heart to withstand and worried she might founder, but then it was as if she were enclosed in motherly arms, which comforted her and taught her that in the midst of all that splendor, each being kept its own identity even as it contributed to the inseparable whole. That’s when she began to travel on the wings of the wind, astride the clouds.

She saw lands of endless forests where everything was a blinding green. Then she felt like she was a blade of grass, a sun-kissed flower unfurling its delicate petals. After that, she was a tree, and she felt her branches penetrate the sky as they craned their leaves into the murmuring winds. She was fruit and fowl, fish and beast, and then, at last, naked earth, from which all seeds receive life and from which all beings come.

In a flash, she felt as if she had understood the meaning of life.

She felt a thousand years old and wise.

She felt as if she’d been born, lived, and died millions of times.

She felt that life would never end.

When Nihal opened her eyes she made a sudden return to earth.

It was darkest night. Sitting motionless on that rock, she’d traveled into the heart of nature. An entire day had passed. She leaned back against the rock, exhausted. Only then did she notice that the wood sprites were sitting in a circle at her feet. Each one let off a faint colored light. In the middle of them all, Phos lay on his stomach, his chin in his hands, and smiled up at her.

“How was it?”

“Amazing.” Nihal’s eyes and heart were still full of wonder.

Phos saw to dinner.

“You sit tight. We’ll find something for you to sink your teeth into,” he said, before disappearing into the foliage with a little herd of sprites. He came back at the head of a group of four of them carrying a cloth by its corners. Inside the cloth was a big bunch of the finest autumn fruits.

After Nihal had devoured the bounty, Phos handed her a bowl containing a clear, thick liquid. “Try this.”

Nihal sniffed it, perplexed.

“Try it. Believe me, it’s delicious and it serves as an aid to recovery after a great effort.”

Nihal took a sip. It really was delicious.

“It’s ambrosia. It’s the resin of the Father of the Forest, the tallest tree here. Not bad, right?”

Nihal drank her fill as Phos and the other wood sprites chattered away. When she finally curled up on the grass with the idea that she’d look at the stars, she fell asleep immediately.

No dreams disturbed her sleep that night.

The next morning she woke feeling completely rested. Phos was beside her, alone.

“Will you be going away today?”

Nihal rubbed her eyes. “I think so. Soana is supposed to come for me.”

“We’re friends now, right?”

“Of course we are!”

“Then I have something for you. It’s a token of our friendship.”

The wood sprite handed her a gem. It was white, but within it glittered thousands of tiny specks of every possible hue. Nihal turned it over and over in her hands as she studied it admiringly.

“It’s a Tear,” Phos explained. “You find these rocks at the foot of the Father of the Forest. They’re formed from dried sap. They are a sort of natural catalyst. They enhance the power of magic spells and make them last longer. I thought this would be a good gift for you, something that will be useful when you become a sorceress. Plus, it’s a sort of emblem. There are trees like the Father of the Forest in all woods, so these Tears are a symbol of our people. Wherever you go, wood sprites will recognize you as a friend.”

“Thank you, Phos. It’s really beautiful.”

Nihal was moved. She would have liked to give something to Phos in return, but she couldn’t think of anything so meaningful. Then she saw her sword, which was still leaning up against the rock. “I don’t have anything so precious to give you,” she said to the wood sprite. “But my sword is the thing I care about most. I’ll have my father melt it and make you a sword that’s just your size.”

Phos flapped his wings enthusiastically. “You’ll see: I’ll learn fencing, and then I’ll be the Overworld’s champion wood-sprite sword-fighter!

They laughed together. Then Phos pricked up his ears.

“Here comes Soana. It’s best that she not see me. She wouldn’t be happy to know I’d helped you.”

He gave Nihal one last smile, then vanished in a flash.

Soana appeared shortly thereafter, Sennar at her side. She was even more beautiful than usual. She had dressed for the occasion in a splendid purple tunic with runes and magic symbols embroidered on it in gold and black. “How did it go?” she asked.

Nihal savored her triumph. “Very well. I communed with nature. It was a fantastic experience.”

Soana smiled enigmatically and gestured to Sennar. “We’ll see.”

The young sorcerer took six rocks out of his bag, laid them out on the ground in a precise pattern, and gathered his mental forces. All of a sudden, six luminous trails appeared to join the rocks together in pairs, thereby forming a star. Then Sennar put his hand over the center of the star and the fire flared up.

Only then did Soana step forward. She closed her eyes and opened her arms wide, her palms held toward the sky. “For the air and the water, for the sea and the sun, for the days and the nights, for the fire and the earth, I invoke you, supreme spirit, so that the soul of my follower will be tempered by the tongues of your flame.”

The fire burned brighter.

Soana opened her eyes and looked intensely at the aspiring student.

“Put your hand in the fire, Nihal.”

Nihal thought she’d misunderstood. “Pardon?”

“I told you to put your hand in the fire,” Soana repeated.

Nihal’s heart missed a beat. “What do you mean, my hand in the …”

“Nihal. Do as I say.”

Soana’s gaze told her she would tolerate no objections. But Nihal’s legs were trembling and her arm refused to move. She found herself closing her eyes and praying desperately that nature had truly accepted her.
All is one and one is all. The fire won’t burn me because it’s part of me and I am part of it
, she repeated to herself as she stretched out her arm. When she felt the flame grow near, she almost lost her nerve. Her mouth was dry and her heart was beating wildly.
All is one and one is all. All is one and one is all. It’s now or never!
Nihal drew in her breath, held back her tears, and stuck her hand in the fire.

No pain. Not even the heat she’d felt moments before.

When she dared open her eyes again, she was amazed. Tongues of flame had wrapped themselves around her hand like a glove.

Then Soana clapped her hands once; the fire dissolved and everything went back to normal.

Nihal looked at her hand in wonder. It was cool and pink.

“A miracle,” she whispered, as if speaking to herself.

“No, it was a magic fire. If you’d lied to me, there’d be charcoal where your hand is.”

Soana put an arm around Nihal’s shoulders. “You did a wonderful job, my student.”

Nihal felt like she’d scored a great victory.

The training period began.

For Nihal it was a tiring but fascinating time. She gradually learned to appreciate magic. Every new spell made her feel more a part of the life force pulsing through everything, of the force she’d felt in the clearing.