The Legend of Nightfall

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Nightfall doubted it mattered if he did or not. A few things he knew for certain. Edward would prove incapable of fighting, let alone winning, a tourney this day. And his conversation the previous night made it clear he could not function, intellectually or emotionally, until his brother’s body found its proper place in its grave beside that of his mother. He would insist on leaving with the funeral procession. Again, Nightfall studied Edward, the lines of anguish that still etched his youthful features, even in sleep, the fetal position he had crunched his huge bulk into in order to find a modicum of rest. Even if Nightfall managed to goad Edward into battle, even should he find the means to make the prince win, it would prove a costly success. He wanted Edward worldly, not broken by reality. The truth came hard. The continent needed a heroic leader whole far more than a vicious demon alive. The duchy would benefit little from a prince battered by circumstance into a lifeless shell unfit to rule.

  Nightfall made the hardest decision of his life. "We’ll accompany the escort back to Alyndar. Princes Edward will forfeit the match."

  Chapter 19

  The Evil One, the demon blight

  Who hides in day and stalks the night.

  He steals the stars and drags them low-

  Darkness comes where Nightfall goes.

  —"The Legend of Nightfall"

  Nursery rhyme, final stanza

  The funeral procession consisted of a dozen armed guards on horseback riding fore and aft of two covered carts, the first containing the jewel- and gold-inlaid box that carried Leyne and the second his belongings. Two emissaries of Shisen drove the former carriage and two guardsmen the latter. The palomino trailed, tethered to the second coach. Prince Edward, Nightfall, and Kelryn rode alongside the caravan, their conversation sparse even toward the end of the month of travel between Tylantis and Alyndar. Edward floated from states of unbearable depression, to giddy story-telling, to sentiment seemingly without pattern or stimulus. Nightfall preferred the times when he told bittersweet tales about his brother and his past. These seemed most normal.

  The procession stopped frequently to ice the body, for supplies, and to rest. Everywhere, the town or village folk met them with honor and pity, free with trite phrases that quickly became more tedious than consoling. The trip bored Nightfall, leaving him with far too much time to consider his decision. He still had a month and a half in which to complete Prince Edward’s landing, but he had run out of possibilities. He had no way to guess- what effect, if any, Leyne’s death might have on his magically enforced task. Clearly, Rikard could have given his youngest son property at any time; according to Leyne, the winning process and the display of responsibility mattered more to the king. Yet, given the circumstances, King Rikard might want to keep his only remaining son safe at home and groom him for the ruling position he might someday take. Surely, the hammer-handed king could not risk sending the only prince away with a vicious murderer now that he had no other heirs. Or did he? Nightfall squinted, knowing little about the passage of titles among royalty.

  The question haunted Nightfall all the way to the borders of Alyndar. As Edward’s lucid moments increased to become the more common norm, Nightfall finally managed to broach the topic without sounding as if he saw Leyne’s death as an opportunity rather than a calamity. The day had dawned fair, the sun strong and clouds rare, a welcome change from the rains that had followed them from Tylantis. Riding between Edward and Kelryn, Nightfall went directly to the heart of the matter. “Master, are you now Alyndar’s crown prince?"

  Edward remained silent for some time, clearly considering. Surely, the thought had to have entered his mind sometime before in the month since Leyne’s death, yet he had no ready answer. "I don’t know. By strict laws of ascension, if my father died without a specified heir, I would become king. But the decision lies with my father. He has the right to choose any noble. I have seven cousins, several of whom are far more worthy than me—"

  Nightfall could not help but interrupt. "No one is more worthy, Master."

  Edward shrugged, taking his squire’s familiar devotion in stride, but Nightfall could see the beginnings of a smile at the corner of the prince’s mouth. "Even after all this time, your loyalty is touching, Sudian." He turned his head to meet the blue-black eyes. "I wish I could tell you how much your company means to me. Aside from my mother, you’re the only person who ever cared about and supported me for what I am, not from duty to my father or personal gain. Without your boldness and sincere faith in me, I’d still be off chasing shadows, accomplishing nothing more than clownishly shaming my family and myself."

  Edward’s eyes brimmed with tears, as they had so many times over the past month; but this time, he cried for other reasons. Reining his horse closer, he caught Nightfall’s wrist. "My causes haven’t changed, nor my need to right the injustices some have suffered since long before my birth. But my paths to those goals have descended from the clouds. Here, in reality, they twist and wind for miles, riddled with mountains and barricades; but we can fight our way through or around those. Effort never daunted me when the cause was right." The grin blossomed until it seemed to light his entire face. He drew his horse closer and clasped Nightfall’s forearm without jerking the rein. "Now that Leyne’s gone, you’re the only true friend I have. I love you, Sudian."

  The words caught Nightfall by surprise, and he choked on the necessary reply, not because he did not share the sentiment but because circumstance stole all meaning from it. Edward had become like a younger brother to him, and the constant need to protect had become far more than forced responsibility or habit. The phrase "I love you" seemed shallow and meaningless to Sudian, a bridge between beatings, a random string of words that hours later might become "I hate you, you worthless spawn of demon seed." Nightfall could not help wondering what about him had changed that so many he considered good people loved him when his own mother never could. "I love you, too." For once, he left off the "master," knowing it would weaken the moment at a time when Edward needed strength. He also left off the usual series of raving compliments. Deception now would only enhance the guilt Nightfall could not escape. He had plundered Edward’s emotions on pretext, and no theft of an object ever seemed as cruel. The friend Edward believed in so staunchly was a slave in magical bondage. The only man who respected the younger Nargol for himself was a lie.

  As the procession arrived at the castle gates, Kelryn rode to Edward’s other side. Citizens followed them through the streets, whispering their observations, as if they might inadvertently awaken the lifeless prince. Guards met the carriages, spoke in earnest with the Shisenian officials, then ushered the coaches and escorts into the courtyard. Alyndarian guards, nobility, and servants approached the carriages with appropriate pomp and dignity, preparing to reclaim their crown prince and his possessions in a ceremony Nightfall and, apparently, Edward had no interest in witnessing. Travel-worn, weary, and broken, the younger prince needed his sleep, and Nightfall found that matter far more urgent. He glanced about the courtyard, now thronged with Alyndarians quietly performing their roles in the bleak formalities.

  Stable hands managed the horses, and Prince Edward, Nightfall, and Kelryn approached the castle entryway on foot. Attentive guards with poleaxes met them at the door, and the taller of the two addressed Edward. "Lord prince, King Rikard asked that you wash up and rest. He’ll meet you in the North Tower chapel later." His glance rolled to Kelryn. "The guest chamber is prepared for your lady friend."

  Edward nodded, and the guard turned his attention to Nightfall. “‘Sudian, the king asked that you go directly to the Great Hall. I’ll escort you."

  The idea of abandoning Edward now raised a dangerous prickle from the oath-bond. He had not seen Gilleran since the murder, and he harbored little doubt the sorcerer had returned here. Nightfall shook his head. "Please tell King Rikard I’ll be along shortly."

  The guardsman’s bushy brows rose high enough to disappear beneath his helmet. "King Rikard requested your presence right
away."

  Nightfall remained composed. "And he will get it, but not before I assist my master."

  The sentry glared. "King Rikard does not care for delays."

  Nightfall ignored the warning. "My duty is to my master the prince, not to the king. If you’ll excuse us." He headed for the open castle door, hoping his movement would naturally sweep Edward and Kelryn along with him.

  The maneuver failed. Though he meant well, Edward said the words Nightfall dreaded. "It’s all right, Sudian. It’s bad to slight a king, especially my father. I’ll do fine without you."

  The oath-bond intensified. Nightfall paused in the doorway, turned, and made a gracious bow to Prince Edward. "With all respect, Master, I am going to tend you first. The king will understand." He stared directly at Edward, hoping his expression conveyed his complete lack of compromise on the matter to the prince rather than the guards.

  Prince Edward opened his mouth to speak, and Kelryn gave him a mild warning kick in the shin. Startled, Edward closed his mouth and glanced at her instead. Kelryn shook her head slightly, then lifted her chin to indicate they should continue forward. Edward took a hesitant step, glanced at Kelryn again, then headed toward the hallway with more confidence. Nightfall and Kelryn trailed him, the magical warning dying.

  The guards exchanged glances that indicated they believed Nightfall had made the wrong decision, but they did not try to stop him or say anything more. They would report their duty done. The blame would fall on Nightfall.

  Prince Edward led Nightfall and Kelryn through a series of corridors and chambers filled with vases, books, and knickknacks Nightfall assessed from habit. They pattered up a spiral staircase to the third story. Polished rings held unlit lanterns at regular intervals, and tapestries lined the spaces between them except where gilded, teak doors broke the continuity. Prince Edward paused before one door that bore the Alyndarian hand and hammer symbol with inset purple gemstones and lowered his head respectfully.

  Nightfall waited for Edward to pay his respects before what was, apparently, Leyne’s bedroom door. After several moments, Edward led his guests to the next room, similarly decorated except for the absence of the jewels. He pushed open the door to reveal a vast sleeping chamber that could have held all of the inn rooms they had stayed in on their travels. A wooden frame supported a bed piled high with mattresses and feathered pillows, topped by a colorful quilt with fringes dangling to the floor. Though simple in design, the four posts had been meticulously sanded so that they reflected the light from two high-arched windows into perfect patterns. The room also contained a desk, chair, chest, dressing table and closet, all obviously made by the same craftsman who created the bed frame. The table held an assortment of brushes, combs, and bottles; and a mirror lined the wall above it. Several rugs covered the wooden floor, as intricate as the tapestries wealthy men used to decorate their walls. "My room," he explained unnecessarily.

  Prince Edward did not enter. Instead, he continued one door farther down the hallway, opening it to reveal a chamber nearly as large and well-furnished as his own. “Will these quarters suit you, Lady?"

  At his side, Kelryn stared in openmouthed silence. For a moment, Nightfall feared she might reply that it would suit her entire village. Instead, she nodded dumbly, the words following only after a strained pause. "Very well. Thank you, Ned."

  Edward turned to Nightfall. "And you—"

  Nightfall did not allow Edward to finish. "—will stay with you, Master.”

  Edward’s features bunched and crinkled. Obviously, he had planned to say something completely different. "That’s not necessary, Sudian. There’s plenty of room for you."

  That seemed gross understatement, but also senseless. The amount of space in the castle had nothing at all to do with his choice of sleeping site. "I will stay with you, Master.’” He emphasized the inarguable finality of the statement with tone and expression.

  Edward made a gesture of dismissal. “Go see my father, as he requested. We can talk about this later."

  Nightfall made no move to obey. As usual, his need to tend to security overrode his obedience to Edward’s command. "Your safety comes first, Master, your father’s wants a distant second."

  “Safety?" Still in the guest room doorway, Edward studied his squire. "You’re being ridiculous, Sudian. I’m home. There’s no danger here."

  Nightfall would not budge. "Where you feel most secure, you are in the most danger. No place is certain sanctuary."

  "Disobedience to my father, the king, could make all the dangers in Alyndar seem harmless." A sharp edge entered Edward’s tone. "You’re acting foolishly."

  Nightfall shrugged. "Master, I would rather leave you angry at me than dead. I will stay with you. And, until I return from my meeting with the king, you must promise me you won’t leave your room nor open the door for anyone but Kelryn."

  "What?" Edward’s eyes widened. Clearly, he meant the word as an exclamatory rather than a question. "What nonsense is this?"

  "Master, my only concern is your safety. I will not go until I’ve assured that."

  Kelryn stepped in, placing a hand on Edward’s upper arm. “There’s no use fighting it, Ned. He won’t give up, and he means well. The sooner you agree, the less time passes to upset the king." She smiled sweetly. “I’ll stay with you while he’s gone, so you won’t get bored."

  Clearly flustered by the touch, Edward lost the will to argue. Surely, boredom had little to do with his reasons for disagreeing, but to deny it meant losing Kelryn’s company. "Very well. Now go. If you keep my father waiting much longer, even I can’t stay his wrath. Go. Go on."

  Trusting Edward in Kelryn’s hands, Nightfall obeyed, without suffering any discomfort from the oath-bond. However, he knew a different sort of pain, a deep sadness at the growing bond between Kelryn and Edward. Logic told him that if he truly loved the dancer he would want the best possible life for her. With the prince of Alyndar, she would have that, as well as an ally to share her grief when Gilleran stole his soul. Nightfall headed back up the hallway to the stairs. It seemed the perfect situation for Kelryn, one only chance could arrange. Not only would Edward treat her as kindly as any man could, but he would do so with love and respect. He could give her everything, including the one thing no one else could: positive memories of the demon the whole world otherwise hated.

  Yet, despite all of these things, Nightfall headed down the winding staircase with a heart that felt heavy as lead. It made no difference that he would do so willingly and to an opponent far more worthy; giving up the woman he loved ached within him, a burden rather than a choice.

  Once at the base of the stairs, Nightfall navigated the corridors to Alyndar’s Great Hall from memory. The walk turned his thoughts from Kelryn to considerations about the king’s motivation for meeting with him. Many possibilities filled his mind, from benign to ridiculous. He discarded all but the most plausible. It made sense that King Rikard would choose to listen to Nightfall’s version of the events of the past several months as being nearer reality than Edward’s. Yet, it seemed to Nightfall that propriety must dictate Rikard discuss matters with his son first. More likely, King Rikard he longer found a need for Nightfall’s services. Reality had stolen enough of Edward’s naive exuberance to allow normal tutors to work with him, and Rikard could no longer give all his direction to his elder son. Kings tended to dispose of what no longer aided or amused them.

  Nightfall’s steps slowed at the realization, but he did not falter. This time, running and hiding would not save him. The oath-bond would take him in either instance. At least, if he reasoned with Rikard, he might have a small chance to rescue life as well as soul. At the worst, he trusted his ability to incite enough to believe he could goad king or guards to kill him before the oath-bond took him.

  Four sentries with spears and swords stood in front of the massive door that opened onto the courtroom of King Rikard the Hammer-handed. These stepped aside as Nightfall approached. One addressed him. “Sudian,
Edward’s squire?"

  Nightfall nodded, though he suspected the question came from routine formality. Surely, every guard in Alyndar had learned his description.

  "The king has been expecting you." The sentry emphasized the word "has" to indicate a long, impatient wait. He pushed the door ajar.

  Nightfall bobbed his head to indicate understanding. Without wasting more time with words, he pressed inside the courtroom and trotted briskly down the carpeted pathway between rows of benches and toward the high-backed chair that served as Rickard’s throne. To Nightfall’s relief, the chancellor’s chair beside the seated king stood empty. The spectators’ benches held no people. The only other occupants of the chamber were a dozen attentive guardsmen spread along walls festooned with paintings and tapestries. Volkmier, the competent, red-haired chief of prison guards who had threatened Nightfall after his fall from the parapets, held a position near the front of the room at the king’s left hand.

  Nightfall took his cues from Rikard and Volkmier. The king sat with rigid alertness, his gray-flecked brown curls in mild disarray and his fur-trimmed robe wrinkled. Nightfall suspected the lapses in demeanor had less to do with slovenliness than an unwillingness to steal time or regard from more important matters. The dark eyes told all, hard with a steely gleam that offered no kindness or mercy. Clearly, he had not called Nightfall only to request news of the past months.

  Volkmier’s stance seemed as unyielding as Rikard’s expression, though Nightfall guessed he echoed the king’s mood from duty or concern rather than any suspicions of his own. Kelryn had seen through his disguise, but she had known him as no one else but Dyfrin could. Surely, if King Rikard told anyone about the oath-bond, he would select a chief among his guards; but Nightfall felt certain Gilleran would convince him to keep the arrangement fully secret. Even without the sorcerer’s input, it seemed foolish to discuss such a dangerous matter with anyone.