The Legend of Nightfall

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  "I’ve noticed that." Prince Edward glanced back to Kelryn, excited by his observation. "Why is that?" His words disappeared into an uncomfortably long hush. The song of night insects seemed to grow impossibly loud.

  "I don’t know that he would want anyone to know this . . ."

  Nightfall crouched deeper into the darkness, attentive, locked into one strategy. If he retaliated for Kelryn’s revelations, he would add credence to them. The only sensible response would be to remain in place, listening for the details so he could consider ways to counter her lies and truths.

  Kelryn continued. "I told you our families were close, but I didn’t say why. Sudian never knew his father, and his mother had no interest in or experience with raising children. She was an only child, too, I think."

  Nightfall listened intently. He had avoided talking about his childhood, even with Kelryn, and had told her only that he had no father and his relationship with his mother was less than ideal. His love for Kelryn had made him want to discuss happier details and confess the deepest, darkest secrets about himself; but he had avoided the sore specifics.

  The insect chorus rose and fell in cycles. Prince Edward stretched into a more comfortable position, attention fully focused on Kelryn. "He had a bad mother? That makes him not trust?" Edward struggled for the connection.

  Kelryn tried to supply it. "Many times, he’d come to our cottage limping or too bruised to play or sit. Once, I remember, he couldn’t use an arm for months. Lots of nights, he’d sleep with us or out in the streets or in a field somewhere. He never said so, but I’m sure his mother would send him away or beat him when she got upset. And we were all poor, even with a Papa to earn money, so there was lots to get upset about."

  The story disturbed Nightfall, hitting too close to the truth. Kelryn’s intentions still eluded him. It made little sense for her to talk about him rather than flirt with her victim, and she had so far managed only to evoke pity. Perhaps she did not realize that Edward’s drive to help the downtrodden would only make him more sympathetic to the plight she had described.

  "Oh, poor Sudian." Edward lowered his head, clearly sorry. "I didn’t know.”

  "And that’s probably for the best." Kelryn shifted, but Nightfall could not quite tell if she had touched the prince’s hand or only made a soothing gesture. "I don’t usually like lying, but I wouldn’t tell him that you know. I think compassion and understanding make him uncomfortable, for the same reason as trust." She returned to the original question. "Whenever I saw her with him, his mother was always loving and merciful. It seemed like she was constantly apologizing for something, and she probably was. So, anyway, I think Sudian associates comforting with hitting. And caring with betrayal. So he doesn’t trust anyone." She added quickly, "Except you, apparently. You must be really special."

  Nightfall let the words wash over him, wondering how she had come so close. Not since Dyfrin had taken young Nightfall under his tutelage had anyone managed to guess so many details about his past. He could not help considering her explanation for his behavior, though he discarded it. He hated pity because it did not suit the strong and private person he had become, and he associated caring with betrayal because the two went hand in hand. It seemed eerie to hear the words in the voice of one who had reinforced the truth of the concept, she who had pretended to love then turned him over to a sorcerer instead. It only proved that she had known and fully understood the cruelties she inflicted upon him, and she had no shame or conscience.

  Kelryn’s explanation seemed to lose Edward, like a poorly crafted story with roots so outlandish even a child could not believe. "I couldn’t imagine hitting anyone. How could a mother batter her own son?"

  Kelryn shrugged. "Don’t expect me to defend her. But I know from others that, when you’re trying to feed and fend for self and family with no means to raise money except to sell yourself to strangers in front of children you hope will fare better than yourself but probably won’t, a woman can get terribly mad and frustrated. Hit a stranger, and he hits back. Hit your own child, and he still has to love and depend on you."

  "This happens often?"

  "I doubt it. But I don’t think Sudian is completely alone in this either."

  Nightfall could imagine the light shining in Edward’s innocent, blue eyes at the thought of a new cause to champion. To one who saw evil in slavery and striking of servants by masters, the thought of adults beating children had to burn like a brand. He waited for the prince’s rallying call, the endless stream of committed words he could never translate into action. For the first time since he had seen Kelryn again, he smiled. Though hardly the worst he could wish on her, he appreciated that she would suffer through one of Edward’s long, rambling tirades.

  But the prince did not speak. Instead, he sat in a pensive silence, apparently considering all aspects of the problem for the first time. Despite the darkness, position and attitude told Nightfall that consideration, not shock, kept the prince uncharacteristically quiet. The disruption of the relationship between mother and child put the slave and servant beatings into a new perspective. Surely, Nightfall’s story about slaves shunning freedom only added to the frenzy of thought taking form in Edward’s head. No easy resolution here, at least not to a prince dedicated to goodness, right, and fairness to all.

  To Nightfall, however, the solution came in a rush. In the past, he had tried to deal with, deny, or forget the ugliness that was a theory to Edward but an existence to him. Never before had he pressed forward to find an answer for other children in a similar quandary. Now it seemed obvious. The moment she chose to hit him, his mother had lost the privilege of raising a child. He should have run; or, better yet, some adult should have spirited him away to a farm where the hardship of more mouths to feed became balanced by more hands to tend the chores. He would have missed his mother’s love, but he would have traded it for that of another who did not temper her affection with pain. As a bonus, he would have had a father and siblings and responsibilities that gained him praise as well as punishment. To consider the needs or feelings of the battering mother made no sense to him. Her intermittent love for him was no justification for the thing she had made him into, for the innocent lives he had taken with little remorse.

  Nightfall pushed his own ideas aside, wondering how much had come from his speculation about Edward’s thoughts. He could no longer blame his spree of murder on his mother; his own hand had wielded every weapon.

  Kelryn changed the direction of the conversation, if not its subject. "Whatever he suffered as a child, Sudian’s a good man. I only ever needed to mention a problem to him, and he handled it for me every time. Those he cares for, he cares for well."

  Only Nightfall understood the understatement. The few men who dared to manhandle Kelryn had quietly disappeared, never known to be victims of the demon. Over time, Kelryn had become cautious about her complaints, making certain to hastily add, "But he’s a nice person. I like him," when she feared he might take action with a punishment beyond the scope of the crime.

  “He’s certainly done well by me," Edward returned absently, thoughts still apparently on the previous topic.

  Kelryn rose. "I need to head home. I’ve got practice in the morning. Thank you for a pleasant evening.”

  Prince Edward leapt to his feet, youth lending him a grace that nearly matched Kelryn’s. "I’ll walk you back. The streets aren’t safe for a beautiful, young lady out alone at night."

  "Beautiful?" Kelryn took the first few steps, the agile movement adding to her loveliness. "Thank you. That means so much coming from a handsome man used to women of high breeding."

  "All the cosmetics and perfumes in the world can’t give a woman the natural radiance you possess."

  Kelryn lowered her head modestly, her smile visible even through the night.

  The maudlin, stilted line nauseated Nightfall, but the image even more so. As much as he hated the thought, the prince and the dancer looked good together.

  Chapter 1
4

  Three kings and their armies rode

  To hunt the demon in the cold;

  But where they’ve gone, no mortal knows.

  Darkness comes where Nightfall goes.

  —"The Legend of Nightfall"

  Nursery rhyme, alternative verse

  The dance hall looked familiar in the moonlight, its many wings jutting like insect legs into the night. Nightfall watched Prince Edward and Kelryn amble toward the main doorway, still discussing him, though the theme had changed from his history to his personality. They talked about his loyalty, generosity, and the honesty that bordered on brutality. The description seemed so opposite the usual hatred and grudging respect applied to him, he repeatedly suspected they had switched topics. But always, just as he became certain he had missed a reference, he recognized the name "Sudian" or a specific that could only apply to himself. All of the examples they used were true, the motivations they ascribed to him far less so. Prince Edward always found the best in anyone, and it bothered Nightfall that Kelryn seemed sometimes to know him better than he knew himself.

  Despite his discomfort and the rage that waned only slightly with time, Nightfall remained aware of all sound and movement around him. As they passed the dancers’ quarters, something seemed amiss or, at least, different from his inspection earlier that evening. A brief study from a distance brought him the early details he sought. The painted-closed shutters to Kelryn’s window seemed changed in contour, and he caught a glimpse of fragments of a shiny substance on the ground beneath it. While the prince and dancer headed for the entrance, Nightfall crept up for a closer inspection.

  As Nightfall drew nearer, he recognized glass shards sparkling like dew amid the grass spears. He frowned at the oddity. Even castle glass was rarely thin enough to allow a clear view, and the thicker, more poorly made the pane, the more difficult to break. The dance hall windows had seemed particularly shoddy on first scrutiny. Also, the pieces seemed oddly shaped for glass: tiny droplets that clung to the greenery, long dribbles that dangled through the shutters, and flat oblong chunks that seemed more to have coalesced than to have shattered. Alert, he slunk to the window and picked up a particle. It felt slick and dry, just as he expected from glass, though colder to the touch than the late spring air could explain. Now, too, he saw the shutter. The bottom right corner had broken, and chunks of wood interspersed with the glass in similar patterns. Dribbles of glass striped his vision, closing off a hole large enough to admit a person.

  Dread began as a gnawing in Nightfall’s gut, growing into a pain fed by his own concern as well as the oath-bond. The image of the horse’s head splintering near the swamp filled his mind’s eye and could not be suppressed. Ritworth’s spell had left gore in patterns no mortal weapon could have reaped. Patterns like the shutter and the window.

  Agony swept over Nightfall, nearly paralyzing him. He glanced at Prince Edward and Kelryn, just in time to watch the main door swing closed. Too late. Nightfall knew that by the time he caught up, raced inside, and fought his way past the guards, anything could have happened. If the Iceman had squeezed through, Nightfall could do so as well. He might more easily assess the danger from the window than the door; surely whatever trap Ritworth might have set would 'spring so as to catch someone entering in a normal fashion. He just had to hope he could appraise the situation and remedy or warn in time. His fear washed cold at the realization that neither he nor Edward had carried obvious weaponry to dinner. The two remaining throwing daggers he had secreted on his person would have to suffice.

  Nightfall crouched, gradually rising until he could just peer through the window. Across the room, the door remained closed. The dresser/table filled the corner nearest it. The largest pieces of the swan lay piled on its center, the splinters and shards around them. Beside it perched a glass decanter of a grayish, translucent liquid that he guessed might be a watery glue. The matching chair rested slightly askew, a dress folded neatly over its back. The bed lay flush with the wall to Nightfall’s right. To his left, he caught a poorly angled view of the inset closet, barely able to make out the edges of fabric from garments set within it. Nightfall frowned. Nothing seemed specifically out of place, which only made him more uncomfortable. Magical ambushes he would not necessarily see; and, if Ritworth wove his danger in the hallway, Nightfall might already be too late. He raised his head fully for a more direct view. At that moment, the door lock clicked open. Something inside the closet moved.

  Standing outside the door to Kelryn’s chambers, Prince Edward could not recall having enjoyed a night more. Their conversation did not matter. Her attentiveness to his words and genuine interest had spurred his emotions as few other things could. Since his mother’s death, his every conversation seemed to elicit only servant-loyal boredom or disdain from his brother or father. Kelryn had attended his words with a brightness that revealed fascination, and he clung to her words just as tightly. And, always, the image of Kelryn’s smoothly rounded curves remained burned in his memory. He had never seen a woman naked before, except in art, and the painters and weavers had never captured the perfect reality of breasts and thighs. The mental picture drove Edward to the need to chisel the female form from marble, to capture the beauty no previous artisan had managed.

  Kelryn jerked the key from the lock, pocketed it, and shoved the bolt aside. She turned to face Edward before opening the panel. "Thank you so much for the dinner and the company. Please tell Sudian good night for me, too."

  "The company was my pleasure as well." Prince Edward pushed open the door to allow Kelryn access. It admitted a bar of light from candles in sconces in the hallway. Movement caught Edward’s attention at once. A man unfolded a long, lean frame from the closet inset, the sorcerer’s face sparking instant recognition.

  "You’re dead, boy!" Ritworth’s arm arched, and he grumbled the familiar, sour syllables of his ice spell.

  Prince Edward shoved Kelryn aside and grabbed for the chair, moving from the hips first as his fight instructor taught. In situations requiring instant evasion, that part of the body tended to lag. Still, he doubted he could outmaneuver magic. As quickly, Kelryn pulled a tie at her throat. Her dress dropped to the floor in a rumpled heap, revealing flimsy undergarments that somehow made her seem more naked than flesh alone.

  Her maneuver obviously surprised Ritworth, who hesitated just long enough for Edward to seize and hurl the chair.

  The sorcerer dodged and swore as he finished the casting. Magic swept the desktop, an unfocused slash of light that flung swan shards to the floor. The chair grazed Ritworth’s shoulder, staggering him, then crashed against the window with enough force to shatter both. Splinters and chunks rained, thunking to the floor amid the higher pitched slam and rattle of glass. From outside, a dagger whizzed by Ritworth’s chin. The hilt bounced from Kelryn’s arm, then it clattered to the hallway floor. Suddenly filled with ice, the decanter exploded, flinging slivers and triangles of glass. Kelryn screamed. A guard’s answering shout floated from down the hallway, and feet pounded the wooden floor, headed in their direction.

  Kelryn shrieked again and again, exploding into a mindless, berserk panic that seemed all the more crazed for her calm diversion a moment earlier.

  Though he noticed the change, Prince Edward did not waste time assessing damage. The sorcerer had come for him, and any attempt to console or aid Kelryn would only place her in the line of fire. The sooner he dispatched Ritworth, the safer they all became. He charged the Iceman, fragments of swan, decanter, and window crunching beneath his boots.

  The sorcerer caught his balance just in time to notice the danger rushing down on him. He twisted, casting, the need to dodge stealing accuracy. Ice sprayed from his fingertips and sparkled like dust motes in the room’s center, a clean miss. Hoping to prevent the harsh vocalizations that seemed necessary for the spell, Edward drove a punch into the sorcerer’s throat that doubled him over. Seizing Ritworth’s neck in one hand and a leg in the other, he hurled the sorcerer toward the wa
ll.

  Ritworth sailed through the air, grunting guttural noises that were not quite words. He flapped. A hand’s breadth from the wall, he swerved abruptly, flying toward the broken window at a speed that sent him crashing through the last clinging shards of glass and wood. Just outside, he collided with a man, and both collapsed in a heap to the dirt. Edward ran to the window. As he peered through, blood splashed his face from the battle outside. He recoiled, wiping it from his eyes. By the time he looked again, Ritworth was soaring for the sky. Nightfall crouched amid a puddle of broken glass and ruptured shutters, shards sparkling in his red-brown hair. He clutched a dagger flecked with the sorcerer’s blood.

  "Sudian?" Surprised by the presence of his squire, Prince Edward reached through the opening to give assistance.

  A man spoke from the doorway. "What’s going on?"

  Edward turned his head, arm still extended. A hefty guard waited just outside, wearing dance hall red and black livery, hand tensed on the hilt of his short sword.

  Kelryn cowered in a corner, using her dress as a shield and sobbing uncontrollably. Blood trickled from her leg.

  "Did this man hurt you‘?" The guard indicated the prince by inclining his head.

  Widened eyes locked on the window through which Ritworth had disappeared, Kelryn shook her head. Relaxing slightly, she managed speech. "Prince Edward of Alyndar? Dear Father, no. He saved my life." She managed a smile for Edward that made him feel warm from chin to knees, though the obvious pain in her tone bothered him. "A stranger attacked us. A sorcerer. He fled through the window."

  Nightfall chose that moment to crawl into the room, ignoring Edward’s proffered hand.

  The guard stiffened, drawing his sword. "Is this the one?"