Mickey Zucker Reichert

by The Legend of Nightfall

  Edward took a seat on the log by the fire, starting in on the breakfast Nightfall had arranged. He stopped with a bite of cheese halfway to his lips. "Did you want to test it first?"

  "Master, I’ve done that already."

  "Fine." Edward put the food in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Aren’t you going to eat?"

  Thinking it wiser not to confess that he had already done so, Nightfall accepted an apple and munched slowly. The warmth of the fire made a pleasant contrast to the morning breeze. Fully risen, the sun beamed through layers of needles. Comfortably full of rich bread and fruit and reasonably well rested, Nightfall felt content. Perhaps the king did do me a favor. The thought raised a sudden, goading stab from the oath-bond. Now all I have to do is figure out a way to get this child some land. Aware Edward did not like being questioned, Nightfall turned his query into a statement. "I was wondering where we were headed."

  Edward tore a chunk from his bread, kneading it between his fingers. "East," he said. "We’re headed East."

  Since Alyndar occupied the western most tip of the Yortenese Peninsula, the direction seemed obvious. "Well, I was just wondering if we had a certain place in mind. A city? A barony‘?"

  "No." Edward clutched his bread, his gaze becoming distant. “We’ll go where the winds take us, spreading goodness where we can, enlightening the ignorant to the Father’s greatness, to the dignity and worth of all men and women."

  Nightfall rolled his eyes. What star are you from? "I thought our mission was to get you landed."

  "That’s secondary.” Edward put the bread into his mouth.

  To you, maybe. Nightfall was beginning to remember why the king’s oath-bond was anything but a favor. Ned, would it save you any trouble if I just went mad right now? “Master, forgive my ignorance. But l always thought a king’s son was given land."

  Prince Edward swallowed. "My brother, Leyne, is the crown prince. He inherits everything.”

  "That’s more land than any one man can handle. Can’t he share?"

  "That’s not how it’s done."

  "Oh." The ways of royalty made little sense. To have so much, yet still not enough for his brother. Nightfall understood that men’s greed and covetousness expanded to cover all that they had, apparently no matter whether it was a crumb or a kingdom.

  "My mother always planned for me to become part of Leyne’s household as a scholar. But Father believes I should prove myself worthy by winning land of my own." Prince Edward rose, holding the bread slice in one hand and drawing his sword with the other.

  Nightfall skittered out of the way.

  Caught up in his own heroics, Edward no longer seemed to notice his squire. He raised the blade in a salute to the gods. "And I would have it no other way. The kingdom of Alyndar has many brilliant thinkers, Father’s wisdom, and Leyne’s talent with words and weapons. Somewhere . . .” He gestured with the sword to indicate the world. “. . . out there is a kingdom, a barony, perhaps only a village that needs a leader like me."

  Nightfall crouched, heart still pounding from the prince’s sudden lunge with a drawn blade. You mean, I presume, a kingdom starved for buffoonery.

  Prince Edward sat, returning his attention to his bread. "Sudian, prepare my destrier!”

  "At once, master." As soon as I figure out what, in hell’s confines, is a destrier. Nightfall traced Edward’s gaze to the grazing horses. Ah.

  Quickly Nightfall set to work saddling and bridling the white and the bay, then lashing Edward’s personal gear to the rump of his riding gelding. He tied the pack full of necessities to his own bay. Then he placed the remaining weighty trinkets onto the chestnut, binding them haphazardly in the hope that they would disappear during the ride. He tied the spade on the top of the chestnut’s gear. With all this equipment, we couldn’t outrun a pregnant turtle. Checking the spade’s binding one more time, he loosened it and turned back to the prince.

  "Ready, Master," he said.

  Unwilling to trust the whims of the wind, Nightfall unobtrusively steered Prince Edward toward Nemix, the first large city in the area and one in which he had a strong chain of contacts. The maneuver proved easier than he ever expected. Caught up in the scenery and his own grandiose ideals, Edward did not seem to notice when they detoured past the villages of Quant and Rankelle nor when the spade slid from the top of the chestnut’s stack and tumbled to the dirt. Quietly, Nightfall edged them from one set of trails to the other, traversing one of many familiar routes from Alyndar to Nemix. At this rate, we may get t0 Nernix before dusk.

  At least, the bruises and stiffness from the previous day taught Edward something. He made frequent stops to eat and urinate, using each to work the kinks from his muscles or search the heavens for information about time and direction. At each stop, Nightfall unobtrusively jettisoned a few more objects from the unnecessary items packs, tossing them deep into the woods to keep from leaving a trail of gear and niceties for footpads to follow.

  Late morning, a rustling in the tall brush by the roadside caught Nightfall’s eye. Weed tops bowed and danced, revealing something’s winding, awkward path. A muffled groan sifted through the grasses, nearly lost beneath the rattle of stalks and the clop of hooves on roadway. He reined back, then threaded behind Edward to interpose himself between prince and unidentified creature, hoping to manage a close but unobtrusive look. He wanted to determine the best course of action, ignore or intervene, before Edward discovered the presence and made the decision for them.

  Before Nightfall could swing his bay fully around, the white gelding jarred to a sudden stop. Its head jerked to the stirring weeds, and its ears swiveled forward into nervous triangles.

  Edward tapped the gelding with his heels. When that failed, he kicked with the angry impatience of one accustomed to having orders obeyed swiftly. The horse paid no heed to the drumming on its sides, attention still riveted.

  "A moment, Master." No longer able to avoid the situation, Nightfall dismounted and approached the roadside. Delicately, alert for ambush, he parted the weeds.

  A man rolled in the ditch, wrists and ankles trussed and his cloak pulled over his head. He wore leather breeks and a well-fitting tunic with fringe. The needlework at the collar suggested wealth, and the supple skin of his palms and fingers made it clear he did not toil or fight for a living. Nightfall took his cues from other details. White striped the base of each fourth finger; apparently, he had worn rings until recently. A tunic pocket hung, torn and turned inside out. Starting bruises mottled the skin of his arms.

  "Oh, dear," Edward said.

  Nightfall hauled the cloak free, revealing an angular face fringed with tangled, honey-colored hair and a neatly trimmed beard. A grimy wad of cloth filled the stranger’s mouth, and he stared at Nightfall with brown eyes that seemed relieved and angered at once. The man grunted.

  Nightfall seized an edge of the gag, then hauled it from the stranger’s mouth. It unwound into a sodden ribbon.

  The man spat the remainder free. "Robbed and attacked. Five men. They took everything.”

  The gelding danced backward. Edward tugged at the reins to regain control. "When?"

  The man sat, raising his arms for Nightfall to cut the bonds. “Moments ago. They rode that way." He inclined his head in the direction they had been traveling. "Over-heard one of the dirty bastards say they were headed for Nemix." He gazed up at Edward. Apparently noticing the royal garb for the first time, he added, "Noble sir. They took-"

  Prince Edward did not wait to hear more. He jerked the gelding’s head about, then slapped the end of the reins across its rump. The horse surged forward, galloping in the direction the man had indicated.

  Nightfall swore, dashing from the ditch to his horse in an instant. He ignored the shouts of the still-bound man behind him. Surely Edward wouldn’t attack five highwaymen alone. Nightfall flung himself into the saddle and urged the bay into a run as he settled in place. The horse lurched, delayed by the chestnut packhorse tied to its saddle. Then, both
horses pitched forward, hooves chewing rents in the dirt. King Rikard’s descriptions of his impulsive son returned to haunt Nightfall. He would attack five highwaymen alone. The realization turned the oath-bond into a shrill scream of pain. Nightfall stiffened, natural dexterity all that kept him from tumbling from the horse. The need seized him to charge ahead, hacking at bandits like a wild thing, interposing himself between the prince and any blow he might need to fend. He wrestled for common sense. Imitating the prince’s noble but reckless stupidity would only see them both dead.

  The rump of the white gelding bounced over the roadway. Topping a rise, it disappeared over the far side. Nightfall could hear Edward shouting challenges, his words indecipherable but his presence and beacon horse enough to catch the attention and spur the avarice of any thief.

  Thought kicked in beneath the oath-bond’s urging. Guile, not brute force, would rescue Prince Edward from his own rash yearning for fairness. The knots and cloak-binding had seemed the work of professionals. If they had let their victim overhear plans to run for Nemix, then they had no intention of actually doing so. Which means they’re probably holed up here. Understanding accompanied idea. Impressions rerouted, he saw the territory in a different light. The perfect hiding place seemed to fill his vision, the forest on the rise. On the right side of the road, it fell away to a dry riverbed. The high ground would serve as a lookout perch, the low as a shelter from elements and prying eyes. Nightfall guessed they had chosen their robbery site deliberately.

  The assessment flashed through Nightfall’s mind in an instant. He pulled up his horse, and it danced to a stop, plowing furrows through leaf mold and mud. Likely, the sentinel would have his attention focused on Prince Edward, and Nightfall’s antics farther down the path would go unnoticed. He would have to take a chance on that assumption. There was no time for more detailed strategy. Dismounting, he left the horses to graze and slipped into the right—hand forest area. Tied together, the horses would not stray.

  Nightfall moved swiftly through the forest, nearly in silence, hoping Edward’s calls would cover whatever few sounds he made. He kept his weight low to minimize noise. Sticks bent rather than cracked beneath his step, and stems brushed effortlessly aside. Within a few paces, he found smashed weeds, mulched leaves, and fragmented limbs. Strands of mane hair dangled from a jagged edge of bark. Someone had cut through the denseness of the forest, and no regular traveler would have need to break trail here. Encouraged, Nightfall pushed on. Shortly, he heard voices, soft and indecipherable through foliage rattled by wind and activity. Nightfall sucked in a deep breath. The nagging stab of the oath-bond reminded him that he had no room for failure; he had tethered life and soul to a royal, but suicidal, clod.

  Nightfall gauged his motions, increasing his weight and dropping his usual caution, trying to sound like a small group of men slipping past. He spoke in a loud whisper. "Think Hira’s being a bit too obvious what with that white horse, a pack that looks stuffed, and all that shouting?"

  Nightfall altered his voice as much as the slight volume allowed. "Thieves got more greed than brains. Caught that group near Delfor with a soldier as loud as Hira." Nightfall referred to an incident in which a group of young amateurs was imprisoned. He doubted an organized setup was involved, but it seemed unlikely these men would know more details than the scant few he had at his disposal. "Quiet victims sometimes get missed, no matter how good a target."

  Nightfall veered deeper into the forest. He could think of no better strategy for the thieves now than to lie low; but he rarely trusted others’ judgment. If they saw him alone, he knew of no easy way to save himself or Prince Edward. That line of thinking raised the stress of the oath-bond, sending its warning through him in crippling waves. His hand slid naturally to the throwing daggers, and memory bullied its way past magic. Since childhood, Nightfall and Dyfrin had played a game they called "dagger catch" in which they flung knives at one another in turn. Early on, they had used wooden blades and made certain to grab each other’s attention before striking. Later, they had hurled live steel with lethal aim. Luck and, later, skill had spared them any serious injuries. Nightfall had even learned not just to dodge, but to snatch the daggers from the air and return them instantly, a maneuver Dyfrin hatefully nicknamed "the razor rebound." Now, Nightfall knew, his ability might serve him well, but he dared not rely on it. Trees and Edward would foil his aim, and it seemed far more intelligent for the thieves to either avoid them completely or close in for a fight.

  Nightfall continued his charade. "I presume there’s horses‘?" He answered his own nonspecific question in a different voice. "The ranks up ahead have them, in case the thieving bastards make a run for Nemix. But it doesn’t much matter. Soon’s they hit the bait, we’ve got them." He switched to a throaty bass, "Pretty embarrassing if they rob Hira clean and break away." Nightfall returned to the first voice. "At least we’ll get a look at them. And they won’t get nothing. The most valuable thing Hira’s got is the clothes on him."

  Nightfall doubled back, taking the first steps slowly and quietly, then concentrating more on speed. He found the horses grazing the roadside ditch and clambered onto the bay. He kicked it into a lope, studying the forests with an exaggerated scrutiny. Likely, the highwaymen would not risk the trap Nightfall had detailed for a single purse. If he stayed calm and followed Edward at a cautious distance, they would take him for a member of the hunt.

  The ruse brought Nightfall safely past the hidden thieves. He caught up with Edward by midday. Apparently, the prince had stopped his mount to wait for his squire. Sweat sheened the prince’s forehead, and foam bubbled along his horse’s coat. "Ah, there you are, Sudian! Afraid I’d lost you." Edward glanced up the pathway, apparently planning to continue the chase.

  Though eager to reach Nemix, Nightfall believed it I wiser to cool his charge’s ire first. A calm, leisurely journey, with no hope of catching criminals or dealing justice, seemed just the trick. "I’m sorry, Master. My horse came up lame." He reined to a full stop, though Edward frowned in irritation. "I pulled a sharp stone from the left forehoof. It’s just a bruise, but it could turn into worse if we keep this pace."

  Surely Edward had never cleaned a hoof in his life, yet he had, apparently, learned enough from books and tutors to understand the danger. A single unsound hoof rendered a horse useless. "Do we need to camp?" he asked with obvious reluctance.

  "I don’t believe so, Master. I think she’ll do fine at a steady walk." And that still ought to get us to beer and shelter by sunset.

  Prince Edward patted his gelding’s withers, drawing back a hand sticky with foam. "They could all use a rest, I suppose. We’ll never catch those thieves now. We’ll just have to ride back and ask the stranger to describe them so we can turn in their descriptions to the constabulary in Nemix."

  Turn back? Shocked, Nightfall did not have an immediate reply. The idea of repeating the same trip endlessly became a nagging frustration. The oath-bond had settled back into its regular buzz, and Nightfall dreaded that it might flare again when they rode past the thieves a second time. "Master, I can save us the trip. The stranger told me he didn’t see his attackers. They pulled the cloak over his head too quickly." No such conversation had ensued, but Nightfall suspected he told the truth anyway. “Understandably, he was eager to be on his way. He’s probably halfway home by now."

  Edward frowned, glancing back the way they had come. "Perhaps he could describe some item they took from him, something we could watch for."

  Nightfall considered the best means to save travel time and to get the matter dropped. Edward’s heroic persistence had already become annoying. He could imagine the prince confronting and questioning every group of five he saw or spending months searching for a fictitious object. "Master, he told me they only took his purse. Three or four silver, he said." Nightfall invented an amount that would entice thieves but would not sound too significant to Edward. "Master, he said he wouldn’t miss the money. He was just shaken by the ambus
h. They didn`t hurt him."

  Prince Edward’s lower lip curled as Nightfall’s "discoveries" strangled his options. “We can’t just let these beasts keep attacking honest people on the road."

  Nightfall made no reply. Edward had a cause to champion, and he clung to it the way a dog worries the last meat from a bone. The longer the discussion, the more the problem would grind at the young prince. Left alone to think, surely even he would realize no course remained to follow. Yet when it came to logical thought, Edward seemed the exception. Nightfall had originally believed much of the king’s description of his son was exaggeration; now it seemed more like understatement. No doubt, Prince Edward would plunge them into trouble of a sort Nightfall was more accustomed to creating than solving. Worse, the best plans to rescue them from the situation might fail because Edward seemed inclined to dodge around his own protections and deliberately take on the danger again.

  The prince sighed, reining his horse toward Nemix. For now, at least, he seemed to have dropped the affair.

  Nightfall would see to it that state of mind became permanent.

  Chapter 4

  A demon cruel; a monster stark,

  Grim moonlight, coldness, deepest dark.

  Nightmares come to ones who doze-

  In darkness where old Nightfall goes.

  —"The Legend of Nightfall"

  Nursery rhyme, st. 4

  Toward evening, clouds scudded across the sky, muting it to steely gray. Prince Edward studied his squire. "Where are you from, Sudian?”

  "Alyndar," Nightfall replied easily.

  Edward’s brow crinkled. "That’s odd."

  Suddenly alert, Nightfall feigned calm. “Hmmm?”

  “My father said you were from outside the country. That you knew some of the lands down south."

  Thanks, Rikard, real subtle. Give me a history but don’t bother to tell me. "He’s right." Nightfall covered deftly, aside from forgetting the customary "master." "I was raised in Mitano, but I was born in Alyndar." It was a lie. Nightfall’s mother had worked and borne him in Keevain, and he had lived his early childhood there. But he had enough knowledge of the other countries and cities to claim a youth in any of them.