Mickey Reichert - The legend of Nightfall

The judge raised his hands, and the audience fell to silence. "Match winner and first contestant for the three man finals: Younger Prince Edward Nargol from Alyndar."

Edwards’s followers cheered. Even Gondol’s people applauded politely, although the squire and retainers rushed to aid their knight without comment. Nightfall leapt the rail, reaching Edward first for the shortcut. Taking the shield and removing the gauntlets, he fell into Edward’s joyous embrace, truly sharing the excitement for the first time. The exhilaration that came with honestly winning a contest against a superior warrior seemed electrifying.

With a parting salute to Sir Gondol, Edward left the ring with his squire. "Let’s hurry and get this equipment off. I want to watch the others and see what I’m up against.” His own words brought a somberness that seemed uncharacteristic in the wake of his joy. Nightfall guessed the prince had just remembered he would almost certainly come against Leyne in the finals. That contest he had no delusions of winning.

Nightfall believed it might suit Edward better not to observe Leyne’s competition. It would only whittle at the confidence he had gained only after four consecutive wins against higher ranked competitors. However, he saw little means to delay Edward. Those in charge would drag out the festivities as long as possible so that money continued to flow into the city. Few would leave this near the final match. The later the contest lasted, the more meals the nobles and spectators would buy for themselves and their retainers.

As Nightfall headed back to camp with Edward, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure moving through the crowd. His mind recognized it at once, the way a rabbit knows an owl from nothing more than shadow. Gilleran. Nightfall jerked his head around to look again, certain he must have imagined the sorcerer’s figure and movement on another man. He saw nothing but a retreating form, richly dressed in breeks and cape. The neutral brown hair could have belonged to any man. Still, Nightfall caught himself shivering from a combination of rage and fear.

Apparently, Edward detected the change in his squire. “Are you all right, Sudian?"

“Fine, Master." Nightfall redirected his attention seeking some excuse to follow the other now and ascertain his identification; but he knew he would think of no reason to leave Edward bundled in armor. He would tend the prince first, as swiftly as Edward had vocalized. Once he had Edward safely in front of the contests, he could hunt down the sorcerer himself.

The armor removal and packing left both men impatient. As the last piece fell into place, Edward gestured to the arena. "Let’s go. Quickly."

Now, Nightfall finally found his tongue. "Master, if you don’t mind, I’ll stay and guard our belongings.”

Prince Edward glanced back at the camp, obviously reluctant to waste time in discussion. "That’s not necessary."

"Nevertheless, I’d feel more comfortable. Do you mind, Master?"

Prince Edward shifted his attention from central contest to squire and back. Then, apparently more interested in spectating than arguing, he shrugged. "Very well. But if you change your mind, join me at any time." With a brisk wave, he darted toward the masses.

The oath-bond scarcely responded to Edward’s leaving. Taking its cues from Nightfall, as always, the magic found its caster the more pervasive threat.

Nightfall rushed to track down Chancellor Gilleran of Alyndar.

Nightfall scurried across the tourney grounds, his boots leaving no mark in pastureland already trampled to mud by the crowds. The sorcerer could find no better hiding place than amid the hundreds of spectators intent upon Leyne’s contest against Prince Irbo of Hartrin. However, Nightfall guessed that Gilleran had arrived for other reasons than to watch. If he came to harm Nightfall, he would likely do so in a place where few witnesses could observe or interfere, especially if he planned to perform his evil ritual. More likely, the wizard simply intended to sabotage Edward’s chance to become landed, thereby obtaining the same results without effort. If Nightfall read the intention correctly, Gilleran would not act until the younger prince once again took the ring.

Caught up in his search for a specific man, Nightfall was startled by a movement to his left. He spun faster than appropriate amid so many strangers and found himself face to face with Kelryn. Her white hair formed a knotted, disheveled mane, spotted with leaves and entwined with twigs. Her hazel eyes bore a wild glint of determination.

Anger welled up in Nightfall, liberally sprinkled with annoyance. He started to turn away.

Kelryn seized his arm. "Listen to me."

Nightfall shook off her hand. He headed toward the periphery at a brisk walk.

Despite her limp, Kelryn caught him easily. She hustled to his side then stepped directly in front of him so suddenly he had to stop to keep from trampling her. He did so from instinct, wishing in the following moment that he had managed to keep moving. Instead, he stared directly into her eyes, focusing the same murderous rage into that glare that had quailed so many.

Kelryn did not back down. Her soft, green-brown eyes remained fixed on his and did not skitter away. For the first time, Nightfall had met a person more desperate than himself. "You’re going to listen to me."

"No." Nightfall took a backward step, but the eyes fascinated him. He would not look away first; he never had. Yet if he did not, he would have little choice but to hear. Every sense told him they stood alone, far enough from packing nobles and screaming spectators to go unnoticed and unheard. Nevertheless, he kept his voice low. "I’ll kill you."

"I don’t care."

Nightfall grabbed both of Kelryn’s-forearms, shaking just forcefully enough to show her he meant no bluff. The gesture broke the war of wills as well. "Are you deaf or just stupid? I will kill you."

"Kill me, then, if you must. I don’t care anymore. Just hear my story first."

"No."

"Ned may be in danger."

"I can protect the prince."

"The way you protected Dyfrin?" Kelryn fairly spat the words at Nightfall.

The question seemed nonsensical and frightening at once. Nightfall had never declared himself his friend’s defender; yet duty had little to do with the ice that seemed suddenly to clog his veins. “Dyfrin? What about Dyfrin?" The thought of his mentor in danger made him rabid, concerned enough to listen to Kelryn this once. It occurred to him that she might have used the name only because she felt certain it would fully seize his attention. Yet, he had never mentioned the Keevainian to her by name.

Kelryn bit her lip, holding something back. "Dyfrin came to me several months ago. He talked about you, mostly, asked me to take good care of you. He believed I would."

"He was wrong," Nightfall returned, not daring to believe Dyfrin had been taken in so easily. Always before, he had read people with an accuracy that seemed almost miraculous, a talent Nightfall had envied.

"Dyfrin wrong about someone?” Kelryn’s statement echoed Nightfall’s thoughts closely enough to send a chill through him. "It would have been the first time." She raised her brows, eyes still locked on Nightfall’s and without a hint of guilt or doubt. "Dyfrin seemed to read emotion as easily as expression. He always knew your problems, your thoughts, your moods. He always knew what to say to fix the pain."

Nightfall released Kelryn, as haunted by the constant use of past tense to refer to Dyfrin as by her ability to describe events and ideas she could know nothing about. He wanted to walk away, to make Kelryn believe she had all her facts wrong. But for all the hatred he harbored for this woman, he had to listen for Dyfrin’s sake. Clearly, she knew things she should not, and that truth could hurt him worse than any betrayal. It could harm Dyfrin. "How could you know that?"