Mickey Reichert - The legend of Nightfall

Hope sprang from the wreckage of what had, moments before, seemed a hopeless situation. He continued toward the far side of the ring, closer to the Nargols and Leyne’s anxious retainers. The fog covering his mind lifted as he approached, and he caught a clear glimpse of the suffering anguish that twisted Edward’s youthful features. Suddenly, the prince howled like an animal. The sound barely carried through the wails and whispered speculation of the crowd, but it tore at Nightfall’s heart, bringing tears to his eyes that shocked him. Never before had another’s pain affected him so deeply. Needing to console, he leapt over the railing, avoiding the need to talk his way past the judges and guards.

Nightfall went directly to Edward’s side. The younger prince continued screaming. "No!" he shouted loud enough to shatter Nightfall’s hearing, as if the mere force of the words could undo the tragedy. "No! No! NO!"

Nightfall seized Edward’s shoulder, fingers slipping into the joint between pauldrons and gorget, though he touched only the undermail. "Master, it’s all right. Everything will be all right. Just let the Healers work."

Prince Edward spun, hurling himself suddenly into Nightfall’s arms. "He’s dead. Gods, Leyne is dead. My brother can’t be dead!"

Nightfall rescued his fingers and trebled his weight in time to keep from falling, though he still staggered beneath Edward’s bulk. He held the metallic figure of the prince feeling more like an armory than a consoler. He glanced at the Healers. One shook his head. The other lowered Leyne gently to the ground.

Edward pulled free, desperately restless. "No!" He hovered over Leyne. "NO!" He seemed incapable of other words, and now his grieving appeals thundered over a crowd gone silent. Abruptly, he collapsed at Leyne’s side, sobs stealing even that last word from him, a passive occupant of his armor. One Healer left to speak with the Shisenian guards. The other hovered, helpless, but unwilling to leave one who looked as pained as Edward. Nightfall removed Edward’s helmet and gauntlets methodically, nearly as lost as his master. Though they lacked the frenzy of Edward’s, tears streaked his face as well, though how much he cried for Leyne or Edward did not matter. The pain seemed permanent, wholly internal and without any input from the oath-bond. Prince Edward clung to his squire.

At length, an official in Shisen’s yellow and gray silks approached. Dark hair hung to his shoulders, and he wore an expression so somber it seemed painted. "Prince Edward?"

Edward remained in place, curled to the extent his armor allowed.

The official glanced at Nightfall in question.

Nightfall took over, disinterested in talking at the moment either but seeing the need. "What can I do for you, sir?"

The man cleared his throat. Although he addressed Nightfall, he kept his attention on the prince. "King Jolund and all of the kingdom of Shisen wishes to express its deepest regrets about the accident that occurred here today.”

Nightfall nodded, flicking his gaze to the grieving prince to indicate he felt it way too soon for long-winded speeches.

The Shisenian held his expression constant, but his shifting stance revealed nervousness. Receiving no acknowledgment from Edward, he finally turned his focus to Nightfall. "We’ll take care of all the arrangements for escorting His Majesty’s remains home in dignity and explaining this tragedy to King Rikard."

"Thank you, sir." The response sounded unnecessary as well as inadequate, but Nightfall had no way to guess at custom, if there was a routine way to handle such a disaster.

"It is our duty, one we despise the need for but are honored to fulfill."

Nightfall hoped he was not expected to formulate an equally eloquent reply. To anticipate even eye contact from Prince Edward now seemed as cruel as it did foolish.

The official obviated the need for answer. "Please let us know if we can do anything to make the night more comfortable for Prince Edward. Of course, the final tourney will be postponed until tomorrow. We can discuss details in the morning.”

The tourney. Nightfall stiffened. He had not considered the competition since that one flash of insight when he believed Leyne injured but still alive. He glanced at Edward again. The prince lay, unmoving, huddled over his brother like a menaced turtle in his shell of steel. It would take a miracle from the Father to goad Edward to fight in the morning, and Nightfall’s soul hung on that need. Unable to find other words, Nightfall simply repeated those from before. "Thank you, sir."

The official saluted Edward, a respectful gesture the prince never saw. Turning on his heel, he headed from the ring.

Edward moaned. "No! No! No!" He did not resist when Nightfall assisted him to his feet and led him, hollow-eyed and sobbing, from the ring.

The night seemed to span an eternity. Nightfall drew upon memories of Dyfrin to find the best ways to soothe an agony that seemed too savage to touch. With Kelryn’s help, he managed to remove the armor from Prince Edward, without a protest. No one spoke. Nightfall knew from experience that platitudes would not console and attempts to find a positive side to the experience would only intensify the pain. Dyfrin could have read the best approach, but Nightfall had no choice but to rely on Edward’s words when they finally came. Until they did, he could do nothing more than hold his master’s hand and share the grief in silence.

For a long time, Nightfall sat with Edward in a gentle quiet, his fingers resting on the prince’s hand. Then, Kelryn took her vigil while Nightfall tended to the duties of camp. Polishing and packing armor allowed him the movement he needed to overcome the restless need to do or say something that would only make the matter worse. Once finished, however, he retook his sentinel willingly, appeased but disappointed by the realization that Kelryn made no more progress than he had. For all his inability to trust and uncertainty with relationships, he seemed to have handled this situation prudently. He only wished he could find words to break the prince’s mourning hush.

Then, as midnight shifted toward the wee morning hours, Edward’s hand closed around Nightfall’s, finally returning the fellowship his companions had shared so freely through the hours. A hint of life entered his eyes, though they remained focused on the stars. "I can’t believe Leyne is dead." His voice sounded weak and graveled from crying.

Nightfall squeezed Edward’s hand, suddenly wishing the prince had decided to open up on Kelryn’s shift. She would know what to say far better than he. For now, he echoed Edward. “I can’t believe it either, Master."

"I keep waiting for something to come and erase everything. In a moment, I’ll awaken from a nightmare. Or, Leyne will ride up and tell me it was a prank. Or the Healer will tell me he made a mistake."

Nightfall sighed, the distress in Edward’s tone driving the tears back to his own aching eyes. "No," he said.

“No," Edward repeated softly, the word bringing back fierce memories of his desperate pleas in the arena to any god who might listen.

"I remember…" Edward began, the floodgates opening upon a vast array of tales and memories about Leyne, good and bad. Unfamiliar with the elder prince, Nightfall could contribute little but consolation and quiet presence to the discourse, but that seemed enough.

Edward Walked about his brother until he finally lapsed into exhaustion at daybreak. And Nightfall succumbed with him.

Nightfall felt certain he had only slept a moment before strange presences in the camp awakened him. He sat up instantly, attention immediately riveted on the sound. The Shisenian official stood before him, his clothes impeccable and his curtain of hair brushed to a sheen. Two guards flanked him. The sun had fully risen, beams jutting through gaps in the overcast sky as if cutting light-holes in the clouds. "May we speak with your master, please?" the official asked.