Mickey Reichert - The legend of Nightfall

Nightfall turned to Edward. The blond hair lay in tangles, clinging to cheeks still sticky with tears. He seemed at peace for the first time since the accident. "No, sir." Nightfall returned his gaze to the Shisenian. "Not now. It would be wrong to wake him."

"I understand," the Shisenian said, though his stance suggested he did not. "We’ve gathered His Majesty’s things and prepared a guarded escort to leave at midday.”

"Today?"

"Today." The Shisenian confirmed.

“You can’t postpone it?"

"The weather is warm. It would be wrong to return the crown prince in any shape but the best we can manage.” The Shisenian official prodded. "We can put off the match for the duchy for a couple days, but I’m afraid too many people have traveled too far not to finish the competition before affairs of court call them back. You understand."

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."

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.