Mickey Reichert - The legend of Nightfall

Ned’s stack of sharpened poles grew.

Finally, running out of ways to amuse himself, Nightfall plucked wooden bowls and spoons from the useful pile, repacked the items according to his new system, and ladled stew into the dishes. “Master, supper’s ready."

Prince Edward wandered over and sat on a log. The firelight glittered from beads of perspiration on his forehead, and sweat trickled along his nose. Exertion flushed his cheeks. Branches had gouged rents in his silks where they poked from beneath the hauberk. Evergreen needles decorated his hair, and he smelled of pine tar and bark. He accepted the stew bowl eagerly. Rising, he rolled his log away from the fire’s heat.

Maintaining consistency, Nightfall took the first spoonful. Meat more tender than any he had ever tasted slid warmly into his pinched and rumbling gut. “It seems safe," he said with all seriousness.

Prince Edward started to say something, presumably to mention that poisons did not act that quickly. Then, apparently recalling that he had just argued against the possibility of sabotage at all and too hungry to worry about details, he ate.

For some time, dinner took precedence over conversation. Then, contentedly full, Nightfall pushed his first bowl aside while Prince Edward was still devouring his second helping. The squire stared at rows of lumber and the partially finished ditch, watching moonlight glimmer from the spade and the axe’s blade. Unable to contain curiosity any longer, he phrased the question as respectfully as he could manage. "Master, what are we going to do with the sticks?"

Prince Edward stared at his squire as if Nightfall had asked the stupidest question ever uttered. "Build the camp, of course."

Nightfall glanced from the logs around the roaring campfire to the horses contentedly grazing on leaves, brown vines and new, young grass shoots, to the neatly sorted packs. It was already the largest, most comfortable camp he had ever seen. "Forgive my ignorance, Master, but why do we need carved wood to build the camp?" The question of how long it would take seemed infinitely more important, but he saw no tactful way to ask it. Besides, the answer should become obvious once he understood the prince’s intentions. If Prince Edward planned another ride like yesterday, they would need more than half a night of rest.

Prince Edward politely swallowed his mouthful of stew before replying. "For the fences and the palisade."

Obviously, Nightfall’s surprise showed clearly, because Edward continued explaining.

"I learned how to build a strong, defensive camp from my lessons. I’ll teach you."

Nightfall suppressed a groan. I don’t believe this. Prince Silk Sheets is going to teach me how to sleep outside. Then realization struck him. His lessons. His history lessons. His "how to be a war general" lessons. By the Fathers crown, he’s building a pissing fortress! The image of a towering buttress filled his mind, along with the weeks of hard labor it would cost for two men to erect it. The picture threw him over the edge. No longer able to restrain his amusement, he broke into a raging torrent of laughter.

"What’s so funny?"

The somberness of the prince’s tone only tripled the humor. Nightfall howled.

“What’s so funny," Edward demanded, his voice breaking as he started to chuckle himself. Within seconds, they were both laughing hard enough to burst. Every few moments, Edward caught his breath to ask the source of the laughter again, and each time the question began a new wave of mirth.

Finally, they both sat, gasping, beneath the moonlight. A long time had passed since Nightfall had laughed except with cruel satisfaction in the wake of an enemy’s death. Despite the pain in his lungs and exhaustion, he felt good.

The pause gave Edward the time he needed to fully regain his composure. "Sudian, why are we laughing?"

At you, you ridiculous simpleton. We’re laughing at you. Nightfall passed up the straight line. "Master, we’re both overtired to giddiness. As much as it pains me to leave work undone, it might be best if we both got some sleep."

"Without defenses? And let something attack us in the night?"

Nightfall wondered what Prince Edward would think if he knew his squire was the most horrible and dangerous thing in the forest. "Master, what good are defenses if we’re too tired to fight?"

Edward’s eyes narrowed. All humor left him. “Sudian, are you questioning me?”

Nightfall stared, annoyed by the malice in his prince’s tone. "Master, are you asking me if I asked you a question?”

Now Edward seemed startled. "I’m pointing out that you’re questioning my judgment.”

"Is that a crime in Alyndar?"

"Yes.” Edward retrieved his bowl of stew. "Well, no, not a crime actually." He gripped the bowl, fingers white with frustration. "It’s considered rude. You’re a servant. You can’t just run around questioning nobles’ judgments? “

"Master, I don’t understand.” Nightfall adopted a wide-eyed innocent look. "My loyalty is to your welfare. If I see you making a decision I think might hurt you, I should say nothing?"

The prince chewed another mouthful of stew, swallowing before replying. "You have to trust that I see things you don’t."

"Master, I trust you. I trust you more than anyone." And if you believe that, you galley-clod, you’re even stupider and more naive than I thought.

Edward softened. "Very well, Sudian. I appreciate your loyalty. And you do look tired. Why don’t you get some sleep. I’ll take first watch."

"Master, thank you." Nightfall managed to turn his back before the smile overtook his face. Curling on his side in the clearing, he fell asleep almost instantly.

A movement awakened Nightfall. He opened his eyes to the darkness of wee morning and an exhausted Prince Edward headed in his direction. Beyond the campfire, the prince had gathered at pile of pine needles to serve as a bed.

"Ah, Sudian, you’re awake. It’s your turn to take watch. Can you handle it?"

Nightfall sat up quickly, giving an enthusiastic gesture of respect. "Master, I’m alert and ready for anything.”

"Very good." Prince Edward sprawled across his make-shift bed, turning his back to his squire.

In thirty-four years, nothing has ever approached with-out waking me from the soundest sleep. Nightfall lowered his head, curling back into a ball on the ground. You could have spared yourself the watch. I ’m more wary in my sleep than you are awake. He waited until Prince Edward’s gentle snores wafted across the camp, memorized the normalcy of its sound and the layout of the clearing, then swiftly returned to sleep.

Nightfall awakened to the numbing chill of sunrise. He sat up, curling a leg to his chest, and a soreness in his inner thighs and buttocks reminded him of yesterday’s ride. The pain brought a familiar satisfaction. In his years as Etan, the laborer, stiffness at sunrise always followed a day of noteworthy accomplishment. But, this morning it only means I’ve got a fool for a master; one who doesn’t know when to ride and when to rest.

Nightfall sighed, glancing around the camp. The fire had burned to piled charcoal splattered with a few red coals. Prince Edward lay on his back beneath a blanket, with one arm thrown across his forehead. Nightfall had often heard that people looked innocent in sleep, and he found it fascinating to think that Edward could appear more guileless than he did awake. If he became any purer, I’d have to diaper him.

Not quite ready to rise for the day, Nightfall stared between the trees. Early sunlight reddened the gaps between branches, filling the sky with waving patches of scarlet, green, and gray. He crouched, watching the colors change as the sun inched upward. The tatters of sky between needled branches diffused to pink.