Mickey Reichert - The legend of Nightfall

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 ambush. 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.

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.