Mickey Reichert - The legend of Nightfall

"Oh." Prince Edward fingered the tightening scab on his face. Pinched creases appeared around his eyes. "That’s slave land." His voice filled with accusation. "Did you ever keep slaves?”

Despite his composure, the question took Nightfall aback. "Me? Keep slaves? I was lucky not to be one." He regained his respectful demeanor. Not wanting to talk about a past he would rather forget, Nightfall channeled the questions back toward subjects he knew Edward could not resist. Restoring Edward’s attention to vast and vague principles would also direct him away from chasing unidentified highwaymen. “Master, I understand that slavery is cruel. Forgive the question, but why do you hold this cause so important?" Nightfall watched trees glide past on either side of the dusty roadway, knowing the threatening rain would soon turn the path to mud.

"Alyndar doesn’t have slavery. And, surely, you’ve never been kept."

Prince Edward grimaced, pale eyes blazing. “Anyone can champion a cause that’s hurt him in the past or one that makes his own life richer or easier." His gelding snagged a leafy branch, tearing it free. The wood swung from its mouth as it chewed. "Every time my father makes a law or proposal, every noble has to consider how it will help him, forgetting that the Father and the lesser gods want us to help one another the way He helps us all." Edward leaned across the horse’s neck and untangled the limb from its bit. “Every life has equal value in the gods’ eyes. There are no commoners on a baron’s council. Who would speak for the slaves if I didn’t‘?"

"I don’t know, Master." Nightfall had to admit that Prince Edward had a point, albeit a childishly uninformed one. Beaten and worked, yes. But, at least, the slaves get fed, clothed, and sheltered. Let free, they’d starve or die at the hands of stranger survivors on the streets.

The clouds bunched tighter, blotting evening into shadow.

"Holy beard of the Father!" Edward drew up his gelding.

Nightfall had never heard Edward blaspheme before. Alarmed, he followed the prince’s gaze to the chestnut packhorse. "What’s wrong, Master?"

"The spade." Edward clambered down from his saddle and headed for the packhorse. "The spade is missing.”

For the last ten leagues, at least. Respectfully, Nightfall dismounted also, trailing Prince Edward to the chestnut. For lack of anything better to say, he made a general noise of dismay.

Edward examined the packs and the ropes, then the place at the top where the spade should sit.

Nightfall held his breath, waiting for the prince to notice the numerous and sundry other missing items.

"Sudian, these knots are barely tight. We’re lucky we didn’t lose everything.”

Lightning flashed a zigzag path across the sky, followed by the raw boom of thunder.

Luck, Nightfall thought, is a matter of opinion. "I’m sorry, Master. They must have worked loose while we rode.” The first raindrops fell like cold pinpoints against Nightfall’s scalp.

Prince Edward hauled down the chestnut’s packs. "I don’t believe this carelessness!" He whirled on Nightfall. "From now on, you’re going to have to check the ties every time we stop. For now, there’s only one thing to do."

Push on to Nemix before we get drenched. Nightfall nodded his agreement.

“You’re going to go back and find that spade." Edward dragged the heaviest pack toward a clearing beneath intertwined branches that blocked undergrowth and light. It would shield him from the rain as well.

Go back? Nightfall’s jaw sagged. For several moments he could not speak. This time, no clever lies could save him, and annoyance got the best of him. "Master, Nemix is just ahead. If we push on, we could reach it tonight. Surely they have spades. Don’t you think it would be wiser to spend a dry night there?”

Prince Edward dropped the pack. “Sudian! I don’t like your tone. ..”

And I don’t like your person, but you don’t see me sending you out in the rain to find a heavy tool we don’t need. Wisely, Nightfall chose stony silence.

"… and we already talked about questioning me. Don’t. You got careless, and it cost us the spade." He placed his hands on his hips as rain dropped from the heavens in a sudden barrage, drumming onto the umbrella of leaves. "Accident or not, you need to learn from it. That’s one of the reasons you’re with me, you know; and I intend to be a good teacher."

Surprised, Nightfall found himself without a reply. Is that what you were told? You’re supposed to teach me? Teach me what? How to preach? How to infuriate my own relatives into sending me off on a fool’s mission? How to build a camp for two using moats, palisades, and wooden stake defenses?

Apparently accepting Nightfall’s silence as acquiescence, Prince Edward continued. "I’ll set up the camp while you’re gone."

Visions of a warm inn room and ale floated from Nightfall’s mind, leaving an aching aggravation in its wake. Thinking it better in his current mood to leave Edward and spend some time alone, Nightfall unfastened the pack from his mare and lowered it to the ground. Springing into the saddle, he headed back the way they had come. Even thieves are smart enough to stay in from the rain. Ned is safe from everyone but himself. He kicked the bay toward the open pathway. The horse shied from the pelting rain then, at Nightfall’s urging, lowered its head and braved the storm.

Once beyond Prince Edward’s hearing, Nightfall muttered a string of frustrated obscenities. He hunched into himself, trying to protect his face and chest from the damp. The wind turned each patch of wet clothing into icy misery, and the horse snorted its dissatisfaction with every step. I brought it on myself. Nightfall saw neither means nor reason to place the blame elsewhere. I knew he’d eventually notice some items missing, but I figured he’d learn we didn’t need them, not send me back on this stupid errand.

Quickly soaked, Nightfall ceased to care about the rain. Water trickled from his hair, down the neck of his tunic, the wetter areas now warmer than the damp ones that the wind could easily dry. It came to him that he had become angry beyond reason. I ’m losing the character of Sudian, and I should appreciate the chance to be free of that moron for a bit. Rankelle’s only a few more strides down the side road, and I won’t even need to pass the thieves’ den again.

Knowing himself well, Nightfall searched for the cause of his instability and discovered it near the surface of his thoughts. Kelryn. He knew he would find her in the dance hall in Nemix, and the idea of her twirling and capering as if nothing had changed stoked his imitation into fury. Marak is dead, murdered by her betrayal. Yet, for her, life simply goes on. He pictured her giggling in the arms of a young punk. The image would not come, and resentment faded with the failure. Whether I like it or not, Kelryn’s got better taste than that. He sincerely believed that, despite the fact that she had been courted by the most notorious criminal in Nemix. Now, he envisioned her with a handsome, young courtier, anger freshly piqued by a picture that came easily. He recognized jealousy as the cause of the annoyance, and that flared his mood back to rage. Maybe this time, she’ll only take his money instead of his freedom and his life.

Despite bitter thoughts, Nightfall could not help remembering small details: the way the dance hall lights sparked from hair white as an elder’s, the time he had rasped the skin from his knuckles while sharpening a dagger and she had dabbed at and bandaged the wound with a caring that could not have been feigned, the way just looking at her had sparked the need to protect her from the world’s ugliness and pain. She betrayed me. Rage died, replaced by a grief that hollowed him to the core. I will kill her. The pronouncement brought the familiar calm that accompanied a finished and irrevocable decision.