Mickey Reichert - The legend of Nightfall

Finndmer grinned.

Birthed within the black abyss,

His silent gift, a deadly kiss.

Gone before the rooster crows Darkness comes where Nightfall goes.

– "The Legend of Nightfall"

Nursery rhyme, st. 9

Spring warmth returned and, with it, a dreary fog that intensified Nightfall’s drowsiness. He rode at Prince Edward’s side, for once glad that the prince loved to talk and did not require much response from his audience. This time, he rambled about releasing slaves to help construct the ideal world that existed only in the minds of the naive, a world where people did not exploit one another and all mankind was inherently good. It only convinced Nightfall that he needed to keep Edward from the smaller market in the southwest comer of Trillium, though that did not seem too difficult. The other quarters would surely prove large enough to hold his interest; likely, he would never realize that a piece of the border city had gone unexplored. Instead, the problems would arise when Prince Edward insisted on moving westward, toward Brigg, Hartrin, and Mitano.

Nightfall would worry about that when the time came. For now, the need for three hundred silver pieces took first priority. Theft seemed a hopeless possibility. Robbing pockets, it would take months or years to acquire the necessary capital; and the sheer volume of victims would almost guarantee at least one arrest. Trouble with the law in Trillium was a matter even Nightfall did not take lightly. Because the constabulary allowed any sale or activity legal in any of the continent’s kingdoms, the universal laws, such as those prohibiting theft, required strict enforcement and extreme punishment. Otherwise, the town could degenerate into rampant chaos. Stealing a small number of expensive objects would require more of Nightfall’s expertise than he believed the oath-bond would allow, and it would set a city-wide search in motion. Somehow, he would have to earn the money in a legitimate fashion that would not upset Prince Edward. At least, Trillium’s broad definition of legality left him lee-way.

As Edward and Nightfall rode over the crest of a hill, they discovered an overturned wagon on the road. Winter melons lay scattered over the packed earth and into the ditches, their orange-red rinds clearly visible against the greenery. Some had cracked open, revealing pink fruit speckled with seeds. Nearby, a man stomped and lashed his arms through the air, movements jerky with rage. He howled a string of obscenities that carried through the dreary dankness, amplified by humidity.

"Oh, dear," Edward said simply, continuing toward Trillium, a route that would take them directly to the fallen wagon.

Nightfall sighed, certain of his fate for the next half an hour, at least. The prince would never let a needy stranger go unhelped, no matter how inconvenient for his squire. The stranger turned and looked up as they approached, mud-streaked cheeks flaring crimson. He fixed dark eyes on the prince apologetically and executed a brief but respectful bow. "I’m sorry for the sharpy-words. Didn’t know you was there, noble sir."

The farmer’s voice startled the white gelding, and it took several, sudden backward steps. "No offense taken," Prince Edward answered, as if it mattered, pulling his horse back under control. "What happened here?" He gestured at the toppled cart and its scattered cargo.

Nightfall tried to figure out the answer before it came. The skid marks were not deep enough for a miring in mud to explain the circumstances. The length of the drawing tongues suggested that a horse rather than a human usually hauled the load, consistent with the estimated weight of cart and melons. The sideways twist to the front wheels and bent metal swivel ring confirmed the probability of a horse-related problem.

The farmer’s response only affirmed what Nightfall had already deduced. "Horse shied at a snake. Took the whole damned wagon over." He made a wordless sound of disgust, accompanied by a wave of dismissal that made Edward’s gelding stiffen and jerk its head. “Damn nervous Suka. Ain’t worth the fur the Father gave her, but she’s all I got." He glanced up the path, empty to its disappearance around a bend. "Or had. Probably to Trillium by now." He looked longingly at Edward’s trio of horses. Nightfall took note of how he gazed most briefly at the high-strung white.

Nothing like a farmer to spot a good horse by manners instead of breeding. Nightfall suspected he could talk Edward into giving a horse to the farmer, but he doubted the prince would choose his own steed. It seemed far preferable to keep all three than to lose the chestnut or bay. "Master, may I try to catch her?"

The prince smiled, clearly pleased with his squire’s decision to lend aid. "Certainly."

Nightfall dug his heels into the bay’s ribs as quickly as the confirmation was spoken. "Yah!” The bay sprang forward, clearing two horse-lengths in an instant, then it shot down the pathway at a drawn-out gallop. Nightfall leaned against its neck, balancing his weight on the withers and holding the reins nearly at the level of its eyes. The speed of its charge and the wind caressing his face made him feel detached from reality and truly free for the first time since the captain’s confrontation on Raven. There was something he could not explain about the raw power beneath him and speed so impressive it created the winds that made even a race for his life seem wondrous. He had stolen and run horses for as long as he could remember, and the sensation of flight never dulled, comparable only to the lurch and roll of a ship in a gale. To control such energy, whether through sail or rein, made him feel invincible.

Once around the curve, Nightfall discovered a dark brown mare grazing the ditch grass on the more densely forested side of the road. Cued by the sound of pounding hoof beats, it whipped up its head, trailing harness leathers from nose, withers, and rump. Nightfall drew rein, slowing his mount to a trot, then a walk. If he continued running, herd instinct might send the mare skittering at random, perhaps injuring a leg in the brush. The idea of chasing her down the path at an open gallop seemed a joy, but he had Edward to tend. At least, the ride had reawakened the stream of consciousness that too little time sleeping had blunted. A series of bets seemed the best way to get money fast, and he only needed to turn the odds a bit into his own favor.

The darker mare whinnied a cautious welcome that Nightfall’s bay did not bother to answer. Suka approached, neck stretched to meet the newcomer without need to stand too close. The two horses whuffled nostrils for several seconds. Apparently tiring of the game, Nightfall’s mare made a high-pitched snort of challenge, and the dark brown half-reared. It came back down circling; and Nightfall managed, at the length of his reach, to catch the reins. Turning, he ponied the cart horse back to its owner. It followed docilely.

When Nightfall arrived, he found the farmer replacing melons in the now upright cart. Prince Edward had dismounted, tethering pack and riding horses together to prevent either from frolicking away. He clutched the top of the swivel bolt in one hand, the axle in the other. Eyes closed, muscles straining, he was gradually restoring the shape of the pin. Nightfall could not help feeling impressed, certain his meager strength would have failed him in such an endeavor. At least the royal tutors seemed to have taught some useful skills, and nutritious food from birth had only helped to hone his strength. The bolt would still need replacing, but the cart would carry the farmer to Trillium’s market and home.

Nightfall dismounted, attaching both horses to the others. If any of the animals tried to escape now, it would have to drag all of the others, some backward or sideways. The dark brown tossed its head, unsettled by the closeness of strangers. Gradually, hunger took over, and all four settled into a grazing pattern. Nightfall assisted the farmer with gathering melons, silently counting as each piece of fruit found its place on the cart. Prince Edward finished his task, then perched upon one of the drawing tongues while the others finished their work. As the last of the undamaged winter melons fell into place, Nightfall tallied forty-eight. The farmer picked up one of the broken melons that had fallen with its open side up. He pulled off a chunk for himself and handed the remainder to Nightfall. "How can I possibly thank you?"