Nightfall At The Septa's HouseIndex | HomePage | GameLogs | MarshendGameLogs | Nightfall at the Septa's House It was the middle of the night. Merivel was asleep in the cottage, where Catriona had attempted to sleep the night before. The Septa had been tenderly carried upstairs, and was sleeping on Mariam's own bed, with Aerin and Shade guarding her and Ranulf asleep at her feet. Mariam had cheerfully taken their place in the wagon, and was sleeping not eight foot above Derron's head. There was an owl call from a nearby tree (which might waken Merivel). Used to the calls of such birds down in the Vale, the hooting of the owl did awaken Merivel. He gave off a groan as he shifted his sleeping position on the simple pallet and opened his eyes. But it was a low whine from Lancer, who suddenly lifted his old head and stared intently into the darkness, which awakened Derron. Derron's eyes snapped open. It took a lot to get Lancer's interest so piqued these days. He rolled his head to the side to see what direction Lancer was staring. His right hand unconsciously gripped his hammer handle, which lay right beside him. Even with complete night vision he could not see too far. He risked a glance to where the guard should be posted to see if the man was aware, or at least awake. The guard, from his position, seemed to have fallen asleep, his head on his chest. Lancer was staring towards a clump of trees to one side of the cottage, and growling low in his throat, a sound which would not carry far. While Merivel was awakened by the owl, an uneasy feeling stirred him to action. With reluctance, in the dark, Merivel slowly shifted to a standing position, and using his hands and night vision, started to make his way in the direction of the front of the cottage. There were no other sounds but as he passed the window, he seemed to see a dim shape standing under one of the trees. Merivel stopped his motion toward the door and returned to the window. He stared into the darkness, trying to better discern the shape that he thought that he saw against the backdrop of the trees. It seemed there ... and gone. Small, slim, slight. Not a man. To tall for Ranulf. Aerin would be the most likely candidate - but she was asleep upstairs ... That uneasy feeling struck Merivel again. He headed toward the entrance of the cottage again, slowly and carefully moving in the dark. The events of the last few days rushed through his mind, and the unease dominated his thoughts as he made to reach the entrance of the cottage. As he moved in the dark, he looked for something that might serve as a weapon, if necessary. There was a small but serviceable axe there - clearly sharp enough to have created the wood pile beside the door. Merivel looked at the axe for a moment, and then took it in his hands. He held it low, letting the head almost touch the ground. Derron decided that feigning ignorance was probably his safest course of action. With his hammer tucked into his belt he rolled to his feet and stood, stretching for a moment, his gaze straight up into the night sky. He looked down at Lancer and said, "Stay. I'll be right back." Lancer seemed to frown at him, but remained in a sitting position. Derron turned and began walking in the direction of the trees, showing no concern or hurry. Just ambling along, and his left hand began fumbling at his belt, obviously a man simply preparing to relieve himself among the trees. But the truly observant would see his right hand never strayed far from the hammer. At first there was nothing. And then to the right of him a twig snapped. Suddenly a male voice roared, "No!" And Derron became aware that someone was racing towards the cottage. Derron whirled and began pursuing the figure, leaving the hammer tucked into his belt. He knew that simply holding something slowed one down while running just a hair. And he wanted every ounce of speed he could muster. He tried to determine who was running. He thought it might be the minstrel who yelled, and his young ward who was running, but he wasn't sure. This might all be nothing, and it could even be a diversion, but he would not take the chance. He wanted reinforcements. "Lancer! Here boy!" His shout might also rouse the guard, if the first voice had failed to do so. Lancer's response was a joyous (if slightly quavery) bark - and Derron realised that the hound would be racing towards him. A shout of "Awake the camp!" suggested his yell had woken the guard too. He heard someone panting behind him - the man who had shouted perhaps. He seemed able to put on a fine turn of speed ... Derron knew his hound would be coming his way, following him as best he could. That was precisely what he wanted. He did not want the dog reaching their quarry before he did. For a moment he thought about confronting the man behind him, but if the man attacked him, Lancer would be on him fairly quickly. He decided to focus on the figure rushing towards the cottage. "That's far enough!" he yelled, not breaking stride. Merivel, in the doorway, simply saw the darkened figure racing towards him. the darkness made it hard to judge perspective and size ... but the gasping breaths seemed to come from a boy or a woman ... "Who are you?" Merivel called into the darkness toward the figure racing toward him and the cottage. "Who are you?" he said again a second later, raising his voice in challenge. His grip on the axe shifted so that he held it near the blade, so that he might strike with the handle, rather than the blade itself, if necessary. The figure paused, hesitating between the man in the cottage, and the man pursing from the woods. Then suddenly, the slight figure turned and shot away, through the orchard to the back of the house and past the small horsebarn. Derron motioned for one of the pursuing guards to follow the fleeing figure and whirled to face the man behind him. Merivel stood his ground and considered the situation. After a moment's thought, he shook his head. "It would be foolish to pursue you in the darkness." Merivel murmured. He simply remained where he stood, watchful and vigilant. But whoever had been following Derron had veered back sharply into the trees. Someone else was approaching. "What is it?" Mariam's vooice came out of the darkness. "What has happened?" "Possibly an intruder, perhaps more than one." Merivel said, in a hiss. "Trouble outside in any event. I am remaining here at the threshold in watch in case anyone tries to come here again." Derron frowned and said, "Let me check on the minstrel. I think he and his friend are supposed to be in the barn. If they're gone, I bet it was them for some reason." He turned to Mariam and said, "Stay close to the house for the moment. Once I'm back you can get back in the wagon." He moved towards the barn and said to one of the guards, "Everyone stay sharp. Whoever it was didn't go far, I wager." "Indeed." Merivel replied. "I shall remain here for the moment, in case the person returns this way." He hefted the axe, still holding it near the head so that he might strike with the shaft rather than the axe head itself. "Be careful, Derron." Merivel added. But there was no need for care, for the musician himself now came hurrying from the trees and up to the cottage door. "Where is he?" he demanded. "Is he inside?" Derron heard the minstrel appear from the trees and turned back. He practically barked, "Was that you and your companion that caused caused such uproar?" "Of whom do you speak that inside you seek?" added Merivel, not moving from the threshold of the doorway. In the darkness, he gave the musician a hard look. "My boy ... he ... he became scared in the darkness. He came here to be safe - with the Septa!" said the musician hastily. "Where is he?" Mariam looked worriedly at Derron - although the musician seemed intent on Merivel. Merivel's expression was primarily one of complete bafflement. He looked from Mariam to the musician, to Derron and focused on Derron. After a pregnant pause, he spoke. "Derron...?" he said, adding a questioning tone to his voice. Merivel did not move from his spot, however, intent on remaining on his vigil even if he was unsure of how this should be handled. Derron's eyes narrowed as he regarded the minstrel. He stepped right into his face. He said in a low voice, though Mariam and Merivel could hear him easily, "If you harmed a hair on the head of that boy," and the near-mocking tone he used when saying the word 'boy' left little doubt he knew the secret, "I'd not give you much chance of surviving when Catriona returns. What EXACTLY scared the boy?" Movement caught one eye and seeing who it was he simply nodded to summon Binnder in his direction. "*You* scared the boy," said the musician - his tone almost exasperated. "He was coming back to the cottage for some trinket he'd lost ... I'd told him not to - but he slipped away while I slept. Now ... we need to find him." His eyes met Derron's straight. "You know what sort out trouble he could find himself in, out there in the darkness," he said quietly. Derron's look remained skeptical, but he said, "Aye, we need to find him." He looked down at Lancer who by this time was flopped down on the ground, looking distinctly uninterested. Looking up again he said, "Have you got something the boy was wearing, or keeping close?" Merivel listened intently, his eyes flickering between Derrron Throne and the still nameless, exasperated musician. He didn't relax, though, standing straight and tall. His thumb ran along the axe handle thoughtfully. The musician eyed the axe uncomfortably, but gave a slow, almost reluctant nod. "His pack's in the barn," he said. "If you want - I'll take you." He was clearly torn between concern for the boy's safety and his own apparent desire for secrecy. He turned and started to walk towards the Septa's small barn. Derron glanced back at Merivel and said to him and Mariam, "I shouldn't be a moment." As he followed the minstrel he slapped a hand against his leg and said, "Come on, boy. Let's go." Lancer wearily got to his feet and trotted at Derron's heels. "All right." Merivel said, glancing in the direction of where the Minstrel was leading Derron, and Lancer. The way through the trees of the orchard was dark - only dimly lit by the lights of the cottage. At first all Derron could hear was Lancer, treading through the leaves not so noiselessly as he had once done. But then he heard quiet, nervous breaths, coming from somewhere above his head. (Continued in Marshend After the Struggle Derron and Marshend After the Struggle Merivel) |
