Merwood, Dread Hideout
ACHARIUS
âYeâve an awful look on yer face. As though ye need some ale.â Mardichi offered Acharius the alehorn. The very familiar alehorn. Acharius noted the jeweled inlay.
Good that he still has it.
âWhat you drink is not ale.â Acharius gave him a withering look.
âThat,â Mardichi turned up his nose. âis a matter of opinion.â
No, itâs not. Acharius turned again, tilting his large head to listen.
âWhat are ye listening for?â
âNot for. To.â Acharius corrected.
âI hear nothing.â
âBecause youâre too busy talking.â
âGenerally!â Mardichi lifted his alehorn as though to toast the comment. Freezing when he caught the faint whispering of a little girlâs voice. âWhat in the devil is that?â
âA girl.â
âIâd gathered it was a wee bairn. But what in Ardae is she doing out here?â
âSheâs living with the women.â
Mags and Agatha.
âYer Old bawdys?â
Theyâre not bawdies.
âMy friends, yes.â He corrected.
âPoor wee Dear!â Mardichi proclaimed.
âTheyâll take care of her.â
âTheyâll raise her for a convent. Theyâre sad, lonely women who need men in their lives.â
âYou think every woman needs a man in their life!â Acharius gave him a blue-eyed glower.
âOnly if Iâm the man!â He declared with a cheeky grin. âEvery woman should have me in their life!â
The Hell they should.
âHow much of that have you had to drink?â Acharius gave a half-smile at the idiocy of that thought.
Mardichi turned it to look at it. Frowning in confusion. âNot nearly enoughâ¦Iâd wagerâ¦â
âYouâre a drunkard.â
âBut damn fun to be around.â He pointed out.
âNo. Youâre not.â
Mardichi gave a slight shrug. âThat too, is a matter of opinion. Iâd stay away from that girl. Little girls are nothing but trouble.â
âWhat if sheâs in trouble.â
âThen your old bawdys will care for her. Theyâre plenty vicious. Recall thaâ day they wouldna lemme in the house? I asked plenty nice and theyâ¦â He gave a low whistle.
Acharius smiled fondly at the memory. âThey were quite ready to fell you.â
âI think they mayâve tried, too!â His voice rose slightly as he responded to Achariusâ comment regarding them killing Mardichi with the tiny daggers theyâd wielded.
âYou were demanding to know if they had drink in the House.â Acharius defended.
âTwas a fair questionâ¦Itâd been a long morning.â
And night, Iâd bet.
âThey thought you were a thief.â Acharius commented. âShouldnât you be out strolling Mane Country for Cimmerii?â
âYe mean hunting?â
Acharius nodded absentmindedly. If thatâs what you call it when youâre too drunk to swat a beetle.
âOf course, I should be. But I killed a fair number last sennight and deserved me a warriorâs drink.â
All seven nights?
âThat there is horse piss.â Acharius nodded disgustedly to the alehorn. Catching the stagnant whiff from where he was.
âAnd fine horse piss, âtis.â Mardichi said cheerfully before partaking of another liberal sip before Acharius bid him rise and chased him from the caves.
âYe should go live with those old bawdys. Yeâre practically one already!â Mardichi grumbled as he lumbered out.
Acharius strode Merwood, examining his traps. When inspecting one nearest the House, he glimpsed a familiar spined tail protruding from the big leaves of a bush. His heart sunk.
Noâ¦He prayed. But he lifted the leaves over it, and his fears were confirmed. A Cimmerii Noni.
Radixâs rodent was dead in the trap, smashed under a strung boulder. Damn it all to hell. He drew close to study the thing.
Why so near to the house? Are Cimmerii hunting the womenâ¦Or the child.
Iâll have to stay close until I know what theyâre after. Especially at night, when Cimmerii favor hunting. He felt the same settling in his chest as when heâd looked at the two dark eyed girls all those years ago. Two girls which grew into the sweet old women living in Meredith now.
Drawing near the house, he sat out front. Near the gate. Hearing the girlâs whispering from the North side of the house. The voice stopped.
He realized grass turned green. The moonlight was brown on the wooden fence and tree leaves near him were dark green.
Sheâs close. Sheâs coming out. He retreated around front and leapt into a tree, catching the branch and hefting himself up. It was a warm spring night. Trees dripping with an earlier rain and mist.
She passed below him. Stepping tentatively across the grass in the direction of the front gate.
âWhere are you going?â His voice stopped her.
She doesnât know any better. He reminded himself.
She turned. Red hair moved. The flash of color made him shift at the blinding brightness. It sent a ripple over his vision. Even in the dark he suddenly detected subtle green tints in everything. The blue shade of the sliver of a moon. Colored flowers muted in the dim moonlight.
âWhere are you?â She asked.
He tossed his voice in several directions to make it impossible for her to distinguish him crouched above her.
âGo back inside.â He urged. âItâs not safe out here.â
âWhy isnât it safe? Who are you?â
âPlease just go back inside.â
Before something hears you.
Sighing her head fell. She went back in on leaden feet.
Pouting.
After a moment, he dropped from the apple tree. Mesmerized by glistening fruit dangling near his shoulder. He pulled it down. Gazing at its various shades in awe.
He heard the click of a shutter opening a moment too late.
âSo, there you are.â She murmured from the low second level window.
His fingers imbedded in the apple as he spun from her. A cloak forming around him as he gave her his back, concealing his features.
Despite his lack of response, she doggedly continued. âDonât go!â
How do I get out of this without her waking the house?
âIâll go inside if you will talk to me from out here.â
âYouâll go inside?â
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