The Grave thief

ENDGAME

Mihn pulled his tattered leather coat around him as he looked out over the lake, watching the raindrops forming concentric circles on the otherwise still surface, trying to work out why he felt so uneasy. The rain had been falling steadily since early morning and the solid mass of slate-grey clouds hid the sun so completely he could only guess the hour.

The only habitation in sight was a squat cottage in bad need of repair. A battered fishing boat had been dragged up the shore away from the water and left under a crude cover made of loosely woven branches covered with a ragged tarpaulin. The cottage had been abandoned for two seasons now, so Mihn had requisitioned it for himself. He valued solitude quite as much as the witch did, and had no intention of imposing on her hospitality for longer than absolutely necessary.

There was no sound other than the rain falling on water and ground. He looked back at the trees behind him, hoping to see gentry peering out from the shadows, but there were none. It looked like their curiosity had finally been appeased, and they had decided to accept the presence of a human as impossibly stealthy as they themselves were. Their absence made Mihn feel strangely alone.

He had been staring at the water for too long, lost in his disquietude, but nothing had changed. He was considering taking the little rowboat out so he could try his hand at fishing when a distant sound caught his ear — running footsteps, maybe?

Scarcely had he turned back to the forest when a girl of no more than twelve summers came careening down the path through the trees and stumbled to a halt in front of him. As she stared open-mouthed at the former Harlequin, he took note of her own appearance: bright blue eyes and a reddened nose peeking out from under a sandy mess of hair.

'Are you looking for me?' Mihn asked softly, trying hard to sound friendly and approachable, but the very act of speaking almost spooked the girl into scampering back the way she'd come.

'What's your name?' he tried again.

The girl swallowed. 'Chera, sir.'

Her faded dress had red flowers poorly embroidered along the hem. He guessed it had belonged to at least one older sibling before her. He gave a little bow. 'Hello, Chera. I am Mihn ab Netren ab Felith. Have you been sent to find me?'

'Y- Yes, sir. She's screamin', sir, that brown girl, screamin' like the creatures of the Dark Place is after 'er.'

Mihn frowned at the child's choice of words and she edged back a step, frightened by his expression.

He smoothed out his frown and asked gently, 'Did the witch say I was to return with you?'

Chera shook her head. 'Twilight, sir' she muttered. 'She said to make yersel' ready and come at the ghost hour.'

Mihn nodded gravely. 'The ghost hour it is. Thank you, Chera.'

He stood impassively, waiting until the child had disappeared back into the trees before he gave in to the overwhelming emotion that had hit him at her words.

His face drained of blood and he sank to his knees, his legs betraying him. Gasping like a drowning man, he allowed a single moan of sorrow to escape his lips before he buried his face in his tattooed palms.

'Isak,' he whispered, choking on his own tears. 'Merciful Gods, Isak, what have we done?'