The Mill in the Moors

Although Carmish had quite a shock when he saw the red light, he soon recovered and went to the light. It turned out to be a small house in the forest, and the red light came from the inside, from where is shone through rather cozy curtains with roses on it.
He knocked on the door, loud enough to be heard through the thunder and the rain. After a short while, small man opened the door. He looked strong and a little bewildered.
“Come in, I can not let you out in the rain, can I?” the man said.
Grateful, Carmish entered the house. It was still warm inside. He took of his overclothes, that were soaked. He also left his muddy boots in the small hall.
“Thank you,” said Carmish, as he wiped the wet hair from his stern. “I am Carmish. I was a bit overwhelmed by the thunderstorm - I did not know there were no places I could hide from it. But then I saw this place.”
“You are welcome. I am Keg. I am the woodsman from this forest, and I hunt around here. Want a rabbit leg?”
“Thanks.” Carmish sat down at the table and watched how Keg roasted the rabbit leg. Then his eyes wandered through the little room. A small place, with old furniture. There was a woman here, once, but not recently. No children. The place was well kept, but everything was worn. Keg was not rich.
“You’re the son of the Master Writer of Samapol, are you?” Keg said, as he served the rabbit legs with sweetened greenroots. “I have seen you many times, as I went to Samapol. You father made me many documents.”
“Yes, I am,” Carmish said.
“What are you doing here, out alone in the rain?” Keg asked. He was truly confused about it. The gentle people from Samapol only went into the forests in crowds, for picnics and the likes.
But at the same moment, Carmish spotted two black boots, near the fireplace. They had Miqals size. At the same instant, Carmish noticed the shirt Keg wore, looked a lot like Miqals, if it was not the same. Miqal must have been here, Carmish thought, a little scared. Were was he now, without his shirt, without his boots?
“I was just a bit wandering about, when I was rather lost in the forest and the thunderstorm hit these lands. I guess I have been very lucky to find this house,” Carmish told Keg, carefully lying. Until Carmish had find out when and why Miqal had been here, he could not say too much to Keg, he decided. He may have slaughtered Miqal with one of the axes that hung on the wall, went through Carmish thoughts.
“It is not safe to roam around in this forest,” Keg said. “You might get through the forest, where it borders the moors. If you get into the moors, you are very lucky if you came back at all.”
As Carmish ate his rabbit leg -which tasted really good- he said, “Yes, the moors can be dangerous. But if you know how to read that landscape, you will know where to put your feet, and make it through the other end. My father told me how to read the moors. We went there often, to find the berries for his ink.”
Keg nodded his head. “That was a long time ago. It is no longer the moors that are dangerous, but the things that dwell in it.”
“You mean the mürq, the nyxe? The other animals? The large fish?”
“No, not any of that kind. It is humans, that make these lands unsafe with their magic. I have seen it, from a long way away, but still I have seen it, the things they do. The fires and the flames. I am scared of it, even if I carry my biggest axe.” He pointed at a very heavy and sharp big axe, that hung also on the wall. It looked like it once had belonged to the Giants.
“What have you seen then?” Carmish asked. The man was small, but strong. Carmish could not imagine him being scared.
“I found a dead man, not long ago. His body lay on the edge of a deep pond. I carried his body to higher grounds, and buried it there. I got his clothes, which I will bring to Samapol as soon as I have my goods ready. Look, these black boots, and this shirt also, they were his.”
“Do you know who he was?” Carmish asked.
“No, I do not know. His face was ... not there. The rest of his body was very damaged. You can still see the blood spots on the shirt. He had nothing with him with his name on it.”
“When did you find him?” Carmish asked. He alerted him now, he had asked too much maybe.
“I found him a menoth ago,” Keg said. “You have lost anybody?”
Carmish sighed. He had to tell Keg the truth, but he still was on his guard.
“I was looking for a friend of mine, who left Samapol a twozmenoth ago. You are wearing his shirt, you have his boots. The body you found, the man, he had blond hair, had he?”
“Yes, he had,” Keg said.
“Then it might be Miqal. Did you find his backpack?” Carmish asked.
“No, there was no backpack, but it may have got lost in the moors. If you want to, I take you to his grave tomorrow, and I’ll show you where I have found him.” Keg stood up, and put the light down. “I am going to sleep now. You can sleep in the attic. The stairs are behind that door.”

Carmish went up, and thought a lot about what had happened. Miqal was most likely dead. Keg found his body, but there still was a change he killed Miqal. He decided to booby trap the door to the attic, so he would be waken when Keg got it in his mind to murder him too.
But Carmish went to sleep and woke in the morning from the sun shining through the only window in the attic. Nothing has happened that night. He heard the sound of cutting wood from the forest and guessed Keg was already up.
He left the bed -nothing more than a bag filled with straw, covered with old cloths- and went down the stairs.
It was a sunny morning.
“Morning!” Keg yelled from out of the forest. “There is fried eggs, bread and tea for you on the table!”
“Thanks!” Carmish yelled back and went into the house again. His overclothes were nearly dry now, and he left them on a bench in the garden, in the sun. The breakfast was delicious. Keg was a good cook.

After breakfast, Keg took Carmish to a hill near his house. There was one silver birch on the hill, and next to the silver birch was a grave. This was where he buried Carmish friend Miqal, a shallow grave with a large flagstone on it. Carmish put a daisy on the grave. Keg let him alone for a while, but he could not weep. Not now. He knew Miqal was dead, but he could not feel it yet. He thought about Palene. What would he tell her? “Miqal is dead.” What would she say, would she weep? She would want to know how, why, when.... Some questions only the priests can answer.
Carmish decided to find out what or who had killed Miqal. He swore on his grave he would find the reason for his dead, and take revenge if only slightly possible.

(Next chapter coming soon)