“Grave for a Gravemaker”

How long had it been, he found himself wondering. How long had it been since the fall of his master and the start of this new world? He didn’t know. Time was funny here at the best of times, and for someone like him, time had no real purpose. But he thought it had been at least 50 years, maybe as many as 60.

Long enough for these men to know of him, to fear him, and yet, here they were hunting him.

He had heard the legends about himself, had helped spread them on occasion, true or not, hoping more than believing that it would help keep people away. It worked, for the most part, but every so often, the very brave or very foolish, which were usually the same thing he had found, would venture forth to try and find him.

From his vantage point, he could see them easily, despite their efforts to remain undetected. They moved with care, yes, but it was clear the 3 men beneath him were not the most experienced in stealth. They made no great mistakes, but he had figured that only the best of the best would attempt to find him, not, well, amateurs.

Maybe his legend had waned in recent years. That would have been a good thing, except that more people would seek him out, and die needlessly. He took no delight in killing, which would no doubt be a surprise to all who heard of him, but he would do so if need be.

He hoped that need wasn’t present here.

For one, these were young men, the oldest surely no older than 25. That was bad enough on its own, but throw in the fact that these were clearly Wesson’s soldiers, judging by their leather dusters and chainmail shirts, and that meant that killing them would only send more here, for justice or revenge.

He’d have to move. Again, no matter what happened. A bounty hunter or two was no big deal, but commissioned soldiers of The High Sheriff was another matter entirely.

He watched for a time, from his vantage point in the cliffside, as they ‘silently’ and methodically snaked their way through the forest.

Once, they got so close to him that if they had looked up, they would have seen him, inexperienced or not. He had taken effort to hide himself, but a perceptive man would have seen him, if he had only thought to look up, but these men were clearly not the most perceptive. He, however, did get a good look at them.
They were indeed young, as he had guessed. That did not surprise him. What did surprise him was that the youngest man seemed to be their leader. They all bore the insignia of Marshall Valen’s company on the back of their dusters, but only the youngest had a gunbelt. The other two carried swords strapped across their back, a habit he had never understood. He was no swordsman, had never had the aptitude for anything longer than a dagger, but it struck him as entirely inconvenient to not carry them at their sides.

He mused to himself that he should ask them about that, and almost chuckled to himself at the thought.

They passed by him, finally catching sight of his little home at the base of the cliff, and excitedly hurried closer to it, only making a little unnecessary noise as they did so, leaving him behind. They stopped at a fallen tree about halfway between his hiding spot and his home, hunkered down, and began to talk amongst themselves in hushed tones.

They had no idea that the man they were seeking was 20 feet behind and 10 feet above their backs. They had no idea that if he so desired, he could gun them all down before they even had a chance to react. If he was the man he had been, or even who they thought he was, they would be dead. The Gravemaker would have killed them without care of who they were or why they were here. The Gravemaker would have desecrated their corpses and strung them up as warnings for all who dared challenge him.

But he was not The Gravemaker. Not Anymore. He Was Ehrin Callahan again, no matter what the wanted posters or hushed whispers said. And Ehrin Callahan did not gun men down if he could help it.

It was Ehrin Callahan who left his hiding spot. Ehrin Callahan who snuck up behind them, and listened to their words. Ehrin Callahan who would leave that forgotten little forest at the base of that unnamed cliff, with a purpose and conviction he hadn’t felt in 50 (or was it 60?) years.

And luckily, for her, for him, and for the world, it was Ehrin Callahan that would meet Julia Kerrigan.

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Pub: 03 Mar 2025 00:35 UTC

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