Azalun watched the brigands while he knelt in the bushes, his heart pumping through him from the tips of his toes to the tips of his fingers. He fought for every breath with lungs which seemed made if lead. He had been training, honing his skills to one day fight a proper fight for countless hours over the years but now here he was hesitating.

No, he realised this right away, he wasn't hesitating, but waiting waiting for one of them to split up from the others so he could take him down. Azalun hadn't consciously made that decision, but instinctively. He knew he could take out one by himself, not just because the sword had an advantage over the axe but his skill and agility far exceeded all the brutes combined.

But all three at once? Very unlikely.

They were scouts, of that Azalun had no doubt, which meant there would be more coming soon. Hopefully not too many more.

It was actually quite remarkable how disciplined the brigands were, their gazes swept across every inch around them and into window after window and they never spoke.

They were slowly splitting up and one was going to the south, closer toward where Azalun hid. The brute would only be about ten metres away. Soon he would be hidden from the view of his comrades by a house which was typical for those of the village, two storied and rectangular shaped. With orange tiles on the triangular roof and glass windows. And by then well within striking range of Azalun's blade.

A sudden burst of fire burst into Azalun's chest, Golguan would be so proud! He would be even more proud if Azalun managed to take down all three single handedly.

He felt a smile spread, and he had to fight the sudden wave of impatience. Would he be able to take them down before Caralin returned with reinforcements? By the gods he hoped not.

So he waited and waited as the annoyingly cautious and slow brigand came closer and closer.

Azalun watched for what seemed like hours, but could have only been a few minutes before the brigand was walking past before he stopped to look through window exactly adjacent to Azalun only about three metres away.

When he began to turn away, Azalun's instinct sent his body out of the bush and sprinting in silence for the brigand. Azalun had only one chance.

Time seemed to slow for Azalun, his pumping legs ached along with every thundering heart beat. To Azalun it seemed like five minutes before he'd even made it half way across the distance. But that couldn't have been true as the brigand was still turning.

The brigand managed to catch Azalun in the corner of his eye, his mouth began to open, revealing his brown, rotten mostly missing teeth and started to raise his axe.

But it was too late, far too late as Azalun's iron sword was slashing, then slicing open the brigand's throat. Whatever the bandit was about to say or shout died into a wet gurgle as blood flooded down his neck and fell down his front, soaking his clothes.

He dropped his axe and with all of his remaining, bleeding away life- tried to stop his throat from spewing out his blood with desperate fingers. It was pointless, like trying to prevent the wind from blowing with a little leaf and the bandit fell to his knees then his face hit the grass. The blood expanding rapidly beneath him.

Azalun finally exhaled, but his breathes were to short and sharp and he stepped back. His muscles felt like they were made of wood.

I had just killed a man. I had just killed a man! His mind screamed, his vision whirled and he had to fight to keep his feet. That was easy, surprisingly easy, so easy it... He shook himself back into sanity and fell into a crouch again. He needed to keep his head, people were depending on him. The whole town was depending on him.

One down, two to go.


Still crouched he turned back and began to the east as fast as he could, he turned the corner and moved to lean against the wall near the northern corner. He gazed around to see the broad back of the bandit while he was sneaking away. There was one more window at the end of the building and the bandit was nearing it.

Azalun knew his time was nigh and he launched into a sprint. He drew his knife from the sheath on his sash and burst into a bound which took him past the bandit- on the way he plunged the knife through the side of the brigand's throat. Azalun landed into a kneel and the gurgling of the dying man behind him filled his ears.

The second was easier, much easier his breaths were still short and sharp, but his body felt light, nimble. He turned to find the brigand was clutching at the knife in a vain attempt to tear it out. Azalun launched into a jumping side-kick which sent the man off his feet and smashing onto his back. Azalun went to retrieve his knife from the spasming dying form but a sudden urge made him stop and turn. Turn just in time to aside the axe hurtling for his skull and it stuck fast into the wall.

The last bandit towered over him a few metres away, drawing another hand axe from a pouch in his back. He threw it and Azalun dodged it by bursting into a sprint, toward the bandit.

The brigand drew another axe and made to throw it, but seemed to realise Azalun was almost on him, so swung it a brutal downward bash instead.

Azalun's sparring against Tobijorn hadd made him more than familiar with the techniques of the axe and the brutal strength darted aside of the arc. Then Azalun sliced his sword through the large brigand's ribs as he slid around and behind the brigand. The brigand cried out and blood flung from the gash through his torso. Azalun spun then stabbed the brigand through the heart, causing the cries to die away. Then Azalun kicked the bandit off the blade, throwing the flailing form smashing onto his face.

Fighting the urge to smile Azalun then once again went to retrieve his knife, to suddenly find the blade of another held at his throat.

'Hello there, young man,' said a smooth voice in his ear. 'That was well done, well done indeed.'

'A-are you going to kill me?' said Azalun.

'Oh no, no. If I was going to kill you, you would already be dead, young one,' said the man. 'I see Golguan has taught you well. How is the old man, anyway? Grumpy as always?'

'I...I suppose.'

The voice sighed. 'I would have warned him of the attack if that cute little archer wasn't on her way to, would've been great to catch up, it's been along time, indeed. I was supposed to scout this village out by myself, but it seems my employer didn't trust me so sent his brutes in too. That was wise, surprisingly wise for a mere leader of bandits. They are lying waiting around three kilometres north-east of here, outside of a cave.'

Azalun furrowed his brow, unsure what to make of this strange, talkative man.

'It was impressive you killed those bandits all by yourself, young man,' said the man. 'But it would have been wiser to let them complete their scouting as they would have returned to tell the rest that the village was unguarded so when they attacked they would be easier to ambush. There are ten of them, by the way, now you have killed three of them. Tell me, young man: Have you ever killed before?'

'No...I haven't. So if you aren't going to kill me can you lower the knife, please?'

There was a pause, but the voice didn't lower the knife. 'Really? You seem to kill like a killer-born.'

Before Azalun could reply the sound of galloping hooves grew from the south, announcing Golguan's approach.

'Well, as much as I have enjoyed our rather stellar conversation, young man. I really must go. Say hello to Golguan and Seldrik for me, please.'

Then the knife was gone and Azalun spun, sword raised, but found nothing.

Almost as if there had been no one there at all.