The sun was beginning to set, and Razam was lying on his belly, with his scimitar at his hip and a beige cape over his shoulders. Sandy wind threatened to carry it away and he held it down with both hands. His eyes were fixed on the Murlian camp a hundred feet below. The camp looked more threatening than a typical military camp. Fearsome Demon Knights with horned helmets and chainmail covering their faces guarded four corners, each attentive and rigid as a murderous statues. Inside, a cluster of smaller tents, presumably for the men, was overshadowed by a few larger ones. One of them displayed a Murlian banner featuring a sun, moon and star side by side, indicating where the commanders might be. He speculated that the item he was supposed to retrieve might be hidden there.

Another tent, as large as a house and cube shaped, was completely enveloped by a black canopy, with iron wheels beneath. Rusted iron edges peeking from the canopy made it resemble a cage. Razam wondered if it housed something like a war elephant. Murlians were at war and had just conquered Kash, as far as he’d heard.

Razam observed the guard’s routine meticulously. The level of organization was evident; as no part of the camp was left unguarded. Even their restroom breaks were strategically taken on the inner sides of the camp.

However, the right corner abutted a mountain, and there was a potential hiding spot. He’d have to approach quickly. He waited, taking notes and possibilities, until the sun fully set. Then, he ran to the other side of the cliff, and climbed down.

Crouched like a tiger, he scrutinized the camp's corner. Two guards stood there, horns at their hips and spears in hand. Razam realized he might need to interrogate at least one of them. “Stupid contractors,” he thought, wishing he had been given more time to gather intelligence.

He got down, advancing stealthily from the corners, using rocks for cover. He crouched and extracted a carved whistle with the shape of a cat. It brought him good memories. He leaned it to his mouth and blew once. The sound, impressively loud and deep, mimicked a real feral cat in no way a man could.

He watched for their reaction. Both knights exchanged looks, the chainmail in their faces fluttering as they turned.

“A lion, here?”

“Spit on a grave, not now.”

“Should we alert them?”

“Then they’ll think we’re cowards.”

“It’s a bloody lion, it’s a hazard.”

Razam sighed. What if his plan backfired? A horn of alarm could grant him a chance to get in, but only after securing one of their uniforms.

“Man, it’s bloody scary,” said the first guard.

“What if it’s just a cat.”

“Cats won’t make those sounds,” interjected the first.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s probably a feral cat,” said the second, with a deeper voice and a dismissive tone.

“They don’t make those sounds, do they…”

“Are you sure? How much do you know about these animals,” The second retorted. “Go and check, shout if you see something.”

“But that’d be leaving our positions,”said the first.

“It’s just three steps forward.”

“Why don’t you come with me, then?”

Razam fidgeted with the greased ends of his hair.

“And what if the thing jumps at me, what if it’s actually a lion?”

“Well, that’s why you’ve learned the spear for ten years.”

“Is it enough?”

The other shrugged. “I don’t know, you’re a demon knight, you should be able to handle it.”

The other paused.

“Alright, I’ll go.”

Razam crouched down, watching the man approach. He prepared, stealthily drawing his scimitar. Blast, if only he had more time.

The man appeared from the corner, and Razam struck him quickly, aiming for his chin –the fastest way to incapacitate a man. He then grabbed the man by the cape and dragged him for a few inches.

“Shams, are you alright?” called the other man.

“Damn,” Razam said, mimicking the fallen soldier’s voice. “I’m alright, I’ve got it under control.”

Razam quickly removed the man’s masked helmet, revealing a young man with short hair and a well trimmed beard.

“What’s all that noise?” the other said from behind the boulder. His armor clanked as he walked toward Razam’s spot.

In a hurry, Razam donned the guard’s plate armor and chainmail.

Luckily, when the other guard came, Razam was just finishing his look by donning the helmet. However, he hadn’t had the time to hide the naked body of his comrade. The guard stepped in, speechless for a second, until he saw the figure at his feet.

“What the…” the man quickly took a fighting stance, spear forward, while reaching for the horn with his left. Razam couldn’t let him do that.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Spit on a grave, I hate doing this.

Razam leapt forward, blade out and riveting like a silver whirlwind. He closed in, sliding to the side and avoiding his opponent’s spear.

That bloody chainmail made them hard to kill. He needed a heavier weapon than a sword to really do damage. But with his left, Razam had an advantage. He slid the blade back and aimed for his opponent’s only uncovered spot: his eyes. He thrust his sword at full force, cutting into them.

If the horn didn’t summon them, that scream surely would.

“Hey!” another scream echoed behind him. The other soldier had awoke, and was now shivering like a fish, arms and feet tied.

The fighting soldier kept screaming. He had dropped his spear and was now focusing on his breathing.

And armored steps started clattering toward the spot.

Razam had been in worse spots than these.

He quickly pinned his enemy to the ground, removing his helmet and chain.

Blood poured quickly.

Now, Razam pressed the blade against his neck.

“Tell me where they’re hiding their treasure or I’ll kill you.”

The man grunted, blood pouring down, teeth clenched.

“They’ll kill you anyway.”

“Come on!” Razam insisted. “Tell me now and I’ll let you live.”

He looked up. From there, he could see organized groups of soldiers advance, leaving their partners behind.

“Don’t tell him, Sahid,” said the bound soldier behind them. “Don’t tell them. Comrades, come quick! He’s taken my armor.”

Razam cursed and got up. He had no time to waste. He slid the scimitar back into his belt and jumped toward the rock wall. He climbed up and leapt to the other side, crouching to have a better view. A group of soldiers marched, scimitars forward.

Now what? He leapt down. In full armor and with the stolen spear down. The demon knights stared in confusion just as he pretended to file rank along with them. They let him in for a second, where he tried to lower his pace to finally turn around and go back.

That’s where some of the soldiers heard the screams.

Razam approached the camp, standing by one of the soldiers that had been left to guard.

“Quick, they need your help?

“What?”

“Your general commands it?”

The man looked confused.

“Intruder,” shouted other knights behind Razam’s back. He rolled his eyes as the man in front of him took a battle stance and tried to thrust his spear into Razam’s gut. He dodged, but instead of staying to fight him, he turned around and ran as fast as he could.

Spit on a grave, why did he get into this. From left to right, he saw dozens of men in horned helmets and long spears running to him like a fox on a hunt.

He could handle a few, but not dozens, nor fifty all by himself. He was a dead man. No, it was not a good day to die, and he’d fight with all he could to stay alive.

His instincts flared and he slipped just as a spear passed right by his groin. He gasped, looking around, where an oversized Demon Knight swung an axe at him. He ducked as fast as he could, instinctively swinging the spear and slamming its handle against the axe wielder’s hand. The man let go and Razam swung the spearpole, this time striking the soldier’s face with it. It surely rattled the man’s brain.

Razam hated killing.

But he had a job to do.

He finally thrust the spear into the man’s neck, tearing through the rings of his chainmail. The man collapsed to the ground, his armor echoing as he fell, but behind him, three more soldiers jumped at him with their spears. Razam leapt back just as one aimed for his heart. He swung his own spear. Another one came from behind. He gasped, someone had managed to strike him in the back. Luckily, the armor dampened the blow, but was a reality check.

Suddenly, a horn echoed into the night. Razam turned, eyes wide open. Someone else was invading the camp. Suddenly, bursts of arrows flew across, with the power of mighty crossbows capable of piercing through armor and mail. Razam noticed hooded figures in the camp, fighting their way.

Spit on a grave, more thieves. It had seemed so easy.

Now, he had to be smart and get the stupid treasure quicker than they could. What was it, anyway?

Razam ducked and struck one of the soldiers through the creases of his armor. He turned, slipped and dodged as a pair of spears made way toward him. He ducked and slid under his enemy’s feet, the ground hard against his heavy armor. He jumped up, watching as the newcomers struggled to reload their crossbows and started falling to the Demon Knight’s powerful spears. Some of the newcomers, however, had drawn long curved scimitars and were fighting the enemy on their own terms. Another was throwing knives, expertly striking the Demon Knights in their vital points.

Razam ran, looking from side to side. The main tent was there. He’d have to go in and fight whoever was there. The guards around it carried battle axes too. Bloody axes, they were harder to dodge and more dangerous.

Razam dropped his spear and drew out his sword. He was at a disadvantage, but he felt much more comfortable with it.

The elite warriors swung their axes threateningly.

Suddenly, he felt sharp pain in his abdomen. He looked down.

Spit on a bloody grave.

A crossbow had pierced into his abdomen, pushed through the plate and the rings. He narrowed his eyes as pain jolted in a spot just above the liver

He stepped back, looking at the injury. At least, the thing had not gone all the way in, thanks to the armor, but it hurt and if he wasn’t careful, could slow him down. If they’d hit him an inch lower, he would be incapacitated.

In that very moment, he saw four soldiers approach him with their weapons at the ready. No, he had to reach the tent. More, six, seven, what the hell could he do?

He needed that bloody money.

Behind him, the other thieves were getting pounded. What else, he was getting pounded too. He prepared his sword…

In a desperate move, Razam dashed toward the elephant’s cage. Unsure of his plan, he contemplated releasing it to create a diversion. He ducked and slid under the canopy, then squeezed through a cell in the enclosure, sighing in relief as he noticed the soldiers stopped pursuing him.

Inside, there were two bright lights that blinked in and out, illuminating the area. But whatever was in there, that certainly was not an elephant.