The ruby red sun was glowing balefully across the barren landscape as it began to sink below the western horizon. Stars, like diamonds tossed across a black canvas, made their first appearance in the sky. Beneath their lustrous shine, the remaining members of the merchant convoy were putting the finishing touches on their unplanned campsite.

After losing hours to seeking out the living that’d tried to flee and tending to the dead who’d fallen in battle, the merchants had huddled together and tersely declared that they would camp rather than risk making the last leg of their journey after nightfall. The grim-faced mercenaries had taken the declaration in stride and immediately set about creating a defensible perimeter. The thri-kreen, silent and seemingly unconcerned, devoted themselves to repairing the damage that had been done by the lizardfolk. Two of the wagons, as well as the goods they’d been carrying, had gone up in smoke. Three others had sustained enough damage to their wheels that they would have been abandoned had the convoy chosen to press onward.

Despite Dalthan’s eagerness to reach Sweet Water, he couldn’t blame the merchants for their decision. Traveling at night was a risky proposition in the best of times. He could only imagine that it would be even more dangerous with a caravan full of merchants who’d just been attacked by a barbarian warband. They would be nervous and stressed, scattering like cockroaches at the first sign of danger. Instead of pushing through the night and giving the lizardfolk a reason to attack their low-morale group, it was far better to hunker down for the night and strike off in the morning.

But while the choice was a pragmatic one, he’d seen more than one person staring silently down the road toward the relative safety offered by Sweet Water. Some of those faces, he knew, would be gone by dawn. He might have tried to change some of their minds, being the exceptionally persuasive man that he was, but Dal had his own problems.

The thief, along with the rest of his crew, sat on a log that’d been unloaded from a nearby wagon to serve as a bench for his party. They’d set up a small fire beside it and cobbled together an acceptable campsite a short distance away from the rest of the convoy so they could discuss Dalthan’s plan in relative privacy.

The process would have been faster if Dal hadn’t been forced to haggle with Keysha for an extra tent. He hadn’t known they’d be out in the fucking wilderness so of course he didn’t bring a tent with him. He tried to convince the [Sharpshooter] to simply loan him a tent until they got back to the Hub, but she insisted on making him buy it from her.

The smug look on Key’s face as she gleefully counted his money was almost enough to make him feed her to Vex.

Eventually, after suffering through Keysha’s instructions on how to put the damn tent together, the [Rogue] thought it was finally time to share his genius with his party. That was when they realized that Zaplixel had slipped away while everyone was laughing at Dalthan’s expense. With the wizard missing, Sylvia had insisted that they finally treat Dal’s wound while they waited for the [Swindler] to return. The thief had quickly agreed, assuming that she would apply some hocus pocus healing to fix him right up. Instead, he’d been given a crash course on how little he understood druidic healing.

“Fuckingdamnshit, Syliva.” The shirtless thief hissed like an unattended tea kettle. “Why don’t you use a spell or something? Magic it better. Magic it better, right now.”

Completely unsympathetic to Dalthan’s discomfort, the [Druid] continued to massage a wad of thick green ointment into the wound on the rogue’s shoulder. The gunk smelled like a cross between pine sap and honey. Dal was not at all convinced that the strange goop was safe to use on humans.

Then the gunk began to sting like a hive full of wasps defending their queen and he became certain that it was unsafe for humans.

“I’m not wasting magic on this,” the beautiful nymph said in an impatient tone. She was sitting behind him, so he couldn’t see her face, but he could hear her eyes roll by the pitch of her voice. “The cut is shallow, and this poultice will ward off infection. You’ll be fine.”

“It may have been shallow before you started spreading it open like a whale mounting a dolphin-” The rest of the thief’s words were lost in a yowl of pain that burst from his lips when Sylvia’s open palm swatted his wounded shoulder hard enough to send a goop splattering through the air.

“See?” Keysha was idly tossing one of the coins she’d extorted from Dalthan into the air while she looked on with amusement gleaming in her gray eyes. “He’s an ungrateful ass. Next time, let his fucking arm rot off.”

In a flash of eloquence, Dalthan flipped Keysha the finger as he turned to face Sylvia. “She’s just jealous that you’re the one who got to rub my shoulder.” The [Sharpshooter] let out an indignant squawk. “Just ask Shale,” Dal continued. “He’ll agree with me.”

Despite Dal trying to drag him into the conversation, Shale didn’t seem to have much interest in participating. Probably because it was a rock. While Sylvia treated Dal’s wound, the [Stone Golem] had gathered an armload of firewood from a nearby wagon and brought it to their humble campsite. Fuel was at a premium in the desert, but none of the merchants were willing to scruple over the cost of firewood since the adventurers had put their lives on the line to defend the caravan.

If they’d known just how much seasoned timber a motivated golem could walk away with, they’d likely have put some limits on their largess. Sadly, for the tradesmen, it was too late to rectify the mistake now. There would be no recovering the wood that now blazed in a towering column the size of a small bonfire.

Sylvia pointedly looked to the golem, then back at Dalthan. “I think Shale’s silence speaks volumes about his support. More importantly, if you feel well enough to flirt with Keysha then you certainly don’t need any more attention from me.” The nymph rose to her feet and lifted her arms in a shuddering stretch that seemed perfectly engineered to draw attention to the sumptuous curves of her body.

“I’m going to go find some company for the evening.” Sylvia leaned forward, her amber eyes glittering with mischief and cruelty. “With all the fighting today, nobody will be shocked if a virile young man, or two, vanish into the night.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Slack-jawed, Dalthan admirably kept his eyes focused on Sylvia’s. It was a monumental effort, and he was certain that a lesser man would have been distracted by the view her provocative lean afforded him. The way her segmented armor hugged her olive-toned skin as if she’d been poured into it made him want to study…

The thief’s green eyes snapped up from wandering their way down her chest to meet the nymph’s gaze. Unfortunately, if her smirk was any indication, his brief moment of impropriety hadn’t gone unnoticed. To make matters worse, Keysha’s snort of laughter meant that Sylvia wasn’t the only one who’d caught him admiring the goods on display.

“Ahem,” Dal said, noisily clearing his throat. “I think you and I had plans before Keysha and Zaplixel broke into my room?”

“Oh, Dalthan.” At his hopeful tone, Sylvia patted his head as if he were an obedient puppy. “This is a chance for me to cut loose and have fun. Sex is a fantastic way to pass the time, but it just isn’t the same without the murder at the end.” The woman tilted her head to the side, giving him an analytical stare as she tapped the tip of one slender finger against her enticing lips. “Unless you’re okay with letting me kill you. Maybe Balerik will bring you back again?”

A manic gleam flashed in the depths of her amber eyes as she continued excitedly. “If he does, think of all the fun we could have. I’ve never killed someone twice.”

Alarmed by the sudden shift in the conversation, Dal lifted his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. Go have fun. But don’t get caught. I guess Keysha and I can enjoy some quality time together while you’re gone.”

“Keep dreaming, you fucking cutpurse.” Keysha drawled, tossing his coin so that it flashed in the gleaming firelight. “I’d rather let fluffy tits over there kill me.”

“...Really?” The assessing gaze Sylvia shot her way was enough to make the [Sharpshooter] reach for her bow.

“Who are we killing?” Zaplixel’s nasally voice drew everyone’s attention as the [Swindler] seemed to appear out of thin air. One moment the space on the opposite side of the fire was empty. In the next, the air seemed to shift and stretch, reminding Dalthan of streaks of thin paint running down a canvas. “Is it Dalthan?” The prick resumed as he stepped fully into the firelight. “Please tell me it’s Dalthan.”

“Where the fuck have you been?” The rogue scowled at the wizard as he lifted a hand to shield himself from the glare of the firelight reflecting off the old asshole’s bald head and the myriad of jewelry he held.

Wait. Jewelry he held?

Zap was a split second too late reacting. Everyone around the fire had time to notice the gold chains dangling from his fingers and the tell-tale glint of gemstones clutched against his palms. Sensing the attention, the wizard shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes just as Keysha slapped her forehead.

“You didn’t.” The [Sharpshooter] groaned as she rose to her feet and began stalking toward Zaplixel. “Please tell me you didn’t walk off with a bunch of jewelry when you know half those people have families that they’re going to be delivered to tomorrow when we get to Sweet Water. Families that will know exactly what kind of rings and necklaces they wore.”

Dalthan whistled a long, low note while he watched Zaplixel hastily backpedal to keep the roaring fire between himself and Keysha. “You are one dirty corpse fucker, you know that?” The thief said as he watched the archer stalk after the wizard like a cat chasing after a crow.

“I don’t fuck corpses,” Zap hissed. “And I don’t rob graves. These are spoils of war, damn it. I’m taking my share of them.”

“It’s been a while since I was in a war,” Sylvia said, her amber eyes narrowing as she watched Keysha and Zap circle the fire. “But I don’t think they count as spoils when you take them from the people that fought on your side.”

Keysha snapped her fingers and pointed urgently toward the nymph. “Exactly what she said! What the fuck is it with men wanting to put their hands on things that aren’t theirs?”

Dalthan started to reach for his shirt but thought better of it when he rotated his shoulder and felt a stab of pain slice down his right side. Out of the corner of his eye, he did catch Sylvia watching his movements appreciatively as he twisted to test the limits of his mobility. Apparently, he didn’t have the market cornered on ogling someone attractive.

“Oh please, Key.” Dalthan sighed, lifting his hands above his head in a stretch of his own that had the nymph nibbling on her lower lip while she watched. “You’re some kind of barbarian princess that took over an entire country. You built an entire culture around taking shit that isn’t yours.”

The archer whirled away from Zap and took a menacing step toward the thief. “This isn’t a conversation about me, asshole.”

“You’re right,” Dalthan said, noting how Zaplixel remained strategically placed on the far side of the fire. “This is a conversation about that dumbass corpse fucker. But we don’t have time for his bullshit. We finally have a chance for me to clue you in about my plan. So why don’t we all sit the fuck down and act like professionals for one night.”

“Fine,” Keysha huffed. Her head jerked to the side, tossing her long black braid over one slender shoulder as she spoke. “Tell us what this amazing plan is so we can get on with our night. But if Zaplixel gets caught I’m going to fucking murder him.”

“Not if I murder him first,” Dalthan said, tossing Zap a smile that could have frozen a desert oasis.

“Alright,” Dal said, ignoring the rude gesture the [Swindler] sent his way. He was too excited about the con looming on the horizon to let the prick ruin his mood. “The first thing I’m going to need you all to do is remain calm. I’m going to introduce you to our new friend, Baki.”

“Who the hell is Baki?” Keysha’s sullen acceptance of Dalthan’s melodramatic nature evaporated in a flash of concern. Suddenly alert, the archer’s gray eyes scanned the sun-scarred landscape that’d been painted a deep, bloody red by the waning light. "I don't see anyone nearby. Where is he?"

“Baki,” Dalthan began, “is a lizardman lieutenant that’s hiding in my shadow with Vex.”

Sylvia made a choked sound behind him. Shale, in an alarming show of interest, slowly rotated the large stones of its torso so it could face the thief. Zap remained silently, probably too busy counting the rings he’d stolen off the dead mercs to care about the plan that was going to keep them all alive.

Well, all of them that mattered, anyway.

His green eyes flashing in the dancing firelight, Dalthan looked to each of his teammates in turn.

The thief’s voice cut through the growing darkness like a freshly honed blade. “We’re going to walk right through the front door of this Fortress of Scorched Stone. No need to sneak, because they’re going to welcome us in with open arms.”

“All it’s going to cost us is the town of Sweet Water.”