[Regin Hardhammer]

Thoronmir’s revelation had both surprised and excited Azarmanô. He was so elated they already had a guard uniform that a large, amiable grin spread across his face. Now there would be no need to hide in the bushes and hope that they would not be seen. He formulated a plan exactly how he would steal the necessary clothing. Once he had finished planning, he approached Thoronmir, Inzillomi, and Abarzadan.

First, Azarmanô addressed Thoronmir, “I wish to borrow your guard uniform. I thank you for your generosity. The disguise will be indispensable to our mission.”

Turning to the rest of the group, he continued, “Tonight I will don the uniform and ride my Karibor away from our camp. I will find a group of soldiers, take their uniforms, and return by morning. Fear not for my safety: I am completely confident my tactics will succeed. This mission must be completed by one man only, but I swear that you shall see my face once more before the sun rises. Goodbye for now then.”

After putting on his grey tunic and sliding a shirt of light weight plate mail over his head, he lowered the metal helm onto his head with its fair yellow hair. He mounted his horse and rode with some regret away from the group. Azarmanô did not enjoy separating himself from the others to accomplish his task, but could envision no other way of doing what he must. He intended to fulfill his promise of returning before the morning just as he felt determined to observe the vow he had made to his wife before she left that they would meet again on the boats in Romenna.

It was not hard to find a contingent of the king’s men close by. The sky was now dark and a glowing light diffused from a large campfire that had been made a distance away. Quickly, Azarmanô began to ride towards the blaze, suspecting that it was the camp of soldiers. After traveling a short distance, he could see the outline of three guards who appeared to be eating dinner. Azarmanô could smell the savory smell of hot beef stew, which appealed to him greatly because he was voracious from skipping dinner.

He stopped in front of what appeared to be the leader judging from the prominent golden insignia that he displayed on his helmet. As an extra precaution Azarmanô attempted to disguise his voice, using a gruff, coarse tone.

“Where have you been? My captain sent me to your squadron because we had too many men and not enough supplies for all of them. I am to join your unit now.”

“Yes,” said the captain casually, “Well it looks as though we have no choice. In any case, we have room for one more man in our camp. We will be gathering more suspicious villagers for a mass sacrifice at the temple tomorrow morning. Sit now and eat.”

Azarmanô grimaced at the thought of such an atrocity and the horrible carnage that the dawn would bring. He would ensure that such carnage would never occur under any circumstances.The beef stew tasted as good as it smelled, filling and satisfying his ravenous hunger that had afflicted him since morning. After dinner, the men told stories of the encounters that they had experienced earlier that day. Several times they referred to the “mongrel faithful” and all of their “criminal behavior” and Azarmanô was forced to suppress the wellspring of anger that rose slowly within him, albeit with difficulty. The soldiers grew more weary as the night wore on and until the men retired, yawning profusely, to their sleeping sacs beneath the star speckled night sky. Azarmanô followed suit with the other soldiers and slipped into the sac that was provided for him. The evening was cool and somewhat windy, but not uncomfortably chilly from within a warm sleeping sac, which more than made up from the stench of sweat.

He waited for what seemed to be two hours in his sac until he was certain that all of the men were asleep. He rose from his bed knowing what he must do now, despite his serious misgivings. The soldiers must be eliminated, for if he let them live then they would take their revenge against the nearby village. Moreover, having seen his face, every soldier within an enormous radius around the city would be hunting for him, rendering the rescue mission impossible. Not only would this endanger his life, but the lives of his entire group. No place would be safe for them to stay for long with the king’s men chasing close behind. It was the only way to get the uniforms without alerting the entire force of guards to their presence.

Drawing his long, black oak bow he silently shot an arrow into the face of each of the gaurds so as not to damage the uniform. The process was quick, each arrow he fired in quick succession at the soldiers that lay engrossed in slumber. His skill and precision with the bow ensured that the process did not create much noise. He tried not to think of the families that these men belonged to or the wives that they left behind, like his own, but the thoughts seeped into his mind nonetheless, and heightened his ambivalence. He cleared these thoughts from his head by reassuring himself that it was simply a mission to steal uniforms and protect many villagers from certain death, but the doubts still plagued him.

Azarmanô stripped the corpses of their raiment, including the metal helmets that the soldiers had taken off before heading to sleep. After the process was complete, Azarmanô had pilfered three of the four guard uniforms, including the captains, which he planned to wear himself. He dragged their bodies one by one to the edge of a steep cliff and threw them into a covered wooded ravine with thick, tall grass. From the top of the precipice, Azarmanô could see no signs of their bodies. Somberly, he extinguished the fires by pouring large fistfuls of sand into the dying blaze, leaving a large pile of ash in its wake. As promised, he traveled back in the camp just as the sun rose above the horizon, the harbinger of a new day.