Thoughts

Thunderstorms: One.

Azra gripped the handle of his blade harder than necessary. The stench in the air was almost intoxicating. This was more than just magic here. This was a forbidden practice of the darkest of magical arts

So it must mean he was close to his goal.

He crept up the hill, lying as low as his body could manage and still allow him movement. There were indistinguishable sounds coming from the other side of the hill. A glance over it confirmed the camp set up by the bandits. They had put up the tarp over the tent. The sound of rain on it would mask any movements he and his company made well. But stealth was not the problem here. He had just given the camp a glancing over three times now. Aside from the fifteen bandits that surrounded it, drinking away their small victory, there was no sign of his objective anywhere nearby.

"I have directed Mimo to the east, Azra. She is not one to value your precision when it comes to delicate missions like these."

Azra did not glance behind himself when the voice spoke. He had already smelled her scent when she had reached the foot of the hill.

"What of Sila and Siza?"

"The twins remain airborne. We could require reinforcements if the bandits decide to get too excited at our arrival. But we both know we can handle them well enough on our own."

Azra smiled to himself and moved closer to the camp. The woman moved along with him and they were soon a few meters from the nearest bandit in the outer perimeters of the camp. He had been mistaken about the rain masking their noise. These idiots here would never have heard him even if he did not come with the thunder of rainstorms.

"Last one to five buys the rum," the woman spoke beside him and leapt at the closest bandit with enough grace to make Azra impressed. But then again, there was no one more graceful in attacking someone's back than Mila.

He drew his sword from its sheath and proceeded to join in the spoils. There had been more men in the hut, and Azra smiled at the sight of them exiting. It had been a long time since his blade had its fill on enemy flesh and blood. He had downed three of them with swift strikes when he saw the purple ball of manna flying towards his head. He missed it by inches, the ends of his white hair not being so fortunate to say the same.

He did not know that people in the Dead Forest were now capable of using magic, and use it this well. They were, however, still no match for his might. He dodged the next three manna spheres and sent his sword plunging deep into the bandit's torso. Another swing saw him sever the head off.

He was just prepping himself for another attack when he noticed there was nothing else to slay. Mila and her greed for battle had gone and slaughtered all of them.

"I count five for myself," she said as she drew the blood from her sword, "and four for y-"

Azra drew his dagger and flung it in Mila's direction so fast that the girl barely registered it whizzing past her head and impaling the bandit behind her right between the eyes.

"You were saying?"

"I still got to five first."

"And I made sure you can live to drink rum again tomorrow."

Mila laughed her quiet, melodious laugh and agreed that they would both buy each other drinks then.

Azra would have ended up buying the rum either way so he did not venture much into the topic. Mila had a way of making sure her path was the only one that succeded. Being the daughter of an Oak and an Elenkite, Mila had been frowned on by society almost the same way as Azra had when they were still children.