Sometime in the dead of night, Mulad stood crouched in a lowly lit corner beside a tall bale of hay. He held up the scimitar ready to strike if need be. Holding his breath, he listened intently for incoming footsteps. They couldn't have been far from where he had left them. At any moment, Mulad knew that the men would be coming through the area.
As time passed doubts of the men coming began to set in. If they were going to come they would've had to have come by now.
Just as Mulad was about to step out he heard it. Footsteps, two of them to be exact. The men were moving slowly, which could mean that they were being extra cautious. If that were to be the case then Mulad's plan of making a sneak attack would probably fail.
Desperately searching around for a new plan of attack, Mulad's eyes drift to the tall bale of hay stacked on top of each other. Mulad had a new plan of attack. It would be extremely risky though. If it were going to work it would require a lot of precision and luck.
Mulad stood in front of the large hay bale stack while readying his scimitar and his mind. He listened intently to the sound of the men's footsteps from around the corner. Winding back his blade he waited to strike.
Turning the corner, the men are caught off guard, stopping right where Mulad intended for them too.
Smirking from his luckiness, Mulad sliced through the tall hay bale at an angle causing the stack to topple forward onto the men. Recovering, he quickly whipped around chopping deep into one of the men's throats.
The other man was trapped underneath the stack of hay. Trying to lift the hay bale from off of his chest, he grunted exerted as much force as he could.
"Shit. What do they make this out of?", he said while trying to lift it from off of his chest.
Turning around, Mulad lightly placed the scimitar's edge on the man's throat.
"Who are you people?", Mulad probed.
"W-W-Woah! I was just paid muscle! Nothing more! I swear it!", The frightened man reasoned while raising his arms up above his head.
Mulad's eye twitched in anger while he mumbled, "Tch- figures."
Mulad lifted the blade from his throat and scowled. Backing away from the man he lifted the blade and rested it upon his shoulder.
Thinking to himself about the last two remaining men, A weird mood settled in Mulad's mind. A paranoid fear clouding his judgment. It felt as though he needed to get back to the refuge, and quickly. Even though there he might find the other two men. In fact, that was the reason he needed to head back. He couldn't risk the chance of losing the ones he loved dearly.
Leaving behind the man to wriggle himself out from the under the bale of hay, Mulad dashed back into the alleys with unrelenting determination. He needed to get there, as fast as he possibly could.
Turning a corner and then another the sound of the children crying resonated between the sand hut walls. Mulad clenched onto the hilt of the scimitar with a grip strong enough to shatter glass. Howling as he ran, he lifted the scimitar behind his head as he turned around the last corner.
Blood was pooling onto the floor beneath Mulad's step. The vicinity was flooded with young bodies sliced open and bleeding dry. Abject despair washed through Mulad's body, as he saw all of his deceased brothers' lifeless bodies strewn across the bloody sand floor. In the center stood the red turbaned man clutching a scimitar stuck straight through one of the boys' stomach.
"NOOOOO! NO! No-o-o-o", Mulad's howling devolved into a whimpering cry.
The red turbaned man grabbed the lifeless boy by his black hair, ripping him off of his blade and throwing him to the side like a ragdoll.
Mulad fell to his knees and stabbed the scimitar into the bloodied sand. His audible cries subsided as he looked to the ground. Droplets of tears fell from his eyes and intermixed with the bloody pool in which he sat.
Punching the bloody floor and tilting his head back, he indignantly vociferated, "Why?! Why?! Why-y-y?!"
Looking forward, Mulad matched the red turbaned man's gaze. His eyes were dark brown and icy cold. Mulad's lip quivered at the sight of the man.
The man smiled holding back a laugh, before speaking.
"You should thank me for eliminating those little shits. Instead of running like the others, they tried to fight back."
"Bastard.", Mulad murmured in requital.
The red turbaned man leisurely strode toward Mulad, whirling his scimitar around his fingertips.
Stopping momentarily, He gave a wide eye grin and chortled out his words.
"You should've heard what they were saying!"
Then in a mock kid voice, he said, "Mulad will save me! Mulad will ki—"
Wheezing, he gripped his chest before bursting out in a fit of laughter, apparently incapable of containing it within any longer. lifting up a singular finger, he wiped a tear from his eye, as let out any remaining laughs.
"Why? ", Mulad softly whispered.
Smiling and cupping his ear, the man sardonically asked, "What was that?"
"Why did—"
"I can't hear you! Speak up boy!",
He laughed while swinging his scimitar, nonchalantly drawing closer.
At that moment, all of Mulad's grief was transmuted into burgeoning wrath. Lifting the scimitar over his head he crawled back to his feet.
Breathing in a large breath Mulad roared, "WHY DID YOU KILL THEM?!!"
Leaping forward Mulad struck down at him with all his weight centralized unto his strike.
The red turbaned man blocked Mulad's strike with his scimitar. Bouncing backward he wiped the sweat from his forehead and then spoke with a scowl.
"You killed my brother. So now I am going to kill you."
"What?!", Mulad quizzically furrowed his brow.
Just then did it dawn on Mulad who the red turbaned man was. Hopping backward and recovering his blade, Mulad readied his scimitar for another slash attack.
"The Red Brethren.", Mulad spewed fully revolted.
"Bingo.", The man smiled.
From what little Mulad knew about the Red Brethren, was that they were an outlaw group of martial practitioners. They were said to all have done some sort of blood pact ritual with each other, giving them the ability to peer into each other's sight and see through each other's eyes. Which must have meant that they learned of Mulad through his squabble with the men at the tavern. It had to be the fat man with the bulbous red turban. He was the Red Brother.
"Hey boy! You still awake?!", the Red Brother called out, pulling Mulad out of his daze.
"You should accept your death already. If you kowtow to me right now, I promise to make your death swift!"
Chuckling he wound back his arm and dashed toward Mulad.
Mulad lifted the scimitar, just in time to block the Red Brother's strike.
The Red Brother struck again and again. Each time, barely managing to parry his strikes away.
As the Red Brother's strikes pushed Mulad back with each consecutive strike, Mulad's arm became increasingly more and more worn out. Mulad knew if he kept blocking like this he'd soon reach his limit.
Tripping over the cadaver of one of the men that he had killed earlier, Mulad fell backward onto his ass, while concurrently deflecting the Red Brother's swift strikes.
With a devastating sidekick from the Red Brother, Mulad's blade whizzed from out of his hand to the floor outside his reach.
Mulad sat defenseless underneath the Red Brother who slowly winded his back in preparation for a lethal chop that would end Mulad's life then and there.
The Red Brother's face was veiled by the darkness. Despite this Mulad could clearly see his shiny white teeth, contorted into a smile and the whites of his crazy-eyed stare.