“We’re close, another day or two according to the map,” Gilex said without turning.
“What are our plans when we reach the Circle of Demise?” Utar asked over the howling wind.
“The plan is simple; once we retrieve the staff of power we'll go after Togan and his dogs. We owe him a debt of blood, don’t you think?” Gilex turned and faced the slightly smaller man with the short reddish hair and beard.
“He should have killed us when he had the chance.” Utar squinted, and his dark blue eyes and facial expression took on a sinister look.
“Yes and that mistake will cost him dearly,” Gilex added. “Get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow. I’ll take the first watch.”
Gilex was finished with the conversation and turned, staring over the bluff. The wind blew his dark, smoky-colored hair away from his face, revealing a small scar above his left brow.
“With all due respect,” Utar began, “Togan is a master swordsman with an army to back him up. We didn’t stand a chance the first time around. What makes you think we’ll do any better even with that staff?”
“Trust me, we will. Now go get some sleep.” Utar left.
As he walked back toward his tent, he nodded at several men in passing and entered the small pavilion. Utar walked over to his bed, removed his scale armor and matching boots, and placed his broadsword within reach. He fell asleep shortly thereafter.
