An Angel Alone

Off to the left stood his target. The Angel of the Red Sands was flanked by two Ukari, their imposing forms a testament to their combat prowess. One of them bore a gauntlet of sharpened talons affixed to his arm, each blade ready to tear through flesh or armor with ease. The other wielded a curved khopesh, its gleaming edge catching the light as it hung lazily at his side. Their distinct armor designs denoted their roles and personalities, though both stood tall—nearly the height of the horse the Angel and Vyn rode upon. Perhaps they were hybrids, a fusion of orc and man. That would explain their size and the ever-present masks they wore, concealing whatever lay beneath.

The khopesh wielder, clad in sleeker armor, drawled with an air of nonchalance, "This reminds me of the time the vagabonds tried to storm the Hall of Kings with their lesh. Nasty creatures to kill, those things. If you want to put one down, you've got to dig into the weak points, jam your blade in, and wrench it until you feel the crunch. Breaking one? Now that's another story entirely."

"They sound like a challenging mount," the Angel replied, his tone light, though there was a hint of curiosity beneath it.

The other Ukari, the one armed with talons, growled in response. "The lesh we're after aren't meant to be killed."

"Yes, thank you for the reminder, Creed. Is this the kind of wisdom that comes with old age?" the khopesh wielder, Cadius, remarked with a dry humor that undercut his serious appearance.

Creed grunted, his voice gruff but tinged with irritation. "Cadius, you wouldn't recognize wisdom if a Jenete granted you three gifts, and each one was labeled 'wisdom.'"

Cadius shrugged, unfazed. "You're right. I'd ask for the fastest mount, the finest armor, and the strongest opponent. Wisdom doesn't win battles—it just makes them less fun."

Creed let out a long sigh, the weariness of his years showing. "That was sarcasm, you fool. These wars are wearing me down. I'm getting too old for this."

The Angel, listening with mild amusement, squinted up at Creed and quipped, "You are."

Without hesitation, Creed cuffed the Angel on the side of the head with a practiced hand. "You're not supposed to agree with me."

The Angel rubbed his head, grinning. "But you have a beard."

Creed scowled, though a flicker of humor threatened to soften his expression. "Just because you can't grow one doesn't mean I'm old."

Veneres turned his attention away from the easygoing conversation and back to more pressing matters. One of the Sovrans called out to him, "We need to strike before they cross the lake in the middle."

Veneres resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, instead forcing a composed tone as he responded, "Attacking on marshy ground would only hinder us. Many of our riders would be incapacitated, Fabien."

Fabien let out a disgruntled grunt. "Better to get this over with," he muttered.

Ah, yes. Veneres nearly forgot how predictable the man was. A blunt instrument, easy to manipulate. Veneres replied with a measured calm, "Patience, Fabien. You needn't worry. I'm sure your favorite courtesan is still back at camp, waiting for you." He spoke with casual indifference, though he knew full well the implication would hit its mark. And if she happened to be with another man, well, that only deepened the hook Veneres had so carefully lodged in Fabien's pride.

Before Fabien could retort, Drake Collex, his ever-loyal lackey, stepped in to defend him. "And where is your inquisitor, Veneres?" Drake's tone was edged with suspicion, his posture tense.

Veneres gave him a neutral glance. "I hold no authority over the inquisitor. It would be unwise to think otherwise."

Drake, undeterred, pressed further. "But he answers to you, does he not?"

Veneres tilted his head, conceding the point. "In a way, he does."

Drake grunted, folding his arms. "Then he is yours, just like we are yours."

Veneres allowed himself a thin smile, showing just enough teeth to unsettle. "I'll remember that," he said smoothly. Drake was simpler than most—his motivations transparent, his weaknesses obvious. The family heirloom Drake held so dearly would be a simple thread to pull if Veneres ever needed leverage. A dull hook, but useful nonetheless.

Ahead of them, the lesh grazed by a lake at the center of the clearing. The sun had reached its peak, only to be obscured moments later by the ring, plunging the landscape into fleeting darkness.

Misaka rode closer to him, her voice low but urgent. "We need to move." Then, leaning in further, she whispered, "My banshees are in position. Just give the word."

Veneres gave a slight nod, acknowledging her readiness. Misaka slipped back into the ranks, her job done for now. A tantalizing victory was within reach, so long as the pieces fell as planned.

Fabien's voice broke through the stillness. "Let's get this done before the Lunar Storms crawl down from the sky and bite into us. I'd rather have supper back at camp than spend another hour out here."

The lesh grazed lazily around the lake at the center of the clearing. The sun had reached its zenith, only to be swallowed by the ring moments later. Darkness washed over the landscape for a few brief, eerie minutes.

Misaka glanced toward Veneres, her voice low and sharp. "We need to get moving." She then leaned closer, her tone dropping into a whisper, "My banshees are ready and waiting—just give the word."

Veneres gave a subtle nod, acknowledging her preparation. Misaka disappeared behind him, melting back into the ranks. This could be a decisive victory, one that would bolster both his plans and his reputation—if everything went according to plan.

From a few paces away, Fabien grumbled, his voice coarse with impatience. "Let's get this over with before the Lunar Storms crawl down from the sky and start gnawing on our hides. I'd rather be back at camp eating supper than out here wasting time."

"We'll be fine," the Angel of the Red Sands interjected calmly. The hiss of his shawl mechanism signaled its activation, revealing his face to the dry, scalding winds. The dark sands whipped past, brushing against his features as the sun reemerged from behind the ring, flooding the scene with its harsh light.

From the distance came the shouts and hollers of the templars. The charge had begun. Now they would wait for the results.

"The real question," Creed remarked, his gravelly voice cutting through the mounting tension, "isn't whether we'll survive, but whether we'll be able to find our way back to camp after this is over."

Cadius hefted his khopesh with a chuckle, the blade catching the sunlight. "With horses and a fresh herd of lesh under us, nothing in the desert would dare attack us."

"Plenty of things in the desert could—and would—eat both man and lesh," Veneres warned, his gaze sweeping toward the jagged outcrops of the mountains framing the valley.

The Angel's hand rose to touch the Tridact hanging at his neck. "You're speaking of the Hydra, aren't you?"

Veneres inclined his head slightly, his tone grave. "Nine of them roam the sands of Reem, preying on Cerastes and Woollarks alike."

Cadius laughed—a strange sound, a guttural mix of a grunt and a snort that echoed faintly off the cliffs. "Maybe our Angel here could tame one," he said, his tone half-jesting.

The Angel smiled faintly, humor flickering across his features. "I'll try my luck with an army instead."

"The way you throw yourself into conflict, I wouldn't be surprised if you actually tried," Cadius quipped good-naturedly. Veneres couldn't deny the truth in his words—the Angel had a reckless streak that even he found difficult to understand.

"Let's hope he doesn't," Creed muttered, his sharp gaze flicking to Veneres. "We're his guards, Cadius. That's our purpose. Don't forget it."

Creed's words hung in the air, a pointed reminder.

Cadius rolled his shoulders, clearly unbothered. "We were just having a little banter, Creed. No need to get so worked up."

Veneres's eyes shifted toward Sa'd, who stood silently nearby. The others had begun to watch the Ukari more intently, uneasy about their presence. The pair of guardians hadn't spoken a word to anyone in the Dauntless company until now, and even these few exchanges seemed to unsettle the men.

Creed turned sharply to Cadius, his tone sharp and reprimanding. "If you don't stop playing the fool, I'll have Godric replace you."

Cadius folded his arms, his posture defiant as the sunlight glinted off the scaled plates in his armor. "It was a jest, Creed."

"I don't need you filling his head with foolish ideas," Creed snapped.

"There's no need to push so hard," Cadius replied, irritation edging his tone. "I know when I've made a mistake."

Creed's eyes narrowed. "He's not as strong as we are. The contract ensures that. You should know this."

Before the argument could escalate further, the lesh finally spotted the templars moving into position. The beasts reared, their muscular frames taut with alarm, and bolted into a dead sprint toward the smaller party waiting ahead.

This was it.

Veneres straightened in his saddle and raised his sword high, the sun catching the polished steel. Light danced across the ornate patterns etched into his armor as he addressed the hunting party. His voice carried over the pounding hooves and braying of the lesh. "Let us make this interesting. The hunter who captures the greatest lesh will ride at my side during the siege of the Bridge."

With those words, he spurred his horse forward, charging into the chaos.

Behind him, the rest of the party surged into motion, their whoops and cheers echoing through the valley.

Veneres allowed himself a small, knowing smile. Sa'd would know the signal. This was his moment to act. If he didn't, well, that was a matter for later.

To the others, the herd of lesh seemed to move in a natural, panicked stampede. But Veneres could see it—their movements were too coordinated, their numbers packed too closely together, as if an unseen force guided them. Atta. The telltale manipulation of his Sorcerer. None of the other hunters would notice, which suited Veneres just fine.

Good.

Veneres steered his horse toward the heart of the herd, his sword in one hand and a coiled rope in the other. To his right, the Angel of the Red Sands rode with his sabertooth cat bounding alongside him. The great feline moved with precision, its sleek body never straying far from its master's side.

Veneres timed his approach carefully, angling to lose himself within the surging mass of lesh while positioning himself closer to his true goal.

He could hear the Angel's laughter, bright and unrestrained, cutting through the chaos. It was strange—why laugh? What was there to find so joyous in the midst of this? Veneres shook the thought away. There was no time to dwell on the peculiarities of the Angel's behavior.

"Let's see how much faster you can run, Elys!" the Angel shouted gleefully, his voice carrying over the din. "I know how much you love this!"

Veneres made a deliberate turn, steering his warhorse through the main body of the lesh herd. His sword gleamed in one hand while the other gripped a coiled rope. Off to his far right, the Angel of the Red Sands rode alongside his sabertooth cat. The beast moved with precision, prowling protectively beneath its master's mount. It was clear the animal would not stray far from the Angel, no matter the chaos surrounding them.

Veneres pressed deeper into the heart of the herd, his movements calculated. He ensured that he blended into the swirling mass of lesh, using their stampeding bodies as cover to edge closer to his true goal. His mind, however, briefly lingered on the sound of laughter cutting through the chaos.

The Angel was laughing, his voice filled with unrestrained joy as he darted between the enormous creatures like a child at play. It was strange. Why laugh? What could possibly be so amusing in the midst of this hunt? Veneres shook the thought away. He had no time to dwell on the peculiarities of the Angel's behavior.

"Let's see how much faster you can run, Elys!" the Angel shouted gleefully, his voice carrying over the thunder of hooves. "I know how much you love this!"

"There are too many! We're losing the Oathsworn!" barked the clawed Ukari, Creed, his voice sharp with irritation.

"Then we kill some!" Cadius roared, his khopesh raised high.

The Angel's sabertooth cat, Elys, darted effortlessly through the reeds, keeping pace with its master. The pair locked their sights on a massive lesh at the front of the herd—a towering beast with a stygian shell that gleamed like polished obsidian. Its jade dorsals jutted sharply from its back, glinting in the sunlight. It was the leader of the herd, unmistakable in its imposing form.

Veneres's lips curved into a faint smile. His timing was perfect. He just needed a few more moments, and he would be positioned right beside the Angel and his target.

Akash grinned broadly, clearly caught up in the excitement. "Looks like we've found our prize!"

"Damn the divine, just wait, Oathsworn!" Creed snarled, his claws tearing through another lesh with brutal efficiency.

Cadius let out a bellowing laugh as his khopesh carved into the side of another beast. "Relax, Creed! The kid isn't going anywhere. He's having fun!"

"Fallen entrusted us with this mission," Creed snapped, his tone brooking no argument. "We will see it through. We are not the Oathbreakers."

At last, Veneres broke through the chaos and reached the Angel's side. His warhorse huffed heavily beneath him, its powerful legs pumping to maintain pace with the stampeding herd. He caught sight of the Angel's face—flushed with exhilaration, a broad smile spread across his features. Beneath him, Elys prowled closer to the stygian-shelled lesh, ready to strike.

Veneres tilted his head, his tone smooth and measured. "It seems we've reached an impasse. We both seek the leader of this herd."

"I'll be the one to break it!" the Angel declared without hesitation, his voice brimming with determination.

Perfect. That was all Veneres needed—a single push, a spark to fan the flames. He flashed a toothy grin, the challenge clear in his expression. As he had anticipated, the Angel surged forward, ignoring the shouts of protest from his Ukari guards. If Misaka had done her part, the Angel's isolation would be guaranteed after taming this beast.

The Angel looped his rope and hurled it toward the lesh. The rope sailed through the air but missed its mark as the creature danced nimbly out of range. Undeterred, the Angel charged again, his body hunched low in the saddle, ready to take the kind of reckless action Veneres had come to expect from him.

Veneres threw his own rope, aiming for the creature's neck. Like the Angel, he missed, the lesh evading their attempts with almost mocking agility. The massive beast turned sharply, its powerful legs churning the ground beneath it as it bolted in another direction.

The Angel and Veneres exchanged a glance—an unspoken challenge flickering between them—before both riders stormed after the lesh in tandem.

For Veneres, the outcome of the chase was irrelevant. He had already achieved what he set out to do. Isolating the Angel had been the true goal, and this wild hunt was merely the stage for his plans. The lesh, while a pleasant bonus, was not the prize he truly sought.

Veneres threw his rope once more, this time letting it sail a fraction too far, ensuring the creature slipped from his grasp. His warhorse adjusted to his commands without question, keeping pace but remaining just out of reach of the leader lesh.

At last, the Angel's rope found its mark, looping around the lesh's neck and pulling taut. The beast reared violently, its mineral hide gleaming in the sunlight. With a determined shout, the Angel leaped from his mount, crashing into the lesh with his full weight. The creature thrashed against him, but the Angel held fast, his grip unwavering.

Veneres circled them from a distance, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The other riders and Ukari were nowhere to be seen—Misaka had done her job well. The two of them were alone, save for the Angel's roaring triumph and the wild thrashing of the captured lesh.

Satisfied, Veneres guided his horse closer, watching carefully as the Angel wrestled the stygian beast into submission. The moment he had orchestrated was finally here.