Boko's talons cut through the sand with ease. Stryker sat atop his back, with Ana right behind him. They wore Bedouin robes in order to disguise their identities from any Zenobian soldiers they may have encountered as they drew nearer to Odessa. Juakeem rode Shae'elle a little ways ahead of them to the right. He slowed down to mirror their speed and ride alongside Boko.
"Do you have a plan once you have reached Odessa?" Juakeem asked.
"We're headed for the Inn," Stryker answered him.
"You are rebels then?"
Stryker grinned, taking a moment to think about it. "You could say that, yes. But what makes you say that?"
"Odessa Inn is merely a disguise for a rebel outpost. And your friend, Edge. He is a rebel too. One can only assume..." he finished with a smile.
Ana thought for a moment. What's Odessa like?" she asked curiously.
There was a moment of silence; hesitation. Stryker just couldn't lie to her. "It's the fourth largest city in the Empire," he answered gravely, pausing for a moment. "The Zenobian Empire."
There was a heavy, grim silence now. it loomed in the sweltering air, and the cores of Ana's eyes. They were headed right back into enemy territory. Directly toward hundreds of Zenobian soldiers.
"How could you keep this from me?" Ana asked Stryker calmly.
"I didn't think it was necessary to make things worse for you."
"I had the right to know."
"Hey. This Odessa thing wasn't my idea. I came along to protect you. We're not exactly gonna strut on into town. I'll find a safe way in."
"You mistake me for some common chocobo breeder," Juakeem said, looking at Stryker with a closed-lip smile. "I know a way directly into the compound beneath the Inn."
Stryker smiled wide, shaking his head. "Thank you, Juakeem."
*****
It was getting dark as Edge made his way across the harsh, cruel desert. The skies were clear and he looked to the stars for guidance. The sands of Zenobia could be confusing when you run out of water. Heat, and dehydration could cause hallucinations and delusion. His pace had become increasingly hurried after discovering that he was being followed. He was still three days out of Odessa and couldn't be sure who was tracking him, or how many there were.
He was scouting for a spot to camp when he sensed a presence behind him; a pair of eyes scanning his form. He spun around quickly, but could see nothing besides dunes of sand and his own footprints. The cool wind howled and whistled across the stoic sands. Some one, or some thing was out there lurking in the dunes. Hunting him like prey.
He grew angry; defiant. "Show yourself!"
He waited, hoped, and still he stood alone.
"Fight me, coward!" he yelled out with more aggression this time.
Edge caught movement in the corner of his right eye. From behind one of the dunes, a young male wearing an eerie, haunting mask slowly rose to his feet. The mask was white, and looked like it had been carved from bone. It perfectly covered the facial area, leaving only the eyes and ears exposed. He had short blue hair and held a metallic spear in his right hand. The base of the shaft rested above his shoulder, and had an expertly crafted, spade-like blade mounted to it. It's razor sharp edge caught the moonlight, drawing Edge's attention.
He thought it strange that the man wore little clothing or armour. His chest was bare, save for a leather strap that held plated armour over his left breast and shoulder. His hands and forearms were wrapped tightly, leaving the fingers bare. His feet were bound in cloth, and he wore baggy, tattered blue and yellow pants tucked into the cloth below the knee.
He approached Edge slowly, making his way to the top of the dune where he stopped, removing a water skin from his gear. He tossed it toward Edge, and it hit him in the chest, falling into the sand.
Edge was confused. He didn't know if he was friend or foe. "Who are you?" he asked intently, not giving proper thought to the water skin.
The man continued toward him, neglecting to answer his question.
Edge was about to speak again when the man lunged forward, pushing off his left foot, pulling back his right hand for a vicious thrust of his spear.
Edge narrowly avoided the attack with a hasty step and sway to the left. He stumbled in the sand, catching himself with his left hand before getting his footing and drawing his sword from his back.
With a spear, the man had range and agility on his side. Edge would have to be patient, and wait for an opening to strike.
The man held his spear with both hands, spreading his legs and bending them at the knee. He took one side-ways step after another toward Edge, waving his spear back and forth. The red, blood-stained tassel blurred into streaks as it danced back and forth toward him. His eyes struggled to follow the tassel, anticipating the coming attack.
With a quick, confusing motion, the head of the spear smacked his sword, toying with him. Again, harder, forcing his sword to the left with startling force. The immediately followed up by spinning to his right on his left foot with a long, broad swing of his spear using his right hand. Edge barely managed to duck the attempted decapitation, lunging to his left into a combat roll as the man shifted into a downward thrust after finishing his swing.
Edge was no match for him. He was impeccable; flawless in his form. There was an arrogant calculation and ease to his every movement. His spear was not a weapon wielded, but a part of his body. He was one with the weapon. Edge couldn't win this fight, and he knew it.
"I don't want to fight you!" Edge blurted out.
The man raised his spear for another thrust, but paused as a long, thick needle pierced his neck abruptly. He calmly plucked it loose, lowering his spear slowly as he examined the strange needle.
His focus drifted from the needle to his own body. He dropped the needle, staring intently at his left hand palm, curling his fingers slowly.
Edge was about to strike when the man staggered , losing his balance. As he fell, he used all of his strength and will power to push off his spear, landing on his side, rather than face-down in the sand.
Edge looked around quickly, noticing a strange sight. A cactus with arms, legs, and a pair of eyes. It stood still, glaring at him. He locked eyes with it for several moments, unsure of it's intentions.
Suddenly it moved, running off into the desert.
Edge sheathed his sword slowly, heading for the water skin which was still sitting in the sand behind the paralysed man. There would be no camping tonight. He had a head-start, and he was taking it...
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