He stopped moving. Finally, Zan thought. But Jiehong did not turn to face him.

“Just… rest… for one… second!” He huffed, trying desperately to regain his composure but rapidly losing that battle.

A sound came from the giant crossbow weapon. Then he saw a bolt fly toward the town. He did not think the enemy could fire the weapon at them, not from both their, and its, current positions, but he made a mental note to take care of where he stood when facing it in the future.

“I know you’re just as tired as me. I can see in how you move. You’re going to get yourself killed. And why? To prove some stupid point to me?” He stated. Catching his breath, letting the wind blow away some of the frustration, he took deep breaths. Then he exhaled. Fast, then slow, he only wanted a few moments of strategic bodily calm before they launched themselves back into the violence.

“We’ll wait… if you need it,” Jiehong said, he noticed with great reluctance. Jiehong’s stodgy reaction only made him wonder why he was acting so childish. It was tempting for him to say exactly that — ‘why are you behaving like a spoiled child!’ But they were out on their first mission as Ranger-Knights. He couldn’t allow their operation to become compromised. That could wait until after they were out of danger…

“Let’s go,” Jiehong announced, eager for the fight to resume and end.

He followed. Why not? They were on the same team. Right? Though, it might not have felt so at the moment, he knew they were the firmest of allies. Of course, we’re on the same team, he knew. Sometimes, he thought it helped to think of the worst-case scenarios. With the worst out of his mind, he could focus on what he could control.

Climbing the hill, he saw ahead of them — perhaps of about two-hundred paces or more — a solid wall of enemy soldiers. Seeing them approach, the soldier-golems took advantage of their grace period before he and Jie was within striking distance. They further reinforced their wall-like defensive position and appeared more turtle-like than one might expect of wood-based abominations.

“Do you have any magic left?” he asked.

Jiehong said, “Not a drop. You pissed it away, I take it?”

The tone of voice egged him on like he had never been egged before. He swallowed his disdain and pushed forward with the battle plan. For the sake of their mission. And their friendship. “Yeah, I have none, either,” he replied.

It looked solid, the wall. Fighting their way through with brute force might not be possible. Even if they did, it might mean for them nothing more than a one-way victory.

Like a candle blazing in the dark, he thought of a plan: grenades!

He unflapped the pinecone-like object, pulled the pin, and threw it — threw it like how he threw up after sneaking some of a traveling merchant’s gin when they were younger and up to no good.

The grenade landed true and in the middle of their formation.

BOOM!

He averted his eyes for the flash and bang.

When he opened them, he saw an entire line of automotrons in pieces.

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Only two left, both golds.

“Approach them with purpose, Jiehong. They’re tougher than they look and can take a punch as well as they dish it out,” he cautioned his brother.

“I— uh, yes. Noted,” Jiehong said, seeming, too, to Zan like his brother wanted to have an attitude but pushed against so at the last moment, allowing for a nice reply instead.

These have got to be the last gold ones, he thought as he got in the first swing, his experience in battling them before helping him, now. Specifically, in realization of how much time he had literally facing the enemy before said enemy violently punched him to death. His blade cut true, and a golem lost most of an arm, along with part of its (mostly) wooden hull.

But the battle was far from over.

Having ended his swing, he knew he had to step back. Jiehong likely understood he needed to move fast, but he was late in taking up his shield, and he paid for it by needing to violently shove his way off and into the golem he faced. Freed of its fisting, its attempt to imprison and wear him to bone-rot by sheer force, he knew he had to make the most of his breathing room.

He had to move, so he shoved all his weight to his left. He brought his blade down and used it less as a sword and more as a common axe.

It fell to the ground. In two pieces.

Moving to strike the automotron Jiehong faced, he flashed his blade across and down. The automotron fell dead, 'de-commissioned,' as was said.

“Let’s attach a couple of these grenades to this one. Has lots of metal, but we should save one grenade for the enemy in case more of these timberheads contest our return to camp,” he told Jiehong.

Jiehong did not take offense to Zan’s plan. He even said, “Good idea. I honestly did not think of it.” He sounded genuine. Warm, even.

In a mad dash, he and Jiehong ran back to and through to the siege weapon site and pulled the pins. By cue, the grenades exploded, sending one booming blast after another rippling through the air. With fires burning in over a dozen places, he and Jiehong ran back to the mainland, so to speak, smoke drawing the attention of more foes than they realized. Across the distance, he saw enemy patrols mobilize from places neither he nor Jiehong knew existed. The siege force was larger than expected.

Looking to his right, but still a ways away, he saw the town lines. To his front and left, converging enemy troops. What should they do? He realized how troubled their situation was...

Exhausted by the day’s travel and fighting, he was running dangerously low on stamina, resolve. With a chill, he realized he could die here. He and Jiehong could become overwhelmed and simply pummeled or punched one too many times and die.

It was a risk, but he decided: he would run to the town and hope for aid. He could not guarantee survival if they were to wage a running battle back to the command center. So, with such an option presented, he chose life.

“Jiehong! Let’s fight our way to the town and draw out their help,” he shouted.

Not waiting for Jiehong and whether he would listen — which was irrelevant, as he would have to listen because his life depended on it — he made a break toward the city walls. He ran slowly; he wanted to push his legs, but even with the energy of life or death flowing through his veins, he could only manage a heady jogger’s pace at best.

“Are we even going to make it?” Jiehong asked, his breathing ragged.

“We will,” he replied. I hope…

But the closer they got to the town, the more enemies which came out of the woodwork. How many are there? And why? He wondered. What could they possibly gain from hiding out in the woods? This doesn’t make any sense!

What started as he and Jiehong needing only to use their melee weapons ended with him wishing they still had a grenade between the two of them. Oh, how welcome a grenade would be, he desired. But they had none! They used their grenade supply while destroying the siege engines.

With their swords clutched tightly in their hands, their advance slowed to a crawl. Battles broke out, with each battle lasting longer than the last; the fighting gave the slowly moving enemy groups time to replace their fallen compatriots within the fray. Which further dragged down the boys, threatening them with becoming overwhelmed if they did not break out of the never-ending lines of automotrons.

Reaching a position close enough to the city wall where help might hear their cries (of a league or two concerning paces), he hoped there was more than one lazy-eared watchman on duty during this early evening hour. He told Jiehong to protect his back for a moment and brought his hands to his mouth and cupped them, trying to get his body to mimic a shouting cone.

“Patriots in need of assistance. Repeat — Please, someone, help!”