“Zan,” Whiskey said, “Can we count on you to help?”
Not seeing himself as truly having a choice, especially with their search in town already on shaky ground, Zan said, “Sure. Let me inform Jiehong. It’s about the time when we were going to meet up. Where should we find you?”
“Edge of the encampment. Over there,” Whiskey said, pointing in a direction.
Zan nodded and rushed back into town to find Jiehong.
Zan arrived at the tavern right as Jiehong approached from another road.
“You’re in a tizzy. What happened?” Jie asked.
“Whiskey,” Zan huffed. “She and her rebel friends spotted an enemy force. The Expanse, they think, is trying to set up a base. I offered our help.”
Jiehong considered. He said, “Is this really our issue, Zan?”
His friend’s response confused Zan. “What do you mean? Of course, it is our problem! It’s our war! Our—”
“But it is not. It sounds like this is a rebel thing to help bolster their image. Rebels are not our friends. Whiskey or no. Let them scrap their blisters on the splintered foe. Then the forces of the Kingship will swoop in and finish the enemy.”
Zan held Jiehong’s gaze. “I already pledged our aid. We’re going. End of story.”
Jiehong returned Zan’s stern gaze and said, “Understood. Sir.”
Rushing back to the rebel camp, Zan found where Whiskey mentioned. It was only moderately tougher with the setting sun casting shadows everywhere.
“Zan, Jiehong, thank you for coming. We are short on time. We want to strike the enemy before they can organize a response. Zan, ride with me. Jiehong, you’ll have the honor of riding with our weapons master on his super-horse. Hold on tight,” Whiskey said to them.
Zan didn’t waste any time in saddling alongside Whiskey. Though he did wonder what a ‘super horse’ was and how it differed from a normal horse. He did not have long to wait. He saw from one of the makeshift stables emerge a horse easily three times the size of a normal horse. Whistling, Zan became instantly jealous of Jiehong’s privilege at being able to ride such a beast.
Settling in alongside and to Whiskey’s back, some rebels made derogatory remarks at them. “Ignore them, Zan. They are small-minded and limited. They think a man should never ride to the back of a woman. Forget it.”
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“Consider it forgotten,” Zan said, truly not caring.
Whipping the horse into action, although not literally whipping, Whiskey commanded her steed to go.
Like a cannonball launched from a titan, the steed galloped at dangerous speeds toward the black unknown. Zan held on tighter and wondered how long he would need to grip Whiskey for dear life.
The answer was about a couple of hours.
At no time during their ride could Zan take even one hand away from Whiskey. So rough did they trod, had he removed a hand, to, for example, chat with Jiehong over their earpiece, he knew the horse would throw him in the dirt.
And Zan didn’t want that!
So Zan held on tight and thanked the gods for his equipment’s functional elemental resistances. Although not every part of his body had coverage, something which the elements reminded him of when he did finally dismount the horse and certain exposed joints felt of ice.
“Oh, gods!” Zan cursed. His body felt strange. Tired, strained. He thanked the gods he wore protective gear for his nether regions.
“Where are we?” Zan asked.
Around them, other rebels were dismounting. It was high midnight. Visibility was extremely limited. What could they do with moonlight?
“Over there?” Whiskey asked a subordinate.
“Yes, ma’am,” the subordinate replied. Zan looked at the subordinate. He was pretty sure he was the man who derided him for riding at Whiskey’s back.
Whiskey removed from her personage a spyglass and unfolded it to its full length. Peering through, she made several noises as she pinpointed with incredible accuracy enemy movements. No wonder the rebels want her, Zan thought.
“Okay!” Whiskey said. “We will need a two-pronged attack. If our intel is right, we will need to assault the set-up and the supply lines. Obviously, this is only the first batch. High and mighty of the enemy to think they can establish an operations base with full supply lines right under our noises. Conceited little pricks.”
Whiskey’s response pulled subdued laughter from her men. Zan saw despite their social limitations, her troops respected her. It must be strange for Whiskey to be in such a responsibility. One hand, respect. On the other hand, disdain when some abstract gender rules fell to the wayside.
With Jiehong’s detachment arriving momentarily, Whiskey got to work in assembling the two teams which would assail the enemy.
Oddly, Zan noticed she placed herself not on the team assailing the enemy by horseback, but on he and Jiehong’s detachment.
Giving a quick pep talk before the battle began, Whiskey said to the ‘away team,’ so to speak, the following: “Men, keep it simple, keep it clean. I would ride with you, but I have to ensure this little base of theirs is burned to ashes. We have outside allies, so I need to monitor them. Liver! You’re in charge. I know your skills are second-to-none. Ride hard and slay well!”
Liver — what an odd name — rode fast, hard, violently once Whiskey finished speaking. Turning now to Zan, Jie, and the rest of the ‘home team,’ so to speak, Whiskey said, “We have the honor of removing a stain from the surface of existence. Gather yourself, then meet along the edge. We will assault the enemy from two directions.”
Zan and Jiehong rejoined and offered each other several words of commiseration regarding their unexpected and lengthy horseback ride.
“I think my man parts are busted,” Jiehong said.
Zan couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re fine, man. The ladies will like you just as well.”
Jiehong grinned from cheek-to-cheek at hearing Zan’s comment.
The two rested with the other rebels for a moment. Watering down, munching on some smoked and salted meats as a snack.
Readying themselves for another brutal battle, the boys approached Whiskey and told her they were ready.
In the distance, a fire ignited.