‘Shet!’ Zan cursed. ‘Had he set the bonfire off?’

Did not matter, he grit his teeth.

With the bonfire lit, Zan saw just how many automotrons languished inside the camp. Hundreds…

Zan continued his streaks of curses.

Although Zan would have liked nothing better than to curl up in a fetal position at the absolute numbers of the enemy, weakness wasn’t an option. He had to be strong to get through his pained body and win this battle. Defeat could not be an option when his freedom was at stake!

“Coming up!” Whiskey yelled.

Repeating the process again, Zan tossed his third grenade. Now his right arm blared in agony. He felt every jolt the horse made, every trodden trudge their hoove made upon the ground. Tears formed, but Zan let them fall away.

From the other side of the camp, Zan could see Jiehong do the same process from the back of his super-horse; he felt grateful he was not on that beast as even from a distance it looked like it could buck for miles.

Six grenades. Zan and Jiehong tossed only six into the enemy encampment. Zan still had three left, same as Jiehong. Looking across the width, even with the bonfires energizing their enemies, the damage inflicted by their hand-held weapons sent dozens, likely at least a couple hundred or more, to their wooden graves. Why the Expanse would so pack in their builders, Zan did not know.

“Coming up!” Whiskey shouted. Zan groaned.

With the greatest effort he reserved in his life, Zan forwent the process of slowly inching his way to the grenade and instead snatched it from his bet. He pulled the pin, tossed it, and cried out in agony.

Whiskey slowed down to check on Zan. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“No! I’m falling apart!” Zan screamed.

The pain in his limbs had grown. Now, to unavoidable levels of suffering. Had he pulled one or several muscles? Torn a ligament? Zan could only wonder and claw at half-remembered names of body parts learned from the village medicine man.

Whiskey pulled her horse to a stop. Pulling out a small capsule, she said, “Here! Swallow this.”

Zan took the pill and eat it.

“Good! That is a mild painkiller. Let me see where your body hurts,” Whiskey continued.

Whiskey turned around in her saddle. It was an impressive shift, as she never left the horse. Zan pointed out where his body hurt the most — mostly everywhere, but especially in his upper leg area and right arm.

“I’m no healer, but I can thread a needle, if you know what I mean,” Whiskey said. Zan did not know what she meant.

Whiskey laid hands on the parts of Zan which hurt. She muttered an incantation and, like the magic it was, a soft light came from within her hands and warmed Zan’s muscles. His bones, even his essence.

“Feel better?” Whiskey asked.

“Some. I no longer feel like dying,” Zan said with a bit of dark humor.

“Good! We still have a battle to win!” Whiskey said, turning back in her saddle and driving her steed forward.

Reattaching himself to Whiskey’s back, Zan again felt the vibrations of the horse as it trod along the ground. This time, the vibrations did not hurt nearly as much; although they still caused him discomfort and he knew with repeated strain the damage would reappear to terrible effect, for the moment, Zan felt good.

“Coming up!” Whiskey again shouted.

This would be Zan’s fifth grenade lobbed.

Able to sufficiently repeat the motion of gradually reaching for the grenade without losing his balance and falling, or without becoming sick, Zan lobbed off his penultimate grenade.

“I only have one more grenade left!” Zan shouted.

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After the explosion, now behind them, Whiskey replied. She brought her mare to a halt and told Zan, “Perfect run, then! I figured five from each of you and Jiehong would do it. Look!”

Whiskey turned her horse around so Zan could see what she meant.

Zan saw the construction site in flames. Buildings, automotrons, even the pits with flammable material were all up in flames.

With her spyglass out, Whiskey observed the battlefield, allowing Zan time to rest on his still weary body. Zan panted when Whiskey said, “On time. Our fellows have arrived!” she said.

Zan took several minutes before he understood what Whiskey meant. He saw, eventually, the outlines of many figures advancing into the site and by the sides.

“Looks like our job is done!” Zan said.

“I think so! I need to check in with my second-in-command,” Whiskey said as she drove her horse to the other end of the construction site.

Hailing her subordinate, Whiskey asked for an update on the battle. “As you can see, my expedition went well,” Whiskey said, indicating the burning construction site behind her.

Her subordinate said, “I wish I could say the same.”

“Concerned, Whiskey asked, “What do you mean? Did you not slay the oncoming columns? Their reinforcements?”

“Worry not about that. We slew those reinforcements. While doing so, however, we discovered a greater enemy force some miles away. Simply told, the enemy has been setting up dozens of smaller camps throughout the countryside,” the subordinate said.

“Shit! What does that mean?” Whiskey asked.

“It means the camp you torched was a distraction or an attempt at a larger impression upon the land. Either way, maybe they got full of themselves. After setting up so many smaller camps, who could blame them?”

“We have to go after those camps!” Zan stated.

“Of course!” the subordinate yelled. “But we can’t now. We came prepared to fight an enemy host. A host concentrated in a specific area. We need to pull back for now. Find more men to help us.”

“B-but—” Zan tried to say over the chill of the night causing his teeth to chatter.

“No!” Whiskey interjected. “My second-in-command is correct, Zan. We have done enough for now. And these smaller bases are no threat to us right now. Left unchecked, they will become a threat. Not currently, though. Not now. For now, we should withdraw, rest, and find allies for the next operation.”

Neither the subordinate nor Whiskey allowed Zan to have any say beyond this. Whiskey pulled her horse away from the other rider, Jiehong on its back, and rode away from the construction site.

It was not long before the flames of the construction site turned to only an ember in the distance. By the time they returned to Feathervale, both Whiskey and Zan were exhausted. The sun was rising. In time for another glorious day.

Dismounting their ride, Whiskey and Zan’s feet landed on the ground. Zan felt a tough shock fly through his system as his feet, unaccustomed to moving by his will, felt the fullness of the earth when they struck the ground. “Ugh!” Zan groaned.

“I know. It’s a tough acclimation… at first. You’ll get used to it,” Whiskey said.

I hope I never have to get on another horse, so as long as I live, Zan thought.

“I guess that’s where our joint-mission ends,” Whiskey said.

“Wait? Why?” Zan countered.

“You can’t ride a horse. I only invited you on this mission because I knew you had those hand-held grenade things… those outposts my subordinate told us about? They are over the Western Path. Spread over miles. You’re such a new rider, Zan, you had issues tonight with simply holding on. There is no way you could keep up with us experienced riders as we spent the day kicking out the invaders.”

Zan could not argue with anything Whiskey said. It was true.

“Don’t feel bad, Zan! You did really well for such a greenhorn. Learn how to ride a horse. That should be your top priority right now,” Whiskey continued.

“I will… do something. Hard to do when I don’t own a horse,” Zan replied, letting his response linger as Jiehong and Whiskey’s subordinate came over the horizon’s ridge.

“Good point… jeez. That really sucks. I forgot how expensive a horse is. We rebels… we appropriate from the loyal administration. Ah! Wait, I have it! Go to a peasant assembly. They should be able to give you a horse if you explain your situation and your actions during the war. You might have to do some chores or whatever, but it would be well worth it. Trust me on this!”

“I will consider. Isn’t the nearest association place… well, far from here?” Zan asked, recalling imprecise conversations years past, which included meeting halls for the association.

“Shit… it gets worse and worse. Seriously, I should teach you myself. I don’t have the time, though…”

“If you joined the Order you would have time…”

Whiskey stared at Zan. Not angrily, simply amused. “You really don’t quit. I love that about you. Your passion. Never lose it, Zan.”

“I won’t. But what about you? You need more men for this attack?”

“Sure do… we’ll find them. Might take a few weeks. But we will get the guys we need. Why? Think you can learn a horse at that time?”

“Maybe,” Zan said, pausing for dramatic effect. “Or how about some loyalists? I am on good terms with a Colonel Winters from Thundervale. If it is for the sake of the war, do you think you could work alongside him?”

Whiskey burst out laughing. “I highly doubt any rebel would be fond of that idea! Abominable as it sounds, I would even worry about a dispassionate or psychotic rebel, maybe even trying to take fate into their own hands… not like that is likely, though.”

Not paying attention to the possibility of a rebel making an attempt on the colonel’s life, Zan said, “Would you consider it?”

Ruefully smiling, Whiskey said, “Sure. I would consider it.”

“I’ll see what I can do, then,” Zan replied.

“Okay. But I am not expecting much or promising anything from our side. Understood, Zan?” Whiskey stated, her facial expression being so blunt even Zan could read it and know she meant business.

“Understood,” Zan said right as Jiehong’s horse came to a thudding halt.

“Another successful mission,” Jiehong said, stretching. “What’s on the agenda now?”

“Sleep,” Zan replied. “But we have something to do first.”