It was an outlandish stunt, even by his standards, but Zan conjured up his younger trickster self and injected the old way stone with an amount of magical energy.
What drove him to do so was beyond him. He ran at this point on pure instinct; the massive boom-boom-shock of the quadrupedal machine having already snuffed out Zan’s fear of being squished, where he found courage anew to keep on fighting, he did not understand. All of what he knew to be important told him to imbue the stone with magic simply for no other reason than it was the only thing he could so… he had no cannons or bombs or even arrows. His sword was merely one blade, and what could one blade do?
He did not know it would work. But once the stone shone with a ferocious bright hue after so little energy, Zan knew something more was happening here than he knew.
Looking at the machine towering over him like a god, he remembered its vicious blasting of the ground where he now stood. He considered: was the machine attacking the way stone? Why? The machine was only a stone’s throw away from his and Jiehong’s position. What is it doing? Is it.. yeah, it is. It’s only blasting the one spot. Why…! Wait, could it be? Another way stone? He thought.
Blissfully, the machine, moving at a pace even a snail would envy, made its way to another location within the meadow. Although the meadow was sizable by several miles, with the size of the machine, even a space as wide open as here, pristine nature seemed dwarfed.
“Why are we over here?” Jiehong asked, not picking up on Zan’s idea right away.
Zan was curious. Could there be here more than a single way stone? Searching hurriedly over the earth, they eventually found proof of another stone. Spending more of his magic, he gave the stone another small sum of his energy.
“I see! Do you know something about way stones I don’t?” Jiehong asked.
“Not really! Just runnin’ on instinct… you don’t know anything, do you?” Zan asked, hopeful and fearful: hopeful his brother could be helpful. Fearful they were making a huge mistake.
‘No — nothing! I’m,” but Jiehong grasped for words. Instead of finishing his thought he began a new one and said, “Look behind us! We’re not going to have time to finish imbuing these stones. The enemy’s advance guard is almost here. If we stay here, we’re dead!”
Crocking his head for a quick turn, Zan saw what Jiehong meant — columns of enemy automotrons advanced along the middle of a nearby dirt road. A convoy of troop transports flanked each column. Jiehong was right — if they stayed here, they would die.
Yet looking ahead, though the machine was slow, if they stuck to the tall grass and made their moves sparingly, they might stealthily pursue their ends.
“ZAN!” Jiehong urged in his ear.
Finally relenting, he made a sudden decision. He told his brother to “return to the convoy. Have them hide whatever they can along the tree line. Have them camouflage themselves, anything to minimize themselves. I will stay here and imbue the stones. You make sure the others get through this!”
Jiehong made a disgruntled noise but took off toward the villagers.
Staring at the war-machine and then the invading force to his back, he wondered what-in-the heck he was doing. It was crazy and he knew it!
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But I have to do it, he thought. I have to! For my community, for my pride, for my home, and simply for my life! I have to do this!
Heart blasting a beat louder than any bard troupe, he dug his hands into the dirt, clutching the soil. He had to hold on to something. The stress, the tenseness. He nearly was hyperventilating. But he had to hold. He had to hold! He told himself until the very words made him sick. And why wouldn’t it make him sick? Everyone he ever knew might, just might, in the next few scenes of their lives, be slaughtered.
Taking serendipitous glances toward the village convoy, Zan wished he had on him a spyglass. Something to see from long distances. Be it as things were, though, he had nothing but his imagination to know if people were dying or surviving. Any seeing lens from earlier had not survived the enemy, unfortunately.
Wasting away in the tall grass for what seemed like forever, Zan heard the enemy column enter the meadow. Soon, they would overrun the place. I just hope they won’t set up camp here…
Keeping a tab on the giant armored machine, he saw his opening, and though many enemy troops milled in the area, the column had only just arrived in the meadow. Thus, Zan used the vastness of the meadow to his advantage while the enemy column did… enemy things.
Keeping low, he stalked the war-machine in the same way a kitten stalks its mother’s tail. Seriously, but with limited pouncing power.
Having inched his way to the spot where the machine sent up vast sums of earth in its attempt to destroy the way stone, he settled in low to the cratered soil. With no tall grass for cover, he would have to keep to the ground if he didn’t want to be discovered. He had no clue what the visual range on these wooden golems was — probably not good! — but he couldn’t take any chances right now by assuming they had crap for vision.
Shuffling around the dirt for the way stone, Zan groaned at how deeply the dislodged dirt kept it buried. Scooping up piles of dirt with his shirt, he must have looked an awful mess if anyone had seen. But finding it after a solid five or more minutes of frenzied labor, Zan stuck his hand to the way stone and imbued it with magic.
Crawling now to the next stone, Zan decided he couldn’t wait for the war-machine.
Seeing the armored column split into two new directions — both of which, blessed be! -- were nowhere near the village’s convoy, he saw the danger recede. Good, obviously, he thought. It made his gambit easier. Or did until he saw part of the sub-convoy detach from one of the two new columns and start setting up an encampment around the meadow’s perimeter. Not good!
Not letting such matters slow him down, however, he made a break for the war-machine at a hobbled run. As he ran, he could only rapid-fire think, ‘don’t see me, don’t see me, please don’t see me!’
His target this time was not to make a break for the next stone. Not only was that suicide, considering the stone was suffering cannon after cannon blast. But without those blasts and the overturned earth marking the spot, Zan wouldn’t be able to locate the way stone, anyway. The meadow was too large. Too filled with swaying plant-life.
Instead, it was his prerogative to simply exist underneath the war engine. He would stay beneath its belly and hope to keep himself out of harm’s way by remaining so close.
In the shadows of the titan, he felt cooler now he was out of the hot sun.
And so, he returned to his waiting, hearing only the musical cannon thunder as he waited, and saw the enemy slowly make up their encampment. Burning with indignation at not being able to assault the terribly slow automotron golems, although the golems setting up the camp were easy prey, too many of their friends filled the gap.
As the minutes turned to a half-hour, which gave way to an hour and more, by Zan’s guess, Zan lit up several more way stones.
By the time the sixth stone lit up, Zan thought to himself, ‘is this going to go on forever?! Am I wasting my time and putting my village’s life in danger by doing this?!’
Before the answer revealed itself, though, a strange whirring sound emanated from the war engine. Zan did not know what it was doing. Searching the area? How many more stones are there?!
‘I need to get out of here,’ Zan thought. ‘I’ve wasted enough time on this freaking goose chase. If I hurry, maybe I can still die with my friend!’
As Zan was ready to leave the shadow of the beast, it shot a cannon blast.
The blast impacted the road the village convoy was on. In the middle of the road, unharmed though she looked, was a little girl.