Freaking crazy plan — crazy to the top! Zan cussed at himself.

Whiskey — she really expected everyone in the troop to single-handily take out a dozen outposts?! EACH?!

“Remember to bring your torches,” Whiskey told everyone. The torches were a vital part of the plan. Zan grabbed his while still in numbed shock.

Do I have a better plan for dealing with hundreds of outposts, though? Zan asked himself. Obviously, shit-for-brains, you don’t… you didn’t even know just how many outposts there were. You were too busy playing hero to ask questions!

Sometimes, ‘actually, most of the time, this was what war was,’ Zan reminded himself. Terrible odds against terrible odds.

The group continued to strategize for a while, but there was only so much one could do before a battle and when intelligence was low. Lots of small bases, each base had a few automotrons. What else could be gleamed?

Colonel Winters and Whiskey took to the front and led the combined rebel and royalist force. Zan and Jiehong remained just behind on their bikes; as the journey progressed, however, the ‘just behind’ they enjoyed at the start of the journey turned into a lagging ride near the end.

Ahead, Winters and Whiskey stopped.

Zan rode ahead to see why. Jiehong by his side, too.

“See?” Whiskey said to no one in particular.

Zan saw what she spoke of: using his eyeglass, he spied outpost after automotron outpost. Each was visible because of a little smokestack rising from the site.

“Why are there fires?” Jiehong asked.

“Dead burial?” Zan answered, unsure himself.

“Unlikely,” Whiskey said. “And irrelevant. They weren’t burning material when our scouts discovered them. They might be simply clearing the area in preperation of a larger force coming through.”

“Maybe… but we split up here?” Zan asked.

“Yes. Colonel Winters, Take your men and drive down the middle. You are the best armed and have the better, more well-fed horses, I will reckon. Care for the honor?” Whiskey asked.

“Of course. It is only fair and logical. I will bring my men into position and await your signal,” Winters said, not staying for further conversation, he and his men taking off like bats from a cave.

“Zan and Jiehong: take the far east ride. Over there. See?” Whiskey said, pointing out a series of smokestacks which gradually increased in their incline because of a hill-heavy formation. Great, how lovely that will be to bike up… Zan bemoaned to himself.

Zan turned to Jie, and they each nodded. “We see it.”

“Split them up, take them down. Myself and my volunteers will be on the far side doing much the same. See?” Whiskey said, indicating where she would be.

“We see. Okay… we will get into position.”

Zan and Jiehong biked hard to get into their position. Took around fifteen minutes. Zan was happy he and Jiehong spent a while practicing on their bikes, because the terrain here was rough-patch mixed with rougher patches. It would be a struggle.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“At least it is a mild incline,” Jiehong said once they were in position and waiting for the signal.

“One mercy, I guess,” Zan said, still worried about being able to keep up.

“Worried?” Jie asked.

“Of course! Aren’t you? If we can’t keep up and need help and—”

“Buddy! Calm yourself. This isn’t some village game. It’s war. If we need help, we need help. Winters talks a lot about honor, but this doesn’t apply to us. We’re not soldiers, remember? Let’s focus on clearing out the enemy, one outpost at a time. Then we can worry about how the others are doing.” Jiehong argued.

It was the old Jiehong shining through. The wise Jie. The Jie who once had been the undisputed leader of them. Zan cooled himself down. He was ready.

One leg on the ground, the other on the peddle, Zan looked to the sky.

“Well, look at that!” Jiehong said. “The Slipstream is coming out!”

Waiting for Whiskey’s signal — a bright firework — Zan saw what Jiehong meant. Somehow, despite the slagging day, the Slipstream appeared. Both boys reached to the sky, prayed, and became filled with energy.

A loud ‘sparkling’ explosion later — the signal — and the boys launched themselves forward, peddling as hard as they could. For the battle had begun.

“I’ll ride ahead and attack every second outpost!” Jiehong shouted. “Good?!”

“Good by me!” Zan shouted back.

Zan liked Jiehong’s tactical outlook. Taking every other outpost would allow them to stay within range of each other in case one needed emergency help, and it would allow a constant ebb and flow to the battle.

Approaching the first outpost, Jiehong rode on past, leaving it to Zan.

Drawing his sword while still riding his bike, Zan peddled then brought his sword in for an attack run on the shocked enemies.

Or enemies… as golems, Zan doubted these lifeless husks which only had a bit of spiritual essence inside them, motivating them to action, had any sense of emotion.

His blade wrung true and sliced clean through the one golem’s head and another’s mid-section. Biking around the basic structure of the outpost, which was merely a ramshackle hut with a pathetic fence built around, Zan then made another attack run and killed the two golems.

He temporarily got off his bike. He dragged the two golems to the firepit they had prepared and saw the flames consume them. He then found a torch which Whiskey had given to everyone before the battle began, while they were still at Feathervale. He lit it, then set fire to the primitive structure.

Satisfied it was in flames to his liking, Zan hopped back on his bike, inserting the flaming torch into a groove on the bike of his bike, and set off for the next base.

First outpost down… at least eleven more to go…

Back on his bike, Zan passed the next outpost. Jiehong had the right idea and had also torched the outpost. Though he did not drag the slain enemies into the firepit.

Biking past, Zan waved to him, and egged him on: “Don’t let me overtake you!”

On his own bike and catching up to Zan, Jie said, “One for one, baby! Don’t let your early victory go to your head!”

They did not jabber for long. Already upon the next outpost, Zan broke off and made for an attack approach: slice, dice. Two enemies he wounded. Instead of going around the structure, however, like last time, Zan simply stood his ground while still astride his bicycle and slew the two golems in front of him.

Dragging the two slain golems into the firepit, Zan belatedly realized he did not need to actually drag them into the pit. Not since his torch had been lit. Maybe Jiehong had the better idea. Conserve energy.

Zan torched the outpost and moved on to the next outpost. Then the outpost after that one. How many is that? Four? He asked himself.

Then something happened he hadn’t expected.

While peddling, his bike slipped, and Zan tumbled to the ground.

‘What the crap?!’ Zan cussed.

Looking around, Zan saw the issue. Slick on the ground, Zan saw a strange goop.

Dousing his finger in the goop and bringing it to his nose, it had a strong pine-like smell coming from it. Rubbing it between his fingers, Zan found it so viscous, even his fingers slipped.

Tapping his ear piece Zan asked Jiehong, “You finding any weird slippery goop on the ground?”

“Not yet. Wait — shit!” A pause. “Just found it. Thanks for that.”

Zan rolled his eyes at his friend. He knew Jie did not mean it and was not actually blaming him, but it was a classic deflection move for him. Suddenly, through the comms, Jiehong said, “Try burning it with magic.”

Letting the goop drop to the forest floor, for although it was a slippery substance, it was not a sticky substance. Zan stood up and pointed his open-palm at the earthy goop. Saying a brief chant, a fiery magical radiation expanded from his hand and connected with the goop, exploding it.

The explosion sent Zan back, flying. Singed hairs aside, ego bruised, he was otherwise unharmed.

Seeing wisps of flame around, Zan then heard a chime in his ear. “Was that you?!”

Choking on a reply from his crisp throat, Zan said, “Yeah. It’s me. Fire is effective.”