Wrapped up in a strange paper-like cocoon, Zan saw a hostage. A prisoner?

Seeing Zan, the prisoner made lots of effort to be noticed. But Zan was already cutting him down. “Crap,” Zan said. “How do I get this off of you?”

The material stuck on the man was sticky like webbing. Zan considered using his dagger, but thought better. Settling on the tried-and-true approach of magic, Zan summoned within him only the image of gently dissolving whatever material was stuck to the man. Feeling the magic burn and leave his body, flowing gently into and around the bound man, Zan sighed in relief. It worked! Zan did not know the exact definitions of how magic functioned, but his use seemed valid as he watched the disgusting-looking goop dissolve.

“Thank you, lad — you saved my life!” the man yelled, crying in relief.

“Oh, no problem, my guy!” said Zan, not sure what he should say.

The man only hugged on to Zan tighter. He felt bad, but Zan didn’t like people touching him. So, he lightly pried the man away from him, ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ in relief himself at having his personal freedom.

“Say, what happened? How did they capture you?” Zan asked.

“I am a Viceroy Gallant’s messenger. His fiefdom is under terrible strain from the invasion and needs help. He dispatched me to take word to all nearby allied lords. I was on my way to visit viceroy Talent when the automotrons ambushed me… I feel so ashamed. How could I let dolled up tree branches ambush me? A human messenger!?”

Not knowing what to say, Zan ‘winged’ it and said, “Hey. It’s war. We’re all being pushed to the ledge. You were in a hurry. No reason to beat yourself up too bad.”

“I will be better about myself in the future, that is sure,” the man said. “Okay! Enough about my failure. Who are you, young lord? From how you are dressed, I imagine you are the son of a vassal lord?”

The man’s comment took Zan for a loop and he laughed well. “A lord? No! I am a commoner. Through whimsy, fate… whatever you want to call it… I discovered the location of a lost martial order of Ranger-Knights. Long story made short? I’m the new commander guy and I am fighting evil by helping defeat the invaders. It’s a whole thing…”

“Ah! The other great calling in life, then — the holy affairs! Thank you for your help, young master. I suspect in due time, you will be a lord yourself. War makes fortunes as easily as it breaks men, remember lad. If you’ll excuse me, I should be returning to my task and delivering my lord’s message. Is the way clear?” the man asked.

“Yes, the way is clear. Or should be. You will find yourself in the middle of an operation; why the enemy captured you be because they have laid claim to this whole stretch of forest and erected a series of outposts. The Order, some rebels, and even some loyalists have joined to clear them out. I would imagine the way back is clear. Watch your back, though,” Zan said.

“I will! Thank you again, mister Zan,” he said at final breath before running off.

Letting Jiehong know about his encounter right away was easy. Once he left the hut-of-a-building, Jiehong stopped on his bike to say ‘hello’ while on his way to the next outpost.

Zan shouted him over and explained to him about the freed messenger.

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“Truly? Perhaps we should look inside the structures before we burn them,” Jiehong said. He had a perplexed, or perhaps disturbed, look.

“From now on, I will. I admit I did not even think to look. In my defense, I do not think anyone other than that man would be likely to have been captured. You know how finicky the enemy is on this issue. I’m not worrying about accidentally having killed anyone, anyway,” Zan said.

“No. Me either. All the same, let’s look, just in case… speaking of which, turns out the enemy has more outposts than we thought. Whiskey sent a messenger pigeon. They’ve discovered a lot more beyond the bend,” Jiehong explained.

“Shit? Seriously?” Zan bemoaned.

“Unfortunately. Yeah. We’re going to be here a while…”

And ‘a while’ they were there.

The battle continued to drag. It was early evening when the battle became desperate. By then, Zan had stomped out over two dozen. Yet more remained.

“How can there be so many?!” he asked himself in the blazing dance of yet another outpost hut to the torch.

Slouching himself over his bike yet again, Zan peddled with all the lagged saunter of a sun-soaked dog after a sledding race.

Approaching the next outpost, the flow of the land now so natural to Zan, he hardly had to glance at the ground to adjust his biking style. Zan fingered the last grenade on his belt. ‘So tired…’ he moaned.

It was his last grenade.

He depleted his magic hours ago.

Tiredness again set in, wracked his fragile frame.

‘One more outpost, one more later…’ he repeated. Zan was close to his limit. He needed a reprieve, by any means.

He picked up speed, pulled the pin, and tossed it true.

The golems melted like slag.

Stumbling off his bike and nearly collapsing to the ground like a piece of slag himself, Zan took the torch in hand from off the back of his bike. Inspecting the outpost to ensure no prisoners were outback and jailed, but finding it clean, Zan put the hut to the flames.

He biked to the next outpost.

He destroyed the golem guards.

He inspected the hut.

He burned the hut.

Over and over again.

He biked to the next outpost.

He destroyed the golem guards.

He inspected the hut.

He burned the hut.

Over and over…

He biked to the next outpost and (literally) bumped into Jiehong.

Surprised, Zan apologized and asked, “What is the wrong, buddy?”

“Oh! Zan. It’s you! Phew. Gave me a heart attack!”

The sky closed and storm clouds formed. With darkness overtaking the realm, rain then fell. Zan thanked the gods for the rain only being but a pattering.

“Actually feels good…” Jiehong said as the rain washed over his skin, soaking into his clothing and gear.

“I know it…” Zan agreed, closing his eyes, the flickering flames from their bike torches providing an oasis of light in the dark forest.

Neither spoke while they allowed mother nature to soothe them.

Jiehong said, suddenly, he was “So tired. I’m so tired, Zan. I don’t like to admit it, but I don’t know…”

Zan placed his hand on Jie’s shoulder, but only for a moment. He said, “I’m exhausted. I need to rest, eat. Find that bed and some iced tea…”

Using one another to commiserate, minutes passed before the boys felt the renewing flow of the wind blowing against their skin. Sweat blown away, their breath caught, Zan said, “We’ve had our rest. Let’s get back to it.”

“Together?” Jiehong asked.

“Together.”

United, the boys surged toward the outpost. Working together, they made short work of it — Zan slew the regular golem with hardly a twirl of his sword while Jiehong bashed his armored fist straight into the heart of a red-golem’s inner-gears, his knuckle-dusters causing severe damage and sparks to jettison wildly.

When Jiehong removed his fist, Zan picked up the slack, finished the golem off with a well-placed hack first to its head, then abdomen-area. It fell to the ground in pieces. Undefended, Jiehong made a quick search of the premises, then let Zan burn it to the ground. Getting in another quick rest, the boys watched the little fire claim the outpost.

“Okay — let’s get back to it,” Jiehong said this time.

United, the boys took on another half-dozen outposts. Pacing themselves, they took each outpost without flair, perhaps, but with a soldiery resolve.

Coming upon another outpost in the distance, their legs aching with but a single demand — rest — the boys instead came upon a hectic scene.

To the side of the forested path was an open space. Zan thought it led to the major roadway known as the Western Way. Maybe another enemy group had come from there because Zan saw dozens of automotrons in the open space fighting no on other than Whiskey and a couple of her rebels.