“We have to help!” Zan yelled. Jiehong agreed, and both boys set their bikes to high-intensity; which meant using magic, whatever tiny sum they could usher from deep within, to use on their bikes. Tiny though it might have been, even such a small sum brought the boys to Whiskey and her two defenders in a mighty curt time. Crashing into a couple of golems as a bonus, Zan had the foresight to launch off a couple of smoke grenades to give them an edge on their entrance. Using the smoke and the dimming night to their advantage, yelling all the while to Whiskey and her defenders on how to use the smokescreen to its absolute efficiency — namely, use the smoke to evade the golem’s front and strike from behind — in a short time they made great strides. Any golem in the vicinity found itself laid to rest while the other golems, perhaps half of the remaining total, looked on unawares.

With some breathing room secured, Jiehong yelled to Whiskey, “You good?!”

Whiskey was wild.

Her long hair curled and frizzed over itself in wild tangles. From what Zan could see, these tangles were half-mud and half-sweat. Her face and body fared no better, which belied not so much a deadly warrior but a wounded predator boxed in. Both boys picked up on the hurt she had endured; her armor was in tatters, same as her blades, which looked bent, dented, obviously by the churning gears of the golem foe.

Still, Whiskey managed to huff a response. “Yeah. Fine,” she practically growled.

Desperate to buy Whiskey some time, even a minute or two, to rest and collect herself, Zan and Jiehong charged into the remaining half, one of Whiskey’s guards charging with them. Jiehong tossed off another smoke grenade. It was the only thing they had at this point.

The battle became frenzied. If only because Zan and the rest were at their wit’s end. Their muscles and stamina included in such wits. Though tired, Zan held his own in combat, if only because the nighttime chill brought the golems to a slow-moving state, which severely limited their abilities.

Seeing ahead a couple of the automotrons’s troop transport vehicles, the enemy soldiers themselves nearly at the breaking point, Zan wondered what he should do…

He could spend a lot of energy he did not have and slowly grind his way behind the transport with the help of another well-placed smoke grenade; though to do that, he would first need to fight his way back to the bike, hope his torch remained lit — fat chance! — and then make his way, slowly, to the transports.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Just thinking about it made him sick.

Then Zan vomited for real.

“I can take those boys, get on back to your bikes and resume the offensive!” Whiskey shouted, her micro-break over.

Not wanting to argue with her, Zan and Jiehong did exactly as she ordered. It really was her operation, after all, so it made sense she should be in the commander’s seat.

Taking curious glances back to see what Whiskey had planned, Zan saw her light an arrow on fire using her spectral magic. Firing the arrow from atop a large nearby boulder, it flew true and slammed into the side of a troop transport. Zan knew it ‘slammed’ because he could hear the impact from all the way to where he and Jiehong were standing.

On their bikes once again and already moving toward where the next outpost was, Zan couldn’t help but look back several times. Before losing sight of Whiskey and her defenders cutting a path of destruction through the remaining automotrons, he saw both troop transports consumed by fire, their plumes jutting into the evening sky like a war god’s angry middle finger.

“Shit… really gets a man going seeing a woman like that,” Jiehong said.

Zan had no response. He was too tired to be hard-up, let alone thinking about how she was in relation to… Zan couldn’t even finish the thought. He was too blasted. Too tired and ready for the long sleep.

Leaving Whiskey behind, Zan wondered if Colonel Winters remained safe. If he faced an encounter as deadly as the one they saved Whiskey from, or if he was as tired as they were. It was only an idle idea.

Zan shoved such idle thoughts from his mind when he came upon the next outpost. He and Jiehong put the blade and torch to it. Same for the next outpost. They each fought robotically. Moving only to the advantage the night gave. By the end of burning another three outposts, Zan wondered just how many of these freaking outposts the abominable enemy built. Individually, or as a unit, however one counted the total, he and Jiehong destroyed way more than a dozen each.

“Jie! I’m… at my limit… I—!” Zan gushed. He fell to the ground on his knees.

“Me too, buddy. Me too…” Jiehong replied, falling to his knees with him.

Haunched over on their knees, panting for breath and feeling, Zan and Jiehong wondered if they should withdraw. Leave the rest to Colonel Winters.

“Wait… what on the earth is that?!” Jiehong gasped.

Grabbing his eyeglass and unfurling its parts, Zan tried to pick up on what Jiehong saw. Seeing nothing except the indistinct shapes of the enemy roving in the dark, Zan grunted his frustration until Jiehong used his glass to find the shape himself. “Okay, now look!” Jiehong said, pointing exactly at where he saw the shape.

Looking through anew, Zan saw, with some effort, what unnerved Jiehong.

In the distance was a war engine. A massive one.

One with four legs and a heart of burning coal.