Marcus stared down the barrel of the pistol placed on the pilot's console, at eye level. The barbarian got them into motion, navigating around the formations and maneuvering the upright toward a clearing in a distant mangrove forest on the other side of deep marshland. Near the cusp of the horizon was a series of shallow mountains.

  "So face forward, and don't make any sudden moves." Timur glared at Marcus.

  Marcus slowly turned away, sat upright, and placed his hand on the weapon control joysticks lingering near the bottom of the seat on each side.

  On both flanks, horsemen passed by, disappearing periodically beneath the canopy of the forest. From this height, Marcus could see the aftermath of the battle a few nights ago. Large portions of the canopy afar, on their left side, were scorched.

  As his skin came in contact with the metal handles, a tingling sensation ran up his arms, then down to his feet. Immediately he started sweating and his mouth dried like he'd laid out in the sun for days.

  Timur revved the engine and kept dropping the clutch, causing the entire upright to shudder and buck with each step. "Piece 'o crap won't go any faster."

  Panting and wheezing, Marcus suddenly found he couldn't let go of the weapon controls, no matter how hard he pulled at his arms. "Push the clutch and shift into second." He murmured.

  "What?" Timur grunted.

  "Push your left foot down, then the shifter on your right. Move it down one." Marcus gasped for air.

  The barbarian cocked an eyebrow, then looked under his arm to locate the seven-pronged shifter which led from the floor. With a sharp jab of his left foot to depress the foot pedal, he yanked the gear shifter. After some grinding, it moved to second gear and he dropped the clutch, rapidly accelerating the upright. "Oh, yeah there it goes."

  Holding the weapon joysticks became painful for Marcus as the tingling turned to a burning sensation.

  Suddenly, the strange voice from the bowels of the machine spoke. "Free me." It boomed, as if shouting directly in Marcus's face.

  But there was no one in front of him.

  A chirp rang out over head three times. Then, after a brief pause, the burst of noise continued to sound with the same interval, ceaselessly.

  "What is that?" Timur looked around, a tinge of panic in his voice.

  Marcus opened his mouth to reply that it was the radio, and they needed to place on their headsets. But despite being in pain, somehow, he managed to keep his wits. "Flip the switch that says 'intercom'."

  "I can't read, you lout." Timur scoffed.

  Marcus closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath in a bid to stifle the pain. "The metal switch near the shifter, between the two sets of bright lights."

  Timur turned and looked over the control panel. Then with hesitation after passing a glance at Marcus, the barbarian reached over and toggled the switch.

  "Timur!" Amurad's voice filled the cabin.

  The barbarian looked frantically around for a moment. "Boss?" His voice exuded confusion.

  "You know what to do, right?" Amurad's voice condescended, as if he were speaking to a child. "Where did I tell you to go?"

  Free Me.

  The voice boomed in Marcus's mind once more.

  "Yeah boss, like you said, there's only one place to go. We just have to cross the marshland and climb onto the plateau to get to the capital." Timur spoke while spreading his attention around the cabin.

  "Good." Amurad spoke like he was praising a dog.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Boss, where are you?" The barbarian's voice had a tinge of desperation.

  "I took the Adder and went the long way. I want to make sure the path is clear for the baggage train." Amurad spoke plainly.

  Marcus closed his eyes and spoke in his mind. I can't free you when you won’t let go of me. If you want my help, let me do what I need to do!

  "Okay boss." Timur nodded.

  "Amurad out."

  Static came from the overhead speaker.

  "How do I turn it off?" Timur grumbled, staring at the ceiling.

  Marcus was suddenly shot against his seatback after the force that gripped him released. Out of breath, trembling, and sweat-soaked, he raised a shaking arm and motioned with his index finger. "J—just flip the switch back."

  Timur reached over and slapped the toggle, which squelched the static. "Better." He sighed.

  Finally catching his breath, Marcus realized Arminius perfectly calculated the route the Firestorm would have to take, but also that the Adder would be out of place from their plans. The knight mentioned that his weaponry had little hope of penetrating the Firestorm's armor, but with the Adder in tow, downing it would be useful deadweight. But if for some reason, Marcus couldn't take control over the Firestorm, Arminius and his crew would try to sink the upright in the marsh. A slow death for whoever was inside.

  The whole plan hitched on Layne. Marcus hoped his best friend was doing alright back there.

  "We're far beyond anywhere we've scouted so far. Pay attention." Timur's voice grew serious.

  They began to cross the marshland. The Firestorm's legs sank up to its shin-armor. Having gotten closer to their destination, the capital plateau was now easily visible from the vast marshland. They were moving directly east, and the plateau stretched from far north, beyond what could be seen in the cabin's panorama to the left; to their south, and then hooked around to their right. The closest point was a section of isolated plateau that looked like a fang jutting into the marsh.

  Somewhere around here was where there would be an ambush. Marcus hoped that Arminius had a backup plan for the case where the Adder wasn't with them.

  The Firestorm waded through the shin-high muck, but the machine’s RPM lowered, and the engine started to bog.

  "Stupid thing." Timur kept jabbing the clutch to keep it running.

  "Shift it to first." Marcus let slip an impatient tone.

  The barbarian violently shifted down and the engine once again roared to life. The legs powered through the watery goop once more.

  Marcus leaned forward and to his left, hoping to see behind them, to no avail.

  "What are you doing?" Timur squinted.

  "Trying to see if I could spot Amurad. Are we really all alone?" Marcus sat back and faced forward.

  The barbarian nodded. "It's just us. Amurad and the baggage train took the high road to stay dry."

  Marcus blinked. "No one at all? No scouts? What if we run out of fuel?"

  "We'll be fine." Timur spoke matter-of-factly.

  Judging how hard the barbarian was driving the machine, there was little chance that the fuel tank would last even a half day's trip. And then Marcus realized he'd never considered a wasteful pilot burning up most of the fuel in the tank. After the deed was done, the destination was still the Arcadian capital, nearly a full day's march from the old barbarian camp.

  A glint on the right of the viewport caught both Marcus and Timur's attention.

  "What is that?" The barbarian tilted his head.

  Marcus squinted, and then saw a battery of smoothbore cannons upon the section of plateau jutting into the marshland. They surrounded an upright, human-like, lying flat on its belly. It was time.

  A flash of light burst from the plateau and a red-hot tracer darted across the marshland, skimmed off the surface of the boggy water, and smacked into the Firestorm's torso with a bang, then a hiss. The upright stumbled. Then the machine regained its bearing.

  Timur jumped in his seat. "How do I shoot back?" He looked around frantically at the pilot's control panel.

  "You can't, that's my job." Marcus looked over his shoulder, purposefully wasting time meanwhile psyching himself up.

  The barbarian swallowed hard. "Then shoot them!"

  "Now?" Marcus shouted at the engine room.

  "Yes, now! Shoot now!" Timur's voice was frantic.

  Puffs of smoke rose from the dozens of cannons on the plateau. Then a hail of cannon fire descended upon the Firestorm, pelting it with round shot that bounced off armor plating.

  "Right now?!" Marcus leaned to holler directly at the engine room door, to make sure he was perfectly clear and able to be heard over the chaos coming from outside.

  "You idiot, return fire!" The barbarian leaned forward and shouted, nose-to-nose with Marcus.

  "Alright. Right. Now." Marcus screamed at the top of his lungs. He reached down and grabbed both gunner joysticks. The burning sensation returned, and he started to feel the tug of the voice once more.

  Marcus's shouting was supposed to be the signal for Layne to jump out of the engine room and ambush who was in the pilot's seat. But something was wrong.

  Arming the 3-inch, Marcus slowly pivoted the torso toward where Arminius's upright and the cannon battery were set up.

  "Faster, faster!" Timur jumped in his seat.

  "It doesn't go any faster." Marcus insisted. But it did, he was rotating as slow as possible, hoping to buy time for Layne to emerge.

  Another volley of cannon fire descended on the Firestorm, causing the machine to stumble.

  As the center of the viewport lined up with the cannon battery, a crosshair appeared in the direct center of the window. Marcus slowly and carefully brought the crosshair in line with the plateau.

  "Fire at those bastards." Timur growled, leaned forward over the gunner's seat and pointed.

  Marcus delayed as long as he could. But if he opened fire on Arminius, they were going to sink the Firestorm.

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