A day and a half passed and Marcus, along with the rest of the mechanics, got the uprights into a travel-worthy condition—greasing joints, reloading and sharpening weapons, and tightening various loose bits of armor. Marcus put all his time and energy into his father’s upright.

  With the sun now high in the sky and no incursion or any other sign of Arcadian forces in the area, the barbarians reestablished their perimeter, and Marcus along with his crew entered the surrounding forest to gather lumber so to replenish their low stock of wood gas, fuel used in an emergency to run the uprights when actual liquid combustible was not available. It wasn't the best, but better than nothing.

  With the mechanics so far away from the tent city, Amurad wasn't taking any chances. He had a small group of warriors advance ahead of Marcus and the crew, partially to make sure a sudden ambush wouldn't down his only mechanics, but also there was a sense of distrust permeating the barbarians, much more than usual.

  Marcus and Layne finished sawing a log and loaded it onto a cart full of similar-sized tree sections. At the reigns of the horse-drawn cart, Simon and Ekkehard helmed, along with their child-guard, with a firm grip on his stick-musket.

  "We'll drop these off and get the burn started on them." Ekkehard called out as Simon snapped the reigns to get the horses in motion.

  The child-guard turned and glared at Marcus. "I got my eye on you. You better not go nowhere."

  Marcus nodded enthusiastically. "I know you do. I won’t. We're going to get more trees ready for when you get back."

  Layne stood shoulder to shoulder and the two watched together the cart disappear beyond the forest's smaller trees, back toward camp through a cut path. He looked toward the scout detachment lingering in the far distance to their right, well beyond earshot. "So, what's really going on? You've had a look about you since last night that spells nothing but trouble." He kept his voice low.

  Marcus continued to stare in the direction that the cart left. "I've come up with a plan that can get us all out of here."

  With a sigh, Layne glanced to Marcus and shook his head. "The last time I heard something like that, you and I ended up in servitude, working for a slave-driving rogue." He turned and started sizing up trees, hauling the two-man saw in front of him.

  Marcus chuckled. "Well, second time's the charm, no?" A long silence followed by a thud that rattled the forest floor caused Marcus to groan. "I was just kidding, no need to be so uptigh—"

  His mouth was snapped shut by a gloved hand and a honed blade hovered over his throat.

  "Make a sound and I'll split you nose to navel." The grizzled stranger whispered in Marcus's ear.

  Marcus raised quivering hands.

  "Move." The stranger put pressure on Marcus's cheek, to turn him to the right.

  Marcus complied and was spun in the opposite direction. As he spun, he spotted Layne in the same position as himself, gripped by a man in a green cloak covering a dull metal breastplate. These weren't Arcadians, who usually wore blue and white. Did Amurad figure out his plan?

  "Walk."

  A knee met his lower back and urged him forward. As he started walking, the grip on his face loosened, and a sudden smack hit the back of his head. He tumbled forward. The world around him faded.

  "Nighty-night sweet cheeks." The stranger cackled as Marcus lost consciousness.

  Marcus found himself suddenly in total darkness, feeling weightless. A light in the far distance twinkled like a shimmering star in the night sky.

  “You.” The unfamiliar voice he heard when crawling through the internals of his father’s upright called out to him, from the same distance of the luminance.

  Marcus used all his strength futilely trying to raise his arm.

  “You who dares.” The voice called out, deep in timber and warmth.

  Marcus tried to call out, but his voice wouldn’t carry.

  “Free me.” The voice called, resolute.

  Suddenly the glimmer exploded into an ever-expanding fireball. The raging fire took shape, spreading wings with purple and orange feathers. From above, a beak emerged and turned toward the heavens. It let out a baleful cry as in all directions, a raging inferno expanded in a ring. Inside, a silhouette took form, that of his upright.

  Marcus panicked as the towering flames neared but was unable to move or shout.

  A splash of water poured over Marcus's head and startled him awake. He was bound with his arms behind his back, against a post. As he wiggled trying to free himself, he found that his thrashing was met with a similar counterforce. Looking over his shoulder, Marcus found he was tied to Layne. They were bound to each other by the arms and to the same post.

  "Wakey-wakey." The stranger that once held a knife to Marcus's throat cackled.

  He was wearing a faded brown gambeson, with a battered metal plate covering the center of his chest, half of it bound with rope, the other half with a tattered belt. He wore a metal nasal helmet, partially rusted. The stranger was missing teeth, some others rotted black in his mouth. At his hip was a sword with a pistol wedged into the belt of its baldric.

  "Buck, the letter of marque only said we needed one of them, what are we going to do with the other?" Layne's captor spoke, holding a bucket, standing on the opposite side of the post. Sunlight revealed his features under his hood, he was narrow-faced and had a wispy, scraggly unkempt beard.

  They were near the edge of a tidal creek flanked by the forest. The water flowed rapidly and looked to be rising.

  "One, two. Who cares?" Buck, Marcus's captor shrugged. "Shooter, you whine too much."

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  "Piss off, we only brought enough supplies to bring back one and I'm not going hungry again because of stupid decisions." Shooter, Layne's captor barked and tossed the wooden bucket on the ground.

  Buck wagged his hand and rolled his eyes. "Fine. We'll cut up and toss one of them in the river. Happy?"

  "You're one of the worst mercenaries I've ever worked with." Shooter scoffed.

  "Yeah, boo-hoo. You're one of the whiniest I've ever worked with. Go take a powder and keep a look out. The old man should be here soon." Buck crossed his arms and turned his attention to the tree line.

  Marcus gritted his teeth and wriggled in frustration.

  Shooter departed while flipping a middle finger at Buck.

  After calming down, Marcus then focused his attention on Layne, who was still wiggling and writhing, trying to free himself. Each tug yanked Marcus's arms painfully. "Go easy, save your strength." He whispered over his shoulder. It seemed to calm Layne a little.

  "What do you want with us?" Marcus called out to Buck.

  The mercenary continued to scan the forest. "Shut your mouth or I'll cut your tongue out."

  Metal armor clattered behind Marcus in the distance. He shifted, trying to get a good look but only ended up causing himself more pain by craning his neck strangely.

  "Are these them?" A grizzled, aged voice called out from the forest behind Marcus.

  "Yeah." Buck nodded, with arms still crossed.

  The clattering armor drew closer until it finally ceased, next to Marcus. Towering over the two bound mechanics was a man in armor from head to toe. His full-face, slit helmet had a red horsehair streamer. His plain pauldrons rested atop banded mail chest armor with adornments. He took his helmet off, revealing silvery hair and a tidy full-face beard.

  "You got 'em here both alive too. Good job." The knight nodded.

  Buck shrugged. "Fat load of good it does us. The script only calls for one. No bonus."

  The knight pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows with a subtle shake of his head. "Knowledge is power." Then he turned his attention down to Marcus. "So, you are one of our fabled invaders. Tell me, why have you decided to destroy the peace of these people?"

  "I'll tell you only if you guarantee our safety. Wherever you take one of us, we both go." Marcus looked up at the knight.

  Buck shook his head. "Ain't happening." He kept his attention focused on the tree line.

  The knight glanced at Buck for a moment with flared nostrils, then back to Marcus. "Well, that sounds like we're at a bit of an impasse then. How do we know it's worthwhile to even bring you back?" He placed a hand on his hip. "It's a long trip. Why don't we get to know each other first?"

  Marcus sighed and looked at Buck once more, then back to the knight. "He knows everything." Marcus motioned to Layne with his head. "I'm just a simple errand boy. Take him with you."

  The knight blinked and his brow shot up, with a smile forming on his face. "Somehow, I don't believe that."

  Marcus rested his head against the post he was tied to and stared out at the rushing water only a few steps away. "We got to know each other. That's all I have to say." He resented his fate but refused to worm his way out, especially after dragging Layne through all of this.

  The knight crouched down to get at eye-level with Marcus and clasped his gauntlets together on one knee. "I don't think that's entirely true. You introduced yourself, errand boy. I haven't reciprocated. I too am an errand boy, of sorts. We've been hired by the Arcadians—to impose a bit of subterfuge on the invaders, I assume your boss, in the hopes of stopping them."

  Marcus turned his attention back to the knight. Layne stopped trying to break free.

  "We've had some success in capturing a scout or an infantryman here and there, but I'd sooner drain a stone of blood than be able to pull any useful information from them." The knight nodded. "See, if these invaders were nothing more than a band of rogues marching into these lands, they would have never been heard from again in short order."

  The knight tapped the wrench still in Marcus's front overall pocket. "But they have uprights. And that's why they've been so successful. And now we have not one, but two of their mechanics in custody. I have nothing against you. You have a chance to go in peace. Tell me what I want to know: the weakness of your uprights, and we can part ways for good, never to meet again."

  "And what will you do when you figure out these weaknesses?" Marcus blinked.

  The knight laughed. "I'd destroy them, of course."

  The thought of his father's upright going up in flames sent a shiver down Marcus's spine. He returned to resting his head against the post. "I don't know anything; he'll tell you everything you need to know." Marcus tilted his head towards Layne.

  The knight looked at Layne, who was staring at the ground, dangling from his bound arms, then back to Marcus. "Because you're an errand boy?"

  "Because I refuse to be the reason why my father's upright gets destroyed." Marcus continued to stare at the flowing water.

  The knight stood up and placed a hand on his hip. "So, you're the son of the leader of these invaders."

  "No!" Marcus's head snapped to look at the knight. "Not in a million years. There's no way I would willingly have anything to do with that animal."

  The knight poked his hair with his gauntlet and squinted. "You stumped me on this one, kiddo. Who's running this upright then?"

  Marcus sighed. "Amurad is the leader of the band of barbarians, and he's also the one who pilots the uprights. But one of them is my father's."

  The knight blinked. "So, your father is also one of these bandits?"

  "No, he," Marcus stared at his outstretched legs, "disappeared when I was a kid. I don't even know why; just one day left like he was going to war and never came back. No explanation. No one even knew he was leaving."

  "And somehow this Amurad ended up with his upright?" The knight spoke with an inquisitive tone.

  "Right." Marcus nodded.

  The knight hummed. "Which one is it?"

  "The big one." Marcus spoke flatly.

  The knight scoffed. "You mean to tell me your father possessed an upright and you can't even tell me the machine's model name?"

  Marcus craned his neck to look at the knight. "He never told me and there's no identifying markings, inside or out. Unlike the Adder."

  The knight nodded. "KV61 Adder. Pre-war scout. That's not the one I'm worried about. That will pop like a bubble if a cannon gets a good hit." He looked at Buck for a moment, who was still on watch. "What I am worried about," he returned his attention to Marcus. "Is, as you say, the 'big one', the X47 Firestorm."

  Marcus sat up with eyes wide.

  "It's up armored from its original design. The model is very capable at range and in melee. It's why the Arcadians refuse to field any uprights against the invaders and no merc or noble would touch a contract against them. The losses would be too great."

  "Buck, I don't see any sign of him." Shooter called out, marching along toward the other mercenary.

  "Dumbass." Buck called out and pointed at the knight with both hands.

  Shooter stopped a few dozen paces away from and stared at the knight. "Oh."

  "Tell me," the knight started, "what's your name?" He focused his attention on Marcus.

  "Marcus. Marcus Valentia."

  "And his?" The knight pointed to Layne.

  "Layne Seinsheim." Marcus motioned toward his friend with his head.

  The knight drew a knife and knelt, bringing it toward the rope. "Well, Marcus, I think that given the circumstances, we might be able to come to an arrangement that will be mutually beneficial."

  "Hell no." Buck called out and squared off with the knight. "You dopey bleeding-heart hedge knight." He lowered his hand toward the sheathed sword on his hip. "I'm-a cut your fucking head off if you dare think about turning them loose." He motioned toward the knight, then Marcus.

  "There's no need to die." The knight responded, still holding the dagger. "I'll compensate you for the trouble, and you can leave in peace."

  "Nah." Buck shook his head. "I'm not dropping another script for a few coin."

  Shooter stared blankly at Buck, then his eyes widened.

  "Yeah." Shooter called out and placed his hand on the handle of the sword sheathed on his hip. "They'll kick me out of the guild if I come back empty-handed again."

  The knight placed his helmet back on his head. "Feet planted above ground is better than whole body below."

  "I know." Buck's voice grew deranged as his hand slid from the sword on his hip to the pistol wedged in his belt. "Why don't we make some noise? If I'm going to get banned from mercenary work, I bet there's some invaders hiring."

  Buck drew his pistol, cocked the hammer, and pointed it at Marcus.

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