“What’s that one song that Herr Wayne tried to teach us again, the one that needed more than one person?” Blane chirped trying to solicit her brother into another round of half remembered song while sighting the tent down the length of the twin cannons.
Cedric’s parched lips craned upward, cranking the ropes in anticipation of her ‘orders’. Steam wafted pulling sweat from his body. Still, she was happy and that was a good part of his world. Elbowing a side slot open to let cool air in, the male bandit used the light checking the pipes. They had been running hard for hours and he had been in the dark, cramped belly of the machine the entire time.
Putting a length of pipe over a brass handle, arm muscles levered it forward channeling hot, agitated air to the cannons. Blane bounced her eyebrows in time with the flux of the needle housed in the meter connected to the cannons. The Imperials gathered in front of the tent, it was not everyday they saw a Dwarven war machine and this one was heading right for them.
“This speech is my recital, I think it’s very vital To rock-“ Cedric began, his voice vibrating along the innards of the vehicle.
“A rhyme” Quipped, Blane picking up a heavy hammer, glancing at the firing button on the floor as they were now in range to fire.
“That’s right” Sang Cedric before Blane took over again.
“On time”
“The title is tricky so here we go!” Clamored Cedric wincing as his back was nearly touching the boiler. The heat having already distorted the hair on his reverse.
The Imperials ahead shifted nervously yet held their ground. The two in the scouting balloon shouted down greetings in admiration of the horseless machine. Blane giggled, eyes wide as she slammed the steel hammer over the stud in the floor. The cannon on the left barked, steel ball belched forward propelled by the high pressure. The cannon ball skipped between the four men into the tent shattering a light table, plowing through supply crates before catching the canvas of the tent, yanking the whole thing down.
“It’s tricky! Tricky! Ttttrrriiiccckky!” Cackled Blane, watching the Imperials scatter.
Breaking off in the pairs, the Empire soldiers ran for it one slipping in the morning dew before regaining his feet. Blane hammered the other stud, the cannon shuddering spewing bits of chain and smaller steel spheres. Blood coated the steel objects as two of the runners that had paired spasmed and went down without a cry.
“Ced’ric! Stop! Stop this thing.” Blane screamed looking away from the cannon slit.
The war machine rumbled on, heavy wood and steel bands gouging the ground. Ropes went tight as Cedric worked another set of cranks. Blane continued to call for the stop. Straining the pedal handles leaving Cedric at an odd angle it refused to move. Blane hopped in the control seat, gripping the handle with the tensed rope she lent her strength to the effort. The wagon shifted in a bump running something over. The lever shot back, steam billowing out from under the battle wagon, the whole machine bathed in near sticky moisture as it halted.
Popping the hatch, Cedric gasped letting the cooler air his skin flushed pink. Weaseling out, Blane slithered past her brother in haste. Turning to the red sphere that bounced in the air current uncontrolled. “Get back here!” Blane yelled, stamping her foot on the one inch thick steel armor of the machine.
Pulling himself out of the hatchway, Cedric rested his back on the armor bleary eyes on his sister as she shook her fist at the escaping balloon. Turning to her brother Blane pouted. “You dolt! You ran over the spool now they are gone. Now who are we supposed to ask for directions?
“It’s tricky.” Were all the words Cedric could manage.
Backseat Muse 