The Way of Caine (The Warcaster Chronicl

Wincing at the loss of Ace’s ordnance, Caine staggered to his feet. His head was clearing from Lily’s barrage, and she stared after her beast as it came to flank him. She’s focused her all on that Mule, he thought. Ducking back from his stump, he made for a deadfall and leveled a fusillade of shots in her direction. Her shield seemed less formidable this time and dimmed with the attack, but didn’t break.

“By Morrow, she’s a hard nut to crack!” Caine growled, still moving, and headed for his next point of cover. The Mule Hedo had not lost him.

Hedo came after him in a rush, and was gaining fast. At the last second, Caine spun in place, to meet the beast, and drew every ounce of his focus into a single surge. A thunder-strike of incandescent force erupted from him, and lashed into the charging beast. Hedo was slammed straight back, its momentum completely blunted. Bowled over, Hedo slid along the ground, while blue mist dissipated from his armor.

Caine knew the attack would cost him. He’d taken his eye off her, for only an instant, perhaps, but it was enough. He knew she was still close. He lamely turned back to face her, raising a Spellstorm in her direction, only to find she had closed within arm’s reach. He never even saw the butt of her weapon as it came round in a wide swing.

It connected with his jaw, sending him to the ground like a sack of bricks.

Caine’s world was a blur as his power-field ruptured. Gasping, he looked up at a hazy figure silhouetted in moonlight. With her free hand, she drew her pistol and leveled it at his face.

Wiping blood from his lip, he looked up dazed, and managed a weak smile. Even as he did, he reached across the clearing for Ace. Could it get to him in time? Though his own eyes were failing him, in Ace the world remained clear. He watched Lily standing over his body. Her big warjack was in the way, moving to regain its feet. With a heave, battered Ace was up and moving. She did not seem to notice it had gained two strides toward her, so complete was her focus on him.

“This was your doing. I want you know that,” she said, her own breathing labored.

“Can’t win them all, darlin’,” he replied with a cough.

To Ace, he gave it all. Everything left in him went into the wounded beast, and he flopped back in the muck. His warjack had turned a few strides into a run, and now the axe was raised high. With uncanny grace, the light warjack bounded up and over the recovering Hedo. Hedo swatted after him, too late. High into the air, the warjack leapt and came down upon Lily, its broad axe arcing down with brutal force. With an audible pop, her powerfield burst, and she fell back with a scream.

Overcome with the exertion, Caine blacked out.



A moment or perhaps an hour passed, Caine could not say. Yet there were now strong hands pulling him up, and he reckoned it had all been for nothing. He had lost, and the mercs would surely end him.

A blurry face leaned in, slapping him.

“Are you all right, sir?” Caine realized he was surrounded by Gerdie and a group of battle weary trenchers.

“Did we … win?” he coughed, sitting up.

Gerdie looked gravely serious, but nodded. “Well, they’ve been driven off, sir. I thought they had us dead to rights. We were badly pinned down by their artillery. They seemed ready to run over us back there, but then … the guns just stopped. They couldn’t advance without them. I see now we have you to thank for that.”

“How many dead, Gerdie?”

“We’ve taken our share, sir,” Gerdie took a sober breath. “Sergeant Holly is going squad to squad for a final count.”

Caine laid back down, sick to his stomach with such grim news. He sniffed the air. There was an awful lot of smoke, and it occurred to him there was a reddish glow coming through the woods.

“Is something burning?” he rasped, rubbing a temple.

“That’s the other thing, sir.”

Caine sat up immediately. Through the tree line of the clearing, a fire raged against the night sky. It was the Malsham mansion. Just within the iron gates, a figure could be seen wandering erratically. He was screaming at anyone who would listen. His silhouette before the fire was unmistakable. It was the baron himself and, even from here, they could hear him.

“Where is he!?” he screamed. “Where is your fool of a Captain?”