The Way of Caine ,The Warcaster Chronicl - By Miles Holmes Page 0,27

again, he looked at the pale moonlight upon a row of tents. Stepping carefully to avoid any twigs, he followed the row. There, at the end of the row, another larger tent. Surely, the commander’s quarters.

Drawing close, he heard a heated conversation within. A man and a woman argued. He paused, listening.

“... again today he does not come. We must consider …” the woman’s voice sounded tired.

“What? Would you have us leave, Lily?” the man answered, his voice thick with a Caspian twang.

“We are now a week without pay, father. The men are more restless by the hour. If he does not come to us, why not go to him?”

“You well know that goes against the terms of the contract …”

“Father,” the woman’s voice pleaded. “It is a contract he has already breached. Let him renegotiate at … wait … is that …?”

“Let us discuss this later. I sent for Luthor. He approaches, most like.”

Caine heard footsteps nearby. He saw shadows moving in the moonlight, a patrol on approach. So much for that, he thought. He stepped from the shadows as he heard the last of the soldiers pass him by.

“Hallo there!” he called out.

The men whirled about, fumbling for their rifles. Caine waved them down.

“Easy, now. I just want a word with whoever’s in charge.”

“What exactly do you want, Captain?” the young commander asked. They were at the clearing just outside her large tent, its large flaps had been drawn back to cast long shadows. She stood before him in a unique suit of plate and sipped from a tin cup filled with steaming coffee. Her armor had extensive armatures built over it, ending in bizarre claws at the feet. The way she had limped out of the tent, Caine wondered if the armatures might be compensating for missing parts. Whatever the case, he approved of what he could see of her. Long blond hair, tied into braids, and piercing blue eyes that regarded him like a hawk. Even the scar that ran chin to scalp had a certain appeal. He wondered what a smile might look like on that face. He saw only weary exasperation now.

“A simple thing, really. I want you to tell me what you’re doing here, Commander Von Baum, was it?” Caine said lightly, a wry smile on his face.

The woman sighed. A haggard but formidable man emerged from the tent, also with a coffee in his hand. He was similarly dressed, though his own armor was not nearly so strange. He made up for it with an enormous long sword strapped to his belt. He stroked a bushy grey mustache and narrowed his eyes at the sight of Caine. The young woman looked back at him with a shrug.

“Did you hear him father?” she asked. The man grunted, looking at Caine.

“I’m Hector,” he extended a firm hand, which Caine shook at once. “We’re under contract, Captain. Sorry to have wasted your time, but we’re not doing anything illegal here,” the old soldier said softly.

“Perhaps not,” Caine replied. “But it is clear you are doing everything in your power to stay hidden. I find that a mite suspicious.”

“Suspicious is not illegal, sir. Our client has stipulated discretion, nothing more,” Lily protested. Behind the tent, Caine heard the sound of metal grating, and the puff of steam being released.

“Perhaps I might take it up with your client, then. Care to point me their way?” Caine asked, still smiling. Lily rolled her eyes at this, but her burly father only chuckled, putting a hand to her shoulder.

“You know we don’t have to tell you that, lad.” He said, shaking his head in amusement. Caine studied the worn leather of the man’s face. This pair wasn’t going to give him anything, he thought with a sigh. Perhaps a change of tactics was in order.

“Have it your way.”

The clank of heavy jointed limbs was getting closer. Caine saw two sets of glowing red eyes coming toward the light. Caine felt Ace out in the shadows. The warjack tensed, drawing a bead on the advancing machines. Its eagerness to open fire scratched at the back of Caine’s mind, but Caine resisted the urge with an emphatic No.

“Let’s get something straight,” Caine growled. “Slink down as low as you like, we know where you are now. We’ll be keeping an eye out. Step out of line, and our next chat will be less ... friendly.”

As Caine finished, the hulking shadows of two Mule warjacks limped into the light. Each brandished a