The Way of Caine ,The Warcaster Chronicl - By Miles Holmes Page 0,4

him up, shoving him to the wall. Feet kicked at his own, spreading his legs. Horace’s laugh grated in his ears.

“Right. Now let’s see about those big balls. Marten! Give me yer knife. ”

There was a muffled shout in response. Somehow, Caine was no longer being held to the wall, and the sounds of a scuffle had broken out behind him. Falling to one knee, he caught a glimpse of a bulky figure stepping toward one of Horace’s goons. As the figure moved, arm outstretched with a hand bathed in strange light, two deafening shots rang out from Horace’s pepperbox. Caine blinked, trying to get his head straight. To his addled senses, the newcomer appeared to warp and shift just as the weapon fired, causing the point blank shots to miss ... badly. In two steps, the dark figure followed through with a haymaker into Horace’s nearest goon. Raw power like lightning arced and crackled in the attack, and the man smashed into the brick wall hard enough to crack it. Caine watched as another assailant was tossed past him, slumping into the garbage.

Horace stood shaking, looking at the stranger only a second. Without a word, he turned and fled as fast as his legs would carry him.

His vision clearing, Caine looked up at the stranger over him. It was the cloaked man from the bar. He had his tricorn on now, pushed close to his eyes, and a high collar buttoned to cover his mouth. His black cloak had come unfurled in the scuffle, revealing the glint of steel within. He reached down with a mailed hand and pulled Caine to his feet, then pointed at Caine’s father.

“Go home. I’ll have a word with your boy now.”

Caine heard an order, not a suggestion, and Seamus nodded before limping out onto the street.

The stranger turned his attention back to Caine while pulling his collar open. As his cloak opened wider still, Caine glimpsed the steel within was nothing less than full plate armor. Impressive enough to account for half the man’s bulk, it was a complicated affair of hoses, steam-pipes and intricate armatures. Of greater significance to Caine, there at the center of the breastplate was an ornately carved golden swan. Caine grimaced at the Kings mark: the Cygnus.

Was this man an inquisitor? Precious few had the gift of magic as Caine did. The King’s Inquisition made sure it stayed that way. Morrow help you if they caught your scent.

No, he’d had his share of near misses with those villains. Though they might wear the Cygnus like this stranger, they were nothing like him. He had to be something else. He was a soldier. More than that, he must be a leader of some sort, if his bearing was any indication. Then there was the fact he had magic of his own.

So what was he then?

A warcaster perhaps? Caine swallowed.

Caine had heard stories about those larger than life mage-warriors like everyone else, though few ever actually met one in person.

Armies followed at their heels and fell by their hands, or so it went. Warcasters were masters of steel and spell alike, and they alone could drive those walking, steam-belching tanks, warjacks, with but a thought. Caine could only stare, his mouth hanging open as the cloaked man extended a mailed hand.

“The name’s Magnus.”

Caine sipped his beer, studying the grizzled face of Magnus warily. The warcaster said nothing, yet even as he breathed, he exuded a certain menace. The pair sat opposite a worn table at the back of the Boiler Plate in abject silence. Caine twitched in his seat, eyes darting to the door waiting for a mob reprisal. Magnus grunted.

“So here’s me,” Magnus finally declared, his voice low, and in an accent Caine couldn’t place. “Travelling from Caspia on the kings’ business. I take shelter for a night in Bainsmarket and what should interrupt me at my drink? A bloody rogue sorcerer. Now, our good and noble King Vinter has made clear my duty in such circumstance. ”

“You mean to take me to the Inquisition, is that it?” Caine asked.

Magnus relented, settling back in his chair. “No. As I’ve thought upon it, I’m not sure I could. You’ve a rare gift, if you’ve stayed ahead of them this long. I don’t think it will be me taking you in. Rather, I expect you will, after I’ve said my piece.”

Caine crossed his arms, his eyebrows raised.

“Boy, you’ve got something most would kill for. What’s more, you’re a decent shot, and