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Machinations chapter 1: UMbraby WilliaM shickOccupied Llael, Autumn 608 AR

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever let you talk me into.”

Rutger looked over at the hooded woman beside him. “Really?” he asked with a smirk. “What about that time in Leryn?”

The cool blue eyes of Taryn di la Rovissi stared straight back at him. “You have a point. Letting you live was the stupidest thing I ever let you talk me into.”

“That wasn’t what I was referring to.” Rutger couldn’t help but chuckle. “Besides, if you hadn’t let me talk you into coming with me, you probably would have married some noble and grown fat and lazy from having servants feed you all day.” He winked, punctuating the jest and causing a smile to break across the gun mage’s features. “Just think of all the fun you would have missed out on.”

“Yes, I just can’t imagine how much simpler life would be without you,” she said as she strode in front of him. “At least married and fat I wouldn’t find myself marching on some damned fool’s crusade.” She waved her hand, gesturing to the motley Highborn forces that marched around them.

Rutger took stock of the “glorious” army of Lord Elias de Gilfyn, dispossessed Llaelese noble and esteemed member of the Highborn Covenant. He had to admit that the sight was a far cry from the image on the Llaelese Resistance’s propaganda posters in Rhydden. The forces arrayed were not brave citizens throwing off the shackles of Khadoran oppression and marching with the spirit of a free Llael in their breasts. In truth, Rutger doubted if more than a dozen among them were even Llaelese. The majority marched under the banner of de Gilfyn and the Resistance for one reason: the coin de Gilfyn had offered them to do so.

Still, Rutger decided as he looked over the army, he’d rather have seasoned mercenaries at his back than a bunch of green recruits whose only qualification was a staunch belief in their cause. Here, disciplined ranks of Steelhead halberdiers marched in step with their fellows, their powerful polearms at rest across their shoulders. Steelhead riflemen followed as their officers bellowed out cadence. In addition to the company of Steelheads, the Resistance army boasted a detachment of Rhulic soldiers from Horgenhold. Several units of Forge Guard kept steady pace behind the Steelheads,

their heavy plate armor seeming to have little effect on their inexorable march, while Horgenhold artillery crews guided sturdy wagons loaded with stout cannons beside their hammer-wielding brothers in arms.

While the infantry force was impressive, it was the presence of the famed warcaster Drake MacBain and his battlegroup of battle-scarred warjacks that demanded attention. The great machines were currently stowed on several supply wagons in the center of the army column but were clearly visible over the heads of the soldiers, along with Rutger’s personal warjack Rex. The presence of such a seasoned battlegroup was what made the force a credible threat to the Khadorans—or at least it would have, if not for one small detail. Despite his exceptional combat experience, MacBain was not actually in charge of the army. That honor was held by de Gilfyn himself.

Though de Gilfyn had held the rank of general in the former Llaelese Army, as often happens with nobles his rank had been granted because of his station rather than his capabilities as a soldier. In the three weeks since his force had left Rhydden, the man had proven himself to be painfully unqualified when it came to command. He clearly lacked experience in personally directing an armed force and also suffered from a deficiency of common sense.

Taryn had disliked de Gilfyn from the start. He represented everything she had come to loathe about the nobility of her former homeland. She watched with barely restrained disgust as he rode past, giving orders to one of the Steelhead officers.

“That fool will be the death of us, you know,” she growled.

Rutger wanted to tell her to give the man time. That first impressions weren’t always the right ones. At least de Gilfyn was here, willing to fight alongside his men, unlike so many other members of the Highborn Covenant. Looking into her eyes, though, he knew she’d never hear it. Instead he flashed a devilish grin and said, “Don’t worry—by now I’m used to pulling you out of the fire.”

“Fitting, since you’re the one who usually puts me there,” Taryn shot back. The playful jibe stung Rutger. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to her because of him.

A sudden commotion brought his attention back to de Gilfyn, who had guided his steed too close in front of the lead supply wagon while speaking to his adjutant, forcing the driver to pull back hard on the reins to avoid a collision. This

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abrupt halt cascaded down the line, causing increasing chaos until a loud crash split the air as the last two wagons were overturned in their frantic attempts to keep from crashing into their comrades. The load fasteners snapped, and bundles of food and supplies scattered across the dirt road.

Rutger let out a small groan. The warjacks were safe and secure, at least; none of those wagons had overturned. But the damage had been done. The carefully organized column had fallen into complete disarray as soldiers in the back found their formations broken and soldiers in the front turned to see what the commotion was all about. It would take some time for the sergeants and quartermasters to sort out everything.

Turning away from the scene, Rutger saw his old friend Brunner Ainsworth striding toward them, his Steelhead plate nicked from years of hard use. A wicked scar stitched its way from beneath the right side of his bulbous nose through his bushy, black mustache and down to the left side of his jaw. Though the battle scar gave him a rather fearsome appearance, his deep brown eyes radiated with good humor and his voice was jovial as he called out to Rutger with a wave of his mechanikal hand.

Brunner and Rutger had served together years ago in the Cygnaran army in the same trencher squad. The pair had met at the enlistment office, gone through boot camp together, and fought together in several border skirmishes against Khador.

It was during one of those encounters near Fellig against Khador’s infamous 5th Border Legion that Brunner had saved Rutger’s life. Late in the battle Winter Guard had overrun their squad’s position and Rutger had found himself standing alone against three Khadorans. Brunner had intervened in the nick of time, but the action had cost him both his hand and his good looks. Rutger had left the trenchers not long after that.

Though he kept in touch with Brunner, when the two had run into each other in Ternon Crag this spring it had been nearly three years since they had seen each other. Brunner had told Rutger about Lord de Gilfyn raising an army to liberate a small Khador-occupied town southeast of Rynyr. Apparently the town served as a supply point for the distribution and storage of the red mineral mined in Rynyr that was a critical ingredient in the production of the blasting powder used in ammunition across western Immoren.

Not only did Dunlyf contain an ample stockpile of red powder, its location far from the heavily garrisoned Rynyr made it a prime target for the Resistance. Even the vast Khadoran army would have difficulty mounting a quick offensive to take back the town at that distance. Combine this with the numerous other threats against the occupying Khadoran forces, including Cryxians and the Protectorate of Menoth’s Northern Crusade, and the recapture of Dunlyf would surely be a low priority. To the Resistance, however, the town’s liberation would be a great symbolic victory against Khador as well as providing a large supply of the valuable red powder, which Resistance forces could use in their continuing fight.

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“Seems we’re breaking for lunch already,” Brunner said as he approached. “I told His Grace that the next time he found himself saddle sore all he had to do was say so. No need for him to bring the whole supply train to a crashing halt!”

Rutger chuckled. “You misjudge the tactical genius of our patron’s strategy. Now that we’re diverted, none will think to question his warrior spirit!” From the corner of his eye he saw Taryn fold her arms and cock her hooded head to one side. It was her “not amused” stance. Typically it meant she felt Rutger wasn’t taking the situation as seriously as warranted. It was a look he saw all too often.

“Don’t suppose I could convince you to use that prize warjack you’re always going on about to give us a hand? Provided you don’t think flipping a couple empty wagons upright would be beneath its regal stature.”

“As long as you’re supplying the coal I think Rex can be persuaded to help. Wouldn’t want your boys to sweat under all that armor. They might chafe without their mommies around to powder their behinds,” Rutger shot back.

Brunner let out a deep laugh and clapped Rutger on the shoulder with his mechanikal hand, causing the prosthetic to whir. “You got me. Only the most delicate flowers have what it takes to be Steelheads!”

Taryn huffed. “I’ll leave you boys to it. I’d hate for anyone to take something seriously around here.”

Rutger took a breath to try to persuade her otherwise, but the gun mage had already turned to stride away from the pair, her long cloak billowing up as if dismissing them both. Taryn had been at best cold in her dealings with Brunner since they had left Ternon Crag. Rutger knew she still held a grudge against the Steelhead for convincing him to agree to this venture.

It was worse than that, actually. Not only had Rutger gone behind her back and signed onto a job without consulting her, he had done it knowing Taryn had already set up a lucrative contract for them as bodyguards to a Cygnaran merchant traveling from Ternon Crag to Corvis. He couldn’t blame her for being angry: signing with de Gilfyn had meant they’d had to back out of their contract with the Cygnaran, running the risk of earning the man’s ire as well as a black mark on their reputation as reliable mercenaries. Nevertheless, Rutger couldn’t say no to his old friend, and once again his obligations had put Taryn in a rough spot. She had been furious with him and Brunner both, to say the least. Since their departure she had forgiven him, but she had not done the same for Brunner.

“You sure this ’jack of yours is up to menial labor?” Brunner joked as they reached the wagon carrying Rex. Rutger released the straps securing the machine and fired up the boiler. “I’d hate to have him scuff his paint.”

Rutger shot back, “I wouldn’t worry—Rex doesn’t make his living off his looks like you do.” Brunner laughed. The Steelhead’s mirth was infectious, and Rutger found himself chuckling too. “Rex has saved my life more times then I can count. I’m sure he won’t mind saving your bacon with a little common labor.”

With a deep rumble, the hulking warjack slowly came to life, blazing heartfire lighting its eyes. Hydraulics hissed and gears whined as the powerful machine stepped down from the wagon, stretching from several days of inactivity. The sight was strikingly similar to a man rising from a long sleep. With a slow turn of its armored head Rex took in its surroundings. When its eyes settled on Rutger, the jack let out a whine of steam from its bronze faceplate.

“Hey, big guy,” Rutger said, patting the armored cowling that covered the ’jack’s neck like a master would a faithful hound. “Up for some heavy lifting?”

Rex rumbled in answer and followed the pair toward the overturned supply wagons. Rutger couldn’t help but smile to himself as he saw the effect Rex had on the soldiers milling around. Even for veterans like these a fully functional warjack was a sight to behold. Rutger had to admit that the great steam-powered machines still caused him to marvel from time to time. And no one could help but shudder in awe when the power of those machines was fully unleashed on the battlefield.

A voice boomed out behind Rutger as he instructed Rex on what needed to be done.

“Fine machine like that Toro deserves better than grunt work!” Rutger winced slightly, instantly recognizing the voice as Drake MacBain’s. He didn’t bother turning to acknowledge the warcaster. While Rutger respected MacBain’s skill as a warrior and a warcaster, the man’s bravado and larger-than-life personality had a tendency to rub him the wrong way.

“Just gets us to the fighting quicker, doesn’t it, Rex?” Rutger said to the warjack, who rumbled in response as it flipped the first wagon back onto its wheels with a squeal of machinery.

“I still don’t know how you got your hands on one of the Ordic military’s prized warjacks. Those things are harder to get than a smile from the empress!”

“It wasn’t easy. First I had to keep it from killing me.”

“Ever had a partner who didn’t try to kill you first, Shaw?” MacBain asked.

“Unlikely.” Taryn’s cool voice broke into the conversation. “Rutger isn’t great at first impressions.” She stepped next to Rutger, her right hand resting casually on the grip of the magelock at her hip.

MacBain smiled and nodded in greeting to the gun mage. “How he ever convinced you not to put a bullet in his brain I’ll never understand.”

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Taryn shrugged. “We all have our moment of weakness.”

MacBain chuckled. “Coming from you that’s quite a statement.” He glanced back at Rutger and said, “You’ll have to teach me your tricks one of these days, Shaw.” Then he turned to Brunner. “Boss wants to know when we’ll be moving again, Captain.”

“Thanks to Rutger and Rex here, should be within the hour.”

MacBain nodded and said, “I’ll be sure to let His Eminence know.” He paused and watched as Rex righted the other wagon. “You ever think of selling that ’jack, Shaw? I’d be willing to make you a very generous offer.”

“Thanks, but no.”

“Come on. Don’t tell me you’re attached to it! It’s not like you can bond with it.”

Rutger looked at Rex. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean—”

MacBain cut him off, “Look, keeping a fine machine like that as a marshaled warjack? You’re wasting its potential. I promise you’d be walking away with more than it’s worth.”

Before Rutger could respond Taryn scoffed, “With as much money as Rutger’s put into that thing? The full treasury of Cygnar wouldn’t make us break even.”

Rutger looked at her and saw the determined set to her features. It was the same look she had when the pair was in the thick of battle, each holding death off for the other. It was the look that said she had his back, and no one would touch him while she did.

A ragged call drew their attention. A lightly armored scout, his rifle marking him out as a former CRS ranger, made his way quickly toward them.

“MacBain, sir!” The scout paused, attempting to slow his rapid breathing. Rutger could see a thin sheen of sweat across the man’s grimy face. Whatever he had to report, it was clearly urgent. Rutger’s hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his mechanikal sword Jackknife. “Sir, we’ve got Khadorans on the march and heading our way.”

MacBain scowled as he pulled a thick cigar from a pouch on his hip. He chomped down hard on the end of it as he asked, “Disposition?”

The scout’s voice lowered as he finally caught his breath. “At least a kompany. Lord de Gilfyn has requested you and Captain Ainsworth join him to discuss a battle plan.”

“His Lordship is itching for a fight?” MacBain chuckled. “Well, let’s not keep him waiting, then!” MacBain inclined his head toward Taryn. “Unfortunately, it seems we’ll have to continue our negotiations at a later time. That is, if Shaw can keep that Toro of his in one piece.” He winked at her in a way that made Rutger’s blood heat before striding off toward the front of the column with Brunner, whistling an old Tordoran chantey.

Taryn watched them leave with narrowed eyes. “Yeah, I feel comfortable with our lives in their hands,” she muttered sarcastically. “Especially with His Lordship in charge.”

Rutger shrugged. “We could join them.”

“I don’t think we were invited,” she said with a smirk.

“So? It’s not like they’re going to throw us out,” he insisted.

She nodded. “Good point.” She started to follow the other men.

“Thanks, by the way,” Rutger said.

“For what?” she asked, turning back toward him.

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“Standing up for Rex. He didn’t think you cared.” Rutger felt the warmth of the warjack’s heartfire wash over his shoulder as it stood idly behind him.

Taryn gave him an even look. “I just didn’t want MacBain gunning for us after he realized what a money sink that ’jack of yours really is.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned to one side. Rutger braced himself for the scolding he was about to get. “With the fortune you’ve poured into that thing you could have any top-of-the-line warjack you wanted. Hell, combined with the fortune I’ve poured into it we could have a whole battlegroup of warjacks.”

Rutger sighed; he knew better than to argue. Her annoyance wasn’t really about Rex. Maybe it was about MacBain. Maybe it was about the upcoming fight. The only thing he knew it wasn’t about was him not swooping in to defend her honor. As often as he wished that were his place, she had made it plain following several tavern brawls that it wasn’t.

When he made no reply, she turned again to leave, muttering, “Why you insist on keeping that ’jack running above all else is beyond me.”

As he watched her he felt a familiar pang in his chest. Before following her, he reached up and patted Rex’s cowl gently. “What can I say, boy? I’m a sucker for lost causes.”

When Rutger and Taryn joined those gathered for de Gilfyn’s war council, the noble glared at them but said nothing. The former ranger who had brought the summons had sketched a rough map in the dirt and was on his knees detailing what he had seen of the enemy force.

Brunner stood stroking his mustache with his real hand as he listened to the report. “You’re sure they have warcaster support?”

“Yes, sir. Even without the signs of warjack behavior when under mental command of a warcaster, an officer in steam-powered armor is a pretty dead giveaway.”

MacBain asked, “What of the enemy warjacks? Did you get a count?”

“Two Juggernauts and a single Destroyer, all active.” He hesitated, as if uncertain about offering an opinion, before adding, “I think they’d already seen some fighting.” The words earned a raised eyebrow from MacBain.

De Gilfyn broke in. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, sir, this was no patrol. And I’ve witnessed more Khadoran forces heading to battle than I’d care to count. They’re always disciplined, orderly, efficient. This one was disordered, and both the troops and the ’jacks looked a bit

beat up. I couldn’t get close enough to confirm, but they moved like a force withdrawing from a bad fight.”

“They were retreating?” Brunner asked, brow furrowed. “But from who? Menites?”

“No idea, sir,” the scout responded. “That’s what’s strange. If there were another army in the area big enough to make the Khadorans turn tail, I should have seen some indication.”

Rutger exchanged a glance with Brunner, who waved him over. The Steelhead captain leaned in and whispered, “What’s your take on this?”

Rutger looked down at the map. As he studied it, he felt Taryn come up beside him. “Looks like we could catch them pretty unaware,” she said.

Rutger looked over at her hooded face and nodded. “I was thinking the same.” He kneeled down and scratched lines into the dirt map as he talked. “If we circle around, we can intercept them here. Take them from the flank and scatter them.”

MacBain and Brunner nodded. “Such an attack would certainly minimize damage to our own force,” Brunner said.

“It’s a sly move,” MacBain agreed.

Lord de Gilfyn’s face had reddened as the meeting got away from him. “No!” His proclamation split through the council like a thunderclap. “If we try to flank them, we might lose our chance to exploit their disordered state. We will meet the Khadorans head-on and show them the strength of the Llaelese Resistance.”

“But my lord, we must be careful to conserve our strength for the assault on Dunlyf.” Brunner said.

“While I appreciate the concern, Captain, we cannot risk allowing any Khadorans to carry news of our forces to Rynyr or, worse, Dunlyf. We must meet the enemy quickly and annihilate them utterly. This cannot be achieved without engaging the entirety of the enemy force at once.”

“With respect, my lord, I have fought against Khadorans many times in my career, and in my experience one should take every advantage he can against them. I would implore you to reconsider,” Brunner said.

“I’m with Ainsworth,” MacBain chimed in. “There’s no reason to give a Khadoran a fair fight if you can avoid it.”

De Gilfyn pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut before speaking slowly and deliberately. “I thank you for your counsel, gentlemen, but I will not allow a chance for any of the enemy force to escape destruction. Captain Ainsworth, you guaranteed me your Steelheads were more then up for—how did you put it?—‘thrashing Khadorans.’ It is time for you to deliver.” He punctuated his statement by jabbing a finger at the Steelhead captain’s chest. “Now that

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I have made myself clear, I will expect to make all haste to meet our enemy and destroy him.”

Rutger could see the venom in Taryn’s eyes as she watched de Gilfyn stride off. “Fool!” she growled.

Rutger placed a hand on her shoulder. “Nothing we can do about it now.”

She turned her glare to him, causing him to pull his hand back as if scalded. Her face softened. “Doesn’t change the fact that he’s an idiot.”

MacBain chuckled. “I would disagree.” Taryn’s look was incredulous. “About the ‘nothing we can do’ sentiment,” he added quickly. He looked around at the group, clearly savoring his dramatic pause.

“De Gilfyn may have command over the army, but I have operational oversight of the force’s warjacks. Which, according to the contract wording, would include their controllers.” A devilish smirk broke across the warcaster’s face. “De Gilfyn never expected to have a ’jack marshal along.”

Taryn scoffed, “So Rex saves the day once again.”

Rutger looked at Brunner. “Are you okay with this?”

Brunner nodded. “De Gilfyn will still get his fight. His enemy may just be a little more distracted then expected. You’re going to be on your own, though.”

Rutger looked at Taryn. Their eyes met and she gave the slightest nod of her head. He smiled. “I’ve got all the backup I need.”

The sounds of battle split the crisp autumn air. Men shouted war cries, warjacks rumbled, gunfire boomed, and steel clanged. The screams of the wounded and dying completed the chilling cacophony—a cacophony Rutger knew intimately.

Rutger crouched low, doing his best to conceal himself within a dense copse of trees near the battle. He gave a silent prayer of thanks for the noise of combat, as they easily drowned out Rex, who was hidden farther back, his steam engine idling at a soft roar. Taryn stood next to Rutger with her back pressed against the trunk of a gnarled oak, magelocks drawn. The runes along their serricsteel barrels glowed faintly as she channeled magical energy into the loaded rune shots.

She peered out at the unfolding battle. Several Winter Guard were assembling a trio of mortars about a hundred yards in front of the concealed trio. In moments the Khadorans would be ready to bring their devastating artillery to bear against the Resistance forces. “Well, MacBain and Brunner have their attention,” she said in a low voice. “You ready to do something stupid?”

He grinned back at her. “Always. You?”

“I’m standing next to you, aren’t I?” With a blur of motion, Taryn snapped around the tree she had been using for cover and dashed forward, arcane runes blazing about her magelocks as she fired into the knot of Winter Guard riflemen who had taken up position near the mortars. In moments several had fallen to her fusillade, their comrades still trying to discern where this new threat was coming from.

Rutger drew his own hand cannon and snapped off a shot at one of the quicker riflemen who attempted to draw a bead on Taryn as she reloaded. The powerful shot obliterated the man’s head in a plume of red mist. With practiced ease, Rutger cracked open the gun’s breach and loaded another silk cartridge into the chamber. The pair had the Khadorans’ attention already, and rifles were being raised in Taryn’s direction, the enemy rightly prioritizing the gun mage as the more dangerous target.

Rutger snapped the hand cannon shut and brought his free hand up to his mouth. The bitter tang of alchemical blasting powder stung his tongue as he blew out a shrill whistle. The copse of trees shook with the sound of a locomotive as eight tons of iron plating and machinery raced forth at Rutger’s call. He grimaced at the report of the Khadorans’ rifles. Before Taryn could even react, Rex was there, his bulk between her and the Khadoran rounds. The combined weight of fire tore through the iron plating on his shoulder, causing sparks to fly.

Before the riflemen could unleash a second salvo, several more rune shots slammed home, thinning their ranks. Rutger bellowed to Rex, and he and the faithful warjack charged straight into the remaining Khadorans. Jackknife flashed in his hand, trailing arcane energy as it cleaved through Winter Guard armor like kindling, the energy surrounding the blade causing his enemies’ blood to sizzle and pop. As he cut his way through the guardsmen in front of him, he caught sight of another Khadoran closing from the side, rifle raised like a club. Before Rutger could turn, Rex’s fist flashed and the man was sent hurtling through the air.

With the riflemen dispatched, Rutger took a moment to survey his position. The mortar teams were wildly gesticulating toward him and Rex, but the pair were well within the mortars’ minimum range. This left the Khadorans extremely vulnerable save for the few blunderbusses the teams had at their disposal. Arcane fire trailed through the air as Taryn targeted the Winter Guard armed with those.

“All right, Rex, let’s finish the job. Just be careful of the mortars. We still need them,” Rutger shouted to the ’jack over the clamor of battle.

Rex let out a bellow of steam, which Rutger took for acknowledgement. The pair raced forward while Taryn continued to lay down deadly arcane fire from behind. She dispatched the last of the Khadorans before Rutger and Rex reached them.

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“Show-off,” he said as she caught up to him, smoke trailing from her pistols. She just smiled. He quickly examined the artillery pieces, satisfied to see they were battlefield ready.

“Think you can fire one of these as well as those pistols?” Rutger asked her, a roguish grin crossing his rough features.

“Blunt instruments are really more your thing. I prefer a little finesse.”

“Your loss,” Rutger said. He rotated the crank that adjusted the mortar’s elevation, estimating the range to begin firing into the rear of the Khadoran ranks. “Ready, aim—” Before he could finish he felt Taryn’s body crash into him, knocking him down as Rex thrust both of them to the ground protectively. He looked up in time to see the ’jack turn as a heavy rocket exploded off his armored torso. Rutger heard Taryn grunt as shrapnel from the blast struck. Her leather armor saved her from the worst, but several pieces of shrapnel still made their way through to slice exposed skin.

Rutger looked out and to his dismay saw several more units of Winter Guard approaching from behind the battle, clearly some form of rear guard. Now he, Taryn, and Rex were caught in the middle.

“Are you okay?” he asked Taryn, concern rising as he saw blood trickle from a wound in her scalp.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She grunted as she pushed herself up.

“Good, ’cause we’ve got company.”

“More like half a kompany,” she said grimly as she brought her magelocks to bear. “More than we can handle.”

“We’re not out of this fight yet.” He got up and began dragging one of the mortars around to face the other direction. “Rex, help!” He pointed at the other two mortars. The big warjack rumbled over and hauled the two mortars around with less care than Rutger would have liked, but he didn’t have time to be picky and he was sure Rex knew it.

Without waiting to make sure Taryn would take up her own mortar, Rutger pressed the firing torch to the fuse. He didn’t bother aiming at a specific target; he’d faced mortars before and knew how inaccurate they were. Instead he simply aimed at the mass of Winter Guard, trusting in the large, explosive round to make up for the lack of precision. With a roar the mortar round shot up through air and came whistling down onto the approaching mass of Khadorans to blossom out in a brilliant explosion that tore through the ranks. No sooner had Rutger’s round struck home than a second, from Taryn, struck amid the charging mass. Moving quickly, Rutger reloaded and fired another round. They needed to do as much damage as possible if they were to have any hope of living through this.

Realizing their own mortars were being used against them, the Winter Guard began double-timing it toward the trio to get within the weapons’ minimum range. Even working as fast as he could, Rutger was able to get only two more shots into the Khadorans before blunderbuss fire forced him to take cover. Several shots impacted off Rex as the Winter Guard favored the bigger and far easier target. Rutger cursed as he saw the jack’s rotator spark and give out. He turned to look at Taryn, who had given up on her mortar and was snapping off shots from her magelocks.

He looked back over the scene and knew what he needed to do.

“Get out of here, Taryn. Rex and I’ll slow them down.” He pulled himself up and drew Jackknife.

“What? Don’t be stupid, Rutger!” Taryn shouted back, an edge of panic in her voice as she saw him stand.

He turned and locked eyes with her, wanting to take in every bit of her face. He smiled. “It’s what I do best.”

Before she could respond he was off, Rex racing forward by his side. He could feel the weight of the Winter Guard fire shift toward him as he closed. A heavy impact slammed into his shoulder. He grunted under the force of the blow, feeling his feet give way as the heavy blunderbuss slug spun him around. He stumbled to one knee, trying to regain his footing and bracing himself for the finishing shot. Instead

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Rex was there, standing protectively over him, hammer lashing out at any Khadorans foolish enough to try and close. Rutger pulled himself up and joined Rex, Jackknife’s runes blazing. His shoulder was sore where the round had struck, but thankfully his armor had protected him from the worst of it. He planted his feet and raised Jackknife into a defensive posture as three Winter Guard charged him, axes drawn. There was a crack of pistol fire and the heads of two snapped back as arcane rounds slammed into them, leaving scorched trails in the air. At the death of his compatriots, the third slowed just enough for Rutger to sweep in with Jackknife, splitting the man’s breastplate and carving into the soft flesh beneath.

Rutger didn’t even turn as he lashed out at two other Khadorans. “I told you to get out of here.” His gritted his teeth as he blocked an axe strike with Jackknife, the impact sending painful reverberations through his injured shoulder.

“I heard you, but when have I not regretted listening to you?” Taryn’s cool reply came back. “Besides, the cavalry’s here.” Her pistols flared as she spoke, and two more Khadorans dropped.

As if to emphasize her point, the ground around a group of Winter Guard just in front of Rutger cracked and burst, sending stone shards flying. Rutger heard the familiar sound of a Mule’s steam cannon firing and saw yet another explosion tear through the faltering Winter Guard line. Glancing behind quickly, Rutger saw that the Resistance army had broken the Khadoran front lines and were sweeping through with MacBain at their head.

“Looks like you ran into a bit of trouble back here, Shaw.” MacBain’s voice boomed over the battlefield clamor. With casual ease the warcaster lashed out with his signature weapon Undertaker, taking off the head of one of the remaining Winter Guard engaging Rex. He chuckled. “Didn’t bite off more than you could chew, did you?”

“I’ve chewed through worse,” Rutger said, readying himself to join MacBain’s attack despite the protests of his body.

“Well, I’ve got it from here. Besides, you look like you need a rest.”

“Come on, Rutger—MacBain can handle this.” Taryn said. Rutger felt her arm slide beneath his, and she began to pull him back. He resisted for only a moment.

Rex kept himself between the pair and the fleeing Winter Guard. Hydraulic fluid leaked from a dozen ragged holes in its armor, and Rutger could hear the harsh grinding of gears from several of its joints as it moved to keep pace. He grimaced at the thought of the repairs the warjack would need.

“Oh, and Shaw?” MacBain called. Rutger turned, Taryn and Rex stopping beside him. The mercenary warcaster grinned.

“Consider my offer on your Toro rescinded. At least until you hammer out the dents you gave it today.”

Rutger had expected his first steps into the town of Dunlyf to be made to the sounds of cheering—or, at the very least, gunfire. Instead the only thing that greeted the Resistance army was silence. Instinctively his grip tightened on his weapons as adrenaline pumped through his tense body. He took comfort in the familiar growl of Rex’s servos behind him and pushed his growing unease down, forcing himself to focus. He wasn’t about to let some carefully concealed Widowmaker get the best of him.

Taryn strode beside him, her movements fluid and graceful as she tracked across alleyways and empty buildings with her magelocks. A casual observer would have seen the bearing of a deadly gunfighter, poised for a fight. Rutger however, could see that she was unsettled by the current situation just as much as he was.

While Taryn’s anxiety over the current situation was hidden well beneath her cool exterior, the rest of the Resistance army was far easier to read. Rutger could see Brunner leading a detachment of halberdiers along the left side of the main thoroughfare, opposite where Taryn and Rutger were positioned. Behind them MacBain and his battlegroup were just beginning to make their entrance, accompanied by the heavily armored Rhulic Forge Guard. It was the Steelheads’ job to flush out any ambush or trap, keeping MacBain and his valuable ’jacks in reserve for a counterattack. No one expected the eerie calm to last. But it was clear the strain of not knowing when that calm would be broken by extreme violence was wearing on everyone.

As the force came to the center of Dunlyf, Brunner began waving platoons down different streets, having them fan out to perform a more thorough search of the structures. He motioned for Rutger and Taryn to head down a smaller side street better suited to them than to a larger group. Rutger nodded at his friend and motioned for Taryn and Rex to follow. The big Toro was barely able to fit between the buildings on either side of the narrow street.

“You’re on edge.” The sound of Taryn’s voice made Rutger jump. He cursed under his breath.

“I’d just prefer the fighting to start. I didn’t come here for a leisurely stroll. Besides, I’m not the one with a twitchy trigger finger.” He nodded to her hands and she followed his gaze. Sure enough, both her index fingers were twitching ever so slightly against the triggers of her magelocks.

She smiled ruefully at him. “Facing death is a lot easier than waiting for it.”

9

He nodded. “Dive in head first, that’s my motto.”

“And that’s why I handle the contract negotiations.”

He was about to respond when a sudden noise down a nearby cross street made them both turn in that direction, tensed. He caught her eye and she nodded. Hand cannon raised and ready, Rutger quickly made his way to the intersection, Taryn covering his back. Listening intently over the rumble of Rex, who strode dutifully behind the pair, Rutger heard clattering down another side street to his right. He pressed his back against the wall of the corner building and peered toward where the sound had come from. A sharp clamor caused him to instantly snap back behind the cover of the house, braced for a burst of gunfire that never came. Instead he heard more shuffling, quicker this time.

Taking in a deep breath, he leaned ever so slightly past the wall again and took in the street. There was no cover to be seen.

“Going to have to run for it.”

Taryn nodded and darted out around the corner, her long cloak billowing as she raced across the open expanse, body low and muscles tensed. Rutger followed quickly behind her. Whoever it was they were chasing was clearly unconcerned with stealth at this point. Rutger could easily hear scrambling footsteps racing away from the trio.

The sounds of their quarry echoed down a tight alleyway. Without pausing Taryn disappeared around the corner in hot pursuit. Rutger grunted as he realized Rex wasn’t going to be able to fit. He didn’t break his stride, though, but picked up his pace to keep Taryn in sight and cover her back. The gun mage swiftly rounded another corner and Rutger cursed as he ran flat out to catch up. As he came around the corner he nearly barreled into her.

She stood pressed against the casing of an open door which led into the house adjacent to where the alley emptied into a cross street. Rutger worked to still his heavy breathing from the sprint, his heart hammering in his chest. He could hear noises from inside the house. Now that he was able to make out the sounds without the rumble of Rex, he realized there was something off about them. Something wasn’t right.

Taryn turned toward him and mouthed, On three.

He nodded. She turned back to the open door, her hand raised as she pumped it.

One . . . two . . . three.

Like a flash the pair burst through the open door, guns raised. Rutger caught sight of something big and dark as it flashed forward like a bolt. He tried to raise Jackknife but was too slow. He heard the loud crack of Taryn’s magelocks and felt the heavy body smash into him. Suddenly he was on the floor, his back slammed against the hard wood as the form crushed the wind from his lungs. A warm wetness spread across his face and torso. Blood—but his? He couldn’t tell. He fought to breathe,

and an earthy musk filled his nostrils. The smell of wild game. He could hear Taryn but couldn’t make out her words. No . . . they weren’t words. Was it—he paused for a moment, his mind trying to make sense of the sound—laughing?

Was she actually laughing?

The body was rolled off him, and he took in a deep breath, blinking as he cleared his eyes of blood and the dark oppression of the weight. He looked at Taryn. Her whole body was shaking as she fought to contain nervous laughter. She pointed next to Rutger. “It was a blasted deer!”

He looked to where she was pointing. There, two large bullet holes in its side, was a huge doe. They had been chasing wildlife.

“Unbelievable,” she said. “Khadorans, gatormen, Menite zealots, thugs and lowlifes of every kind—and you nearly get taken out by venison!” Her voice trembled slightly with relief as she wiped tears from her eyes.

“Ha, ha.” Rutger pulled himself to his feet. He brushed himself off and took stock of the house. “What do you make of this?”

She paused, her eyes scanning their surroundings. The place was dusty and several pieces of furniture were overturned, but nothing seemed to be missing except the people. Plates and utensils were even set on the dining table. “Doesn’t look like the former occupants were planning on going anywhere.” She moved off into an adjacent room while Rutger made his way to the kitchen. He tried not to think about the children’s playthings scattered in a corner by the fireplace.

The kitchen and pantry showed signs of animal foraging. Grain and rotting half-eaten vegetables littered the floor. Taryn’s voice called out, “It doesn’t even look like they took anything with them. There are clothes here, a trunk with winter gear, a hairbrush—hell, they even left jewelry behind.” She came back into the main living room holding a gold chain with a small pendant.

Rutger’s brow furrowed as he pondered what could have compelled the inhabitants to leave in such a hurry. Even Khadorans would have given the people time to pack some belongings when clearing the town. And they certainly wouldn’t have left anything of value untouched once the owners had been evicted.

Ever the pragmatist, Taryn slid the necklace into a pouch at her waist. She nodded at the dead deer. “How long do you think a town needs to be empty before the local wildlife decides to take interest? Two weeks? Three?”

Rutger shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s a fairly rural area. Maybe less.”

She was the first to give voice to his thoughts. “Regardless, I don’t think we’re going to find any Khadorans waiting in ambush for us. Whatever happened here, everyone is long gone.”

10

“I think you’re right. We’d better report back to Brunner.”

Taryn raised an eyebrow. “You think he’s having better luck then us?”

Rutger’s gaze settled back on the scattered children’s toys. His grip tightened on his hand cannon. “Morrow, I hope so.”

Rutger walked slowly through the empty town of Dunlyf, the afternoon sun low in the sky. It had been nearly a week since the Resistance force had arrived in the eerily deserted town. Tensions had been high. Though the men and women of the army were still wary, they had found a level of normalcy in the unsettling situation, and by now no one was drawing weapons—or worse, firing shots at the slightest noise.

Still, the question of what had occurred in Dunlyf weighed on everyone. Hardened mercenaries or no, Rutger could see it in their faces. And the more they tried to avoid it, the more their eyes were drawn to the signs of Dunlyf’s citizens seemingly ripped from their daily lives to vanish without a trace.

Rutger knew, however, that what had happened here was the smaller question. The real concern, the one that kept the soldiers awake at night and ensured they avoided walking alone at any hour of the day, was more visceral: would it happen to them?

He ran through the situation in his mind for the hundredth time. It was possible the Khadorans had relocated the civilians for some strategic reason. But why hadn’t they taken the stores of the valuable red powder with them? As far as the Resistance forces could tell, not a single barrel was missing from the several storehouses that dotted the town.

Stranger still, the Khadoran barracks had been burned to the ground, leaving nothing but charred wood and ash behind. It was not unknown for the Khadoran army to engage in a scorched-earth policy when retreating, but if it had been them why hadn’t they put the entire town to the torch? No, it simply didn’t add up. He continued to puzzle over the mystery as he made his way to Dunlyf’s town hall, which now served as the Resistance force’s HQ.

Rutger pushed his way through the heavy oak doors to walk past the foyer and into the general meeting area. Steelheads huddled in knots around lit braziers in the perimeter, their weapons rested against the walls while they chatted with their compatriots or engaged in various games of chance. Near the center of the room, a large table had been set up with several maps spread out across it, illuminated by lanterns on either end. Brunner was bent over one of the maps, talking with a halberdier sergeant, and Rutger paused. Given everything his friend was suddenly dealing with, Rutger wasn’t looking forward to the conversation they needed to have.

Brunner finished relaying his orders to the sergeant, who gave a quick salute before moving off. Finding himself with a moment of respite, Brunner stood up to his full height, stretching his back. He caught sight of Rutger, and a weak smile broke out over his face. “Rutger! Good to see you. I assume our mechaniks took care of Rex?”

“Yeah, looks like they did a great job. Of course, it would’ve been nice if they’d slapped a new coat of paint on him for me,” Rutger laughed. “Any leads on where the townspeople or the Khadoran garrison went?”

Brunner shook his head and sat down heavily in his worn chair, a deep weariness lining his features. “Some of the boys found what could be signs of a skirmish in the forest a few miles to the northeast.” He paused to take up an iron mug that was holding down the corners of several maps, leaving dark stains

where it had sat. After a long draught he continued, “I’m going with Glabriel’s

squad to check it out personally. This might be the lead we need to find out what happened here.” He looked expectantly at his old friend. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to come along?

It’d be good to have your eyes. And Taryn’s, too, if you think—”

11

Rutger raised his hand, cutting Brunner off. “Sorry, but our contract is up. Technically it ended three days ago. I’ve talked it over with Taryn, and it’s time for us to move on.” The look on his old friend’s face was worse than a shot to the ribs.

“I’d hate to lose you. I’m sure I could convince de Gilfyn to pay your extension fee. Hell, if he won’t cover it I will.”

Rutger shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, Brunner. But I have other obligations that I need to see to.” He didn’t say Taryn’s name. He didn’t need to. She had been more than understanding, more so than he really deserved.

Brunner looked like he was about to say something, but instead he reached out his good hand. “Take care of yourself, Rutger. See you back at the Crag? Let’s try to make it just a year this time.”

Rutger took Brunner’s hand and clasped his other hand over it as well, smiling ruefully at the old farewell ritual. Since they never knew what lay in store for either of them, they made a point of always setting up a meeting in the future. It gave them a reason to believe the goodbye wasn’t their last. “As long as the first round’s on you, you can count on it.”

Brunner simply nodded. Rutger turned and headed back to the small house he and Taryn had appropriated for their use in the days following their arrival.

Taryn was sitting at the dining table, which was tucked into the farthest corner by the fireplace, where a small fire warmed the room. Her feet were crossed upon the table, boots flaking dried mud onto its surface as she cleaned one of her magelocks. “How’d he take it?” she asked without looking up as Rutger entered.

“Fine. He was just heading out to follow up a lead one of the patrols found,” Rutger paused, “Might even point them to the townspeople.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” she said, looking up and locking eyes with him, “but it’s not our job. And they definitely aren’t our responsibility. Only reason they’re Brunner’s is because his contract says they are.”

Rutger’s reply died in his throat, and he simply shook his head. He knew Taryn was right. The image of the abandoned children’s toys sprang to his mind. He began absentmindedly fiddling with the full purse attached to his belt.

Taryn raised an eyebrow. “You earned that payday, Rutger.” She raised her magelock and sighted down the barrel at his freshly healed shoulder. “Don’t make me remind you how.”

He forced a grin, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “No reminder needed. You’re right, you’re right.”

She nodded, holstering her magelock in one smooth motion. “I always am. You’re just too stubborn to listen most the time.”

“Yet another of aspect of my charming personality.”

“You should be careful about relying on that too much. Charm won’t stop bullets.”

“It stopped yours.”

She scoffed, swinging her feet onto the ground before rising from the chair. She made her way to her bedchamber and paused in the doorway to look back at her partner. “It stopped me from pulling the trigger. There’s a big difference.”

Rutger was awakened by a heavy pounding on the outside door. Instinctively he snapped upright, pulling his hand cannon from the holster slung about the bed post. Shaking the sleep from his mind, he could make out a muffled voice calling his name. He dressed quickly and stepped into the cold central living area of the house just as Taryn did the same. The first rays of dawn were barely beginning to creep in through the windows. The pair shared a quick look before Rutger opened the door.

Standing at the entryway with one fist raised to knock again was a worried-looking Steelhead Rutger recognized as one of Brunner’s lieutenants. Rutger wondered what trouble could have compelled his friend to send for him. For a moment he expected to hear the sound of bombard fire in the distance heralding the attack of the missing Khadoran garrison.

Rutger stared at the man, still slightly bleary-eyed. “What does Ainsworth want?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I felt someone should tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Rutger asked.

The lieutenant’s words came fast, his building panic clear. “Captain Ainsworth—he never returned from patrol, sir. He went with Sergeant Glabriel’s squad yesterday to investigate a lead on what happened here, and they haven’t been seen since. The entire squad is missing.”

“Khadorans?” Taryn asked from the back.

“Possibly. We can’t tell much from here.”

Rutger didn’t even take a moment to think. “Where’s MacBain?”

“Making final arrangements to leave. His contract, like yours, was completed upon securing the town. Unless Lord de Gilfyn extends it, MacBain will be gone by evening.”

Rutger fingered the heavy purse at his hip. “Get them both. Quickly.”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant hurried off to gather the two men.

“Rutger,” Taryn said, “What do you think you are doing? This isn’t our job.”

12

Rutger turned. Taryn stood with her arms crossed, leaning to one side. He knew what was coming but spoke anyway. “We can’t leave.”

Taryn’s gaze was icy. “Thamar’s teeth we can’t! Brunner isn’t our responsibility. He knew the risks.”

“But he could still be alive. I can’t just walk away. I owe him.”

“Owe him?! You don’t owe him anything! You came when he asked—and don’t forget that wasn’t easy. You fulfilled your contract to the Resistance and to him. You can’t go running to the rescue every time the man finds himself in danger. Your loyalty to him already almost got us both killed! I won’t stand by and watch you endanger yourself or our livelihoods out of some foolish sense of self sacrifice for—”

“Enough!” he shouted, cutting her off. “I wouldn’t be standing here today if it wasn’t for Brunner. He risked his life and came out far worse for it. I won’t abandon him when he actually needs my help.” Rutger was surprised to see Taryn shrink slightly at the intensity of his gaze. He turned away, trying to calm himself. He knew she had a point—but he also knew she was wrong. He made his way to go.

“Rutger,” she said, stopping him. “It’s going to take more than you’ve got to keep MacBain around.” He turned just in time to see a heavy leather purse fly toward him. He caught it, surprised by its weight. He looked at her.

For a brief moment Rutger almost failed to stop himself from saying something he had wanted to say since they first met. Swallowing the words, he said, “I’ll pay you back. Every crown.”

“Damn right you will. With extra interest from Brunner.”

Taryn crouched low, scanning the ground beneath her intently. Rex stood some distance off, glowing eyes scanning the surrounding wilderness for any sign of trouble.

Rutger frowned as he looked over the area Brunner had gone to investigate when he and his men went missing. The signs of a recent skirmish were plain. The ground was covered in heavy boot marks and the nearby foliage had been splintered and shredded by blade and bullet. The markings told of a desperate stand, with Brunner and his men being drawn into a tight circle at the center of the clearing.

Whoever had attacked the squad had taken them by surprise and with overwhelming force. The fact that there were no bodies meant one of two things: either the Steelheads had been taken alive or their bodies had been carried off. Oddly,

several of the footprints were clearly from standard-issue Khadoran military boots.

Taryn moved forward, keeping her gaze low as if following an invisible trail. About ten paces away she stopped in her tracks.

“Rutger,” she said, “you’d better take a look at this.”

Rutger hurried over to where she had crouched. There, concealed beneath heavy fronds, lay a heavy iron gauntlet with a stump of forearm sticking out from its back. Thick iron bands wrapped around it, bolted in place by rusty rivets. Instead of terminating in fingers the gauntlet ended in a dome divided down the middle. Rutger drew Jackknife and used it to carefully prod at the metal. A serrated blade sprang from the end of the gauntlet.

“Cryxian?” Taryn asked.

“Maybe,” Rutger said half under his breath as he considered the find, “though I’ve never seen anything like this on a thrall before.” He motioned to the forearm. “And that flesh looks like it was only recently severed from a living body.”

Taryn looked at him. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to change your mind about staying?”

Rutger grunted.

“Didn’t think so.” She looked around, her hands firmly resting on the handles of her magelocks.

A warning bellow from Rex shattered the quiet of the surroundings. In an instant both Rutger and Taryn were on their feet, weapons drawn. As they scanned for danger, a rough voice called out and a figure wearing a long greatcoat and a broad-rimmed hat stepped out of the shadows, a heavy quad-iron trained on the pair. Rex vented steam in a shrill whistle in preparation to charge, but a shout from Rutger held the mighty warjack in check.

“Harlan Versh,” Rutger growled.

Versh tilted his head slightly in greeting. “Never thought I’d run into you again,” he said, a faint hint of amusement in his gravelly voice.

“Maybe that’s because the last time we met, you put a bullet in me.” Rutger scowled as his hands tightened on the grip of his weapons. “Been looking forward to repaying you for that.”

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