Rogue Mage – Snippet 3

by | Aug 10, 2017 | ,

Rogue Mage, Path of Heroes Book One

By Brandon Barr and Michael Anderle

Snippet 3

Unedited

“Watch this,” called Payetta, dragging the body of a raider she’d killed the day before beside his dead companion.

Justen was rummaging through one of the men’s packs. He’d been scouring them ever since they’d arrived back at the kill site that morning. Finally, Justen looked up from the pack. “All right, let’s see this big show you’ve been promising.”

She closed her eyes and focused her energy on the tree roots. Lying on the ground above was the dead raider. The dirt and pine needles surrounding the corpse began to shake, then split. Striking up out of the ground rose a myriad of snaking tendrils. She directed each on a precise course, sliding them around the man, wrapping him in a wooden embrace. She was like a spider spinning a victim in her silken web.

As she wrapped him, she focused another portion of her energy to the other nearby body, locating it in her mind while not releasing her hold of the pine tree. Slowly she drew out another branch of roots and slid them over the second man she’d felled yesterday. The one She Grunts had sprayed. The one she’d used her wooden sword on and her husband was none the wiser.

Once both dead men were entangled, she pulled them down into the earth. Using more roots below ground, she upheaved and churned the soil, creating room for the two bodies. She opened her eyes a crack. Visually, it was morbidly stunning. The men appeared to be sinking into the earth.

“Nicely done,” came Justen’s voice.

Payetta finished the burial, then released her grip on the trees, pleased that she’d finally gotten a fingerhold on the art of controlling two living things at the same time.

Trees were a good first start, next she hoped to succeed at animals, a much more difficult task that required greater concentration. She’d come close several times, but the exertion had left her exhausted. Time would change this, as it always did. The more she flexed her mental power, the stronger her stamina and magic became.

“Thank you,” replied Payetta with a slight bow. “If you’d get up at dawn with me, you might glimpse all my secrets.”

“You’d find ways to hide them anyway,” Justen mused. “Besides, Cluckruck and I like to sleep in together.”

Payetta snorted. “You and that lazy chicken.”

Cluckruck was their faithful egg-laying chicken, and she was as fat as a river toad. Whenever they slept at Honey Hideout—their preferred place to spend the night—Cluckruck would roost in Justen’s tangled hair and wouldn’t get up to dig for worms or lay eggs until he stirred awake.

“I’m just proud I was able to heal you,” replied Justen. “I don’t know how you do it, but I’m exhausted after I do magic—no matter how piddly it is compared to your stuff.”

“It takes time,” replied Payetta, fingering the spot on her forehead that Justen had repaired. It had taken him an hour to do what would have taken her minutes. “Remember, the more passionate you are about the magical act, the more power you’ll have. Kinda like sex.”

Justen folded his arms and frowned, but she saw right through it. He was hiding a smirk behind those deliciously shaped lips. “Is that another comment about my stamina last night?”

“Not at all dear,” purred Payetta. “You were very powerful…while you lasted.”

Justen dipped his head, a smile breaking through his serious facade. “Outlasting you is like trying to drink up a river.”

“That’s ridiculous. I have my limits.” She winked. “We just haven’t discovered them yet.”

>>>From Brandon – Rogue Mage arrives tomorrow, August 11th 

Snippet One and Snippet Two were action scenes, so perhaps a short, casual, body-burying scene with a little husband and wife humor might be in order. Enjoy!

Check out Brandon Barr and his other books at http://www.brandonbarr.com

Terry Henry Walton Short Story

by | Aug 9, 2017 | ,

Wednesday Terry Henry Walton Short Story

It’s All In The Mission

IT’S ALL IN THE MISSION – from Terry Henry Walton’s private journal.

    “Why in the hell are you here, Lieutenant?” I asked, irked by his presence. My team had trained together for over six months. We worked as one. We knew what each other thought, their strengths, their weaknesses. I was in charge, but only by virtue of rank. We all had our specialty. Mine just happened to be the equipment. I could tear it down and put it back together again. I made this junk work and I knew how to organize the data we collected and send it back to someone who cared. It was more than a job for us. And I was good at killing people.

     I used the equipment for something to do in between the direct action missions. I liked the scent of a man’s fear.

     The lieutenant looked hurt.

     “Well, Sergeant, I came along to observe and supervise if necessary. I can authorize the movement of this unit to alternate locations without the hassle of requesting it over the radio.” The lieutenant seemed satisfied with his answer. He raised his head slightly so he could look down at me, a weak attempt to assert his authority.

     One corporal manned the radio direction finding (RDF) equipment and a lance corporal rolled through frequencies slowly on a radio designed to pick up anything in the VHF spectrum. Both had noticed the friction between myself and the “observer” and watched us closely. A second corporal lay curled up in a ball towards the edge of a rock wall some feet away, sleeping peacefully.

     I leaned nearer the lieutenant and in a soft voice so the others couldn’t hear, said, “You stay out of our way. Do you understand? You shouldn’t be here and already you’ve changed our orders three times. I’ve had it with you. The next time you open your mouth, we’re going to pack our trash and we’re humping out of here!”

     The lieutenant prepared a retort or a threat or something else that didn’t matter. I guess my angry glare kept his words from dribbling out like a baby spitting up its breakfast. I’d probably pay later, but for now, the mission would come back on line and maybe we could get some intelligence that was worthwhile, then move back behind our lines. A hot meal and a rack in the air conditioned comfort of our ship waited for us. But for now, we were stuck in a very small two story building that was heaped with the rubble of a previous explosion.

     We had selected this building because it was one of the few whole buildings standing in this part of Beirut. It had access to the roof where our antennas now stood. One antenna was low profile. Another looked like a typical T.V. antenna, but the third was an obvious Marine green. I had tried to set it up level with the T.V-looking antenna, but I couldn’t get in touch with the ship. After raising it another six feet, I could hear higher headquarters, and more importantly, they could hear me.

     My team was set up on the bottom floor. Only one room was habitable and that just happened to be the kitchen. The only thing that suggested it had once been a kitchen were the sink and the counter. There was no water so we simply set up all our equipment on the counter and in the sink. We had been operating all day now after having been inserted late last night. So far we hadn’t found any exploitable targets and all was mundane and quiet. That probably accounted for some of the friction between the lieutenant and me.

     “Hey, TH, it’s almost three. You wanna wake up sleeping beauty?” The lance corporal took off his headphones and rubbed at the red creases around his ears. He yawned and stretched.

     TH. That was me. They sometimes called me Goldy, too. I had dyed my hair golden blond right before we got on ship. I don’t know why I did it, maybe because I thought blonds had more fun. It didn’t matter. I guess it was just something to do. Well, anyway, it wouldn’t last forever, unlike a tattoo.

     “Come on Stinky, time to rise and shine.”

     A pair of bright red eyes peered out at me from under the protective covering of an arm. “Oh gawdy, I feel like I just fell asleep,” answered a dry voice. He contorted his body into a sitting position and rubbed feeling back into his leg, wincing from the pain of the returning circulation.

     I looked at him and laughed silently. Why had I nicknamed him Stinky? Every unit had a Stinky and he just happened to fit the billet. He was renowned aboard ship for his bodily gases. There was nothing he enjoyed more than sharing his gas with others, usually at the most inopportune time. Stinky reached for a Meal, Ready to Eat (MRE) and began to open it.

     “Come on, Stinky, you can eat that on watch. Give Plants a break; he’s been spinnin’ and grinnin’ all day.” Plants had a degree in Botany and went on to learn Arabic. He enlisted because he didn’t want the responsibilities of being an officer, nor did he need the pay. He was happy at the bottom of the ladder. “Plants can go suck himself. I gotta wake up.”

     “Stinky, Stinky. Why do you always have to talk like that?”

     “Leave me alone Goldy. At least my hair’s the color God meant it to be.”

     They never forget, do they? I thought to myself. I smiled and turned away. The corporal on the RDF was laughing as he kicked back on a box turned into a chair. His nickname was simply Jonesy. He never got excited. He was a man who could be counted on, no matter what.

     Stinky and Plants changed places. Plants sat for a second, then stood up and began to stretch. Stinky looked at him oddly. “Hey, if you’re gonna waste it, I’ll take the rack and go back to sleep.”

     “Nope! It’s my turn and I’ll spend it however I like.” He ended by sticking his tongue out and making international rude gestures in Stinky’s direction. Needless to say, Stinky broke into a tirade of cursing. I slapped him on the back and frowned my disapproval, which only served to bring his cursing in my direction. At least he was awake…

     It was two in the morning before I finished my report. I had to tally all we had done during the day and send it back to the ship. There wasn’t much, but I had to make it sound like we were a four-man army. Only Plants and I were up. I sent the others off to lullaby-land by midnight. No sense in wearing them down when there wasn’t anything going on.

     I sat up for another hour before I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. I had been up for twenty-four hours and that was my limit. I had to get some sleep if I wanted to function when the new day came. I woke Jonesy, then quickly curled myself into the warm spot he vacated.

     “TH, Terry wake up! Hey man, the Lieutenant’s gone and Plants says he’s got something. Come on, get up!” I was dragged to my feet and shook roughly. I thought I’d been asleep for a grand total of thirty seconds.

     “What? Who’s where?” It was now 0530 and my senses eluded me. I was being shaken and I was standing, but that’s all I understood. All of a sudden, the shaking stopped. Far off in my mind I thought I heard swearing, then a canteen cup of water rained into my face.

     That was all I needed, because I balled a fist and prepared to punch at the swearing face in front of me.

     “Hey! It’s just me. Chill out!” Stinky looked concerned, which was a different expression for him.

     “O.K. I’m up. Sorry, Stinky. What’s up?” Stinky told me that Plants had been listening in on a conversation for over an hour and that they repeatedly mentioned “hostages.” Stinky had gotten up only a few minutes ago and noticed that the Lieutenant was gone. He looked around quickly outside the building, but the Lieutenant was nowhere near.

     “Well, Dick Head can fend for himself. Plants, give me a run down and Jonesy, what kind of line of bearing (LOB) do you have?”

     “Just something about the scumbags moving hostages; three, I think, but that’s all I’m getting. Those morons can’t coordinate what they’re doing so they’re just swearing at each other.”

     “Yeah, TH, they stay up on the handset for a long time. Real easy to get a good LOB on ’em. They’re shooting a 115 true.” I immediately contacted the ship with a short, but clear report. They lost their collective minds and started asking endless, senseless, and unanswerable questions. I cut them off telling them that I would contact them when I had further information. Over and out. I guess they understood that. About ten minutes later, the terrorists came back on the radio, but this time they gave a firm location where they were headed.

     I guess the ship had also been listening in because the radio immediately crackled to life. “Yankee Six Sierra, this is Bravo Niner X-ray, over.”

     “This is Six Sierra, over,” I answered.

     “This is Niner X-ray. We LOB your target at 168, over.”

     “I copy 168. Wait one, over.” I drew a straight line from the ship at 168 degrees. Our line of 115 degrees was already drawn from our building. They crossed neatly in the middle of a block held by the Shiite. RDF was not an exact indicator of locations, but it did give a general idea. I brought the map close to Plants and showed him the possible location. He studied it through his John Lennon glasses, then traced a line along a street from my crossed lines to a point only four blocks from where we now sat. “That’s where they’re going, TH! I know it. Right there!” He made a gouge in the map with his fingernail. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his hand shook slightly. It was hot outside, even this early, but not that hot.

     I keyed the handset, “Niner X-ray, this is Six Sierra, over.”

     “This is Niner X-ray. Go ahead, over,” The gunnery sergeant’s voice came back. The ship knew how important this information was and undoubtedly, everyone who was anyone was jammed into the intelligence spaces, listening in.

     “This is Six Sierra. Transfer of hostages currently underway to grid location 4287 3561. How copy, over?”

     “This is Niner X-ray. Transmission garbled. Say again your last, over.” Before I could answer, mortar rounds crashed into the building across the street, sending stone chips flying in through the window. The entire block was being shelled.

     “Niner X-ray, this is Six Sierra, over.” My answer was static. “Stinky, get upstairs and check the antenna.”

     He hesitated for only a second, then ran for the stairs. At that same instant, a cammie clad figure burst through the doorway and slid face first across the floor. The lieutenant had returned.

     He rolled over, shock and terror gripped his features. Jonesy shook his head and Plants nervously clenched his fist. I grabbed the lieutenant’s collar and pulled him up. I wanted to hit him, but he was senseless already. Not only had he compromised himself, he had compromised our position, and now our whole mission was in jeopardy. I let go of him.

     “Hey Goldy, the Two Niner Two is down. The mast is broken in half and the elements are all bent to hell. The other two antennas are O.K., I think. I didn’t get too close.”

     I thought for a minute. The shelling was letting up. Well, at least it was going away from us.

     It seemed like we were in the eye of a hurricane, and that’s how I felt; we were surrounded by a storm. “Pack it up. We’re leaving.” My team seemed only too eager to comply.

     Despite our haste, it still took over half an hour to load the radios and the two remaining antennas into our packs.

     We were set. The lieutenant had regained most of his awareness and was standing, loaded down, just like the rest of us. I had the PRC-77 set up and on, the tape antenna protruding from my pack and the handset clipped to my H-harness. “O.K. stud muffins, here’s the deal. Jonesy, you got the lead, then Stinky. I’ll baby-sit the LT and Plants, you bring up the rear.”

     I laid the map on the counter and showed our route to Jonesy and to Stinky.

     “We go fast, understand?” All heads nodded in agreement. “We have to get those eight numbers back to the ship, then it’s their ball game.” 4287 3561. Those numbers were burned in my mind. I had to get them to someone who could do something with them. The ship had both Snakes (AH-1W Cobra attack helicopters) and Frogs (CH-46 Sea Knight medium lift helicopters). They could get in, grab the hostages, save the day, and get out in a matter of minutes. That was their job.

     We had done ours. All that remained was to give them the grid coordinates.

     “Rock and Roll, Jonesy.” He turned and stepped out the door. Stinky watched him go, waited about ten seconds, then followed. I did the same, the lieutenant beside me. We walked quickly down the side of the street, staying close to the buildings. A couple of houses ahead, Stinky walked at the ready, a thirty round magazine locked into his M-16. Jonesy was a ways up ahead, looking everywhere, yet moving forward at a fast pace. I turned around. Plants was a couple buildings behind the lieutenant and me. Plants smiled at me, then checked to his rear and gave me the thumbs up.

     We had only covered two blocks when automatic weapons opened up in front of us. Jonesy dove into a bomb crater in the street. Stinky broke into a run and dove into the same crater. I stepped through a doorway near me, the lieutenant right behind me. I heard the steady tread of a Marine running and an instant later, Plants barreled headlong through the doorway.

     I stuck my head out and gave Stinky the “wait” sign. He waved back “O.K.” I keyed the handset, knowing my chances of getting through were about zero. Transmitting from inside a building was rarely successful. “Bravo Niner X-ray, this is Yankee Six Sierra, over.” I called twice more, then clipped the handset back to my harness. I looked out the doorway once more and waved to Stinky and Jonesy to come over to the building. Jonesy aimed his M16 over the edge of the crater in the direction of the weapons fire. I added a few rounds of my own to cover the repositioning of my point man.

     Stinky jumped up and ran straight to the doorway. When he was in, Jonesy popped up and sprinted for us. As he neared the doorway, a machinegun sprayed the face of our building. He dove through the opening and rolled behind the wall.

     “Stinky, look for a back door!” I peeked out a nearby window. A number of ragged militia ran from behind a building across the street. Plants and I fired at the running targets, causing them to scatter. Two jumped into the crater Jonesy had just vacated and the other five ducked into the open building directly across from us.

     “No-go, TH. This is the only way in or out.”

     “Don’t they make back doors in these places? I’m beginning to severely dislike these people.”

     “O.K. What can they do? They can call in mortar fire on us. They can blockade us. They can call up some reinforcements. What can we do?” I thought out loud. There didn’t seem to be much that was in our favor.

     The longer we waited, the worse it would get.

     As they say, no time like the present. “Dump your packs. They’re staying.” We organized our packs into a neat little pile. I took out our one Thermite grenade, pulled the pin, then set it on the packs. We watched as the radios and antennas melted under the extreme heat of the burning thermite.

     “TH, something’s going on.” Plants had been keeping an eye on the building across the street and it seemed that indecision was also gripping our adversary.

     “Stinky, you have the best arm. Put one grenade in the crater. Jonesy and I will send a couple more across the street and by the time the smoke clears, we better be around the corner and setting a new team sprint record.” The three of us pulled the pins together.

     Stinky launched his first, then jumped to the side as Jonesy and I sent our grenades skittering across the street. The explosions came quickly and we dashed out the doorway. As Stinky and the lieutenant were turning the corner towards freedom, the sound of a rifle crack echoed down the empty street behind. Then more shots followed. We had been seen.

     We stopped behind the corner. I grabbed the lieutenant’s harness. “You get these men back to the ship. Do you understand?”

     “What are you going to do, Sergeant?” the lieutenant of old demanded.

     “I’m gonna distract them. I’ll catch up with you, but for now, get those coordinates back to the ship.” I leaned around the corner and fired a couple rounds. There was a brief shuffle behind me. I fired another round. Not wanting to look back, I listened as my team moved out.

Then, I was alone. I had the scumbags right where I wanted them. There was no one to slow me down…

Learn more about Craig Martelle and his other books at http://www.craigmartelle.com

Rogue Magic – Snippet 2

by | Aug 7, 2017 | ,

Rogue Magic, Paths of Heros Book One

By Brandon Barr and Michael Anderle

Snippet 2

Unedited

Daeken Zee Walton watched the black smoke drift over the treetops in the distance. It was the first thing of interest he’d seen in a long while, the last being a row of six bodies drying out in the sun impaled on sticks.

He’d seen a lot of things since leaving his home. None of it was good.

Whether these six dead men were murdered by a mage’s soulless raiders, killed by brutals, or awaiting consumption by a pack of ravers, he couldn’t tell.

A small rise in the distance blocked the source of the fumes. Daeken hurried along, cloak whipping in a foul northern wind, his great sword, Wickedbane, strapped to his back yearning to be drawn.

He swore the sword could speak to him sometimes.

There were two things that had kept Daeken grounded his entire life. The first were the stories, told to him by his grandmother, of his legendary great-great-grandfather Terry Henry Walton, the man who brought humanity back to civilization, bringing justice from the Unknown World. The second thing that had grounded him was his wife, Farrah and their seven-year-old son, Aldon.

If not for these people in his life, there was no telling what kind of man he might have become. Even as a child he had a mind that wandered naturally toward darker ends. Some remnant of the Age of Madness flowing through his veins. If left to his own tendencies, he might have become a soulless monster as dark-hearted as the mages.

The heroism and heart of his legendary ancestor had changed all of that. Terry Henry Walton was to him the light of revelation in his life, breathing purpose and meaning into a ragged mind, turning his eyes toward the many suffering people crying out for justice and hope.

Daeken stumbled up a ravine, his legs getting ahead of his nose which smelled the promise of blood and cleaving ahead for Wickedbane. The acrid smoke drifting through the trees made his mouth salivate like a predator chasing down a prey.

The smell of retribution and justice.

Cresting the top of the small hill, he came to a clearing in the sparse woods and looked out at a vast swath of green land.

Beautiful green land, just like the land his home had stood on in the grasslands beneath the crumbling ruins of the City of Wind.

He stared in momentary shock out at the farmland sprawled before him and breathed in the sulfuric fumes of homes burning along with crops.

Suddenly Daeken fell to his knees, consumed by the sight. His tears slid down past lips curled in rage. It was the same sight he’d glimpsed months ago—like a memory reborn—the day he’d returned to his own home from a three-day hunt only to find his neighbors’ homes burning alongside his own.

This was what he’d been seeking out these many months. Some last refuge of humanity. To find hope in that place. And to warn them of the danger.

Daeken stood, eyes zeroed in on the leather-clad men moving from home to home. The blood of his great-great-grandfather, whipped like a tempest through his veins.

These savages would pay dearly today, and with that last thought, he raced out of the trees.

—

“How long until they come crawling out into our loving arms?” shouted Rolf over the crackle of the burning house.

Thurston twirled a knife in his hand and grinned. “Another minute, I’d wager. They’re pretty girls and they know it. Even the old one!”

Rolf roared with laughter. “What do you say, Corbin? Do we have time to play?”

Corbin, the Elderhost, spat before eyeing his two men with a look that his master, Titannus, might have trembled at. “We kill and we move on to the next doomed home. We’re not pillaging today. Only destroying.”

Corbin watched through squinted eyes as the smoke poured through the open doorway. His men Thurston and Rolf held the opposite perimeters, making a triangular boundary of the squarish little farm home.

Rolf hooted from his angle. “Got one! No Two! Oh shit! Help!”

Corbin ran around the side of the house and saw a young woman climbing out a smoking window. Already on the ground were a man and woman who looked to be near forty years old. Each held a makeshift weapon—the two women held long carving knives, the man a rusty shovel.

“Put those nasty things down,” crooned Rolf, “and this will all go much easier for each of you.”

The husband waved his shovel like an outstretched torch, as if somehow the spade was a flame that could ward them off. Rolf and Thurston laughed loudly at the man’s effort.

Corbin moved steadily towards them, his sword drawn.

“Corbin!” shouted Thurston, and pointed his chin at something off to Corbin’s right, “Someone’s coming.”

Corbin stopped and half turned to look. At the edge of the woods was a cloaked figure running full speed towards them. The Elderhost gave a quick look back to his men, then peered at the family which was now huddled together, hemmed in by him and his men.

If he could have, Corbin would have liked to slaughter the family quick then deal with the mysterious incoming figure, but the speed with which the individual was closing on them didn’t lend them the chance.

“Careful,” growled Corbin, “You have my back while I deal with this newcomer.”

The cloaked figure slowed as he neared Corbin and flipped back his heavy dark hood. It was an older man, forties or fifties perhaps, with face shaved clean. He held nothing in his hands, but a long thick sheath hung strapped to his belt. The intruder continued to walk unflinchingly toward Corbin, and the Elderhost took a step back and raised his sword.

“That’s far enough,” called Corbin.

The cloaked man continued toward him without a word.

Corbin switched his sword to his left hand then reached with his right into his leathers and retrieved an amber colored stone. He held it out in his palm like a weapon.

This caused the oncoming man to pause.

A twisted smile formed on Corbin’s lips. “Ever heard of the name, Titannus? He’s Zarith Smith’s Master of War and he’s here with us now. You take one step closer and I’ll summon him. You don’t want that, trust me.”

The stranger cocked his head, and that’s when Corbin noticed the shade of purple in the cloaked man’s eyes.

“You ever hear of the legendary warrior, Terry Henry Walton?” called the cloaked man. The question was asked so calmly, it was as if everything Corbin had just declared had not caused the stranger the slightest amount of fear.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m the man’s great-great-grandson, and I carry his mission with me.”

Corbin squinted at the man, then laughed. “I don’t give a shit about your dead grandpa. Not with a sissy name like Terry.” Corbin shot a quick glance over his shoulder at his two friends. “Do your jobs. I’ll take care of this little girl.”

The stranger’s eye darted over the Elderhost’s shoulder. The family, still huddled together, began to shout threats at his men who he knew were moving in to slay them.

Something flashed in the stranger’s hand and before Corbin could speak, it was thrown just wide of his head.

A blood-curdling cry spun Corbin full around. Rolf teetered for just a moment, sword frozen over his head, poised for attack. Only when the raider toppled forward did Corbin notice the silver handle of a knife jutting from Rolf’s right eye. Thurston’s face was ashen, and he made no attempt to pursue the family of three that rushed away past Rolf’s crumpled body.

“Get over here, Thurston!” called Corbin. “Help me carve this beardless bastard into steaks to feed to Zarith’s brutals.”

“Call Titannus” came Thurston’s quivering voice as he stepped up beside Corbin.

Corbin clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Not yet, let’s test what he’s made of first.” He turned to Thurston. “Flank him.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading this new snippet! I hope you enjoyed this glimpse of Daeken Zee Walton? I’m Reeeeealy excited to release Rogue Mage on the 11th and give you the full story 🙂

Check out Brandon Barr’s other books at http://www.brandonbarr.com

Defending the Lost – Snippet 2

by | Aug 6, 2017 | ,

Defending the Lost, Reclaiming Honor Book VI

By Justin Sloan and Michael Anderle

Snippet 2

Unedited

Prince Edward Island

Cammie had been on the island for a few days now, but she still felt her nerves act up when she had to go out and talk to the people. She lingered in the doorway, looking back at Royland and considering how glad she was that he was here with her.

In another version of their reality, one where Valerie would have tasked her alone to take charge of this former pirate group, she would likely have torn them all to shreds by now. Well, maybe not all of them, but the ones who looked at her funny. And that had been a damn lot of them.

“Do you have to go?” Royland asked from the table where he sat looking out at the sunlight sparkling on the water. She knew he longed to walk outside freely during the day, but she would trade that for his speed and power any time.

“It’s our duty now, isn’t it?” she replied. “They say the guy was caught breaking into her house with a knife in his hands.”

“But we don’t know who to trust here.”

She nodded. “That’s the role we’ve stepped into. These people have been told they need to rob and steal to survive, and that murder is okay if it helps you get ahead.”

“Are we any different?”

“Seriously?” She stared at him, then rolled her eyes when she saw the smile pull at his lips. “That’s what I thought.”

He stood and approached her, but stopped where the sunlight came in through the doorway. “We were like them once though, weren’t we? I mean, I know I sure as hell was.”

Cammie turned away at that, flushing.

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know you didn’t.” She stood there for a moment, unable to wrench her mind away from the memories the comment had brought up. She had been a hunter of vampires at one point, and before that she had been with the Golden City Weres. She certainly couldn’t call herself innocent in any regard.

“The point is, none of us are guiltless these days,” he explained. “And that’s what makes this world so tough to figure out.”

“But us especially. Our past is what makes us capable though, isn’t it?” She turned to him, hopeful. “I mean, we’ve lived the dark path, so we know where it can lead and what it means to escape. What it means to be honorable.”

“We have to guide them,” he agreed, nodding. He reached a hand almost into the sunlight, and she took it. Giving it a squeeze, she leaned in and kissed him, then said, “Don’t wait up.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be in my coffin.”

She laughed at that, glad to have a reason to push away the negativity. Vampires didn’t really sleep in coffins—or at least she didn’t think so.

Heading outside, she ducked under the streaming flag she had hung outside the door. It was blowing so hard in the wind that it nearly whipped her face. Good thing she had those Were reflexes.

She pulled the cloth back, tucking it into the scrunchie she had wrapped around the pole to hold the flag down on windy days, then paused, looking at the symbol on it: a crown on a skull. It had been the Prince’s symbol and was his flag, given to them once he was out of the picture to indicate who was in charge.

It didn’t sit right with her though, associating herself with that monster. If they were going to bring change to this place, the imagery needed to be fresh. With a growl she tore the flag off the pole, tucked it into the pocket of her long pirate jacket, and made her way down the steps.

The house wasn’t large, but it had been built in the days before the great collapse. Not everyone here enjoyed such luxury; many lived in plywood shacks, and some of the really drugged-out ones preferred the streets. At least it was warm enough nowadays.

A crowd was already gathering by the square, the same area where Valerie had, just days before, stood up for a man and rescued his wife’s corpse. Damn, this place had its depressing side. Cammie hoped to the gods or whatever was out there that the bastards who had done that to the poor man had left with the Prince and were now bleeding out on the side of a road somewhere.

There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Valerie had dealt with the Prince and his followers. What worried her was Valerie’s eagerness to trust people; to believe they could start over.

It had certainly worked in Cammie’s favor, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be standing next to a bunch of converted pirates and hoping they would have her back in a fight.

Several of the women glared at her as she approached, but then she noticed a pointed look from one of them accompanied by a quick glance upward. A stutter-step later Cammie gave her a slight nod of appreciation before she turned to sniff.

Yup, there was someone up there. By the smell of it, someone who hadn’t bathed in years. She wasn’t sure if she should be thankful for the Were sense of smell for possibly saving her life or annoyed at it for gifting her with that horrible stench.

Perking her ears, she waited, focusing on that spot above and drowning out the chatter ahead, then heard movement.

She moved first, sidestepping into the cover of a nearby shack, then drew her pistol and shot.

The man fell, landed head-first, and didn’t move again.

Cammie shook her head, then turned to see everyone silent and staring at her.

“This keeps up, how many of you will be left?” she demanded, marching into their midst.

“Most of us, I’d imagine,” a young man with a red mustache told her. “Seeing as most of us mean you no harm.”

Her heart was thumping and she had wanted an excuse to snap at someone, but this man surprised her. Either he was genuine and she’d need him close by so that he could keep an eye out for her, or he was full of it and she’d need him close by for her to keep an eye on.

“And you are?” she asked.

“William,” he replied, then gestured to three men and two women behind him. “This is my crew. Everyone one of us is loyal to the teeth. We’ve been talking around here, speaking with the others, you know. As I said, most have your back. You don’t take shit, but you don’t give it out unwarranted neither.”

She nodded, liking this man more by the second. “We’re changing this place, and I see a role for you in the new system.”

William’s eyes narrowed, but he tilted his head and asked, “Changing it how?”

“For starters,” she turned to the rest of the crowd, another thirty folks or so, she guessed, “we’re not pirates anymore, though you’ve heard that before. Privateers, maybe? That works. From now on, I want you to think of this community as Valerie’s Navy.”

“You’re the leader here,” William confirmed. “We follow you.”

She nodded. “I appreciate that, but here’s the truth: I follow Valerie, so anything you do for me, you do for her.”

William glanced at his companions, then nodded. “Agreed.”

“I’m your captain and this whole island is a boat. We need to steer this boat in the right direction, so I’m going to need your help.”

“You’re still unproven,” a woman from the other side of the square called. She was short, long hair in a bun, and looked to be in her late forties. “I’ve got no problem following a new captain if I know there’s treasure on the other side.”

Cammie nodded. She got this woman. “You want treasure? How about a life without violence? No more bloodshed, no more friends and loved ones dying. That’s what we’re bringing about down in New York, and that’s what we’ll bring here. But it takes work.”

“Peace?” The woman scoffed. “I talk of treasure and you offer us peace?”

Cammie glanced around, noticing general agreement with the woman from all but William and his crew, who seemed to be amused by the discussion.

“How about this?” Cammie offered, stepping toward her. “Would you say there are other pirates out there? Other bandits, cutthroats, murderers?”

The woman laughed. “Of course.”

“And if we were to become the force that takes them down? A police force, perhaps, that stops them, and if we can’t find who their loot belongs to, we take it for our treasure?”

She could see the woman’s mind working, her smile forming. “You mean we get treasure and we get to look our kids with pride in our eyes?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Sold.” The woman took two long strides over and shook Cammie’s hand. “The name’s Platea, and I’m with you on one condition. You keep killing assholes like him when warranted.” She motioned to the dead man on the street, the one Cammie had just shot.

But Cammie’s eyes moved to the man glaring at her, the one tied to a beam of wood the community had erected in the center of the square.

“You mean like this man?” she asked Platea.

“Guess whose daughter’s room the bastard was trying to enter?” Platea snarled, turning her gaze to the man as her eyes glazed with hatred. “Guess whose daughter he would have had his way with if a certain someone named Platea hadn’t torn him from there and dragged him into the street?”

“That’s your story, bitch,” the man growled, spitting at her feet.

“And what’s yours?” Cammie asked.

Platea opened her mouth, but Cammie held up a hand. “Let him speak.”

Murmurs rose from the crowd, giving Cammie the feeling that trials hadn’t really been all that common under the Prince. It had likely been more of an “accuse and then kill” situation. Probably the one who annoyed the Prince more was the one who got killed. Well, not anymore.

The man looked doubtful, then sneered. “Way it happened was the girl told me she was going to pay me, in the market. Bought a sword, and when I asked what sort of payment she meant…well, let’s just say the look she gave me was unmistakable. Imagine my surprise when I followed her around the corner and she was gone. So yes, I naturally came to collect my payment.”

Cammie cocked her head, licked her lips, and laughed. “You mean you gave her the sword without any actual verbal contract for…the sexual favors you were owed, and then thought you’d force yourself on her to collect? Did I really just hear you right?”

The man’s color drained at the look she was giving him, but he clenched his jaw. “I required payment.”

Cammie rubbed her temples, considering this. It was almost too easy. There was the fact that he had clearly meant to rape this woman’s daughter, though he had been stopped before succeeding. Then again, if he was going to do it once, he had likely done it before and would do it again.

And he seemed like the type who would be proud of it.

“Sir,” she said, mockingly, “let me ask you this. How many women, no, girls, have you…collected payment from?”

He rolled his eyes. “I get what’s mine, and this town knows it. You want to fuck with me, I fuck with you. That’s right. Way I see it, you owe me for wasting my–”

Blood poured from his neck and Cammie, usually cavalier about sex and related things, stood over him with her knife in one hand and his hair in the other. He jerked, horrified eyes staring at her, and then went limp.

She dropped his head and it landed chin on his chest, then she turned to the crowd.

Some of their jaws hung open, but William just looked impressed. Platea smiled smugly.

“He got his trial,” Cammie declared, turning to look each of them in the eye. “Would Valerie have handled it differently? Maybe. Would the Queen Bitch? I wish I knew, but I’ll tell you one thing. Someone tries something like that, then brags about it and threatens me? Not going to fly on my ship. Not while I’m captain.”

“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” William affirmed, and the rest of the crowd murmured its agreement.

“Great.” Cammie wiped her blade on the dead man’s clothes, then motioned to him and then the other body. “If everyone stays in line, this will not be a normal occurrence. I promise you that. Now, do we have any volunteers to clean up this mess?”

William only needed to look at his men before the three of them stepped forward and got to work. William approached her as Cammie was about to leave, one of the women he’d brought with him close behind.

“Allow me to introduce Brae,” he said. “She’s the most skilled sailor I’ve ever met. When do we mean to sail?”

“Sail?” Cammie asked, distractedly.

“You made some promises.”

“Ah, yes.” Cammie glanced back, noticing Platea talking with someone who must’ve been her daughter and saw the way the girl, no more than sixteen, was looking at her. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was something that girl needed to tell her. “If you’ll excuse me. Just ready the boats and ensure they’re in top shape, but…not yet.”

“As you wish.” The two walked off.

When Cammie turned around from watching them go, Platea was there with her daughter.

“Clara has something to say.” Platea turned to her daughter, who was waiting. “Go on, spit it out.”

The girl, thin but with more muscle tone than Cammie would have thought when she first saw her, seemed shy at first. After a moment, however, it became clear that she was looking down and clenching her jaw out of some unexpected emotion. Rage?

“What’s wrong, girl?” Cammie asked, not one to take this sort of behavior lightly.

“I should’ve been the one to slit his throat,” Clara stated. “After doing much worse, I assure you.”

“Tell her what you told me, and stop your whining,” her mother ordered, whapping her a good one across the back. Clara glared, but didn’t strike back or say anything to the woman.

“It might be better if we spoke in private.” Clara’s eyes darted to the other men and women, still loitering in the square or slowly making their way out.

“The gist, please,” Cammie requested. “Then I’ll decide if that’s necessary.”

“There was an attempted mutiny in Old Manhattan recently,” Clara replied.

“New York now,” Cammie muttered, then shook her head. “Wait, what? How would you know that?”

Clara leaned in now, voice quieter. “I was part of a group that served, er, your kind. I was part of it, but…”

“Go on,” her mother hissed.

“I’m here to seek your pardon. To serve you now.”

Cammie blinked, caught totally off guard by all this, and then nodded. “Yes, I think you’re right about needing to discuss this in private. Come on.” She nodded for them to follow, and the three made their way back to the house. Whatever this was, she needed to know what had happened in New York, and she needed to know what would happen next.

FROM JUSTIN >>> Another long one, since we launch tomorrow! People have been asking, so… yes, my lip is healed 🙂 Mostly, anyway. It’s still a bit swollen, but the stitches are gone and it looks normal. Other bruises fading, so it’s back to the normal me from now on. No more craziness – I’ll let the characters do that for me! And Michael, whenever he wants to put up the good fight.

I can’t wait to see how this one’s received! The last book was a bit… mixed? Haha. In my view, these characters are going through some growing pains, figuring out who they are, stuff like that. Especially Sandra and Valerie, who have been sheltered in their vampire compound until coming out this way and starting to live a normal life for the first time ever. So part of their journey was discovering themselves. Meanwhile, Cammie’s been kind of going the opposite direction, huh? She was super out there, experimenting and whatnot, and now… we’ll see! So yeah, the naysayers from book 5 will be happy to see the characters have grown a bit already since then. For everyone else? They are still the characters, and the characters must be who they are. Don’t worry, I’ll never lobotomize a character just because of a negative review or two. I hope no writers do that!

Thanks for reading 🙂

Check out Justin Sloan and his other books http://www.justinsloanauthor.com

Defending the Lost – Snippet 1

by | Aug 5, 2017 | ,

Defending the Lost, Reclaiming Honor Book VI

By Justin Sloan and Michael Anderle

Snippet 1

Unedited

Outside Toro

Robin paced the deck of the airship, ignoring the recently recruited pirate slaves and even the occasional glance from Valerie. All she could think about was that they were rapidly approaching Toro, the place where she hoped she could liberate her parents from captivity.

A memory kept flashing through her mind, incessantly harassing her. That night when the vampires had come.

It had been a peaceful night, one spent listening to her dad go on about his plans for them.

“When we’re through this and we’ve settled down,” he had said, “we’ll have the biggest house this side of Chicago. That’s what I’ll build for you. There will be grand windows with a view of the mountains so you’ll always have something to inspire you when you’re painting, dear.”

At the time she had loved the idea, since she was always painting when not out gathering berries or helping her dad hunt. Now it was different; painting seemed like the stupidest waste of time.

“We don’t need a big house,” her mom had countered, lowering herself to the log he sat on and wrapping her arms around him. “Just one that keeps us together and warm.”

“As long as it will give you two some privacy,” Robin had joked, flicking a small twig at them. “Keep it clean.”

“Robin!” Her mom gave her a scolding look. “You should be happy your parents still love each other.”

“She should be happy we’re both alive, given this hellhole of a world,” her dad had said, voice raspy.

It was the first time she heard him talk so negatively, as well as the first time she’d seen that look in his eyes—terror.

Her mom had given her a glance that said, “Not now,” and soon they had gone to bed in their one-room shack. Robin laid there staring at the two of them, wondering what had spooked her dad so. She promised herself she would find out in the morning.

Except that morning had never come. Not really, anyway. Just as she was nodding off, the front door had been kicked in by a man with glowing red eyes and then two more had swept in with such speed and power she was sure they were demons.

It hadn’t taken long for her discover they were vampires. They had soon made her one of their own and sent her mom and dad off to be sold as slaves.

There had been so much screaming, shouting, and struggling that night. She remembered the smell of piss, though she didn’t think it came from her, and something gripping her arms so tightly she had thought it was all over.

But the image that really kept haunting her was the terror in her father’s eyes before they had gone to bed. That loss of hope.

She couldn’t shake it from her mind, no matter how hard she tried. No matter what sort of distractions she put in its place.

“Robin,” a voice called, and she looked up to see Valerie giving her a worried and caring smile. “We’re here. We’re landing right now. Are you ready?”

Without so much as a nod, she turned and looked at the blur of the city that was just starting to come into view. Was she ready to save her parents and bring a level of revenge to this city that they had likely never seen?

Hell, yes, she was!

***

It worried Valerie that Robin was so distant and quiet, but she understood. If it were the other way around—if Valerie thought there was the slightest chance of saving her family—she would already have charged in and slaughtered every one of those bastards by this point.

They had secured their small armada of blimps on the far side of a hill that separated them from Toro, so that they would go unseen by the pirates. Now Valerie stood close to the peak, waiting and watching as a woman approached—a scout, it seemed.

The woman had on a long black coat over torn jeans and a ragged shirt with a bandana tied around her head and a brimmed hat to keep the sun from her eyes, likely so that she’d be a better shot with the old AK-47 she carried. Valerie cocked her head at the sight of that, wondering if its presence meant they were manufacturing ammunition here. That could be of use, when this was all over.

She waited in the cover of some tall grass until the woman was nearly upon them, then moved with vampire speed to sweep the woman’s legs out from under her and snatch the rifle. Her next action was to crouch and aim the rifle at the scout’s face.

“You’re with us or against us,” Valerie barked, nodding to Robin, who looked like a ninja, and the others behind her.

The woman’s eyes narrowed and she pulled a blade from her side, swinging for Valerie’s throat.

Bad move.

Valerie moved aside on instinct and slammed the butt of the rifle into the woman’s nose hard. Possibly a little too hard, as it didn’t just break her nose but caved her face in.

The scout gave a half-dying, crazed scream as blood gushed and the bone likely lodged in her brain took its time cutting off life. Valerie realized she now had no choice. She dropped the rifle and covered the woman’s mouth with one hand while snatching the knife and slitting her throat with the other.

The vampire waited until she stopped twitching.

Responding to a wave of her hand, Martha and River ran up and dragged the body back over the hill behind them.

Dammit! Blood covered the hand that had been on the woman’s mouth and she sniffed it, contemplating. Not long ago she would have been all over that blood to absorb the nanocytes within, but with Michael’s energy flowing through her now, she didn’t need it.

She positioned herself to watch the city, hating herself right then for being forced to take a life, and not wanting to make eye contact with any of the others.

Old Toronto, they called the city, and now that Valerie knew where it was and where Robin’s parents were likely being held, it pissed her off. They had done well by going north first, following the coast to deal with the pirates who had been interrupting trade with what remained of Europe. Cammie and Royland had taken over for the character who had styled himself “the Prince” before Valerie and Robin had beaten him into a bloody pulp.

Now that the coast was taken care of, however, it was time to rid the continent of the rest of these jackholes. Apparently that meant heading inland to an area not far from where they had traveled when moving through Ohio to Chicago, according to Valerie’s estimations on flying distance and directions.

If she had known that then, she would have simply gone north, killed everyone, and been done with it.

Of course, proper maps didn’t exist now, and that was probably for the best. Since she had been talking to the slaves they had rescued from Slaver’s Peak, she had a better understanding of the situation. These people weren’t all bad. In fact, many of them were just trying to survive. They were no different from the people of Old Manhattan before Valerie helped liberate them.

Here she was, staring down at a city that didn’t appear to be so different from New York, and she had a whole new group of people to liberate.

“Tell me,” she said, glancing over at the man named Rand, whom she had grown to trust in the days since the fight at Slaver’s Peak, “where would the council meet? There?”

She pointed to a dome on the far side of the city, closer to the lake. The large spike of a building or monument—she wasn’t sure which—stood next to it, with several toppled buildings nearby. While the city was in much better shape than New York, with more infrastructure intact on the outskirts of the city. There was also a section of it that was clearly segregated from the rest; she could see that even from here. People had set up obstacles, spikes with concertina wire, and other barriers that would stop any sort of assault.

The needle and the dome were within that area, but Rand shook his head.

“The slaves will likely be in that area, but not in the dome,” he told them. “They held sporting events and whatnot there back in the day. Wouldn’t make sense to use it as a stronghold, not with the crazies in the world now.”

“What do you know?” Robin glared at him, and Valerie had to laugh, remembering that Robin’s assassin trainers had headquartered them in a converted sports arena.

Why she was getting defensive about the idea was beyond Valerie.

Rand just snorted. “Used to live there, in the slums.” He motioned to a bend on the other side of the lake. “That area was hit hard in the riots, and it’s now mostly cardboard houses. When I was taken, that’s where I was, and when we free this city, that’s the first place I’m going.”

“You’d live in a cardboard box?” Martha asked. “There are surely better options.”

She and River stood behind them, staying below the sight of any possible lookouts from the city.

“Not to live there,” Rand replied. “To find out what happened to my sister. If they touched her, you all will have a hard time holding me back.”

“Holding you back?” Robin started to stand. “As far as we know my parents are being held as slaves in this city. I say we go in now, guns blazing!”

Valerie put a hand on her arm and shook her head. “There are too many innocents.”

She wished she could see Robin’s expression under the black assassin’s mask she wore along with her other protective clothing to shield her from exposure to sunlight. The sun was at full strength, hovering just past midday.

“Like my sister,” Rand agreed. “She’s never done a thing wrong in her life, just tries to make it from one day to the next.”

A glance over her shoulder showed Valerie the other men and women, those they had rescued from Slaver’s Peak and who would have otherwise been forced into the life of piracy, preparing the airships and loading weapons in case she gave the order to assault the city.

When she thought of the way the Prince had treated his people, shooting the community with bullets from an airship Gatling gun and worse, her eyes glowed red and she wanted nothing more than to charge into this city and tear it to shreds. But Rand had a point.

All her friends from New York would be dead right now if she had started a killing spree on arrival. A thought hit her and she frowned. When had killing become such a common thing? Like that woman, the scout or guard or whatever. Instinct had taken over, not even leaving a moment for doubt.

When she had first arrived in New York, taking a life had felt like an egregious sin. Now she found herself teetering on the edge of the “greater good” argument.

If past Valerie could read present Valerie’s mind, she would slap the stupidity right out of her.

Present Valerie knew she shouldn’t cross that line. On the other side waited only darkness.

“Rand’s right,” she finally agreed, imagining the glare Robin was probably giving her. “We’re going to find your parents, I promise. But we’re going to do so with the fewest possible casualties.” When Robin said nothing, Valerie added, “Imagine if we attacked and innocents were killed in the fight, people used as cannon fodder or hostages during the siege. Now imagine you’re walking through the streets of Toro afterwards and the dead are lying there with blank stares—and among them are your parents.”

“Shut up,” Robin hissed, pulling her arm away. “I’m not arguing with you. I’m waiting patiently for you to come up with a plan that doesn’t suck.”

Valerie smiled. “I think I just did.”

The others waited, and Rand got a nervous look on his face. “Don’t say it.”

“Well, we have a person here who knows at least one area of this city fairly well,” she replied, giving Rand a look that said she had no choice. “We go in through the slums. Get close, find out what we can, and then make our move.”

“It’s not going to be easy,” he told them. “I mean, I knew the streets when I lived there. I knew who was who, but then they started patrols. They started corralling us, shipping us off to Slaver’s Peak, or worse.”

“Do you still know your way around?”

He shrugged. “I mean, yeah, it’s not like it had been that long.”

“Good.” She moved away from the hillcrest and motioned for the others to follow. “Gather everyone and set up a secure location for now. Just a few of us will go in with Rand. We’ll keep it small until we know what we’re dealing with.”

The others nodded and got to it, leaving Valerie to pause and look back at that needle-like building sticking up into the air. Perhaps it had once been a thing of beauty, a symbol of God-knew-what, but now it was like a spear or a sword’s tip, reminding her that people were going to die during this assault one way or another.

She would just have to do her best to ensure it was only the bad people.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

FROM JUSTIN >>> This is a bit of a long snippet because we’re only going to be able to do 2-3 of them, since we’re launching Monday! Stay tuned 🙂 If you recall, book 5 left off with Robin, Val, and a few others heading off to deal with Toro. Instead of spending time on the journey again (we’ve seen that!) I thought I’d get right to it. Bam. We’re there! So here’s the start to that, and a taste of what’s to come.

Check in tomorrow for a snippet from some of our other fun-loving characters!

In other news, I’ve been trying to become my own little Michael in a way (I know, it’s impossible to actually become Michael, I ask and the doctors told me that would be weird and expensive). But what the doctors did let me do was copy a little part of his brain into my own, and now I have the bug for working with others in spinoffs of our own. Those will be coming soon, but in the meantime I started a Facebook Group for this universe I’m doing – on my own – with a couple buddies. Lots of fun! If you are interested in being part of the process, offering advice, checking out covers, maybe having a character named after you, you’re welcome to join! It’s going to be a secret group when we decide to close it, to keep it from getting out of hand.

Here’s the link to that.

Also, I’m abut half way done with both Reclaiming Honor 7 and Shades 3, so stay tuned for those. I’m getting to the point on both of those where I’m having a blast. It’s like the characters have grown into who they need to be, experienced all those growing pains, and now they’re ready to kick butt. I’ll keep you updated 🙂

Check out Justin Sloan and his other books http://www.justinsloanauthor.com

Redemption – Snippet 3

by | Aug 4, 2017 | ,

Redemption, The Boris Chronicles Book 4

By Paul C. Middleton and Michael Anderle

Snippet 3

Unedited

Now his troops were secure, Olaf could start scanning the region to the west. With the two weeks of travel to the site of the forward base, they were near the old Belarusian border. Without the shuttle, they were at least three weeks on a bicycle from New Romanovka to the south west of the town.

“Headquarters, assemble. We are going to mount up in the shuttle and scan the surrounding region for energy signals. Every theory of the weapon, from both the scientists and Lilith, state it has to give off a large energy signature. Unless it’s on something like a nuclear-powered tank, which we should be able to track as well, it has to emit an etheric or dimensional energy signature.

“If it seems viable, we will raid the site to capture the weapon, so pack heavy. Otherwise, we return. Then, leaving a company on site to protect our forward base, the rest will equip for travel and mount a raid in force. Either way, we will leave a squad of Were volunteers on site to observe and report along the line of advance.”

“Major Petrova, you will have command of the forward base. In the unlikely event, communications is lost with the shuttle, you are to report the event to New Romanovka and move in on the last reported location.”

The Major nodded unhappily at that. Although Olaf would have twenty-four people on the shuttle, if it was taken out she didn’t want to be the one to tell Boris and Janna. Someone would have to though.

“Sir, I must request that someone else lead the scouting expedition, again. I know that you wish to be there, that you believe that actually seeing the land we may need to fight across. But…” She paused and took a deep breath, “Boris is sure to be furious if you die on a scouting mission. In fact, it is arguable that neither you nor I should go on the first flight to assess an unknown threat that could take out the shuttle scanning for it.”

Olaf grimaced but held firm. “The risk is minimal at worst. The advantage knowing the terrain for myself is too great. Pictures and verbal reports only go so far. We have scanned the area between the town and here. We’ve talked to local farmers. There is only one force that any of the farmers have seen, and it came from the west.”

“Out of all the countries with a propensity for weapons research, the only one that makes any sense is Belarus. The Russians would have placed such research in western Siberia, well away from any enemy. Politically, it is the one that seems to fit the type of country that the Forsaken preferred. If we don’t find anything by the time we are scanning and searching a hundred miles west of Minsk we’ll have to re-think. But for now, we are doing exactly what my father ordered. I need to be there to judge if any raid is an acceptable risk and to lead the attack if it is. It is what my father would do.” Olaf knew that to keep the respect of the Weres he might one day rule he needed to lead from the front when he could.

More than that, he needed to lead from the front for himself. He needed to feel the crash of battle around him. Both his Mother and Father had, and he could do no less. Not if he was to rule as well as they had. He needed to know what his own soldiers faced.

Discontented fear rumbled through the ranks of the officers, but Olaf silenced it with a glare. “Besides, the weapon only seems to ravage wood and flesh. Inside the alloy hull of the shuttle we should be safe from it,” he finished confidently.

With that, he said “I leave in thirty minutes. Those designated troops need to be on the shuttle or be left behind.”

To find out more about Paul C. Middleton and his other books http://paulcmiddleton.arlockweb.com