Defending the Lost – Snippet 2
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
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.
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
Unlawful Passage is LIVE!
Unlawful Passage, The Rise of Magic Book Five
By CM Raymond, LE Barbant, and Michael Anderle
It’s official!
Unlawful Passage released today!
For those of you outside of the US, you can search the ASIN: B074KL3FHD
Reawakening Audiobook Release!
Reawakening, The Rise of Magic Book Two
By CM Raymond, LE Barbant, and Michael Anderle
The audiobook for Reawakening, Book Two in the Rise of Magic series is now available in audio format.
Redemption – Snippet 3
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
Rogue Mage – Snippet 1
Rogue Mage, Path of Heroes Book One
By Brandon Barr and Michael Anderle
Snippet 1
Unedited
From Chapter One…
Perched on a slender branch, Payetta watched the cloaked men through the eyes of a sparrow. Her human form knelt far away, safely out of range of the three men winding their way through her woods. Each had a sword in its sheath with a second weapon in hand. The first two carried a bow with an arrow fitted to fly and the last twirled a knife playfully as he walked.
The sparrow had served its purpose and she thanked it for allowing her control.
She released it, then opened her eyes.
Justen’s eager look was waiting for her. “How many? How far off?”
“Three men. Just on the other side of the glen, heading toward South Meadow. Two bowmen, and the third looks good with a knife.”
“I don’t like it,” said Justen. “How many of Titannus’s men can we kill before he catches on to us?”
“It’s a pity they interrupted our picnic,” sang Payetta without a trace of sadness in her voice. An eager smirk twisted her lips as she glanced around the old ruins where she and Justen had been eating lunch. A shank of venison lay half eaten on the remains of a blackened stone hearth that stood at the center of the ancient structure.
Resting nearby was their skunk, She Grunts, licking herself under an armpit as she was fond of doing. It had been just another cool spring day for Payetta and her husband when she had sensed the intruders’ presence.
“Come on, hotass,” grinned Payetta. “Let’s go say hello.” She stretched out her hands to Justen and he pulled her up from the mossy stone floor.
Justen frowned, his brow raised in a pensive arch. “Be cautious, darling. Remember the last time raiders came to our woods, one of them almost got away to tell of your magic wood sword. Promise me you won’t use it.”
Payetta smiled. “Promise me you will use yours tonight. Wood sword, magic, and all.”
He laughed lightly and winked. “You drive a hard bargain.”
Payetta sped close behind him as he led her into the woods toward the familiar glen. The thrill of finally hunting down bad men felt like a cold blast of air—invigorating her sense of purpose. It had been six months since the last time they brought down any of Titannus’s men, and she was feeling too at ease of late, and had almost let these three raiders slip by.
“We should follow them,” said Justen. “See where they are going and what they’re up to.”
“Or you could just take two out with your arrows real quick and let me get the third with my wood sword. I’ve been dying to use it again. Come on, darling. Let me have some fun. Don’t make me disobey you.”
Justen sighed. “You know I’m right about hiding your magic.”
She sped up just enough to get in range of him. Then she gave him a fierce crack on his ass.
“I’ll take that as a disgruntled yes,” replied Justen.
Payetta laughed. “You know the truth of it. What were you thinking marrying a crazy girl like me?”
“I was thirteen. You were a great kisser. How was I supposed to know you were as stubborn as a wild jackrabbit!?”
“So I can use my wood sword then?”
Justen looked back at her, his eyebrows bent in a frown over his green eyes. “I swear, changing your mind on something is like moving a boulder the size of a cow.”
“Shush,” replied Payetta. “Women don’t like to be compared to boulders or cows.”
Justen glanced back over his shoulder with a grin.
Damn she loved that man. She didn’t deserve him or his fierce love and devotion. Sometimes she found herself admitting that he’d gotten the tougher end of the marriage deal. He had to put up with her and what did she have to do? Bask in his kindness and respect? Endure his logical brain when she’d rather shut off reason and do whatever the blazes she wanted? Hardly seemed fair.
Justen wove around a thicket of bushes, following an animal trail. The trees grew thicker and the sunlight dimmed as they entered a stand of aspens.
Payetta glanced behind her and saw She Grunts skittering along behind.
“Hold on,” Payetta called softly. “Let me track them again.”
She put her hand to the ground and closed her eyes. Her mind absorbed her surroundings through living things, like a blank canvas soaking in the colors of the room, only the colors were trees and plants, insects and animals. She’d developed this skill two years ago at sixteen and it had been growing stronger ever since.
Now she pushed her focus in the direction the men had been walking and her Eartheye coned out in obedience, stretching further south, but shrinking in all other directions.
She felt the men’s footfalls again. Heavy, tromping steps that sent vibrations through the roots of trees and made little insects scurry for shelter.
Payetta released her grip on the forest and stood and found Justen’s eyes. “They’re moving fast, toward the edge of the woods. Let’s pick up our pace.”
She turned and clapped her hands at She Grunts. The skunk trotted over and Payetta scooped her up and tucked her under one arm.
They ran without care of making noise, thrashing through brush and splashing through puddles left from yesterday’s rain.
When they neared the edge of the woods, Justen slowed.
Payetta closed her eyes and the ground beneath her feet soaked in her consciousness.
The men were near. She found an animal suitable for her. A brown-furred hare that looked out from its burrow at the three raiders. They had stopped and were talking to themselves as they peered over the enormous swath of land that was South Meadow. Fields of lettuces, potatoes, squash, and tomatoes were interspersed with farm cottages and rows of apple and cherry trees.
She sent the hare dashing out of its hole and the sound startled the three. Neither of the two bowmen tried their luck with the swift animal as it darted past them. She released the hare and attempted to enter a much nastier animal that was deep in its den, contentedly licking the last morsels from a bird egg. It was a large, red-tailed badger, and it was certain to be a challenge, as were all predatory animals.
The fight with this particular badger’s will was like a mental sparring match of fists versus claws and teeth.
“What are you doing?” she heard Justen ask, his voice barely audible as only a trace of her conscious mind remained there beside him in her body. She didn’t have the energy to answer back, or she’d lose her battle with the sizeable beast.
The badger’s fury began to subside, and its breathing eased as she gained control.
She shifted some of her energy back into her body. “They’re just beyond that berm,” she said to Justen.
“What kind of animal did you get?”
“A creature to fit my temperament.”
“Did you find a mule out in the woods?”
“A badger, you jackass.”
“All right,” he laughed. “Like last time, they won’t know what hit them.”
Justen raced away and Payetta refocused nearly all of her awareness to the badger. She never abandoned her body completely. One day, she promised herself, she would try it.
She stalked out of her den and sniffed irritably at the scent of the three men, then scurried toward them. As she drew near she tried to walk a silent path, maneuvering between fallen trees and following a trail made by the wild dogs. As she neared, she heard the raiders talking.
“I want one of the farms with fruit,” said a man with a jutting chin that looked like a buttocks. “Vegetables give me the runs.”
“Stupid,” growled another, whose greasy face was covered in stubble. “The wild boar gave you the runs, either that or those mushrooms you ate made you think you had the runs.”
“Magical runs,” laughed a third man who looked to be the biggest and strongest of them all. He was one of the bowmen, but the longsword strapped to his back didn’t fail her notice. He was the one she wanted.
Payetta could smell Justen in the distance now and with a careful search to the northeast of the men, she spotted him creeping within arrow range beside a tangle of aspens.
“I gotta take a piss,” said the big man, setting down his bow and arrow. He turned and walked in her direction. He came up right to where she hid in a bush, pulled the front of his trousers down and whipped his manhood out.
Her badger eyes narrowed. The bastard was going to pee on her.
She bared her teeth in a grin. It wasn’t often opportunity came right up and knocked on her door, but whenever it did, she was happy to answer.
Payetta sprang out for the one thing that could bring the man down in an instant. She couldn’t help herself. He’d stuck it out like a dangling carrot.
The man’s high pitched scream tore the air.
Payetta shook her snout viciously, her foreclaws hooked into the man’s thighs for a solid hold. With one last violent shake of her head, she sprang away before his fist or sword could find her.
The stubble faced man and the one with the buttocks for a chin had turned toward the screams of their friend, but stood frozen with terror.
Whether their shock came from the blood staining her snout, or the fact that their friend had been partially castrated before their eyes, she didn’t know, but the look in their eyes told her she’d done her job well.
The stubbly-faced man’s body lurched forward suddenly, an arrowhead protruding through his leathers. The man collapsed to the ground without a word, shot through the heart.
Butt-Chin turned, knife in hand as Justen came running out of the woods with his sword.
Payetta was about to attack and aid her husband when suddenly her body—her human body—felt strong hands seize her shoulders and throw her down on her back.
Disoriented, she abandoned the badger and opened her eyes. Two men stood over her, one grinning like he’d just found a nice toy to play with, the other looking out at the woods, his jaw tight with concern.
Two more raiders? How had she missed them?
“Hello, pretty,” growled the man leering over her.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
That’s it for now! I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse of Payetta and Justen (and She Grunts…much more to come of She Grunts in the story!)
Look for Snippet 2 from ROGUE MAGE with the Big TKG character connection revealed! 🙂
To find out more about Brandon Barr and his books http://www.brandonbarr.com
The Undying Illusionist – Snippet 1
The Undying Illusionist, Tales of the Feisty Druid: Book Two
By Candy Crum and Michael Anderle
Snippet 1
Unedited
Prologue
“Archers, hold!” Arryn shouted.
Her voice was the only sound that could be heard, other than the gentle shifting of feet and the slight creak of the bows as they were pulled tight.
The early Spring temperatures were still frigid in the mornings. The air was cold enough Arryn could see her breath. But that didn’t matter. There were other things—far more important things—to focus on.
A light fog had descended upon the area that morning, creating the illusion that everything was calm. Peaceful.
But it wasn’t.
This particular morning was clouded over by more than the fog. Several guards stood ready on the ground and several more stood on the wall with Arryn, bows in hand, as she tried to remind herself to breathe.
The possibility of a remnant invasion on the city had become a reality.
Several weeks after Samuel’s group had been rushed, another crew further south than that had been as well. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t have Samuel and Andrew and had been completely overrun.
There were no survivors that time.
Still, the new Chancellor, Amelia, had felt confident the remnant had only been protecting their lands. That the men—both Ren’s group as well as the second—had been working too close to the Madland’s borders and incited an attack. But Samuel had far more experience with them than anyone, as did his friend, Ren.
Amelia had believed the Capitol Guard was ever vigilant and capable of handling an incursion, but more importantly, she never believed such a thing would happen.
Arcadia was just too far away from the Madlands and too heavily protected for the remnant to risk attacking and failing. While they were incredibly strong and lived only to destroy, they were still capable of higher reasoning. They would know not to advance on a city so well-armed, or so the Chancellor had believed.
Arryn sighed as she thought back to the first conversations between them regarding the invasions. Amelia had been hesitant to rush into preparations, fearing the city would become alarmed and think they would be under attack again.
What Amelia hadn’t taken into consideration was that it didn’t matter how well-armed the city was.
The Guard was untrained and underprepared.
Nearly the entire Arcadian Guard was brand-new. Almost all of them lacked sufficient training with weapons of any kind, let alone magitech weapons and hand-to-hand combat. It would require a hell of a lot for any single member of the Guard to take down a remnant, more so if there was an army of them.
The only way they would be able to survive such an onslaught would be to have skilled archers on the walls to thin out the horde before it reached the gates—and Arcadia didn’t have a single one.
Given the current situation, Arryn, Cathillian, and Samuel had taken matters into their own hands, fixing that problem after they had rounded up a few men who were interested in learning extra skills. Brave men who took their job seriously and would stop at nothing to protect their city.
They weren’t the best archers in the world–yet—but they knew how to shoot, and they occasionally hit something… Especially if that something approaching was a big-ass horde.
It was a hell of a lot better than what they’d had before.
As Arryn stood on top of the wall that separated Arcadia from the rest of the world, she stared outward into the fog as she tried to see anything that might be coming their way.
“Hey, bitches,” Arryn said, holding tight to her bow and taking aim at what seemed like nothingness. “How lucky are ya feeling today?”
There was a laugh beside her from one of her archers. “Lucky enough not to fall off the wall and on my ass. Anything else, ask me later.”
A smile crossed her face. “Fair enough. Let’s just hope Cathillian doesn’t get hit on by one of their chicks. They might be ugly, but Cathillian can’t deny a girl that thinks he’s prettier than she is.”
Everyone laughed, and Arryn sighed, happy she could bust up the moment.
There were five bowmen to her left and five to her right, spread evenly apart to defend the southern wall. Given the last remnant attack, Cathillian, Samuel, and Arryn all believed they’d be coming from that direction.
Unless they were smart enough to change directions to throw them off, of course.
Samuel seemed to think that might be possible, too, so he and Cathillian took the eastern wall. The Arcadian gates had been closed, but only after some heavy convincing on Arryn’s part.
After a man covered in blood from head to toe had raced his horse into the city, screaming about yet another remnant attack, one would think he’d have been believed. But because he came to warn them the remnant were planning to come for Arcadia, the powers-that-be hadn’t been so convinced.
Amelia’s own family had been overrun and killed by the remnant while she hid, only barely surviving herself. But even with her own history and the similarities in comparison to the farmer’s story, her concern for alerting the people unnecessarily outweighed her own fear of something that she believed would likely never happen.
The man lived on a small farm several miles south of Arcadia. The remnant had overrun his home, killing his entire family in the process. He’d been the only one to survive and had made haste toward the city after hearing one of the beasts mention Arcadia.
Though the Chancellor had been hesitant to cause fear and chaos, Arryn and the others believed him, and soon, Amelia would come to as well—but it was too late. Things had already escalated, and the attacks were controlled. Now, the only thing they could do was hope for the best and do their best to protect their walls as the horde grew closer.
The fog seemed to thicken, and Arryn found herself wishing that the druid Chieftain’s daughter, Elysia, was there. She would have been capable of lifting it. Arryn could only control the weather when she was pissed off.
But the fog wouldn’t matter.
She knew she didn’t need to see the enemy coming. No one did. According to Samuel and Ren, the enemy was more than happy to announce themselves.
And they did…
Loud gravel-voiced screams ripped through the air, chilling Arryn to the bone. She looked at the men beside her, only to see them glancing toward one another with fear on their faces. They turned to Arryn for direction, afraid of what was about to happen.
She knew how they felt. It was up to her to be their backbone.
“Archers, aim!” Arryn shouted. She heard the wings behind her before she saw the large Golden Eagle who was Cathillian’s familiar fly overhead. “Echo, warn Cathillian. The remnant are here. Oh! And that the ladies will eat him alive, and not in the good way.”
____________________________________________________________________________________________
From Candy
BOOK TWO!! Praise the Bitch and Bastard! 😉
I… Don’t… Believe it…
It’s here, it’s here, it’s finally here! Snippet One of Book TWO!!!
The Undying Illusionist will be here August 9th!
I’ve been having a lot of fun chatting with you guys, reading your comments, and the reviews (oh, the sweet, sweet reviews!) At this moment… The Arcadian Druid is STILL sitting at 100% 4 and 5 star reviews!!! This… Is huge. I am SO happy to see that! Thank you!
You know what else has been amazing!? You guys have been checking out my other books as well! DAMN PEOPLE!!! Try not to make my heart explode with excitement and happiness TOO soon in the game, OK? (That was a joke… please keep trying. It’s okay! I LOVE seeing the love going to the other books hahaha!)
In case you’ve read Michael’s author notes from the first book, I wanted to point out that – YES – he probably did have to edit out a lot of my exclamation points. As you can see–I love my punctuation. A lot…
It’s kind of a running joke now, that and my name.
I love these guys, and I have loved working with them AND engaging with all of you. Please, please, please — never stop. We love to read the comments and the love.
Long gone is the days where authors were just a name and a few hundred pages of doorway into their freakish minds. Now… You are more than welcome to chat all day with us and experience our freakish minds as soon as we get a minute to break away and respond! And we love it!
PLUS–it gives us a chance to have HUMAN conversations. Imagine voices talking to you all day… Well, that’s basically what being an author is.
Wait… Other authors feel that way, too, right? Otherwise, I MIGHT BE going loopy for real!
Before I get myself committed, and I can’t finish the other books… *le gasp!* … Here is Snippet One! The Prologue to Book 2… The Undying Illusionist.
To find out more about Candy and her other books http://www.candycrumbooks.com
Rogue Mage Cover Reveal and New Author Introduction!
Rogue Mage, Path of Heroes Book One
By Bradon Barr and Michael Anderle
Meet BRANDON BARR, author of the forthcoming Age of Magic book, Rogue Mage (Path of Heroes Book 1)
Hi TKG fans!
After hiding in the shadows, it’s time to introduce myself! I’m Brandon Barr, one of Michael Anderle’s coauthors working in the Age of Magic <big cheesy grin>. I’ve got a story to tell you…
So back in March I was enjoying a nice, all-expenses-paid retreat at City of Hope Medical Center. Round-the-clock room service, bedside attendants, intravenous fluids run right into my veins so I could just lay back and relax and watch TV as my brother’s stem cells worked their magic on my evil leukemic ones. Life was good! And then…it got better!!
I got a phone call from Michael and he was like, “I’ve read your books, they’re good. Wanna coauthor a book with me?”
Immediately I reached out to clutch the bedrail, then replied in the steadiest voice I could manage, “I’d be-be-be honored…Yes!”
And that’s how I’m here today, cancer free, and releasing my first book with the unstoppable Michael Anderle <more relaxed grin>.
Tomorrow I’ll be giving you my first SNIPPET of Rogue Mage, and I have to tell you a secret–in my book, there is a HUGE connection to another TKG character (that’s not BA)!
Can anyone guess who it is?
Terry Henry Walton Short Story
Terry Henry Walton Short Story Wednesday
Gene and Fu’s Epic Journey to the Crimea
Gene and Fu left Petersburg with a huge bag of food and household items that Gene carried nonchalantly over one shoulder. It weighed twice as much as Fu, but he didn’t care. They were going someplace warm, because Fu was cold in Petersburg.
The Werebear didn’t even question the journey. Once Fu said she couldn’t get warm, the decision made itself.
Gene wasn’t sure how to get there.
“Where is Crimea?” Fu asked innocently as they walked. Even though Gene shortened his stride, Fu still skipped and hopped every third step to keep pace.
“Head south. Hit Black Sea. Turn left, find Crimea,” Gene replied.
She looked at him out the corner of her eye.
“I don’t know,” the big man admitted. Fu smiled and giggled.
“I think it will be okay,” she suggested.
“Of course!” the big man bellowed in his heavy Russian accent. “We are together, Evgeniy and Fu, Fu and Evgeniy, as it shall always be.”
Fu smiled and tried to adjust her hand. She could only see her wrist. Gene’s fingers could wrap around her hand twice, but at least it was warm. Gene was always warm.
Her personal bear rug. She’d been a servant, but no more. Gene saved her from that life. Sometimes she wondered how she deserved the adoration of such a man, but stopped when she realized those thoughts wasted time. She accepted it, without taking it for granted.
Gene needed so very little from her. He only wanted to love her. The big man, older than she would ever know, had never been in love. The sparkle in Fu’s almond-shaped, big brown eyes drew him to her, made him feel different, self-conscious.
He worried that he was too big, too gruff for such a delicate flower.
She worried that she was too fragile for a man with strength like his. He picked her up and carried her like a child, but she never felt childish. And he was gentle.
“Why you love me, Gene?” she asked in her lilting accent.
“Because you are my Fu,” he answered simply, unsure of the question.
“Gene,” Fu said, prodding him in the chest with her tiny finger as she relaxed in his arm with her head on his shoulder.
“You make me feel,” Gene started slowly, looking down at the ground as he plodded forward, step after step. “I feel everything better, colors are brighter, air is cleaner, birds sing louder, world is better place with Fu in it.”
“I like being in your world, too. You make me feel safe. I never felt safe before I met you.” Fu looked away and pointed to the ground.
He put her down, adjusted the bag over his shoulder, and they kept walking.
South. Always south.
The heat came whenever they walked away from the river, bearing down on them. Gene gave Fu all the water, but his need was greater than hers. And then they ran out, somewhere northwest of Moscow as they were trying to skirt the city, looking for a series of lakes, Ruzos, Gene thought they were called.
Fu collapsed. Gene’s head swirled. He yelled at the sky and screamed at the hard, dead earth. He changed into Werebear form and struggled against the greatest enemy he’d ever faced. His love was dying and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.
He moved her about with his massive snout until he could drape her over his neck. He grabbed their bag, light because there was no food or water within.
Gene started to lope, on three legs as he held his unconscious wife in place with one paw, taking care not to dig his claws in. Being in Werebear form cleared his head enough to use his heightened senses. Water. He could smell it.
He turned in that direction and ran as fast as he dared, Fu bouncing on his neck and shoulders. He knew that she would be bruised and sore, but water was life!
Gene saw the green of vegetation, hiding within a dip, a valley through which a stream flowed where a small lake had formed. Gene slowed to negotiate a bank, jump across a ravine, and plowed into the clear water without hesitation. Fu fell from his neck and sank below the surface.
A human Gene swam below her and brought her up for air. He faced her head down and slapped her back, driving the water from her lungs.
She sputtered as he nestled her into the relative cool of the small lake. Gene dipped his face in and drank. Fu’s eyes fluttered as she came back to the present.
“Drink, my lover, drink. Good water,” Gene said roughly, his hair matted to his head from the road dirt.
Fu sipped at first, then drank more. They relaxed in the water. Gene held his hairy arm over her head to block the sun. Her delicate and porcelain features brightening from their trek under a harsh sun.
They waded ashore where a naked Gene built a small lean-to using the bag, its contents dumped on the ground. He returned to the lake with the flasks, filling them all, while drinking fully in quantities that only a Werebear could hold.
“I don’t mind, but where are your clothes?” Fu finally asked. Once Gene’s head was clear, he knew that he would have to backtrack a few miles to find where he’d changed form. The three legged tracks through the Fallen Lands would be easy to follow.
“That way,” Gene said, pointing. “I get them and come back soon.” He leaned down to kiss her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself to him.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered. He nodded and lay down next to her, handing her a flask so she could keep drinking. Caressing her hair with a meaty hand, he didn’t remember falling asleep.
When they awoke, it was early morning. Dawn’s approach lightened the eastern sky. Gene and Fu drank and then bathed in the lake. They moved upstream to drink some more. Gene picked up Fu and carried her in his arms as he ran through the darkness on his way to recover his clothes, his Were-enhanced vision helping him see the way.
It took less than thirty minutes to run the five miles to where his clothes had been abandoned.
He dressed and bowed for Fu as if they were on parade. She clapped before he picked her up and ran back to their camp. Gene didn’t see an elevation from which they could learn where they were, but it didn’t matter. The sun rose in the east, which meant that the small river leading from the lake was heading south.
They packed their stuff and headed out. There had been no fish, but there were tracks in the muddy shore. Gene thought they were from a deer, but they could have been a wild boar. He trusted their scent more than their tracks, but they were old.
The first day of their new lives was spent hungry, but at least they had an unlimited supply of water.
Gene didn’t risk crossing the open Wastelands again. He stayed near the river, following its meandering track.
South. Always south.
The third day and Fu’s ribs were growing more pronounced against her skin. Gene knew they had to find food. He was starving, but he knew that Fu would eat first.
Terry Henry always ate last and finally Gene understood why. Everyone needed somebody to take care of them. Terry’s love was for all mankind, for the humanity he fought to save. He had taken on the responsibility of bringing back civilization. That meant sacrifice. That meant eating last.
Gene was a Werebear, a solitary creature who fought to live, not to take care of someone else. That was, until he met Fu.
Sacrifice for others, even something so simple as eating last. It made sense. If one provided enough, then everyone ate well. If there wasn’t enough, then the leader failed.
There wasn’t enough. Gene was failing Fu, but she hadn’t complained. She trudged along, smiling when Gene looked at her. When they found the tracks. Gene set up a camp and moved downwind so that his prey wouldn’t smell him.
He wanted to change into Werebear form, but there was always a risk that the animal would take over. Once that happened, the human Gene would be gone forever. He couldn’t leave Fu out there, so he stayed in human form, picked up two rocks to brain an unsuspecting animal.
Gene counted on his unnatural strength to give him the edge. He tracked the animals, looking for where they found shelter. Roe deer. Not much bigger than a dog. A small family.
Survival of the fittest. Gene didn’t hesitate. With one throw, he took out two of them and the second rock nearly took the head off the third animal. He hurried into the glade, snapping their necks, frowning with the act. There wasn’t enough for both of them, but Fu could eat well for a week.
And so she would. Gene ate the minimum he could to maintain enough strength until he found a better source of food.
Fu sensed the Werebear’s unhappiness as he cleaned and cooked the small animals. She ate in silence, knowing that she had to, knowing that he had done what he had to for her.
“We will survive, my Gene,” she finally said. “I want you to know that I’m not cold anymore.”
Gene looked at her and with tears in his eyes, he started to laugh. He stood and started to dance, Russian style, but without music, his arms crossed as he dipped and kicked his legs out, yelling ‘Ha’ with each movement.
After two more weeks of traveling down the river before they stood on the shore of the black sea. Gene had speared fish and a great wild boar that sustained them. Fu found root vegetables and edible greens.
It took both of them to sustain each other. Gene understood the harmony of their partnership. What he would do for her, she would do for him and together, they were far stronger than they could ever be alone.
Gene picked Fu up and swung her around in a circle. “I already like it here,” he told her in his heavy Russian accent.
“Khorosho, i ya tozhe,” she replied in Russian. Good, and me, too.
To find out more about Craig Martelle an his other books http://www.craigmartelle.com
Unlawful Passage – Snippet 2
Unlawful Passage, The Rise of Magic, Book 5
By CM Raymond, LE Barbant, and Michael Anderle
Snippet 2
UNEDITED
Chapter One (Continued)
Hannah picked up the pace as the rhythm of her heart followed suit. She knew it was risky, but no way in hell was she going to ignore a cry for help. It wasn’t in her nature.
Reaching the end of the corridor, dwarfed by the ruins rising above her, she cut to the right, down a side street. As she turned the corner, she found a group of four men, taller than the tallest Arcadian, circled around a cloaked figured trembling on the ground.
Memories rushed back — of the Hunters who had nearly taken her life on the day she first felt her magic. Once again, her power boiled with her rage beneath her skin.
“Get away from the kid!” she screamed in their direction.
They turned, eyes wide, as they looked with curiosity at the strange girl standing before them. A smile cracked the lead man’s face when he realized they would have a grown woman to play with along with the child at their feet. But his smile melted as his eyes found Sal standing behind her.
“The hell is that?” he grunted, pointing a makeshift club at the dragon.
Hannah tilted her head and smiled. “Every girl needs a pet. Mine would just rather rip your balls off than shake hands.” Hannah glanced back at Sal, who was crouched ready for attack. The normally calm animal was a ball of rage.
She held up her palm in his direction but spoke to the goons. “I’ll give you one chance to get the hell out of here and never come back.”
The men laughed. Another with a bald head covered in body art grinned. “Honey, I ain’t afraid of no lizard. I’ve got balls of steel and a dick made of iron.” He stepped forward away from the others. Reaching down, he grabbed his crotch and gyrated his hips. “Maybe you’d like to shake hands?”
Hannah arced her arms across her chest, pulling two perfectly round fireballs into existence. “Sorry, doucher. I’m saving myself for a human.”
His mouth dropped open as she launched the fireballs, which landed square on his chest, knocking the man back into a sizzling pile of flesh.
A grin formed on Hannah’s face. “Who’s next?”
Without warning, the other three charged. Hannah cut to her right, toward the largest of the three. She dropped as he approached. Pulling her silver dagger from her belt, she rolled under his attack, slicing his hamstring on her way. The man screamed in rage and pain as he dropped to the ground. Spinning back toward him, she pulled the dagger across his throat, cutting his cries of agony short.
She looked up, just in time to see Sal pivot, knocking one of the remaining men with his spiked tail into the ruins with a crash just before he leapt onto the other, ripping at exposed flesh with his dagger-sharp teeth.
Getting up from the rubble, the other man shook off the dust and gritted his teeth. “Who the hell are you? Where are you from?”
“It’s Hannah, from Arcadia.”
“Arcadia? Never heard of it,” the man grimaced as he pulled a weapon from his hip. “You’re gonna wish you stayed there, bitch.”
Hannah held her knife out toward him. “Where I’m from, that’s no way to talk to a girl. Unless, of course, she’s the Queen Bitch.”
He held his weapon, which looked like a simple billy club, in front of him. With a grin, he pulled out a long double-edged blade. It was a handsome weapon, but there was no time for admiration. The man sprinted with a scream, swinging the sword as he approached.
Hannah held her ground.
The man swung the blade at her head, but just when it should have met its target, the weapon sliced through thin air.
He staggered forward, unable to understand the illusion her mental magic played on him.
“Never call a magician a bitch,” Hannah said as she reappeared behind him.
She drew the power of present anger and past rage through her body and allowed it to exit through her open palms.
The man didn’t have a chance to turn and face the one who ended his miserable life.
“Ho-lee-shite,” a small voice said from behind her.
She spun, ready for attack, but dropped her hands to her side as she looked into the big, blue eyes of the boy.
****
Parker leaned against the railing on the bow of the ship laughing as he watched Hannah and Sal sail past in a blur. “She’s going to kill her-damned-self one of these days,” he said, shaking his head as he watched his friend and her dragon get smaller and smaller until they blended into the ground beneath.
Sipping his tea, Hadley laughed. “What she’s been through? I imagine it’s going to take something stronger than a fall from a thousand feet to finish her off.”
The men grew quiet for a moment as they watched the landscape float lazily by. Parker had lost count of the days, and even weeks they had been airborne on Adrien’s flying machine — the ship that now belonged to him and his friends — but he knew it had been too long. Quarters were getting tight, and he and the rest of the crew were getting anxious to walk on solid ground. Everyone except Hadley, that is.
Parker tilted his head toward his friend. “You really don’t mind it up here, do you?”
“Mind? After all those weeks in the lowlands and cooped up in Arcadia and then that tower, I’m happy to have open air around me.” Hadley grinned, his eyes surveying billowing clouds on the horizon and the mountains rising up toward their ship. “Figure this is the closest thing I’m going to get to the Heights for some time.”
“Maybe ever,” Parker said, raising a brow.
“Like hell. I’ll get home eventually. It’s been good to be out of the mountains, stretch my legs a bit — meet some peculiar folk — but like any mystic on pilgrimage, the temple is where we belong.”
Parker let the quiet take over again. His friend had a point. When they weren’t below, everyone running into each other, things could be quite peaceful on the deck. The winter of the revolution was slipping into spring, and the world was coming alive once again. And he had a thousand-foot view of it all. Still, after all the running around it took to take down Adrien, the peace was downright boring.
He glanced back, looking down the length of the ship and off its stern. Arcadia was hundreds of miles behind him, and the revolution seemed like a lifetime ago. But the Founder had a new quest for them, and Hannah was committed to seeing it finished. Which meant Parker was committed as well.
Turning his head back over the bow’s railing, he asked, “You think the old man is insane?”
“Ezekiel?” Hadley cocked his head like a dog in thought. “Sure. I mean most of the masters are. All that power coursing through them, it’s a wonder they can stand upright. Wouldn’t say it to her face, but Julianne got a crack or two with the crazy stick as well. Probably why it was her that was chosen to lead the mystics instead of me.”
“I’m sure talent — or in your case, lack thereof — had nothing to do with it.”
Hadley faced Parker as his eyes flashed white. The edges of his mouth turned up. “It’s OK, mate. You don’t need to be intimidated by me. Not everyone can have a mind like mine… But still, there’s no need for low blows.”
Parker laughed. “Get the hell out of my head, you freak.”
“Better yours than Hannah’s. All she thinks about is sex and justice.”
“Yeah, well, she — wait,” Parker said, suddenly standing straight up. “What’s that about sex?”
“Nevermind…” Hadley let the word trail behind him as he turned and left Parker alone on the bow of the ship.
He knew the mystic was screwing with him, at least he assumed so. From what he could tell, Hadley had little chance of getting into her head. Hannah grew stronger every day, and with each sunrise, his childhood friend was more and more capable of directing the tremendous power that flowed through her own blood — giving her greater and greater defense against the mystic’s tinkering.
But Parker still wondered if his handsome friend shared his desires for the young magician — m and to what extent Hannah reciprocated them. Most of Hadley’s comments seemed in jest, but he knew none should underestimate the mind games of a mystic — friend or not.
Eyes darting, he scanned the sky looking for Hannah and Sal to return.
“Stay out of trouble, Hannah,” he whispered into the wind.
****
The kid reached down and grabbed a rock, which barely fit in his palm.
Hannah raised her hands in response. “Easy, there, tiger. I just saved your ass. Seems a rock to the face isn’t any way to say thank you.” She smiled as Sal ambled up next to her, crouched at her side, and leaned his head against her leg. “What’s your name?”
The boy’s eyes cut to the dragon; he stared without blinking. “Seriously, what is that?”
Sal pawed at the ground, waiting for his master to respond. As far as Hannah could tell, the dragon understood the human tongue. If nothing else, he always responded appropriately.
Reaching down to scratch his chin, she said, “Not a that. Sal’s a he. Well, usually he acts like one. His name is Sal, and he’s my dragon.”
Sal looked up, tilted his head, and whipped his forked tongue out of his mouth and back in.
Hannah giggled. “And… I guess I better say that I’m his human, before I piss him off.” Hannah lowered her voice. “For seeming so badass, I think he has a bit of a self-esteem issue.”
The boy finally cracked a smile. “So, he’s safe then?”
“No way. Not safe in the least. But he’s mine, and… I’m his. So, as long as you drop that rock and behave yourself, he’ll be safe enough for you.” She watched the rock leave the kid’s hand and rattle to the ground. “Now, back to my question. You got a name?”
“Hasan,” he said with some hesitation. The boy glanced over his shoulder at the closest alleyway, which was littered by the rubble from the crumbling buildings that rose around it. He looked back at the dragon and then back to Hannah. “It means handsome, at least that’s what my ma tells me.”
Hannah’s face warmed, thinking of her own mother. She would have told Hannah and Will anything to make them feel prouder than they had the day before, so she could understand the boy’s blush. “Well, your mother is a keen woman. I’m sure you’ll be a lady killer somebody soon.” She winked as he grew a darker shade of red. Hannah motioned around her. “What is this place, Hasan?”
“This place? What do you mean?”
“You know, where the hell are we?”
His brow furrowed, and his nose scrunched as he tried to make sense of the question. “It’s where you are. How do you not know where it is?”
Hannah realized the boy’s world, like so many in Irth, was minute. She assumed he lacked the imagination able to conceive of places days away — let alone weeks. Before meeting Ezekiel, she wasn’t so different than him.
She pointed into the sky at the airship hovering overhead. From the distance, it looked like little more than a dot floating in place. “That’s my airship.”
“Dragons and airships… Kasar, what’s next?”
Hannah assumed that the foreign word was akin to the rearick’s ‘scheisse’, and she was correct. “There are many and stranger things out there, man. But, for now, that ship has brought me from a city a long way from here called Arcadia. This place, your place, is a land that I know nothing about.”
The boy snorted. “Not my place.” He nodded toward the bodies of the men Hannah had ended. “Guess it’s theirs more than anyone’s. I just come to scavenge. We, my ma and me, live beyond the ruins. But this place is Constantine’s.” He said it like she should know who Constantine was.
She didn’t. “Who’s Constantine?”
The boy giggled again, enjoying the ignorance shared between them. “Hell if I know, lady. I’m not even sure if there is a Constantine. It’s just what everybody calls this place. If there is a guy, I never met him.” Hasan pushed his sleeve across his forehead, wiping away a mix of sweat and dirt. He looked up and gauged the position of the sun. “I need to get going. My ma is going to freak if I don’t get back soon. She’s nervous, lost a lot.”
Hannah nodded and extended her hand. The boy took it and feigned a man’s grip. “My name’s Hannah. It is a pleasure to meet you, Hasan. Doubt our paths will cross again, but if they do…”
“I’ll be sure to save your ass next time,” he said with a smile. “And — thanks, Hannah.” He looked down at the dragon by her side. “You, too, Sal.”
The kid turned and ran for the alley closest to them, leaping over rocks and scurrying out of sight.
Hannah patted Sal on the side as she surveyed the bodies in the street. “Nice work, you lazy bag of scales.”
After collecting their weapons, she swung a leg over Sal’s spiked back and gave him a kick. He responded, wings flapping with intention as he pulled them toward the floating airship.
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