Storm Raiders Audiobook Release!
Storm Raiders, Storms of Magic Book 1
By P.T. Hylton and Michael Anderle
The audiobook for Storm Raiders is now available at your favorite retailers! This is the first book in the Storms of Magic series.
Restriction Audiobook Release!
Restriction
By CM Raymond, Lee Barbant, and Michael Anderle
Book One in the Rise of Magic series, Restriction is now available in Audio!
Nomad Force – Snippet 10
Nomad’s Force
Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 9
Snippet 10
By Craig Martelle and Michael Anderle
UNEDITED
Cancun
After cleaning fish for two days, Terry and Char had enough credits to find a sailboat to crew.
Char wore her bikini and Terry wore the swim trunks that she had picked up for him in San Francisco. They strolled casually to the harbor where they picked the biggest boat and then worked their way down the line.
Everyone stopped to stare as Char was probably the most remarkable woman who had ever stepped on the docks. Her bikini left little to the imagination, which made the men gawk.
“You’re going to start a riot,” Terry whispered.
“Seems like it,” Char replied with a smile, nodding to deck hands as she walked past one of the smaller boats.
The largest boat had a full crew and an old captain. He waved Char and Terry away as they approached. “Hell no!” he yelled gruffly.
“We just want to work and yours is the finest ship here,” Char called to him.
“Hell no! A woman looks like you? My crew will be distracted and make mistakes. And you hold no attraction to me. My baby is right here under my feet. Now scram!”
“He’s got a point,” Terry whispered out the side of his mouth as he and Char turned toward the next largest sailboat.
The look on the next captain’s face told them that they had found what they were looking for. He leered as he looked at her, while keeping an eye on his small crew to see if they were watching.
“Ahoy!” Char called. “We know how to sail, and we’re looking for work. We’d like to join your crew.”
The man pointed to the gangplank. “Not him. Only room for one,” the captain said, crossing his arms and stretching himself upright.
“We’re kind of a package deal,” Char told him.
“Nope,” the captain insisted.
“Sorry,” Char replied and walked away with an extra bounce in her step, an extra swing of her hips.
“Wait,” the captain said firmly. “Come on. Let’s see what you can do.”
The man couldn’t take his eyes from Char as she easily crossed the gangplank and stood on the gently rocking deck. She balanced as if she were born to the sea. No one noticed Terry as he stood in her shadow.
“You, top of the mast for watch,” the captain ordered, pointing to Terry. TH acknowledged with a half-assed salute and jumped to the knotted rope, climbing quickly to the top. “Prepare to cast off lines!”
The crew tried not to look at their captain’s latest prize as they went about their duties.
Char watched what they were doing to see if she and Terry could sail the ship by themselves.
Guess we should have thought about that before picking this one, she thought.
Terry was crouched in the crow’s nest looking over the harbor and to the horizon. He saw her watching him and waggled his fingers at her. She shook her head before returning her attention to the captain. She joined him aft, by the tiller.
“Where do you want me?” she asked shyly.
“I think you know,” the captain said thrusting his chest out. He was lean as were most people in the world after the fall. His face was weathered even though he was still a young man.
“I really don’t know. I can drive the boat, or work the sails, or clean the deck. But I need something to do. I can’t in good conscience just stand here and do nothing,” Char replied honestly.
“You’ll be doing something soon enough,” the captain replied, not taking his eyes from the harbor as the boat started to pick up speed. The foresail had been deployed and billowed with the breeze.
“This is a ketch, isn’t it?” Char asked, knowingly exactly what the sailboat was. “The mainmast is forward and larger than the after mast.”
“Maybe you do know about sailing. How come I haven’t seen you before? You know that you’re hard to miss,” he said more conversationally.
Maybe I won’t have to kill you, Char thought, as Terry enjoyed his perch, swinging back and forth as he looked ahead, seeing only Isla Mujeres to the northeast amid the dark blue of the deeper gulf.
Check out Craig Martelle’s other books and learn more about his life in Alaska at http://www.craigmartelle.com
REBIRTH – The Ascension Myth Book 05 – Snippet 02 of …
UNEDITED
Chapter 2
On Board the Empress, Koin Star System, Zhyn Empire, 300 thousand light years from Sark System
“Twenty minutes!”
There was a bustling of nervous tension throughout the ship. Crash glanced down at the controls, watching carefully as Sean eased back on the velocity.
Sean continued with his announcement. “When we head into orbit, we’ll need to be cloaked. But remember: I can’t deposit you guys onto the skylift unless we’re uncloaked. So you get one chance. You need to get out, and then move, because there’s no coming back until Oz takes out the weapons systems.”
Joel and Jack looked at each other confidently as they sat in the main lounge in the Empress. Joel nodded. “We’ve got this,” he told her.
Jack pursed her lips in determination, and returned the nod before looking over to Paige. “Think it’s time to wake the walking Buddha?” she asked, indicating with her head toward the back of the ship.
Paige’s look went from anxious to task-mode. “Yes,” she agreed. “She said to give her as long as possible, but I think it’s time.”
She got up from her seat, and headed back to the cargo hold. On her way past, she brushed Pieter’s leg, pulling him out of his intense concentration. He looked up and saw Jack looking back at him.
Jack smiled. “You guys almost ready?” she asked.
Pieter nodded. “Yep. Oz is confident. And if all goes according to plan, we’ll be good.”
Joel stood up, stretched, and started warming up his muscles by moving around. “It will all go according to plan,” he told them, back in Space Marine mode. “And if it doesn’t, we’ll kill whatever we have to until it does.”
Jack grinned, feeling the tension in her own body break. “And that’s just how we roll, eh? Mr. Don’t-Fuck-With-Me?”
Joel nodded. “That is how we roll. We work for the Queen Bitch, now. We have standards to uphold.”
Jack felt a sense of pride swell in her chest as he said that. She glanced back at Pieter, and his smile suggested he was feeling the same way.
Paige came striding back down the aisles between the anti grav chairs. She was raising her eyes to the heavens.
Joel watched her returning. “What’s up?” he asked, concern in his voice.
Paige tried to hide her grin. “Her ladyship is jonesing for a mocha! Of all times!”
Joel grinned as he started checking his weapons and strapping on the additional pieces of body armor that had been sitting one seat over from he and Jack. “I thought it made her nauseous?”
Paige shook her head. “So did I. But, apparently, she wants some.”
Paige strode past the group and over into the far corner of the lounge where there was a custom-built mocha machine. In all their time training and performing simulations, it had become apparent that any time spent on the ship was going to require mochination of the highest quality. And so, Brock was instructed to install a state-of-the-art mocha machine, which didn’t rely on gravity for it to work.
“I mean, you wouldn’t expect us to go without restrooms, would you?” Molly had justified when she broached the subject in one of their team meetings.
Back in the cockpit, Sean and Crash remained focus on the flying. Crash had clocked about 40 hours in the last week, but wasn’t feeling confident enough to take primary. Sitting next to Sean, his attention now on the controls of the ship — rather than the navigation he’d managed to help with — his attention was unyielding.
Sean pointed to another holo representation. “Okay, now we want to drop out of warp,” he told Crash, waving his finger at the dial next to a graphic of some kind of warp engine, before knocking the dial down.
He paused for a moment, thinking. “And then, we want to maintain our course, which means…?” He glanced over at Crash for an answer, pausing his actions so as not to give away the next move.
Crash thought fast. “Which means… we need to kick in with the boosters on automatic course correction, to counter the directionality of falling out of warp drive.”
Sean made the necessary switch, and slowly brought the boosters online, engaging them at 80%.
Crash sighed in relief, realizing only then that he had been holding his breath.
Sean glanced over to him briefly before looking back at the console. “It’s okay. You’re doing great, mate.”
Crash bobbed his head, his wrinkled forehead showing how uncertain he still felt. Flying had always been his superpower. He’d been flying the weirdest and most dangerous ships and missions all his grown up life. And yet, navigating the Empress was a challenge he never thought he’d face.
A female voice interrupted their conversation over the audio feed. “Sean, are you ready for an update on maneuvering into orbit?”
Sean flicked another switch without taking his eyes from his panel. “Yes, please, Emma” he replied.
“Okay then,” Emma responded. A new screen overlaid itself over the main window in the space ahead of them. “We are sixteen minutes from joining their orbit. The planet has fifteen space lifts, and there are twenty-three satellites in orbit. Plus one space station. I have plotted the optimal route which will bypass their normal routes into orbit, so we will mostly avoid contact with any other vessel.”
Sean frowned. “Mostly?” he clarified.
“77% mostly,” Emma replied.
Sean’s frown deepened. “Is that the best we can do?” he asked.
Emma’s voice was firm. “Given the parameters, yes.”
Sean wasn’t convinced. “So if we end up colliding with another vessel in orbit, or on approach…?” he asked.
Emma responded immediately. “Envelope maneuvers, baby,” she told him. “I know it’s what you like.”
Sean grinned to himself as Crash watched him. “Oh, Emma, you little minx. You know me so well.”
Emma’s face came onto the video feed in the corner of his console. “Well, I find it helps with keeping you in line. And FYI, I shared my heuristics of you with Ozymandeus for his people-behavior project.”
Sean shook his head in disbelief. “Women! Can’t you ever keep your secrets to yourselves?”
Emma smiled on the video feed and responded calmly. “Not when it comes to our fellow entity intelligences, no.”
Sean grinned. “Right, I’m going to make sure that these rogues out back are ready to jump. Crash, can you keep Emma company for me, please?”
Crash was still deep in concentration. He woke himself, breaking his gaze from the panel he had been watching. “Sure,” he agreed, his face just as expressionless as ever.
Sean left the cockpit and wandered through the narrow passageway into the lounge area. He arrived in the doorway to see Joel and Jack doing their final prep. “Someone told Molly it’s time?” he checked, mild concern on his face; he was worried that she might be sleeping.
Paige looked up from her holo. “She’s-”
“Right here,” Molly finished her sentence, appearing at the back of the lounge. She was in full combat gear, ready to go, holding her wooden baton. Her face was eerily peaceful, and her manner relaxed.
Paige spun around in her chair to look at her. “Mocha is just brewing,” she told her, indicating over to the machine.
Sean looked at Molly, then at the mocha machine. “Will you never learn?” he asked her. His tone resembled how a parent would talk to a child.
Molly held his gaze as she strode deliberately through the lounge. Sean suddenly felt strangely intimidated by her presence and her quietness. Give him geeky Molly. Give him matter-of-fact Molly. Give him amped-up, kicking-his-ass-across-the-gym Molly. But meditating Molly… He couldn’t get a read on her.
She got close to where he had planted himself at the end of one of the aisles. Feeling her come closer, he was unable to stay where he was. He took a couple of paces backwards, and Molly walked straight past him to the mocha machine.
It had stopped pouring mocha into the anti grav mug beneath, and she picked it up, taking in the aroma and savoring the smell. Joel and Jack had turned to look at her, and were watching her enjoy the moment of her first mocha after a long meditation session. She breathed it in, and then gently took a sip. She exhaled slowly in pleasure.
Turning around, she smiled at the crew. “So, what are we doing standing around, bitches? Don’t we have a mission to complete?”
FROM MICHAEL >>> Car buying is never (so far for me) a lot of fun and yesterday while here in Austin, we helped a family friend’s daughter at a local Subaru dealer (she went for a Crosstrek).
I’ll have to give the local Austin Subaru dealer some kudos as not only was the dealership cool (they have a cafe with free snacks and nice digs in the back while you wait), but her salesperson (John … something something) (big guy) was fantastic.
By the time we were done, it was all I could do to stumble into our hotel room. Even though we are here at the Radisson on the river, just a few blocks from 6th street, I didn’t care to step out of the hotel. Right now, it’s something like 9:45 AM and I just rolled out of bed, and it (the bed) is calling me to come back.
The siren call of sleep is a sweet soothing sound and promise of happier hours… Less productive hours perhaps, but happier times this afternoon as I’m a grumpy guy at the moment whose head is lolling to the left as I type this.
Damn, I think I need to go back to bed.
ENJOY this second snippet, as we work our way towards release tomorrow 😉
Michael
Rebirth – The Ascension Myth Book 05 – Snippet 01 of …
UNEDITED
Chapter 1
ArchAngel, Main Lecture Theater
“Very few people realize quite how many of these genetic relationships exist throughout the galaxies.”
The lecture theater was dark and hushed, the audience held in rapt attention.
“In fact, before we had gate technology, there was no way of knowing that these similarities even existed.”
The holoslides created a soft glow that bathed the audience in an outline.
Off to one side, the lone professor, seasoned by exposure to the elements and the rougher conditions of cultures across the galaxy, stood delivering his speech to the assembled intellects. His tweed jacket, more for a show of individuality, harked back to the olden days on his planet of ancestry: Earth.
Of course, he hadn’t been born there. No one in the Empire had been born there for a good century and a half. But they were comforted knowing that it was still there… back through some gate, somewhere; albeit now just a shell of the civilization their ancestors left behind.
“We’ve long been able to sequence the genome of a species,” he continued, “and, of course, certain races visually look the same, giving us further clues.”
Professor Giles F. Kurns tapped his fingers together, and the implants registered the action, moving the holoslide animation forward. “What you see on the screen are a male and female Estarian, and a male and female Zhyn.” He paused for effect. “I’ll let you figure out which is which.”
There was a ripple of quiet laughter throughout the audience. He waited a moment, allowing the viewers to compare the footage of the two races standing side by side. His eyes twinkled in the low light. “Pretty astounding similarities, eh?”
He was most alive when he was either experiencing, or talking about, varied cultures.
Giles wandered down up the aisle set of stepseats in the lecture theater, as the fascinated scientists and students aboard the ArchAngel followed him with their eyes. He indicated back at the screen. “You might notice that the main difference is the existence of the bone frill, framing the face of the Zhyn.”
He turned and looked at the screen himself, now speaking from amongst the audience. “Now, evolutionary theory explains really well why species evolve a certain way in a closed system. We all know about the old concepts of survival of the fittest. But there is a reason you won’t have heard about the Zhyn until about a hundred years ago.”
He started walking back down the steps, talking as he went. “Anyone like to have a guess as to why?”
A few hands went up. Giles picked someone over on the other side of the theater, a brunette woman. “Yes, lady in the pink top,” he said, gesturing with his outstretched arm, his head down, waiting to hear her answer.
The human turned in her chair and spoke. “We only harnessed gating abilities for exploration and non-military activities a little before that time.”
“Excellent!” Giles remarked still without looking up. He continued his descent down the stairs and onto floor level.
“So let me pose a question for you to ponder, next time you’re in the shower and contemplating the complexities and vastness of the universe…” His voice lilted up and down, as if he were a shaman mesmerizing them into examining a reality beyond their sheltered existence on the ship.
There were a few chuckles from the audience.
Giles continued, his strange mannerisms and arm gestures punctuating his words as he spoke. “Wonder this…” he paused dramatically. There was silence as they hung on his every word. “Why is it that two seemingly similar races — almost identical in genetic makeup, but for maybe 0.1% of their code — were able to evolve 300 thousand light years away from each other, long before space travel was even a possibility for them? If space travel didn’t begin until, say, the last thousand years, how can they have had a few hundred thousand years of separate evolution? And if we’re looking at two species in complete isolation, disjoined by geography, is there any real evolution going on here? And if we accept that as a possibility, and remember they didn’t have space travel, how is it that these two genetically similar races came to be in two different petri dishes floating in space?”
Giles turned and looked at the sea of faces, human and otherwise, all displaying the same look of awe that he got whenever he lectured anywhere.
There was silence; but for the frequency-dependent acoustic dampening in the theater, one could have heard a pin drop.
Giles noticed a slight agitation coming from one of the front rows. A hand went up, hesitantly. “Can you repeat all that, please?”
Giles spun around, searching the lecture theater for something other than the querying hand. “Who here is taking notes?” he asked.
About a quarter of the hands went up.
“Talk to one of those people with their hands up afterward,” he suggested to the person who hadn’t been able to keep up, still not looking at him.
“Now…” he continued briskly, “I’m not one for promoting the existence of things for which there’s no proof,” he paused, using the pitch and pace of his voice to hold the audience. “But for those familiar with Occam’s Razor, you may simply assume that there was someone capable of space travel. Someone who perhaps gave an Estarian – or a Zhyn – a lift at some point in their history.”
He scratched behind his ear and returned to the front bench, adding, “Or maybe a pregnant version of one of them, at least.”
Again there were more chuckles from the audience.
Giles flicked theatrically through to his next slide, holding his thumb and forefinger in the air as he tapped them together. “Now, you didn’t come here to hear about how wrong Edipus was when he tried to apply Darwinian theory to space history,” he smiled, glancing around. “You want to know about the good stuff; the truth in the rumors. The science in the myth… right?”
There were mutters of agreement, and lots of nodding of heads throughout the dimly lit auditorium.
Giles waved his arms in an upward motion. “Well, what if I were to tell you that in our conversation earlier, where we were talking about the ascension mythology, there was something I left out? A few clues, actually. Clues that would suggest that the ascension phenomena isn’t quite as unique as the Estarians would have you believe…”
There were hushed whispers in the darkness as Giles flicked through to another slide, showcasing yet another race that the ArchAngel general population wasn’t fully aware of.
FROM MICHAEL >>> WOW! Hat’s off to my collaborator Ell Leigh Clarke for working through some serious physical issues to get this story out.
(Lack of Coffee being the main challenge…The whole other things like potential failure of some small thing she needs pales in comparison… at least to Ell.)
She even started changing Dr. Awesome’s name to Dr. Genius (not in a good way, mind you – apparently, telling Ell to go off of coffee is a very. bad. idea.)
We are looking for this book to come out sometime on Monday, July 24th (Sorry Australia, maybe Tuesday for you!)
I hope you have an AWESOME weekend.
Michael
Storm Callers – Snippet 1
Storm Callers
Storms of Magic Book 2
Snippet 1
By PT Hylton and Michael Anderle
A young sailor named Felix clutched the rail of The Passing Fancy as the ship swayed and rocked wildly on the stormy sea. He hoped he wouldn’t vomit again. He’d grown up hearing stories of sailors who couldn’t cut it on the opens seas; newbies who spent their first voyage with their faces a sickly shade of green and their heads hanging over the rails as they tossed up their rations.
In the stories, these unworthy sailors always returned to Holdgate and spent the rest of their lives on dry land, living quiet, shameful lives as butchers or clerks at the dry goods shop.
Felix had sworn that wouldn’t be him. And yet here he was, on his first voyage on a real Holdgate trading ship, throwing up over the side.
He’d been fine for the first three days of the journey, but then this storm had caught them. It had built slowly, and he’d seen the concern growing in Captain Herrik’s eyes as the black clouds had rolled in and the waves swelled to an unbelievable size, tossing their small ship like a child might toss a ball.
Despite Felix’s concern, none of the other sailors seemed to be paying him much mind. They were too busy clutching the rail themselves, holding on for dear life.
That was when Felix realized he might have a whole lot more to fear than just embarrassment over losing his lunch. If these hardened sailors were worried, this was not a normal storm.
Felix closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to the sea.
It had never been his ambition as a boy to earn a place on one of the stormships like his friends all wanted. They had dreamed of working on a ship like Undertow or even Thunderclap, but all Felix wanted was to make his name on a trading ship and make a boatload of money. If he accumulated enough wealth, he could buy status, and maybe his son or daughter would one day win a spot on a stormship.
Of course, all of that assumed he survived his maiden voyage on The Passing Fancy, which was beginning to look less and less likely.
The sailors had been in a foul mood almost since the moment they’d left port. They’d worried that the weather was unnatural for this time of year. They didn’t like change, but things were changing quickly in Holdgate.
Two weeks ago, the magistrate had made a proclamation declaring Tor, Dahlia, and the crew of Thunderclap enemies of Holdgate. He’d said they were Storm Raiders who attacked cities and villages up and down the coast, teaming up with the Barskall to destroy these places after removing all valuables.
The idea seemed ludicrous, but a few days after the proclamation, Thunderclap had attacked Holdgate. Many died in that battle, including six Storm Callers who had reportedly been murdered by Tor himself before he was finally brought down by the Arcadian blacksmith’s daughter, of all people. Only Dahlia, Thunderclap’s Storm Caller, had managed to escape, but without her ship and her crew, she couldn’t be much of a danger.
Still, despite the clear evidence that Tor and his crew had been Storm Raiders, there had been some grumbling among the crew since leaving port. Things had been good for the trading ships over the past decade or so. It was hard to argue that they had not been blessed by the sea. Was it possible that the sea approved of Storm Raiding? And if so, how would it react to the death of Tor, its most favored son?
And now, it seemed the sea was going to claim The Passing Fancy to appease its anger.
The sailors on the deck cried out in fear, and Felix forced himself to open his eyes. Rain pelted down on him, and it wasn’t possible to see very far. But he spotted something up ahead: a massive wave, the likes of which Felix had never seen, was rolling toward them. Its watery form stretched higher than the tallest building in Holdgate. He didn’t know how they’d survive.
Then, just before it got to them, the wave diminished, as if it were being sucked back into the sea. By the time it reached them it was no bigger than the other waves that had been tossing them for hours.
Felix looked to the east, the direction the waves were coming from, and his breath caught in his throat. A shaft of sunlight cut through the storm clouds, illuminating a massive ship.
The ship raced toward them, bringing with it clearing skies and a calmer sea. The men and women aboard The Passing Fancytalked excitedly as the storm died down and the ship grew nearer.
It was a stormship; everyone agreed on that. After all, one of the primary duties of the stormships was to calm to seas for trading ships. As the ship drew closer, the sailors’ excitement grew. This wasn’t just any stormship.
What started as a suspicion quickly grew into certainty. By the time the stormship reached them, the sailors were cheering and chanting its name. The sea hadn’t abandoned The Passing Fancy, and neither had the flagship of the Holdgate fleet.
Felix pushed his way through the crowd of sailors on the main deck to get a look at the great stormship as it drew near. It was strange seeing a man standing at the bow instead of a woman, but the iconic ship was familiar enough that he was able to put that aside. Besides, he recognized the ship’s new Storm Caller.
He thought of the many times as a child he’d watched this ship pull into port in Holdgate. Now he was doing more than watching. He was an active participant.
Thunderclap had saved him. Dustin had saved him.
***
“If we find the son of a bitch who’s doing this,” Syd said, “I’m going to string him up by his eyebrows.”
“Eyebrows?” Abbey asked. “That’s awfully generous of you. I was going to aim a bit lower.”
Captain Roy let out a soft chuckle. “Eyebrows…or whatever, we’re going to have to find him first.”
“We will,” Syd growled. She ran a hand across her bald head as she spoke.
Abbey couldn’t disagree with her friend’s assertion, and she understood the frustration. They were all feeling it, even Captain Roy, though he was a bit better at hiding it than the rest of them.
This was their maiden voyage as the new crew of Thunderclap. With Captain Tor, Dahlia, and the Storm Raiders who had previously manned the vessel all either dead or rotting in the Holdgate prison, there had been no one left to sail Holdgate’s flagship. The magistrate and the council of Storm Captains had agreed that the prize should go to Captain Roy and the crew of The Foggy Day, who’d proven their trustworthiness by taking a stand against Tor. Now it was The Foggy Day that sat unused in port.
Everyone had been delighted at the promotion to the better vessel. Dustin’s dream of Storm Calling on Thunderclap had come true, and a lot sooner than he’d anticipated. Syd and most of the crew were thrilled to be working aboard the larger craft, and Abbey, who’d accepted a position aboard only days before, had been no less excited to learn that her first real voyage would be on the great ship. After spending her first nineteen years primarily in her father’s blacksmith shop, she’d be sailing on the most famous ship in the Holdgate fleet.
The only one who hadn’t been pleased was Captain Roy. He’d accepted the new commission reluctantly and with an uncharacteristic seriousness. When Abbey had asked him why, he’d said, “We’ll be on the best ship in the fleet. That means we’ll be sent to the biggest battles and the most dangerous places. I don’t mind fighting if I have to, but I don’t like watching my people die.”
Now, on the last day of their first voyage, Abbey had to admit that it hadn’t exactly gone smoothly.
Since Thunderclap required roughly twice the crew of The Foggy Day, Captain Roy had needed to bring on nearly fifty new crew members. The other Storm Captains had reluctantly allowed a few experienced sailors to transfer to the famous ship, but the majority of were fresh recruits who had never been on anything more than a pleasure cruise. As first mate, it was Syd’s job to whip this new crew into shape, and the monumental task was making her even crankier than usual.
Training new crew members was always challenging, but training this many at once was like herding mountain goats. Abbey did her best not to cause her friend any undue stress, but she was a new sailor too, and she bumbled as much as the rest of them.
Captain Roy and Dustin were having just as much trouble. This had been planned as a one-week voyage to test the crew on open water. It should have been an easy journey: swing down around the south horn of the Kaldfell Peninsula to ensure the trade routes were clear of storms. This time of year, the seas should have been fairly calm. They expected to encounter one or two storms at the most. What they’d experienced had been quite different.
They’d encountered storm after storm, each on a trade route, and each too vicious and localized to have been natural. There was a Storm Caller working in these waters, causing havoc for Holdgate’s ships.
The obvious theory was that Dahlia calling the storms, trying to exact payback for what had been done to her captain and her shipmates. But the problem with Dahlia—or any other Storm Caller—creating these storms was that in order to call and maintain such disturbances, the Storm Caller would need to be within sight. But Thunderclap had yet to see another stormship, so whoever was doing this was somehow doing it from a distance.
Abbey left the captain and first mate and headed toward the bow of the ship.
Dustin was working night and day to quell the storms, and Abbey could tell it was taking its toll. She wasn’t sure which was wearing on him more: calming the storms, or the mystery of how the storms were being created in the first place.
The current storm was all but gone now, and Dustin had his eyes open, looking at the gently rolling sea and the trade ship on their starboard side. The crew of the trade ship was cheering and waving wildly as Thunderclap sailed past.
“Nice job,” Abbey remarked as she approached Dustin.
Dustin glanced at her, then turned back to the sea. “Thanks. For all the good it will do. Whoever’s creating these storms could be calling another one fifty miles behind us for all we know.”
Abbey nodded toward the trade ship. “Well, they’re grateful. Besides, we’ll figure it out. We’ll find them and give them the whupping they deserve. It’s what we do.” She paused, then continued, “It’s gotta be Dahlia behind this, right?” She almost scoffed as she said the name. Just that thought of that woman—and the fact that they’d failed to capture her—haunted Abbey.
“Probably.” He was quiet for a minute as he gazed out at the sea. “It’s just so frustrating. There’s so much we don’t know about Storm Calling. First, I learn that casting is possible without seawater, and now…whatever this is.”
Abbey heard a familiar voice behind her, interrupting their conversation. “You call that tying a line? Man, if Syd sees that, you’ll be swabbing the deck all night. Let me show you how it’s done.”
Olaf snatched a rope out of another sailor’s hand.
Abbey chuckled and shook her head. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d kicked his ass in her father’s shop. Now he was a sailor aboard Thunderclap, just like her. And to Abbey’s annoyance, he was learning the things Syd taught more quickly than any of the other newbies, which only added to his already impressive cockiness. Syd grudgingly admitted the young man knew his knots better than most sailors with six months’ experience.
The whole thing had made Olaf even more insufferable, but Abbey had to admit his brash confidence always brought a smile to her face. She turned back to Dustin.
“You were the first one to crack storm magic without seawater, and you’ll crack this mystery, too. Give yourself a break.”
Dustin looked at her with a half-smile. “I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I am,” she said with a grin. “Now get us home. There’s a mug of mead waiting with my name on it.”
“Dustin!” a man called from the crow’s nest. “To the east!”
He sighed as he looked east and saw unnaturally dark skies. “I think we both deserve a drink, but first we have work to do.”
Nomad’s Force – Snippet 9
Nomad’s Force
Terry Henry Walton Chronicle Book 9
Snippet 9
By Craig Martelle and Michael Anderle
I read this snippet as well (most of it anyway) – see it on FB.
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UNEDITED
Kaeden, Marcie, and Ramses had prepared a squad on squad contest, pitting the three squads against each other to determine what was in a remote homestead in the north. The three squads had to reach the place undetected, conduct the reconnaissance, and then leave. If they encountered one of the other squads, they were to neutralize them through non-lethal hand-to-hand combat.
Gunny Lacy and her two squads were acting as the judges by staging themselves along the route and acting as the targets at the homestead, which was an active vegetable farm.
The few members who would be working at the farm were looking forward to the inevitable good eating that came from helping the farmers with the manual labor.
The three team leaders collaborated to choose their routes north as they didn’t want initial conflict the second they started. They’d learn more when their people were tired, which would best replicate combat conditions. The colonel always told them the most impactful training happens at the end.
The three squads chose night time to travel. They all assumed it would take one night to get into place.
After the first mile of pushing, Kaeden slowed his group. They were making too much noise and highlighting themselves by moving through open areas to maintain speed.
Kae called a halt and huddled the team in a small depression. “We go slow. Bing on point. Slow, stay to the shadows. We’ll get into place tomorrow night. We can’t risk being discovered before we get there. The mission objectives are clear – stealth takes priority. We can run back if we need to, but we can’t be found out before we get there,” he whispered.
The old stealth versus speed argument. He’d fallen into the trap by setting a schedule that was too aggressive. When the team moved out a second time, Kaeden was pleased with their efforts to blend into the shadows. He relaxed as they moved and listened intently, observing with his enhanced vision, reveling in his new abilities.
***
Marcie chose a route close to the lake which doubled the distance she had to travel. Her squad took off running and maintained a withering pace for over half the night as they ran along roads. Her idea of stealth was to stay away from the areas where she could be observed. When she finally stopped the team to reorient them for an approach to the objective from the east, they dropped their packs and fell to the ground, exhausted.
She wanted to take a fifteen-minute break, but gave them an hour and a half to sleep while she stood watch.
When they awoke, Marcie was still fresh, and they looked dogged. But she wanted to get into place by dawn.
“On your feet. Stealth mode people for the last couple miles. We have time, so go slow to go fast. But we need to go now,” she told them, trying to be encouraging.
The team stumbled from their temporary bivouac and headed back into the rugged terrain. They disappeared from view, but Marcie could hear them as easily as if they were driving a jeep.
She shook her head and signaled for her team to slow down. Each warrior passed the order up the line. When they slowed further, the noise died down where an unenhanced human wouldn’t catch it.
Marcie was satisfied with the stealth, but concerned about the time as the false dawn started to light the sky.
***
Ramses took the straight approach to the objective. He figured that the shorter distance they had to travel, the better off they would be. He had his team traveling deliberately from the start. He took frequent breaks and kept them fresh. He knew by midnight that they would make it that night.
He settled his team in, one hour watches and let them rest, deciding that they would move during the day, extra slowly, but when they were fresh and then low crawl into position when everyone else could still see where they were going.
Ramses expected that being able to see would outweigh the risks as his people would be well-rested and alert.
Nomad’s Force – Snippet 8
Nomad’s Force
Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 9
Snippet 8
By Craig Martelle and Michael Anderle
I did a live reading on the THW FB page of this snippet, if you’d like to go that route follow the link below.
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UNEDITED
North Chicago
Kimber stood on her porch. Auburn was next to her with his arm wrapped around her waist. “I love having you home,” he told her.
“I love being home, Auburn,” she replied, cupping his face in her hands. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned and dialed in her vision, counting on her nanocytes to give her an extra boost, to see a little more clearly at long distance.
She saw nothing out of place. The cattle wandered and grazed through the area where she thought she saw a movement. She was convinced someone was there.
“What are you looking at?” Auburn asked.
“I thought I saw something, but I guess not. What’s for dinner? I’m starved!” she told him.
They went inside together where Auburn had steak and potatoes ready to cook over an outdoor fire. “Your appetite has tripled since you came back,” Auburn noted.
“It’s the nanocytes. They require a lot of energy. More food. More energy. I’ve been asking for as much as they’ll give. As long as I eat, they’ll give me that and a little more. It’s weird, because I feel the same, but like me on my best days, but every day is like that,” she tried to explain.
He smiled and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just making small talk. There’s so much I want to tell you during the day, but when you’re here, none of that really matters. I want to experience life with you, and we don’t need to say anything to do that.” Auburn turned away as he was getting emotional. He had always tried to be the strong one in the relationship, even though Kim came to him as the complete package.
She hadn’t needed his manliness before, but he couldn’t change who he was, just like she couldn’t change who she was.
“I’m going to run out back for a bit. I want to check on something,” Kim told him. She left their cabin and started to run, increasing to enhanced speed. She jumped in stride, easily clearing a four-foot tall fence. She hit the ground with a thud and continued pounding her way into the pasture.
She dodged cow pies as if running through a minefield, then slowed as she approached the area where she’d seen the movement. Once up close, the hide site was obvious.
“Get the fuck out of there,” she ordered. The two warriors reluctantly got up and brushed themselves off. They had bushes tied to them to break up their outlines, but they hadn’t refreshed the foliage. Theirs was the only greenery in the area that had started to die.
Kimber ripped a chunk off and showed it to them.
“This was a great spot until that!” she declared, pointing at the brown and holding it against the green of the surround small bushes. “Close but no cigar, gentlemen. Damn! You stink.”
“This channel acts as a sluice. I can’t say I’m sorry to get out of it,” the younger of the two said.
“A sluice, huh? Let me guess. You grew up on a farm and you,” she pointed to the older of the two, “and you did not.”
The young man nodded.
“And this is where none of us are as smart as all of us. Work together. Get yourselves cleaned up and then get back here and find a different hide site.” She leaned close to them and looked around before whispering. “I won’t tell anyone I found you, if you don’t.”
The two nodded and ran for the fence, climbed over it, and disappeared into the woods. She couldn’t fault their motivation. Training was about identifying deficiencies, correcting them, and getting better with each new session.
They had two more days to prove themselves.
Kimber was most impressed by their base level of training. The four new team leaders assumed it would take months. After the first couple days, she revised her timeline to no more than a month. She expected the others had come to the same conclusion. Since Kae, Marcie, and Ramses already knew their squads, they could focus their training on new procedures, and the team leaders needed to learn how to integrate their enhanced capabilities.
The training was as much for them as it was for the new teams. Learning to work as a team was a constant challenge, as Kimber had just seen. It was too easy for the older or more experienced person to take over, discounting the opinion of someone junior.
Kimber strolled through the pasture. A couple cows came up to her, looking for a handout. “I have nothing for you,” she told them as she scratched their foreheads. She wondered if her ranch days were forever behind her.
She could lie to herself and say that someday she’d be back, but with her enhancements, she would live hundreds of years. She’d fought her calling for as long as she could, but her home was with the FDG, just like the rest of her family.
She slowly climbed over the fence and headed for the cabin, unsure of what to tell Auburn.
__________________________
We Will Build Audiobook Release!
We Will Build
By Michael Anderle
Book 8 in the Kurtherian Gambit Universe, We Will Build is now available as an audiobook!
Terry Henry Walton Short Story
Wednesday Terry Henry Walton Short Story
The World According to Clovis
So many people! I love people! the dog thought. Hear me roar in joy!
The coonhound puppy barked and barked until he was picked up.
Wow! I sing the song of my people and someone picks me up! Look at that food! I love being picked up!
“Shh, little puppy. Look at those big eyes. Who’s a good boy?” said a woman with blue eyes and a silver streak in her otherwise black hair.
Who? I have to know! Who’s a good boy? Clovis asked, whimpering, engrossed in anticipation. Ooh. Have to pee. Ah, all better now. Where were we?
“Clovis!” the pretty young woman said, holding the puppy at arm’s length as she looked at the wet spot on her pants leg.
Wow! Look at that sammich. That little boy has a sammich. Put me down!Clovis thought. Almost in response. He was set gently on the ground. He bolted like greased lightning.
At least that’s what he thought as he stumbled and tripped his way to the proffered sandwich. With one superdog leap, he cleared the final blades of grass. His dog mouth wrapped around the sandwich and his terrifying assault ripped it from the young boy’s grip. The child started to cry.
Clovis gulped the sandwich down. Sammich and play! I love people. An older woman started to chase him and he ran, dodging under a table, among chairs, and between legs until she gave up.
“Shoo, you mangy cur!”
Another dog! Where’d you come from? Clovis growled and snapped, prancing back and forth in challenge to his fellow canine. The wolf bitch raised a paw and smacked the puppy on the head.
Ow! Clovis cried and started to whimper. What did you do that for?
Go away, she told him.
I want to be big like you! Clovis said, happy once again, the surprise and pain of being on the wrong end of a wolf’s paw long forgotten.
“Clovis!” the pretty young woman called. The dog looked around, but couldn’t see her. When he turned back he had to dodge out of the way as the wolf tried to pee on him.
Hey! Clovis squatted and peed in the same spot, to add his mark to the wolf’s stench
“What did you get into?” Clovis looked back to see two hands wrap around his sides and pick him up. Her round human face came close and sniffed. His tongue lashed out and caught her nose. She tickled his nose back. He liked her. Clovis licked her fingers. He tasted jerky. Which reminded him. He was hungry.
***
Clovis thought the ledge had been lower. He’d always jumped onto it without issue, but it just seemed higher today. “Come on, boy,” the tall and dark-skinned man called. He was heading to the barn where he kept some of the cows. It used to be fun chasing the cows, but then the human… all the yelling …it was still worth it. After getting kicked, Clovis decided that maybe his humans were right.
He panted as he loped after the man. It was just them while the others were gone. Did they leave yesterday? Maybe months ago? Clovis couldn’t remember. The females had their work and the males had their manly work. Clovis chose the manly work, in the pasture, with the cows.
Auburn looked at Clovis’s graying face. “We need to build you a ramp, don’t we old boy?” he asked. Clovis cocked his head one way, and then the other. He wasn’t sure what the man was saying, but he talked all the time. Clovis listened because it was his job. The female had said so.
The barn was packed with cattle. Auburn moved them to clear the way so he could get past. Clovis stayed on his heels.
“It’s about time, isn’t it girl?” he asked the cow struggling with labor. Crimson was there, Alabama’s boy. He had been there all along and whistled as she got close. Auburn wanted to be there at the birth, just in case. Crimson was still training. He hadn’t seen it all yet.
Clovis stared at the process. He stood mouth slack as he watched. He’d seen it before, but it always amazed him how big cows could poop out baby cows. Clovis always looked and sniffed at his, wondering why he never produced a puppy. He figured that he wasn’t eating the right stuff.
Auburn was relaxed and calm which made Clovis calm. The calf was born without issues, and the big man cleared the way so they could leave. They didn’t go to the house, though, but the stable where the human hitched the horse to their cart. He waved for Clovis to jump in, but it was too high.
Clovis whimpered. I’ll just run alongside, if that’s okay, he thought.
“You ride up here with me!” the nice man said, getting down to pick Clovis up and put him up front.
I can see the whole world from up here! he exclaimed as he sat on the padded bench next to the human. The ride was fraught with danger and adventure as Clovis imagined crazed beasts attacking from all sides. He barked at them as the man rubbed his back and held him close.
The cart rolled into the main community of North Chicago and Clovis’s favorite spot, the park where there were always other dogs and people. Children mostly. He loved the children.
When the cart stopped, Clovis leaned over the edge to jump down.
“Hang on, boy,” the man said kindly. He got down first and walked around, where he could get a good grip and lower the old coonhound to the ground. Clovis wagged his tail furiously. He loped away, looking for something to eat, until he heard a voice.
The musical voice of the one with glowing blue eyes. He hoped she had some jerky. She did last time he saw her. Was that yesterday? It didn’t matter, even yesterday was forever long ago.
He saw her! There with the others. My whole pack. Holy crap! He ran toward them, reveling in his speed. He leapt for her. A big man stepped in the way and caught Clovis. “Hey buddy!” Terry said, holding Clovis close.
Terry leaned close to Cordelia so Clovis could lick her face. “When are you going to train this dog?”
Find out more about Craig Martelle, his books, and his life in Alaska at http://www.craigmartelle.com