Nomad Mortis Giveaway!
You aren’t going to believe this!
If you haven’t picked up your copy of Nomad Mortis – give this a try:) I’m giving away 50 free copies of Nomad Mortis! I’m sorry, but Amazon only lets me do US-only giveaways.
Terry’s war against the Forsaken drags on until he finds that the elusive Mister Smith has been playing chess while TH had been playing football. Where there’s one Forsaken, there’s more. When one falls, another rises to take its place. Will Terry Henry Walton’s war against the Forsaken ever end?
Please share far and wide and thank you all!
https://giveaway.amazon.com/p/84adae3b7ff5e8e6
Kneel or Die Audiobook!
We have a new AUDIOBOOK!
Kneel or Die: The Kurtherian Gambit, Book 7
The future just went upside down, when a nascent AI is added against Bethany Anne’s wishes. Then, there is David and his issues to take care of, permanently. Bethany Anne has had it with terrorists. Not encumbered with law, she seeks only justice for those who were killed in France. New members are added to the team as they continue their efforts to reach for the stars.
Nomad Mortis – SNIPPET 5
Nomad Mortis: Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 8
Nomad Mortis – SNIPPET 05
UNEDITED
Terry Henry Walton Chronicles, Book 8
By Craige Martell and Michael Anderle
“Pull that into place, lame ass!” Shonna growled as she struggled with the oversized valve. Merrit was trying to loosen a bracket to align the pipe to the flange.
“Fuck off! The pipe is warped and the shit isn’t cooperating,” Merrit shot back.
“There’s only one stupid fucker here who isn’t cooperating.” Shonna glared at her mate.
Ted strolled in, looked for a moment, then walked twenty yards down the line where he cranked three times on a jack supporting the pipe’s elbow. The end in Merrit’s hand dropped and slid into the flange.
Merrit grunted an apology as he clamped the two ends together to prepare them for welding.
Terry waited out of the way until the cursing and glaring was finished.
“Pack up. We need to go,” Terry told them.
Shonna slowly turned and fixed him with an angry stare. “No. Can. Do,” she said, emphasizing each word. Terry raised his eyebrows. She raised hers in response.
“Sorry, hon. Duty calls,” Merrit apologized as he set his tools on the floor and hurried away without looking at Shonna. He motioned with his head that Terry should follow.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the sounds of the power plant.
“Run!” Merrit yelled as he bolted for the door. Terry didn’t question it. At least he was able to get one of the two. If there were only three Werewolves where they were going, they would have plenty of horsepower. He had forgotten to send for Gene, but figured Char found him. She was the alpha and this was her mission.
Terry stopped when he reached the jeep, but Merrit had already raced past and was running down the road. Terry started the jeep. When he looked at the power plant, Shonna was there, watching. He waved and smiled.
She reared back and hiked a wrench in his direction. He floored it just in time. The wrench clanged off the roll bar behind his head.
Terry spun the tires as he aimed the jeep’s nose toward the road. He gunned it until he caught up with Merrit. “What in the fuck did you do, and how in the holy hell did I get roped into your mess?” Terry called as he was even with the Werewolf.
Merrit motioned, and Terry slowed. Merrit hopped in when his pace matched.
“Whew! That was a close one.” He laughed and slapped Terry on the shoulder.
“If she’s still mad at me after we get back, I’ll beat the snot out of you,” Terry grumbled.
“She’ll be fine. I want to get a dog, and it went downhill from there,” Merrit explained.
“It better be fine, because if she throws another wrench at me, I’m beating both of your asses!” Terry kept his eyes forward to watch the road.
It was two miles from the power plant to the new barracks and landing zone. Terry made the return drive in less than three minutes.
When he pulled up to the LZ, Char, Sue, and Timmons were waiting. He left the jeep on the old road between the barracks and the athletic fields. “Did we lose somebody?” Terry asked.
“They went to get Gene,” Char replied. “Didn’t you go for more?”
“Merrit has issues. I thought it best not to bring both of them. Together. In the same vehicle. Anywhere near me,” Terry explained ambiguously.
Char gave Merrit the stink eye.
“They’re in cahoots,” Terry said out the side of his mouth. Terry covered his ears.
With one last glare, Char headed for the pod. The others followed.
Together the four opened the pod which was sitting next to the materiel that would be used to build the hangar.
“Don’t you have something to do with that?” Terry asked, looking at Timmons.
“Sure, but I’ll wait until Shonna is in a better mood,” he answered, looking purposely at Merrit.
“You knew, and you let me go up there? I almost got a wrench in the head, thank you very much.”
Char looked at all of them. “Shut your mutton holes and listen up!” she ordered, glowering. “We’re going after the three Weres we sensed in Kentucky. The pack has gotten too small and we have to grow. The war on the Forsaken is going to take all we have and then some.”
Terry wanted to ratchet up the operations tempo. Removing the Forsaken as a threat to humanity would take more of a physical presence than the FDG currently had. Besides adding warriors, he knew it was even more important to add Weres.
What better to fight in the Unknown World than those who made it their home?
The FDG’s human warriors were important in dealing with the Forsaken’s minions, the slaves, and the supporting cast. The warriors could be equipped and trained to fight the Were folk, the Forsaken, and the enhanced. As long as the FDG had numbers and firepower, along with a certain amount of silver, they would always be a force to be reckoned with.
Terry thought of the FDG as a force of nature. Their determination gave them an edge. Their leadership was far superior to anything the Forsaken could manage. Leading through fear wouldn’t bring out the best. Terry only put others in charge of his people who lived up to the same standards as he did.
Honor. Courage. Commitment.
Military words from a long time past, but they still applied. Justice never went out of vogue, not for Terry Henry Walton.
Integrity in all things. Integrity first.
Terry looked away as he didn’t want anyone to see him questioning himself, wondering about his motivations. Kirkus made him angry, but was he unleashing his anger in a healthy direction? His moral compass guided them all.
Char was with him as she didn’t want to relive that day. She was angry, too, murderously so. They were all on edge.
Shonna had thrown a wrench at him. That wasn’t about a dog. It was about Terry Henry Walton and his moral compass, always demanding something from the pack.
But it was their purpose to follow the alpha. He probably should have stopped the jeep and dragged her out of the plant. Members of the pack couldn’t be allowed to be so belligerent.
And he was angry all over again. “I’ll deal with Shonna personally when we get back,” Terry snarled. Timmons raised his hands in surrender. He wasn’t going to get in the way of an attitude adjustment.
To connect with Craig Martelle and to see his other books: http://www.craigmartelle.com
Snippet 4 – Nomad Mortis
Nomad Mortis: Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 8
UNEDITED
Nomad Mortis – SNIPPET 04
Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 8
by Craig Martelle and Michael Anderle
The Forsaken looked at the dirt covering his brethren’s clothes. The other had traveled hard, running through the night, finding cover for the daytime, then doing it all over again.
He brought news of life and death.
“The hellspawn known as Terry Henry Walton descended on Los Angeles using Kurtherian technology. Only I escaped because I was in the city, enjoying a late-night snack. I was returning when I saw it all go down. They hunted our people like animals! How could they? Are we not superior?” the Forsaken asked.
“We have heard of this one. He isn’t completely human. He’s surrounded by Weres and the true hellspawn, the Queen’s Bitch. Alone, we can’t fight them and this is why they are successful,” the Forsaken replied, stroking his chin in thought. He sat on a heavily padded recliner, leaning back, looking relaxed.
The newly arrived was agitated. He’d just lost his friends and traveled hundreds of miles to deliver the information to one who only seemed intent on his own power.
He should not have been surprised.
“Mr. Smith! I came to you because you are the most powerful of our kind that I know of. What can you do about Walton?” the Forsaken pleaded.
“I am doing what needs to be done, collecting information and building a plan. When the plan is complete and the time is right, we’ll take care of this pseudo-human and his pets. You really should put your fear in a dark closet somewhere and lock it away. It is not a good look on you,” Mr. Smith replied.
“But what do we do?” the Forsaken cried, his voice an octave higher than it should have been. He’d left the remnants of his world behind, only to find that his new situation was no better.
Something would have to change before he could get back to an acceptable status quo. He had been someone back in LA, but here, he was back to being nobody.
He sighed heavily as he tried to tolerate his new role, hoping to be given the opportunity to work his way up.
“What can I do to help?” the Forsaken asked of Mr. Smith, putting proper deference in his tone.
Mr. Smith smiled at the groveling, fawning refugee. The Forsaken would find something for his newest addition to do.
Check out Craig Martelle and his other books at http://www.craigmartelle.com
The Expanding Universe, Volume 2!
The Expanding Universe, Volume 2
More stories from Michael’s collaborators!
With stories from Scott Paul, Craig Martelle, Amy DuBoff, J.L. Hendricks, M.D. Cooper, and so many more, how can you miss? Over 1200 Kindle pages. Twenty-three talented authors. Twenty-three remarkable stories. One incredible science fiction collection.
The Expanding Universe, Volume 2 is now available, exclusive to Amazon, always FREE on Kindle Unlimited.
Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Short Story!
Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Short Story Wednesday!
Twenty-five years ago, Joseph had excused himself and gone to sleep. He woke four years later, refreshed and famished. When he showed up in North Chicago, he discovered the growth and general happiness of the people. They had not welcomed him freely, but they hadn’t shunned him either.
He found Terry and Char and the youngster called Cordelia. She had a wolf’s ears but also a sparkling personality.
Terry had greeted Joseph like an old friend. “You asked us to have a cow ready for you. We can do that. Load up, Joseph!” They took the dune buggy and with Joseph standing inside the vehicle, hanging onto the roll cage, they headed out, leaving the town and traveling the rough roads of what used to be residential streets.
They continued west for a few miles before Joseph smelled the burgeoning stockyards. When they drove up, Joseph saw the sign–‘Weathers and Sons Prime Beef.’
He smiled to himself. Labels. Even in the world after the fall, they still had labels.
“I suspect that this is the best beef around?” Joseph asked. Terry laughed fully.
“You would suspect right,” Terry answered, slowing as the dune buggy bounced over the cattle guard.
An old man working on the side of the road motioned for Terry to stop.
“Hey, Lester! How’s it hanging?” Terry called out.
“See, Betty? See? I didn’t do nothing, and this young whipper-snapper is making trouble!” the old man claimed. He turned back to Terry Henry and gave him the finger. “You can suck my ass, young man!”
Char’s purple eyes grew huge and started to glow as she looked at her young daughter. Char climbed from the dune buggy and stalked toward the old man. He raised a shovel as if he was going to hit the tall and beautiful Werewolf.
She ripped the shovel from his hands and threw it away. She grabbed his ear as if he were a small child and dragged him to the dune buggy.
Joseph watched in good humor, not saying anything because he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a Char tirade. He’d already been there, and it hadn’t turned out well for him.
“Apologize this instant, Lester, you curmudgeonly old bastard!” She forced his face close to the dune buggy.
“I’m sorry young miss. I didn’t see you there,” he stammered.
Cory leaned out of the dune buggy, took his face in both her hands and kissed him on the forehead. His features melted into a smile.
“I’ll make sure nothing like that ever happens again, princess,” he said in an old, but tender voice.
He bowed, nodded to Char, and walked away to retrieve his shovel. Betty was happy that she didn’t have to give Lester the big hairy what-for. She hurried to the dune buggy before it drove off and gave Char and Cory hugs.
“Don’t mind him,” she said, shaking her head and smiling warmly. “Thank you for all you’ve done for us. It’s nice living among people again and not being afraid.”
She waved as Terry drove toward the large barn. Joseph was hungry, and he could smell the warm blood.
Visit Craig Martelle’s website at http://www.craigmartelle.com
Storm Raiders – Snippet 4
Final Snippet for Storm Raiders!
Storm Raiders: Storms of Magic Book 1
UNEDITED
By PT Hylton and Michael Anderle
Abbey carried another armload of helmets to the cart at the front of the shop. All of them were crafted in the popular style with the bit of metal that extended down over the nose. Abbey never liked that style. It seemed to her the metal would obstruct vision on the battlefield, and if you couldn’t see in a battle, what good were you? The Storm Captains kept ordering them, though, so maybe things played out differently in battles than she imagined.
Not that she’d ever find out. No Storm Captain would ever hire her, no matter her skill with a sword. It wasn’t that she was a woman; in Holdgate, men and women alike were expected to be trained in the ways of war. But she was an Arcadian, an outsider from the rich, soft south. That disqualified her from employment on a ship.
She put the helmets into the cart and then walked back to the rear of the shop where Benjamin was hammering a piece of iron into shape, humming a happy tune as he worked.
He’d been in a pleasant mood since her sword fight with Olaf an hour earlier. They had both been. Abbey knew there was nothing that put Benjamin in a good mood like watching her do what she did best.
Benjamin set down his hammer and inspected the iron. He glanced at the forge, then, instead of walking over to it, he raised his right hand. His eyes turned black, and a fireball the size of an apple appeared, floating a few inches above his hand. He held the fireball to the iron.
“You know, if you worked as hard at learning my other lessons as you do at the sword, you’d be quite the magician by now.”
Abbey sighed. This again. He was always trying to get her to practice his form of magic. “If it comes to a fight, I prefer a sword.”
It wasn’t that she couldn’t do any magic. She could create a fireball, though she couldn’t control it with the finesse her father was demonstrating now. She could move objects with her magic. She could even make her sword glow with a terrifying green flame if she really concentrated. But she didn’t enjoy the way it made her feel. It drained her somehow.
But that wasn’t the primary reason she didn’t focus on developing her magic skills.
She was enough of an outsider already. Her father’s form of physical magic was so different than the storm magic used here in Holdgate. The last thing she wanted was another thing to make her different.
She respected her father’s skill. He’d trained under some of the best magicians in the world at the Academy in Arcadia, and the things he could do left her in awe, even after growing up with him. But admiration was quite different than the dedication it would take to master those skills herself.
Benjamin held the fireball in his left hand and picked up the hammer with his right. As the fire heated the iron, he began working it with the hammer. He spoke over the clang of the metal. “Swordplay and magic aren’t that different.”
Abbey gathered another armload of helmets and headed toward the cart. “Really? You could have fooled me. One of those things lets me beat up smug bullies, and the other turns my eyeballs black.”
“They both require focus. They both channel your anger into physical force.” He set the hammer down and dispelled the fireball. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bit of magic behind some of those sword strikes at the end of the fight.”
She paused. “Hang on, are you accusing me of cheating?”
“Not at all. When you know how to use magic, sometimes it comes out in unexpected ways. It was the same with your mother. She didn’t have any formal training, just a few tricks her uncle showed her, yet her magic manifested itself when she didn’t mean for it to happen.”
Abbey felt her cheeks growing hot. “Olaf has the skill of a boar. If you’re saying I couldn’t beat that idiot without magic—”
“I’m not. I’m just saying that he’s much stronger than you, and you were batting his sword away like he was a child at the end there.” He gave her a serious look. “Abbey, magic is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s part of you, same as your skill with a sword. If a bit of it comes out in a fight, that’s not cheating. It’s using every tool you have to win.”
She started toward the cart again. “I still say I didn’t use magic. I could have beaten Olaf with one hand, let alone without magic.
“Fine,” her father said with a smile. “What do I know? I’m just a graduate of the Academy in Arcadia. Chancellor Adrien himself once complimented by magitech work. But I’m sure you know better.”
“Trust me, Dad, around here that isn’t something to brag about.”
****
Abbey pushed the cart through the streets of Holdgate. Every bump in the road made the helmets loudly clank together, and there were plenty of bumps. It felt good to be out of the shop. The sun shone brightly in the clear sky, warming her as she walked. It was summer, which in Holdgate meant long days. Abbey tried to cherish these times of abundant sunlight. Things would be different in the winter, when the sun only showed itself for a few short hours, and even that did little to stave off the bitter cold.
The streets were crowded, and Abbey had to weave her cart around the people milling about. A fair number of the stormships were in the harbor, as were many of the hunters and fishermen who rarely came to the city. They were all there for the festival.
Still, Abbey kept moving. Captain Stephen was waiting for these helmets, and in Holdgate, it was never a good idea to keep a Storm Captain waiting.
Sick of the crowd in the street, Abbey cut down an alley. She headed toward the beach, hoping to find more space to guide her cart down under the docks where there would be fewer tourists. From there, it would be a straight shot to Captain Roy’s ship.
She pushed her cart along the beach. The rocky ground was even worse here, and she had to keep a firm grip on her cart to keep it from toppling over. But it was still worth it to get away from the crowd. Some might have said it wasn’t a good idea for a young woman to be walking alone under the shadowy docks, especially on a festival day, but Abbey had her sword on her hip. She wasn’t worried. If someone wanted trouble, she’d be more than happy to give it to them.
The sea seemed especially rough this afternoon, especially for such a day when the wind was so calm. She looked out at the choppy water… and she saw something. No, not something. Someone.
She let go of her cart and walked toward the water, squinting to be sure she saw correctly. After a moment, she was sure. It was a man. He was a good one hundred and fifty yards from shore.
It wasn’t uncommon to see someone swimming in the ocean, even though the water was freezing year around. Holdgatesmen were always challenging each other to demonstrations of manliness, and that often included ill-advised swims. But this man appeared to be struggling. He wasn’t making much progress. If anything, he appeared to be losing ground.
Abbey watched for a long moment as the man struggled. He dipped under the water, then his head reappeared. He was above water for only a moment before he went under again, this time for longer than before.
He’s not going to make it, Abbey realized. She had to do something.
She warily glanced at the choppy water. She was a good swimmer, but if she tried to swim out there, all she’d do was end up drowning them both. But there was no way she was letting this guy drown, either. As much as she didn’t want to, she had to use another way to save him.
Remembering what her father had taught her, she moved her hands in a complicated pattern and concentrated her energy on the drowning man. Her eyes turned black, and the magic began to flow out of her.
Moving objects with her mind didn’t come easily to her, and this man was so far away. Still, she didn’t let doubt creep in. She focused on the man and drawing him to her. She didn’t need the magic to carry him completely; she just needed to give him enough of a boost that he wouldn’t drown.
His head appeared above water again, and the man began moving toward shore. He swam through the water, each stroke taking him much farther than it should have. It was as if Abbey had him on a line and was reeling him toward the shore with her magic.
The man cut through the choppy waves, and in only a few minutes, he was dragging himself up onto the shore. Abbey recognized him—it was Dustin.
When she was a child, most of the other kids had shunned her. No one wanted to play with the weird Arcadian kid who always smelled like the blacksmith shop, a distinctive combination of coal smoke and burnt honey—a product of the beeswax her father applied to his metalwork. Dustin had been the rare exception. They’d spent long hours running through the streets together, getting into all sorts of trouble. For five years, Dustin had been a fixture in her father’s shop, stopping by nearly every day to play with Abbey.
All that had changed when he got accepted as an apprentice Storm Caller. For the first couple years, he’d simply been too busy to hang out with her. But somewhere along the way, he’d seemingly realized it wasn’t a good idea for a Storm Caller to socialize with an outsider like Abbey. The last couple times she’d seen him in the street, he hadn’t even returned her nod of greeting. Some friend.
Abbey walked to the edge of the water and held out her hand. “You all right?”
Dustin tried to stand and stumbled forward.
Abbey realized she was still pulling him forward with her magic. The poor guy looked terribly confused. He looked up at Abbey, and his face went pale as he saw her eyes. He’d spent enough time in Benjamin’s shop to know that black eyes meant magic.
“What did you do?” There was anger in his voice.
She stopped pulling him forward, and her eyes returned to normal. “Um, I saved your damned life. Maybe the phrase you’re looking for is thank you?”
“Get out of here before someone sees you,” he hissed. “You’ll ruin everything!”
She was stunned. It’s not like she’d been expecting a hug or anything, but a little gratitude would have been nice. She was half tempted to use her magic to push him back out to sea.
His eyes softened a little before he spoke again. “Look, I’m not trying to be a dick, but seriously. You have to go.”
He was looking past her at something down the beach. She followed his gaze and saw a group of men approaching. She didn’t recognize all of them, but there were a few she knew all too well. Dustin’s master, Harald, was among them. These men were Storm Callers.
Abbey realized what this was—it was Dustin’s Testing.
They were standing in the shadows under a dock, so there was a chance the men hadn’t spotted her yet. She glanced back to Dustin. He was already on his feet, running toward them.
Abbey’s eyes turned black again, and she reached out with one more bit of magic.
Dustin stumbled and fell forward, landing on his face in the sand in full sight of the Storm Callers.
“Serves you right, asshole.” Abbey stifled a chuckle andwent back to her cart.
There we have it. Abbey and Dustin have no idea about the trouble they’re about to land in, and the lengths they’ll have to go to in their fight for justice.
The book will be out VERY soon. In the meantime, follow the Facebook Page, and check out the Rise of Magic books by Chris, Lee, and Michael and Shades of Light by Justin and Michael.
To find out more about PT Hylton and his books: http://www.pthylton.com
Nomad Mortis – Snippet 3
Nomad Mortis: Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 8
UNEDITED
Nomad Mortis – SNIPPET 03
Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 8
by Craig Martelle and Michael Anderle
Cory jumped back in. “So it’s settled. Joseph and I will talk with the next Forsaken before you whip out your blade,” she said accusingly. Terry was instantly angry. Cory hadn’t seen what he’d gone through at Kirkus’s hands, what the Forsaken had done to the survivors of Cheyenne Mountain.
Terry’s daughter was a pure heart, a pure soul. He couldn’t stay angry with her for long.
Joseph played with the blade at his side. Akio had originally intended to give the Mameluke, a Marine officer’s sword to Terry Henry, but decided to give it to Joseph after the Forsaken’s actions within Mammoth Cave. Terry was okay with that as he preferred the shorter cavalry blade. It didn’t catch on as much of his other gear as a longer blade would, even though there was a certain attraction to carrying a Marine’s sword.
Joseph caught Terry looking at it. He slid the sword free of its stainless steel scabbard and handed it, pommel-first to the colonel.
Terry took it, turning it over in his hands. He looked down its edge, appreciating the coloring that only Damascus blades had. He checked the edge with a thumb. Joseph was keeping it well-honed. Terry smiled appreciatively. It was engraved. “United States Marine Corps” with filigree etched lightly in the surface.
“Take care of that. It’s one of the best that the world has to offer,” Terry stated.
“Trade you? I’m not a big sword guy,” Joseph offered.
“But mine fits better with my gear,” Terry replied.
“Wear it across your back and be done with it. You know you want it.” Joseph started undoing the scabbard. He replaced the sword and held it out to Terry while pointing at the cavalry sword.
“Are you ever going to fight someone using your sword?” Terry asked.
“You know me. What do you think?” Joseph quipped. No, Joseph was never going to start a sword fight.
“Since you’re not going to use it,” Terry replied, quickly undoing his belt and removing the shorter sword. He handed it over and took the Mameluke almost reverently.
Akio had been right when he thought that Terry would fall in love with the sword. Terry carried it in his left hand, grip forward for a quick and easy pull. He shook Joseph’s hand.
Cory put her fists on her hips and glared. When Terry finally noticed her, he knew he was in trouble.
“What?” It wasn’t really a question. Thirty years with Cory’s mother, and he knew the stance well. “I’m sorry, Cory. I didn’t mean it, and I won’t do it again. Honestly!”
“Didn’t mean what?” she asked through pursed lips. His preemptive generic apology had fallen flat. He shook his head and held up one hand in surrender.
“You hijacked my conversation with your drinking buddy!” She declared, stomping one foot and crossing her arms.
“I thought we were done. You and Joseph tell the Forsaken that they should trust me before I kill them.”
“Is that all you heard? You are impossible!” Cory stormed away.
“That’s what I heard,” Joseph whispered.
“I heard that!” Cory yelled over her shoulder.
To discover more about Craig Martelle and his life in the 49th state: http://www.craigmartelle.com
Storm Riders – New Cover and Snippet!
Storm Riders
It’s been a bit since the last snippet, but there’s a good reason for that. We have been working on a new and even more awesome cover. Check it out!
Storm Riders – Snippet 3
UNEDITED
Storms of Magic Book 1
PT Hylton and Michael Anderle
“This is a day you’ll long remember, boy.” The old man gripped the staff lodged into the notch in the fore section of the small boat.
Dustin muttered a semi-polite response that he hoped wouldn’t encourage any more conversation. In truth, looking at this man made him sad. Maybe the old guy had been a Master Storm Caller once, but those days were long past. Now, his eyes were dyed a permanent pale blue-green, and he barely seemed able to conjure enough wind to fill this pathetic craft’s tiny sail. Once, he’d conjured fog, and storms, and lightning to battle Barskall Warriors. Now, he was consigned to ferrying young apprentices out to Testing Rock.
Dustin looked away from the old man. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now.
In a few short hours, he’d be a full-fledged Storm Caller. He’d trade in his skinny little apprentice’s staff for a thick, twisted staff carved from old wood. He’d earn his place on a stormship. If all went well, he’d soon be going into battle, defending the world from the Barskall. But first, he had to pass the test.
“Ah, there she is.” The old man pointed a crooked finger at a rock jutting from the sea a few hundred years ahead. “Many men have been made on that rock. Many have been broken, too.”
“It’ll take more than a rock and a few waves to break me.” Dustin figured if the old man wasn’t going to shut up, he might as well talk to him. Maybe it would help quell his unexpected nerves. “The rock’s what? Half a mile from shore? I’ve been swimming farther than that since before I was ten.”
The old man shot him a stern look over his shoulder. “Underestimate the sea at your peril. She’s a fickle mistress.”
Dustin stifled a laugh. Despite the nerves, he was confident in his chances. He’d stand on the Testing Rock while a Storm Caller brought on choppy waves. All he had to do was calm the sea and swim to shore. If he made it back alive, he’d pass the test.
He was twenty years old and had been training for this for the last twelve.
From his first day as a Storm Caller’s apprentice, he’d performed better than his peers. He had a natural connection with the sea. He always had ever since his father—a fisherman—had taken him on a two-day voyage when he was barely old enough to walk. His friends struggled for years to conjure even a bit of light fog; a task Dustin accomplished in his first three months. He didn’t understand why it was so difficult for them. He simply touched his staff to seawater, asked, and the sea answered.
Not that it had all been easy. He’d struggled mightily with dispersing weather after he’d conjured it, but he was getting better at that, too. Now, even before he was officially named a Storm Caller, his eyes were already taking on the vibrant blue-green hue of the sea.
Some of his fellow apprentices had already passed this test, and if they could make it, he was confident he would, too.
Dustin wasn’t one to downplay his natural abilities, but he wasn’t one to flaunt them, either. Most days, he enjoyed using his skills to help the other apprentices grow theirs. But today he had to flaunt his skills. That was the whole point of the Testing.
The old man glanced back at him again, as if reading his thoughts. “Would you like a bit of advice from one who’s passed the test?”
Dustin glared at the man, his patience finally at the breaking point. “I highly doubt there’s anything you could say that would help at this stage. I’ve been training for this for twelve years. I don’t want anything else in my head messing me up right now. I need to focus.”
The old man turned back to the sea ahead of them. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
“I meant no offense. But the tests were different in your day. Storm Callers weren’t as powerful.” His master, Harald, had told him all about the old days when Storm Callers were still learning how to commune with the sea effectively to call forth storms. Today’s Storm Caller was a different breed. The best of them were able to call down lightning that could hit a ship a quarter mile away.
The old man sighed. “It’s true. We had much to learn in my day. Perhaps that’s why I kept an open mind, unlike some in this boat. I always kept learning and never thought I was too good to listen to the advice of my betters.”
Dustin didn’t dignify that with a response. If this old man thought he was Dustin’s better just because he’d been a Storm Caller once, he was dumber than Dustin thought. Dustin would be Master Storm Caller of the fleet one day. The old man should have spent the trip befriending him instead of berating him. “Can we just go the rest of the way in silence? I need to concentrate.”
“Of course,” the old man said.
They reached the rock a few minutes later. It was smaller than Dustin had expected. Two full grown men couldn’t have stood side-by-side on it. Dustin was going to have trouble staying up there all by himself.
The skiff pulled alongside the rock, and Dustin hauled himself onto it. He stood up and held out his hand. The old man passed him the apprentice’s staff. Whatever the result of the Testing, this would be the last time Dustin would use it. He was to leave it on Testing Rock when he swam for shore. When high tide came in, it would be carried out to sea.
Dustin stared back at the shore. He knew it was only half a mile, but it looked much farther. “Do you know who my Storm Caller is?”
An apprentice wasn’t allowed to know what Storm Caller they’d be facing in their Testing. Dustin assumed the old man wouldn’t know, but it was worth a try.
The old man smiled up at him, revealing a large gap where his front teeth had once been. “I certainly do. It’s me.”
Dustin blinked hard, confused.
The old man appeared to be standing a bit straighter now. “You have until I return to shore to prepare yourself. I suggest you spend the time wisely.” He closed his eyes for just a moment, and a strong wind filled his sail, sending his skiff gliding back the way they’d come.
The old man turned back and yelled over his shoulder as he sped away. “If you’d been nice to me, I might have gone easy on you. Since you weren’t… Well, I hope you’re a good swimmer.”
Dustin swallowed hard as the skiff raced toward shore.
****
Dustin gripped his staff and jammed it down into the hole in the rock, so it touched seawater. Full Storm Caller staffs were longer, many nearly eight feet tall so they could be placed in the notch in the bow of stormships that exposed them to the exterior of the ship and the spray of seawater. His current apprentice staff was shorter—only about six feet, slightly shorter than he was. Sunk into the hole in Testing Rock, it only reached his waist.
He could see in the distance that the old man was almost back to shore now. It would begin soon.
He gripped his staff and moved into a wide stance that would allow him to keep his balance once the waves started crashing against him. He talked to himself quietly while he waited. “Come on; you can do this. You were made for this. He’s just an old man. You’re a Storm Caller of the future. Okay, so maybe he’s faced Barskall Warriors, and maybe he’s led troops into battle. Big deal. He’s old.”
The words seemed hollow even as he spoke them. The man was a Storm Caller, and Dustin had foolishly mouthed off to him. Now, he was going to pay the price.
There was nothing he could do about that now. The only thing he could do was prepare. He closed his eyes and centered himself.
“The sea is my ally.”
He reached out, not with his hands or even his mind, but with something deeper. With his spirit. He gently touched the sea and began the wordless conversation that was storm magic.
The old man was right about one thing: the sea was a fickle mistress. She couldn’t be forced to do anything. Even asking outright was often fruitless. She had to be coaxed. Dustin needed to take the energy flowing through the sea for its own purposes, ask to borrow just a little of it, and then gently reshape it. It was a bit like riding a wild horse—it took a combination of gentleness, firmness, and the wisdom to know when to use each of them.
He felt the power of the sea thrumming up through his staff and into his hands now. He was connected. He was ready.
On the shore, he saw the old man appear on the wall that overlooked the sea. The top of the wall had a trough filled with seawater, Dustin knew, so Storm Callers could touch their staff to the water, thus allowing them access to storm magic for defense of the city. The old man stood still for a long moment, both hands on his staff, and then the sky began to darken.
Waves started to crash against the rock as the previously gentle swells around Dustin grew into angry waves. He felt a momentary surge of panic but quickly pushed it away. What he needed was a calm mind and spirit.
The waves were crashing over the rock now, slamming into him with a cold, wet force. It was all he could do keep his grip on his staff. He risked a look up at the wall and saw the old man was walking away. Dustin breathed a sigh of relief. It was bad, but since the old man was leaving, it wouldn’t get any worse. He’d conjured the storm, and it was up to Dustin to dispel it so he could swim safely back to shore.
He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. It was so chaotic. The noise, the way his body shivered as the wind whistled past him, the slippery feel of his staff. He tried to get hold of the sea’s energy as he had so many times before, but that felt chaotic, too. He silently asked the sea—begged it, really—to give him control, but it seemed to be listening to a louder voice.
He worked for over an hour, struggling in vain to get the sea under control. Every time he thought he was starting to get it under control, it slipped away from him, and the waves seemed to slam against his rock with renewed fury.
His master, Harald, talked about how the great Storm Callers had a breakthrough during their Testing. How they left Testing Rock with a strengthened connection to the sea. Dustin kept waiting for the moment, but it wasn’t happening. Worse still, the tide was beginning to rise. If he didn’t figure out something soon, Testing Rock would be underwater.
He had to act now.
Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on emptying himself of ego and conscious thought. He put everything he had left into one more attempt. Reaching out with his spirit, pleading with the sea to let him shape it.
To his utter surprise, this time there was a response. The familiar power of the sea flowed through him, and he went to work. He shaped the energy in his mind, smoothing it, dispersing it to calm the waves.
A gust of wind hit him, and he momentarily lost his grip on his staff. It was only his left hand that slipped, but it was enough. His concentration was broken, and the power he’d felt a moment ago was gone.
“Damn it all to hell!” he yelled into the wind. But as he opened his eyes, he saw the sea was much calmer than it had been only a few minutes ago. He hadn’t calmed it completely, but he’d certainly improved his situation.
He watched the swelling waves as he considered what to do. It was beyond idiotic to attempt swimming a half mile in this choppy sea, but what choice did he have? If he waited much longer, the rock would be under water anyway.
He carefully removed his staff from the water hole and placed it on the rock. It had been with him for twelve years, but he couldn’t use it anymore. If he made it back to land alive, he’d be a Storm Caller. If he didn’t… Well, there probably wasn’t much use for a staff in the afterlife.
He took a deep breath and dove into the water to begin the swim to Holdgate.
To find out more about PT Hylton and his other books go to http://www.pthylton.com
Tales of the Republic by M. G. Herron!
Introducing M. G. Herron!
We’d like the Kurtherian Gambit Universe to meet M. G. Herron. Matt’s a friend and member of the 20booksto50k Facebook group, and the author of Tales of the Republic, a sci-fi action thriller releasing today.
If the blurb below interests you, click the link at the bottom to check out Tales of the Republic
TALES OF THE REPUBLIC
Kai Ming, a troubled politician, is entrusted with the country’s only hope of ending the famine that decimated the population. Po Li, a scrappy farm girl, battles to be reunited with her sister after rebel insurgents tear them apart. And Ari Klokov, a soldier, wakes in an underground prison with strange biotech in his head and no memory of the last twelve years.
Thrown together in the chaos and united by a fierce love for their country, Ming, Ari, and Po have to cross the mad riots, outsmart the hawkish Senator Khan, and overcome Felix Hull and his tenacious rebels who wage war in the streets of the blasted city.
Learning to trust each other is a start, but it won’t be enough. Their resistance pits them against ruthless leaders on both sides who harbor designs on the halls of power. Ming, Ari, and Po need to stop them to survive, but every opportunity has a cost–and this one must be paid for in bodies and blood.
***
Tales of the Republic is a sci-fi action thriller by bestselling author M.G. Herron. Originally written and serialized in 7 parts, this book collects all parts into a complete, standalone novel.
What readers are saying:
“Herron conjures a stark view of the future with unexpected twists.” – Amazon Reviewer
“There is hope, but the action is dark and brutal.” – Amazon Revieweron