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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Unlawful Passage – Snippet 1
Unlawful Passage, The Rise of Magic Book 5
By CM Raymond, LE Barbant, and Michael Anderle
Snippet 1
UNEDITED
Chapter 1
From their altitude, the strip of land dividing the two massive bodies of water appeared the size of Hannah’s middle finger. She laughed as the wind whipped through her hair and Sal’s scales rubbed against her thighs as she gripped him for dear life.
Between Hannah and the foreign ground below, floated the airship, which looked like a child’s toy from their altitude. They had been flying east on the ship, which Parker had taken to calling the Unlawful, for days on end. Ezekiel, as curious and coy as ever, had asked her and her friends to join him on an epic quest to save the Oracle, Lilith, and with her, all of Irth.
You know, no big deal.
She didn’t know much about what was waiting for them at their destination, but so far, the epic world-saving quest had consisted mostly of watching Laurel and Karl bicker on the deck of the ship while Parker and Hadley sought to one-up each other.
Hannah had come to love their flying home, but as she and Sal soared through the spotless blue sky, she was happy to put some space between her and it — at least for a second.
Gripping harder with her legs, she reached back and pulled her hair into a ponytail, before shouting the command.
“Dive, you lazy wretch,” she screamed at the dragon, her voice hardly winning over the howling air around them.
Sal tilted his head back toward Hannah, and shot his tongue out of his mouth and back in before snapping his body up toward the sun and whipping it around back toward the world below.
“Shit!” Hannah yelled as they picked up speed, plummeting downward to the strange land.
Arcadia was hundreds, if not thousands of miles behind them. Despite the fact that she had lived there her whole life, the city felt like a dream from her past.
Adrien was dead, the injustices that plagued her and her friends defeated. Hannah had assumed that once she avenged her brother, she would get a chance to relax. Live a normal life. But if the dragon under her was any indication, she would never experience anything close to normal ever again.
On days like this, she was absolutely fine with it.
As they descended, the land looked less and less like a child’s drawing and more like the real world. She craned her neck as they passed the airship, but they were moving far too quickly to catch a glimpse of her friends watching them in awe from the deck.
The ground was coming fast, making her grip more tightly. With Sal’s speed, she swore they could crash straight through and onto the other side.
“Sal?” she screamed, but her words were sucked out of her mouth by the wind which threatened to pull her from the dragon’s back. “Sal!” she tried again.
The blur of the world beneath took on detail, and she could see the ruins of a city, a place that would have been a major point of human dwelling before the Age of Madness. She screamed again, but this time, only in her mind. She felt her creature’s muscles tense in response. They were tied together, and he knew exactly what she was thinking, but he still dove.
Ruins of a tower, not unlike the one she and Ezekiel called their own, rushed past. The windows blurred into dark lines as the ground rose up to meet them. Hannah fought the urge to close her eyes, and at the last second, Sal shifted his body — his wings grabbing at the hot air which surrounded them.
Just before the impact that would have made them both splotches of flesh and blood on the remains of the street, he pulled out of the dive and drifted lazily between the ruins of the ancient city.
Hannah’s heart pounded. “Yeehaw!” she shouted into the quiet oblivion that surrounded her.
Sal slowed his flight, circled over a clearing between what remained of four ancient buildings, and settled down with a thump. His wings folded onto his back, and he glanced back at his master, beady eyes blinking in her direction.
Hannah laughed and slammed his side with an open palm. “You are one bad ass son of a bitch.”
He laid his jaw on the ground, allowing her to throw her leg over his head and dismount. As her feet hit solid ground, it took a second for her head to stop swimming. Looking back at Sal, she said, “OK, enough showing off. I won’t call you lazy ever again.”
She surveyed his body. Once the dragon was a common newt on the streets of Arcadia, but now he had grown to the size of the biggest carts that were used to haul amphoralds into the city from the Heights. But as far as she could tell, he hadn’t grown for a while. Which was good, considering their accommodations aboard the ship that once belonged to Adrien, the tyrant of Arcadia.
Maybe he had reached his peak.
Despite their closeness, there was so much she didn’t know about the dragon. Zeke, the most experienced person Hannah had ever met, claimed to never have seen magic quite like it. It’s part of what made Hannah so special.
She gave one more pat to Sal’s side before turning her attention to the ruins which surrounded her. The broken buildings loomed skyward on every side, and she felt strangely hedged in by them. She had never seen so many artifacts from the age before. Rubble was strewn out around her, but she could almost imagine the city, built by machines in a day long forgotten.
Now, little remained that could be called civil. But it was the silence, more so than the buildings themselves, that made her feel uneasy. It smothered her like a thick fog.
“You smell anything, boy?” she asked, glancing back at the dragon. He had already closed his eyes — and she could hear his faint snoring. In a minute, it would be a rumble. “I’ll take that as a no,” she said.
She turned her head back toward the airship, wondering if Ezekiel knew they had taken to the ground. He had warned her to stay in the air. Their mission was far too important to risk the dangers of the world beneath their flying fortress. But the airship was too boring. She had lived all her life in one place. To not look around seemed like a waste.
Even so, she hoped the old man was ignorant of their entrance into the city.
Before she could think about her mentor any further, a scream cut through the silence of the ruins. She jerked her head in the direction of its source as the sound reverberated around her.
Sal was awake in an instant, fully alert and staring at his master.
“Let’s go,” she grunted as she took off down the city street, dodging the rubble in her path. Sal followed, hot on her heels.
The scream resounded again. This time, the words were clear. “Help!” a shrill, high voice exclaimed.
Redemption – Snippet 2
Redemption, The Boris Chronicles Book 4
By Paul C. Middleton and Michael Anderle
Snippet 2
Unedited
Boris raised an eyebrow, then answered in a deceptive calm, “That was a consideration.” When Olaf went to interject Boris raised a hand and continued, “But it was far from the largest one. The largest one was far simpler – we know the other side you could run into has Alien weaponry. Either that or some form of Earth weapon I’ve never heard of. Whomever I would be sending to lead the southern force would be taking a shuttle to counter that. If you keep arguing with me I will send someone else. And the shuttle.”
“Besides, if such weaponry is used, you’ll be in the greatest danger.” Boris continued, pain in his voice. “You’ll have a backup command post, but if there is a weapon that can damage the shuttle, you’ll face the most danger.”
Olaf opened his mouth, then shut it. The stormy expression on his Father’s face told him the line had been drawn. He also hadn’t said the shuttle could only be used for command and control purposes.
It had a very capable sensor suite and had modifications to enable both etheric and radio transmissions.
Beyond that, he could use it to make several trips with extra equipment for the forward base, and scout the areas around the new base being made in the town that had been emptied.
Yes – He could make this work. First, he needed to prevent his father from realizing his plans. Hardening the mulish expression on his face, he turned on his heel and stormed from the room. He heard Boris mutter “I wish he hadn’t inherited his mother’s temper.”
A smile quirked his face as he thought ‘if only you knew I had some of her talent for deception as well, Father.’ He continued stomping down the hallway so as not to let his father in on that little secret.
Two thoughts remained floating in his head. First, what Father doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Secondly, Actions taken without orders were not actions taken against orders.
To find out more about Paul C. Middleton and his other books http://paulcmiddleton.arlockweb.com
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