“Don’t forget sorcerers, conjurers, and illusionists,” Dirk said.
David smiled. “We can trust Jerriel to sort it all out. She’s a natural teacher and instructor. I need to be the same for my fighters.”
“Have a good time training the troops,” Dirk told him. “I know you enjoy working with the other fighters and warriors. What, about two hours more today on the practice fields?”
“Yeah, probably. If I get my lazy butt over there.”
“Good. Jerriel’s class should be done about that time. You can go home for dinner tonight, together. Did you hear there’s a big dance at the Morris Theater tonight? You know how Belle likes to dance.”
David smiled. “Then we should see you both there.” Jerriel loved to dance as well, and David didn’t know what was better: watching her move and dance, or dancing with her. Each was fantastic in its own way.
Dirk went on talking and David snapped out of his daydream.
“I have to go around and tour the fort construction around town. We’re creating guard towers and hard points. We even have plans for a few strategic forts, walls, and castles. Some of our current structures lend themselves to that, with a little modification.”
David said, “I’d like to see more of that.”
Dirk grinned and clapped him on the shoulders. “You will. You and your troops will still have guard duty around town. Get used to it.”
“Can’t wait.” He checked his watch. “Gotta go. The troops are waiting for me. See you, Dirk.”
David was walking back to the practice fields when voices shouted out to him eagerly from somewhere nearby.
“David…David Pritchard! Thank God, we’ve found you at last!”
He turned and held up his hand over his eyes to shield himself from the bright glare of the sunlight.
A handful of Blackhawk guards led what appeared to be a young man and woman, all dressed in patchwork militia armor and wearing battered lacrosse helmets and masks. They carried banged-up spears in their gloved hands, and hatchets in their canteen belts.
David couldn’t make out their faces.
When the man and woman got close enough, they tossed their spears down to either side and took off their helmets.
He looked at them both, and didn’t recognize either of them. “Do I know either of you?” David asked.
Both of them shook their heads. “You are Captain David Pritchard of the Blackhawks, right?”
“I am. Who are you?”
“Marie Purdy,” the woman said.
“And I’m John Wolper,” the man added. “We were in a magic glowing lake and somehow crossed over from the other side. Then we spoke to others here, and heard about you. Then we remembered the Pistolero talking about you as his friend.”
What were these people babbling about? Guns didn’t work anymore. “Who in the heck is the Pistolero?” David asked them
Marie Purdy jumped in. “Captain, he’s your friend, Mason Tyler, helping defend the other side. We worked with him.”
Mace was alive.
And there was another side.
David grinned and offered them his hands. “Well met, Marie and John. Come with me. It sounds like we have a lot to talk about.”
The End
Please enjoy this teaser from Mergeworld, Book Two:
Amazon Link: http://amzn.to/1neuq0x
MERGEWORLD
Book Two
Amazon Link: http://amzn.to/1neuq0x
by Mason Elliott and Garan R. R Faraday
“Several of the enemy mage prisoners have escaped,” a runner came to warn them. The young trooper looked terrified.
Mason drew his Spillers. They would have to be enough. After the bath, he didn’t have all of his other guns. And there wasn’t time to go after them.
It also worried him that he still felt–off his game, somehow. Something was still very wrong with him, but he couldn’t figure out what. Perhaps that was merely what sorrow and depression felt like.
Blondie shook the terrified runner. “Calm down. Tell me what you know. Which prisoners? How many of them?”
“S-six, six, I think. They tried to free the rest, but the guards on the scene shot two down. Then the enemy mages fled this way, and started killing everyone they could find with magic.”
Troops screamed, and close by to the west, magic blasts went off, and the sounds of battle and further bursts of magical rapidly sped their way.
The runner continued to stammer, “The tall n-n-necromancer is leading them. Five others. I don’t know their names. As soon as they broke out, the duty officer sent me after you two and the Thul woman.”
Blondie let the runner go. “Try to find the Thul. Go. Keep spreading the alarm.”
“Yes, s-sir!” The young runner looked only too happy to keep running.
“They’re coming for us, aren’t they, Blondie?” Mason asked, hefting his Spillers.
Blondie clenched both fists, and violet magefire flared up to his elbows. “Yep. Just like I said they would. How do you want to do this, Mace?”
“Hmmm…too many to hit them head on. Let’s go at them from the flanks. I’ll hit them on the left.”
His blond friend nodded. “Then I’ll take them on the right. The necromancer’s going to be the toughest of the lot. Let’s peel off the other five, if we can, and then take him on together.”
“Sounds good, Blondie. Let’s ride.”
They skirted around to either side, trying to stick to cover and stay out of sight. Mason quickly lost sight of his friend.
It did briefly occur to him that this would be an excellent time for Blondie to turn on them all, and help the mages make good their escape. But at this point, Mason had no choice but to keep trusting his good friend.
Blondie said that his abilities were returning.
He could tell them anything he wanted. How would they know if it was the truth or not?
From the sounds of things, the militia troops were putting up a pretty good fight and delaying the enemy at least somewhat. Each precious second they could hold them back, more troops would pour in.
Yet even as Mason got into position to attack, the enemy mages continued to push through, causing death and destruction all around them, and leaving many casualties in their wake.
Startled troops could slow the enemy down, but they would be hard pressed to stop six enemy mages bent on a rampage of devastation.
They were lucky that it wasn’t all thirteen of the mage captives on the loose.
At Blondie’s urging, Major Bill had spread several of the captive mages out to other nearby, secret locations–beyond the limited range of their prisoners’ telepathy.
Mason spotted the enemy. The necromancer strode out in front with another sorcerer. A pair of enemy wizards marched slightly behind them on either side, guarding their flanks and watching the rear.
Blondie stepped up and raked the enemy left and the middle with violet lightning that knocked four of the six off their feet, and stunned the two flankers.
The first flanker on the other side turned to attack Blondie. The second one raised his hands and his eyes got big when he saw the Pistolero step out and aim both of his pistols.
Click! Click!
Nothing. Mason’s guns wouldn’t fire. He cocked and pulled the triggers again.
Nothing.
By then the one mage was charging Blondie, exploding anything that was made of wood around him. He sent the shards and splinters and whirling debris at Blondie, while the necromancer and the other sorcerer still looked dazed and tried to regain their feet. And the mage facing Mason shot greenish-yellow flames out of his hands at all before him.
Mason dove out of the way, tucked and rolled out of sight, and then crouched and ran. The enemy wizard would be on him in seconds.
Finally he came to a building and ducked inside. He scrambled out of sight into an adjoining back storage room and ducked down. He tried his guns again. Still nothing. Why was this happening,? Now of all t
imes?
Blondie needed him out there.
Maybe if he reloaded. Yeah, that would do it.
Slowing his breathing, doing his best to stay calm, he broke out his spare cylinders for his guns and swapped them out. He was fast at it, but every second counted.
He went back out into the fight. As he expected, the fighting quickly turned Blondie’s way, and blasts of magic nearby showed where the foes were pursuing Blondie hard and blasting everything around him. Blondie fought back as best he could, but from what Mason could tell, his friend was outnumbered four to one.
He raced that way, not even trying to stay under cover this time. He had to catch up quickly, and take them from behind, if possible.
Mason sped around a building and almost slammed into the same enemy mage as before. This one seemed to be holding back and protecting the rear of the other three while they stalked Blondie.
Mason had intended to shoot them on sight, but he clobbered the mage from behind now that he was right on top of him. The mage grunted and dropped, unconscious.
Pistol-whipping worked better in this instance. Mason dragged the mage back out of sight and quickly gagged him, and bound his hands and ankles behind him.
At this distance, Mason would not have any trouble taking out the other three with one or two shots, once he spotted them again. And their spells gave them away when they fired. Hopefully, Blondie was staying ahead of them.
Mason rushed forward once more, spotted several troops closing in with bows and crossbows, and motioned for them to go around and close in from one side or the other.
Finally he spotted the necromancer and the one wizard, crouched down and making plans of some kind.
Mason took aim at them with both barrels.
Click. Click.
Crap, not again. What the hell was going on?
Even worse, the necromancer turned and locked eyes with him.
“There’s the other one. Let’s get him!” All of their hands glowed with magefire.
Mason turned and ran for it. Dark lightning and exploding ice covered the area he had just been in.
His foes were right after him. Archers tried to fire upon the mages, but they swept the troops away from their positions with blasts of power.
A stone or outcropping of brick caught the toe of Mason’s boot. He hurtled down upon his face, and tried to roll back up to his feet.
The third enemy mage stepped out right in front of Mason.
Now, the three of them had him fairly trapped.
“Kill him!” the necromancer roared.
The wizard still hesitated an instant. Then he prepared a spell, his hands beginning to glow brighter and brighter.
They were only a dozen or so feet away. Mason hurled his useless pistols at the wizard.
One missed as the fellow dodged to one side.
The other smacked him squarely in the face and dazed and bloodied him.
Mason expected to be cut down from behind by the other two enemies any second.
He glanced back just as the two stood ready to unleash their spells.
(Mergeworld Book Two link: http://amzn.to/1neuq0x )
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SF Author Mason Elliott’s Contact Information
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About the Author
Mason Elliott grew up loving Science Fiction and Fantasy in all of their myriad forms. That love has transferred into his dedicated writing. Like most writers he lives a spartan lifestyle and yearns to devote his life even more to his writing, and someday retire on the Pacific coast. So be a fan, buy his stuff, and enjoy!
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Fantasy Author Garan R. R. Faraday’s Contact Information
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About the Author
Garan Reginald Remington Faraday was fortunate to be the child of loving parents who adored all things Fantasy, and passed that love onto their son. It has been said by some, that with such a name, he was born to become a Fantasy writer. Garan, or ‘Reg’ to his closest friends, has written Fantasy stories since the 7th grade, and completed his first Fantasy Novel at the age of sixteen. If you enjoy anything Fantasy, you most likely have something in common with Garan. His lifelong dream has always been to publish as many Fantasy novels and stories as he possibly can.
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Mason’s Acknowledgements
This amazing collaboration to create this book has been a true labor of love. First, I must always thank the staff at High Mark Publishing Fantasy. Working with a virtual press has not only been a dream come true, but a complete joy.
Next and foremost, I must thank my fellow author, and long time writing group friend and life long pal. Reg, I know how much this book means to you, because I know how much it means
to me. I could not have written it with anyone else.
We are indeed boon companions through many high adventures, including our writing geek lives, none the least. I am honored, proud, and happy to be the co-author with you on your first published Fantasy novel. I am Gimli to your Legolas, and I know how much Fantasy means to you, as much as you know SF means to me. I know full well that this will be the first of many great works of Fantasy from you, because I have been fortunate to read them in our writer’s group for years in advance, and I am one of the blessed to know what is coming. And it is going to be amazing.
Reg, you are going to take the Fantasy World by storm, sword, fire and passion. And I will cheer you all the way. Mark my words, folks. You haven’t seen anything from this author yet! Reg has the heart and soul of an elf, the cunning mind of a wizard, the heart of a dragonlord, and I know for a fact that he secretly wishes that he had been born a Stark, with his own dire wolf. There isn’t anything about Fantasy that Reg doesn’t know about or adore.
And yes, as you will all soon see, he was most definitely born to be a Fantasy writer!
And finally, let me give a cheer to my own Shooting Stars, the real-life Melinda and Hannah, and thank my Beta readers and the rest of our wonderful writer’s group, as always.
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