Nomad Redeemed: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 2)

by Craig Martelle

  “But you loved him once,” Devlin stated, unsure of how the ex-husband thing worked.

  “Maybe I was given no choice in the matter. There are places on this planet where women are little more than a man’s property,” she replied, giving everyone a small peek into what it was like to be her.

  Terry clenched his fists in anger, furious at the injustice, but calmed as he knew that he would keep such things from his world and would prevent those under his influence from devolving.

  Again.

  Char continued, “We’ll be going tomorrow, so horses. You four, get six horses, four that you’ll ride, two to take as spares. I believe the Mongols invaded and conquered half the world by taking four horses for every warrior. We don’t have that luxury and we aren’t on a conquest, so two extras to pack gear should we find the colonel’s white whale. Mark! Establish the guard rotation and put the men in place. We will inspect your setup this afternoon. Is that understood?” She clapped her hands and waved the Force away.

  “Yes, sir,” Mark replied, locking his body at the position of attention. The others mirrored his position for an instant before running off. Mark and James corralled their designated people and pulled them close for private conversations.

  Terry looked sideways at Char. Where in the hell had that come from? In her previous life, had she served in the military? He didn’t know that, or hardly anything else, about her. He needed to find out, get her to talk more while he talked less.

  Char turned to him and asked, “What do you think, Mr. Colonel TH, sir?” She smiled as she tried to stifle a laugh.

  It wasn’t a game, but she played her role well. “I hope that man-mountain doesn’t return before tomorrow,” Terry told her. She stopped smiling and punched him in the stomach with a short jab. His gear protected him from most of it.

  He rolled into the punch, grabbing her arm as he continued downward, pulling her off-balance. Terry dove forward and twisted, throwing Char to the ground as he let go, hit, rolled, and came back to his feet. The ten members of the Force watched, wide-eyed.

  Char attacked, jumping into the air for a vicious roundhouse. Terry ducked it and dodged to the side, sweeping a leg past her. But he hadn’t put enough into it and kicked her leg, not enough to take it out from under her. She leaned forward and punched him in the back as he continued past.

  Terry stood and danced, shaking off the pain from Char’s last punch. The nanocytes kicked into overdrive as his natural adrenaline surged, sharpening his senses and hardening his body. Char continued in the attack, feigning and striking, left, right, high, low. Terry blocked most of the blows, but some got through, and he started to tire.

  Char went for the haymaker, choosing an axe-kick, a straight overhead kick bringing the heel down on the defender’s head to drive the person to the ground.

  But Terry wasn’t that tired. When her leg went up, he lunged forward, trapping her leg against her body. He lifted her and drove her body back and down, into the ground. He dropped to a knee and punched her repeatedly in the abdomen. She tried to backflip out of Terry’s hold, but he had her in place where she couldn’t get her leg under her.

  He called a halt, and she conceded. Char was faster and stronger, but she’d lost the bout. Terry was breathing hard and sore from the pounding he’d taken. Char flexed her mid-section, feeling the strain from TH’s flurry of punches that ended it.

  Terry turned to their impromptu audience, standing in amazement. “The man that could be coming is bigger and faster than either of us. Understand what you’re up against. Don’t be afraid, just be aware and know that if you ever go anywhere without your weapon, you will have no chance at all.”

  “What the fuck are you gawking at!” Char screamed. Half of the men jumped and the others cowered, but only for a moment before running away like rabbits.

  “Shall we, TH?” Char asked, grabbing Terry’s arm as they walked away. Clyde had been silent through it all. They wondered if he was okay. His head and tail hung as he walked. Terry stopped, kneeled, and looked at him. Bloodshot eyes, lids droopy.

  “You’re tired, aren’t you, buddy? Me, too, Clyde, me too.”

  Char laughed as she left the commiserating, tired old men and headed toward the mayor’s house. They needed to talk.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “We hunt, you worthless fucks,” Marcus growled. The pack wasn’t sure they could eat any more. Three elk in as many days, but Marcus’s appetite seemed insatiable. The only thing that lightened his mood was tracking and killing the largest of the bull elk. He reveled in fighting those with a rack and trying to defend themselves. Marcus unleashed his full rage upon the unwitting creatures.

  One more, then he’d take the whole pack into the human settlement and bring Char out of there one way or another; either she could walk out or they’d drag her carcass into the hills and dump it there.

  Marcus walked away from the pack, expecting them to follow, which they reluctantly did, grumbling the whole way. He dumped his clothes in the crook of a tree branch and shape-changed.

  The great, black Werewolf sniffed the air and reached out with his senses. There was something different coming from the mountains, something big and mean. Exactly what he wanted. He turned and angled away to stay downwind. He growled at the pack to remain behind and to keep quiet. Marcus slinked away, silent as the falling snow.

  He felt the bear coming and got into position. A worthy adversary. The bear raised up on his back legs and looked around, sniffing excessively. Marcus ruffled his hair, felt that the wind had changed. The bear could smell him.

  What matter?

  With a roar, he raced through the trees, singularly focused on the grizzly that waited up ahead. Marcus sped past the last tree and in two bounds, leapt, jaws open as he angled his muzzle toward the creature’s throat. The bear’s paw swiped, faster than the eye could see, and Marcus was thrown away, maimed by the bear’s claw, ribs exposed by the angry slash through the Werewolf’s fur.

  Marcus looked stupidly at the wound. The bear roared and dropped to all fours as it charged, turning the tables on the Werewolf. Marcus jumped straight in the air, turning to land on the grizzly’s back, but the bear’s jaws were faster and clamped on the Werewolf’s back leg, crushing the bone just above the back paw. The bear shook its head and threw Marcus to the side.

  He stood on three legs, suffering the real pain of a horrible wound along with the blow to his ego. The only time he feared for his life during a battle had been at the hands of a Forsaken, but that wasn’t a battle to the death, only to teach him a lesson. Marcus’s life had not been in jeopardy, but he hadn’t known that at the time.

  The bear circled, looking to press his advantage, then throwing caution to the wind, he charged. Marcus’s body was already healing itself. He’d eaten enough that his energy was at its peak.

  The bear thought he was wounded and vulnerable. Marcus let the bear get close, then dodged backward as the grizzly slapped a paw at him. The Werewolf darted forward and planted his jaws on the grizzly’s massive neck.

  The bear tried to throw Marcus off, but couldn’t reach him. The grizzly backed up and twisted his whole body around in a circle, lifting Marcus off the ground and swinging him wildly. But the Werewolf hung on, grinding his teeth in the flesh, trying to rip out the artery that fed the creature’s brain. With another swing, Marcus was thrown off, carrying a mouthful of the bear’s neck with him.

  Blood spurted in a long arc, then again. The bear shook its head, trying to clear its fading vision. It sat back, then tipped to the side and fell over. Its eyes glazed, surprised that it lost a fight to a lone wolf.

  Marcus staggered forward, his leg in agony and fire burning along his side. He howled to his victory, but it was weak, not his usual bellow. The pack slowly appeared and took positions around the bear. He wondered if they were going to rise up against him

  But no, even in his weakened state, they were afraid of him.

  He bit into the grizzly, tearing a
hunk of meat from its chest. He chewed slowly, but ran out of steam. He leaned against the grizzly, feeling the warmth of its fur, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  * * *

  “What in the fuck do you mean you’re leaving? Fuck no! FUCK NO!” Billy screamed almost hysterically.

  “Language, Billy dear,” Felicity cooed from the loveseat against the wall. His head whipped around, and he glared at her, almost feral.

  Fear did that to people. Billy thought Marcus would return. And Terry couldn’t convince him otherwise because he believed the Werewolf would be back.

  “Billy Spires, Mayor of New Boulder,” Terry started. “I’m leaving you with seven people and I’ve directed them to set up a twenty-four seven guard for you. They are to be armed at all times. With that kind of firepower, they’ll be able to hold Marcus off.” Terry had a hard time looking at Billy because he knew for a fact that his men and their rifles wouldn’t deter Marcus.

  Billy sat down heavily and slouched in his chair. He was adamantly opposed to his security chief leaving when such a threat was nearby.

  Char spoke, “He’s come for me, Billy. He doesn’t care about you or anything you have. He only cares that he’s lost his property. He wants what he considers to be his, and I can’t have that, but I also can’t have him tearing up this town to get to me. You need to trust me that he will know that I’ve left. He may follow us, will probably follow us, but we’ll lead him far away from here. That’s best for everyone, Billy.” Char was leaned forward, elbows on the table, looking intensely at the mayor as if trying to sway him with the power of her mind.

  Which Terry thought she could do. He didn’t interfere, because she was right. New Boulder would not survive an attack by the pack.

  * * *

  Mark considered for a second, “Twenty-four seven coverage. Twelve hour shifts. Nightwatch, you take the nights. We change after dawn and toward dusk. We’ll have a second watch change at noon and midnight. Twelve on, twelve off until the colonel returns, with one pair changing out every six hours,” Mark explained to the assembled group. He needed four people for his plan. He had seven at his disposal. He’d rotate people in and out and the three who weren’t active would train in firearms, physical fitness, tactical movement, and everything he’d learned in the two months of study under Terry Henry Walton.

  There was so much that he didn’t know, but committed to learning. He’d started taking notes, using an old pencil and a notebook that he’d found when surveying homes for the newcomers.

  “As the colonel said, none of us is as smart as all of us, so if you see something or think something, share it. Let’s find what works best.” Mark looked at those in his charge. He’d never been responsible for so many before. Once, he would have been drunk with power, but now, his goal was to not disappoint Terry. He gave his full attention to the mission.

  The mission.

  “The largest human being you’ll ever see could come this way, and then what do we do?” Mark asked.

  “Shoot him dead!” Boris suggested with a smile.

  “Maybe, but that’s not the first thing we do. What did the colonel teach us?” Mark asked, looking at Jim and Ivan.

  Jim shrugged. “He beat the crap out of me three times before I finally figured it out.”

  Ivan pointed to his crooked nose and misshaped lip. “He smashed my face in.”

  Mark held his head, then threw up his hands in frustration. “He gave us a chance. We fought him when he was willing to talk first. Had we discussed things, then we wouldn’t have gotten our asses handed to us. Again and again. So we’ll talk, but we have to be ready to fight. We’ll have two people awake and on shift at any point in time. The first who sees this man or any new person sounds the alarm and then stops that person to talk…”

  The seven of them practiced saying “stop, identify yourself and your purpose here!” Blackbeard was the most animated as he put himself into the role, imagining it was Sawyer Brown but with the roles reversed. Blackbeard was the one with the rifle, smaller, with power to kill at his fingertips.

  “Corporal?” Blackbeard asked, and Mark acknowledged him. The others turned, wondering. “When do we get our guns?”

  Guard duty was to start that night and only half his people were armed. “Which of you know about the AK-47?” Blackbeard was the only one who did not raise his hand. “We have a couple days to teach you all about your rifle and how to shoot, Blackie.” The young man looked disappointed

  “Nightwatch, you assume your shift after dinner. Go get some rack time. David, you start at midnight. Get yourself some sleep. The rest of us, we’re going to build a guard shack where I’ll sleep, so either I or Jim can be here all the time. That will give us three people to respond and we’ll have Billy to back us up, too. He’ll be watching from up there, just like he is now,” Mark said, pointing at the second-story window where Billy stood, leaning against the frame and looking out at the group of men who were his security.

  “Let’s make them proud. We stand between the unknown and the new world, where people can live their lives without interference from people like I used to be. That world sucked. I like this new place that Terry Henry, Char, I mean the colonel and major, and even Billy Spires are building. Can you imagine flipping a switch and having light and heat? We’re going to get there. All we have to do is stand guard, so we will stand guard better than anyone has ever done before, because it is what we must do.” Mark hesitated, then decided he’d lectured enough.

  He stayed with Blackie while Ivan and David found themselves a place to get some sleep. The other three went in search of materials to build a guard shack, a small building where they could put a cot and clean their weapons after being out in the weather.

  The young man looked at Mark with respect, eager and wanting to learn. Mark knew that he couldn’t let the young man down. It would have been like failing his own children, and that was how he felt about all of the men in his squad. Damn you, Terry Henry! I never wanted to be a dad, but here I am, me and my six kids.

  He finished his thought, And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “This is the AK-47. It is a magazine-fed automatic and semi-automatic weapon that fires a 7.62 by 39mm round…” he recited, pointing to the parts on the weapon as he talked.

  * * *

  “It feels good to be back in uniform. Wearing street clothes, I felt like a partisan or something,” Terry said casually as they walked toward Margie Rose’s house. He looked at Char in her skin-tight jeans. “How can you wear those?”

  “Well, TH. I wear them well,” she replied, one eyebrow raised, purple eyes sparkling.

  “It’s going to be a really long ride. We’ll be on those horses for weeks. And how are you going to be able to practice fighting while wearing them?”

  “Loose jeans or tight jeans will make a difference in how I sit in the saddle?” she asked sarcastically. “You understand that when I fight Marcus for real, I’ll be in my Were form?”

  Terry pursed his lips. He hadn’t considered that. “That changes things a bit. If you fight me as a Werewolf, can you keep yourself from killing me?”

  “Why would I want to kill you?” Char was confused.

  “I read books. In Harry Potter, the Werewolf wasn’t in control,” he countered, trying to keep it light while his mind worked on how to train a Werewolf in her natural state.

  Char stared at him, “Harry Potter? You mean to tell me that everything you know about Werewolves, you learned from Harry Potter?”

  “Not really. I’ve run across them before, but I don’t really know anything. So you are you, regardless of form,” Terry conceded. “Purple eyes and all.”

  “Exactly. Marcus is a great black Werewolf, huge jaws and unrivalled physical strength. I need to be faster, stay away from his mouth, get in behind him. I need to end the fight quickly.” She looked into the distance as she imagined how the battle would play out. Marcus trying to dominate her through brute force.

  But
he was fast, too. She needed to be faster.

  “We’re going to have to tell the others,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “I think so, because you are going to have to get in shape, work out as a Werewolf, run, build muscle, turn on a dime. Which means that we need to feed you well, too,” Terry said as his mind continued to work at the speed of light.

  “I will hunt for us all. In Were form, I’m a pretty good hunter, but you are right. I will need to eat a lot.”

  They continued walking back toward Margie Rose’s house in order to make sure the horses were ready for an early morning departure and that their bags were packed with everything they needed. They didn’t have much in the way of material goods. Terry thought he’d be able to talk Margie Rose into making some hard rolls for the group, at least for the first day. After that, they’d be on their own.

  “Silver,” Terry said out loud, as his mind raced on a new tangent. “If I can braid some silver into my whip, what would that do?”

  “Hurt like hell, leave a scar that would take a long time to heal. If you wrapped silver around his neck, he would have a hard time getting it off because it would hurt him to touch it,” she answered. “But then he’d simply attack and kill you in a way that your nanocytes won’t be able to save you.”

  “I figured that second part, but this would be a last resort kind of thing. I’m not going down without a fight. And if I’m fighting him with my bullwhip, then you’ve already lost. Maybe at that point he’ll be hurt badly enough that I can finish him, then we can see if your nanocytes can come to the rescue,” Terry suggested. “I can’t lose my major. That wouldn’t make me a very good colonel.”