The Advance Guard

By Don Martinez

Over the course of history, a team of four supernatural agents has been assembled for a Black Ops team unlike any other.

The Guardsman: Ageless paladin knight.
Cyrus Salem: Immortal shrinking wizard.
Kitty Lazarus: Woman warrior in a cat's body.
Ariel Vibria: Modern dragon with a tortured soul.

Both separately and together, these agents will face down an enemy of immense evil, with the fate of the world possibly in the balance, rising above their differences and individual traumas and coming together to face Sheol, a demonic matriarch hiding within one of the holiest sites in Europe.

Each agent has his own concerns. Is being the Guardsman worth the sacrifice of childhood Ken Sharpe made to be the paladin? Will Cyrus continue to shrink throughout history? What purpose does the Hindu god Durga have for Kitty? What will happen if the secretive government project that produced Ariel comes to search for their missing experiment?

Do they have a chance against Sheol?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Don Martinez
• Release date: Feb 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465943682

Don Martinez

The son of two 20-year Navy vets, Don A. Martinez spent much of his formative years around the Pacific Rim before settling in the continental U.S., first in Michigan and New York before finally reaching Texas.He has been writing all his life, getting his start in elementary school as a two-time Young Authors selection in Oak Harbor, Washington. He holds a Bachelor of Arts degree in Writing and a Master of Arts degree in English from SUNY-College at Buffalo (Buffalo State College), where his academic focus was mythology and folklore, particularly how it is applied in modern storytelling.Currently, he lives with his wife and four cats in northeast Texas, where he works as a college writing professor.

Book preview

The Advance Guard

A Modern Heroic Mythology for a Post 9/11 World

Don A. Martinez

Smashwords Edition

Desert Coyote Productions

Scotts Valley, California

Text other than quoted material © 2009 by Don A. Martinez.

Cover design © 2009 by Don A. Martinez.

Characters and situations TM and © 2009 Desert Coyote Productions.

Advance Guard/Phantom Squadron Publishing Rights © Don A. Martinez.

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

First edition 2009.

Second edition 2011. Available in print at most on-line retailers.

Smashwords edition 2012.

~~~~

Author’s Notes on Version 2.5 (Smashwords)

In the time since the first publication of The Advance Guard, I’ve learned a great deal about the publishing business. Particularly from a writer’s perspective, and what’s expected of a writer, I’ve learned an immense amount. So I can now say with no small amount of embarrassment that when I first brought out the book in September of 2009, I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

Layouts were wrong. Huge gaps of negative space appeared in the final version. Blocks of text would randomly disappear because the printer couldn’t handle foreign characters. The cover looked like something a nine-year-old threw up in a 20-year-old graphics program. What I produced, what I was so proud of, is a publication that I would now drop-kick down my toilet, were I producing it with the knowledge that I have today.

So I decided that the time has come to make a more professional Advance Guard, the better to cater to my now-growing readership. If you previously saw the original, fear not: the entire story is here, every little tidbit about the origins of CIBO #A13. There’s just been a little bit of prodding, tweaking, and improvement over the classic.

For those of you who are reading this book after Dinétah Dragon, you’ll be especially interested in chapters 16-20, which go into further detail about Ariel meeting with Ken Sharpe, and chapters 21-25 entail the team’s first mission. To give some perspective, these ten chapters in The Advance Guard line up to Dinétah Dragon chapters Ten (Salvation), Eleven (Symbiosis), Twelve (Family Figures), and the first half of Thirteen (Austria). You may think you know the story, but indeed all you have from the other book is Ariel’s perspective on the events. This time you’re going to get the entire picture.

At this time, I’d like to give some additional acknowledgments for those who have influenced the production of this volume, not the least of which being the fine folks of the East Texas Writers’ Association, who have been very helpful in terms of teaching me what the difference is between being a writer and an author. Further acknowledgement has to go to all of you, the readers, who have discovered me via Goodreads.com, those of you who befriended or became fans of me and placed my books on your shelves. There’s very few things that an author can ask for, and you’ve given me one great one: an audience. I appreciate every single one of you, and all your friendship and feedback. Finally, and certainly not least of all, thanks and praise and love go to my lovely wife Stacey and our cats Lilo, Stitch, Leroy, and Cobra Bubbles (notice a pattern?), who not only make life a lot more interesting, they give me a reason to create, and provide the inspirational spark in my life.

Thank you, and enjoy this new and improved Advance Guard!

Don A. Martinez

February 2012

To Edna,

who gave me the ability to write

To Alexander,

who gave me the storyteller’s touch

To Joanne,

who granted me my sense of patriotism

To Stacey,

my muse who keeps it all in line

To all of you who impact my life,

I dedicate the fruits of my labors.

Contents

The Guardsman

I

II

III

IV

V

Cyrus

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

Kitty

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

Ariel

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

Phantom Squadron

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

XXV

"I am your friend and my love for you goes deep. There is nothing I can give you which you have not got, but there is much, very much, that, while I cannot give it, you can take. No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in today. Take heaven! No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present little instant. Take peace! The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy."

-- Fra Giovanni Giocondo

"Fight ever on: this earthly stuff if used God’s way will be enough. Face to the firing line o friend fight out life’s battle to the end. One soldier, when the fight was red, threw down his broken sword and fled. Another snatched it, won the day, with what his comrade flung away."

-- Edwin Markham

"Our demons are our own limitations, which shut us off from the realization of the ubiquity of the spirit … each of these demons is conquered in a vision quest."

-- Joseph Campbell

The Advance Guard

The Guardsman

"We did not choose to be the guardians of the gate, but there is no one else."

-- Lyndon B. Johnson

I

The sun was high, but that was not making his heart any lighter. The muscular man in the Army uniform took steady steps as he approached the white picket fence, his breaths coming quickly.

The bundle under his arm threatened to fall out of its protective wrapping. Why was it so heavy now?

A slightly rusty gate impeded his progress. He pushed it gently. The loud creak heralded his entry into the lawn; a softer moan announced the gate’s closure. His feet felt the grass through his shoes’ soles, the ground giving way underneath every footstep. He checked the bundle one last time, then stepped on the porch and rang the doorbell.

A slim housewife, rubbing her hands on a dish towel, opened the door. Hey, Jeff, come on in.

Good morning, Eunice. Jeff kicked the dirt off of his highly polished uniform shoes before stepping into the house. Warm smells of food greeted him as he entered the kitchen. A little early to be cooking dinner, isn’t it?

Eunice shrugged. There’s a church potluck tonight. We need lots of food there, you know how that goes.

Jeff nodded. Say, is Kenny here, or is he playing with his friends?

The woman jabbed an elbow toward the wall. He’s in the den, watching TV.

Jeff nodded, readjusting the package under his arm. Eunice finally noticed it. Jeff, what have you got?

He gave the woman a quizzical glance then looked down. Oh, it’s nothing. I have to give this to Kenny, that’s all.

Eunice tapped her shoe on the linoleum floor. Now Jeff, you know …

I made my decision, I talked it over with everyone in the family.

The woman sighed, returning to the work of peeling potatoes in the kitchen sink. Well all right, if you insist. She suddenly turned around and brandished her potato peeler at Jeff. But so help me, if you take him away from me before the right time, I’ll find new and creative ways to hurt you.

Jeff simply cleared his throat, his eyes giving the newly-purposeful woman a nervous expression. Just as suddenly, she cupped her hand around her mouth.

Kenny, honey, your Uncle Jeff is here to see you.

The sound of scampering feet made its way to the kitchen, until the source revealed himself in the doorway. The little boy rushed up to Jeff, laughing.

Uncle Jeff! Uncle Jeff!

Jeff could not help himself, and started laughing as well. Kenny Sharpe, let me look at you …

Jeff held the boy at arm’s length. Kenny was a lanky, slender boy, much like his mother. Dusty blond hair topped his head, its bowl cut making a floppy mess over his forehead. On this sunny summer day, he wore a striped shirt and dark blue shorts.

Jeff also noticed one thing out of place: the boy wore an oversized wristwatch, one Jeff recognized as having belonged to Kenny’s father.

Have you grown another inch? You look almost tall enough to enlist.

Kenny grinned. You know I hafta wait for that!

Well, don’t stay outside for too long, or you’ll get picked up by the draft board.

Eunice chuckled at that comment. Why don’t you two strapping men go outside?

Jeff smiled. That’s a great idea. Come on, Kenny, I have something to show you.

The boy quickly took his uncle’s hand, following the man out the door.

The back yard of the house had a tire swing, dangling from a lazy-leaning oak tree. Kenny quickly climbed into the tire and started rocking his legs, looking over at the man in the Army uniform.

Kenny, do you remember your dad at all?

Jeff’s question prompted a thoughtful expression on Kenny’s face. A little bit. I remember his uniform, just like yours. I remember he drove me to school when I was in kindergarten. I have pictures of him.

Jeff nodded. Kenny, I have a secret to tell you. It’s a secret I shared with your father. You know what we do with secrets, right?

Kenny nodded. We don’t tell anybody. We keep them right here. The boy patted his chest.

Good, that’s what I like to hear. Listen, I have to give you something today. I don’t want you to show it to anybody, got it?

The boy nodded. Jeff took a deep breath, steeling himself for the moment of revelation. He took the bundle out from under his arm and held it out to the boy.

This used to be mine. It’s yours now.

Kenny climbed down from the tire swing and approached the man. He took the bundle in his arms. Can I open it?

You sure can, kid. Just be careful.

The boy took his time. Kenny pulled gently at the tape holding the package shut, until it finally gave way. Setting the package down, because it was getting heavy, the boy carefully tore a seam down the center of the butcher paper.

A gasp suddenly came from the little boy as he finally saw his gift. Jeff smiled. The boy squatted down and lifted up his new prize: a long, very old looking sword. The sword was taller than Kenny himself was, and so heavy he needed two hands to hold it vertically in front of him. Sheathed in a hard leather scabbard, the blade was nearly as wide as both of Kenny’s hands put together. A flimsy looking belt was sewn to the scabbard, with a tarnished brass buckle. At the handle of the sword was a wide, exaggerated finger guard with a name inscribed into its gold surface: SHARPE.

The boy looked at his uncle in confusion. This is mine?

Yes it is. Now Kenny, you can’t play with it right away, but eventually you will be able to use it much like I did in the war.

Do I hafta be in the Army to use it?

Jeff chuckled. No, you don’t actually have to be in the Army. He crouched down next to the boy. I want you to touch it, right here. Okay?

Jeff pointed at the finger guard, at the center of where it had been engraved. Kenny obediently lifted his hand and placed two of his fingers on the A.

He was at the 48th Parallel, facing down enemy fire. Communist forces approached from all sides, but were knocked aside as quickly as they came.

He was on the beach at Normandy, blade swinging wildly. Nazis approached, but could not withstand the force of his attacks.

He was sprinting down the hillside at Manassas, the trumpets blaring behind him. Confederates left and right were cut down by the Sword and its bearer.

He was leaping across ship decks at Trafalgar. Admiral Nelson’s orders were almost lost in the din, but through the smoke he could see the French being knocked down.

Kenny staggered backward, collapsing as he released the Sword and let it fall. His breathing shallow, his face pale and coated with sweat, he looked up at Jeff.

What happened?

Jeff was quickly at the boy’s side, patting down his forehead with a handkerchief. What did you see?

Kenny looked up at him. "I saw