I know, it's Thursday. But I've had no internet, or phone, for two days!

In the last back story excerpt, Cale had a family, a wife and daughter. In the current Storm of Arranon series, Cale has no real family. He considers Erynn, Sean, and Tiar his extended family. But this is back story, ideas, plots, and scenes that didn’t make it into the final draft.

Amara stood at a short, clean white counter, a shattered dish at her feet. Worry sharpened the creases around her narrowed green eyes as she glared at the open cupboard.
Cale slipped his arms around her slim waist, buried his nose in her shiny silver hair, and inhaled her sweet scent. “What’s wrong?” he whispered into her ear.
Turning in his grasp, Amara threw her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck. “I miss you already,” she whispered, her soft voice further muffled by the thick flight suit.
Cale leaned back, cupping her cherished face in his hands. She gazed up at him, and for a moment, the anxiety was gone from her expression. His breath caught just as it had the first time he saw her.
So beautiful.
He smoothed her soft hair with his fingertips, and smiled.
Amara’s light green eyes glistened, and her brow furrowed. “Promise me you’ll be careful, that you’ll come back to me.” Apprehension returned, descending like clouds pressed from a storm, masking her light.
His voice came out low, husky. “I’ll be back. I always come back.”
***
A young man hurried to catch Cale as he strode through the hangar bay. Heavy boots and a thick jumpsuit made the man’s tall form appear awkward and lumbering as he approached. “General Athru, your ship is ready on the pad.”
Cale slowed. “Was my request approved?”
“We received confirmation from Korin this morning, General. You’re to meet with Captain Erynn Yager tomorrow, fifteen hundred Korin time. Your conference with Commanding General Damon Yager will be scheduled after you arrive.”
Cale smiled and nodded.
Good, I’ll soon know about Erynn Yager, and if she is like me—special.
“Thank you, Stanik.”
The young man stopped, his attention drawn to a technician refitting a fighter with a new strut support. “No, adjust the tension before you set the pressure.” His voice drifted away as he hurried over to point out the tech’s error.
A cold wind whistled through the one open hangar door, the sun’s intensity doing little to warm the chilling gusts.
Cale stepped from the cavernous bay to the open, windswept landing pad nature had carved out of the gray granite mountainside. Air, biting and sharp, greeted him. It mingled with the sweet, spicy scent of the expansive forest. Brilliant sunshine from a clear blue sky reflected off a fresh dusting of snow. He gazed out over the majestic beauty of the gentle inclines below the niche, squinting against the glare.
Cale turned from the view and performed a quick external examination of the small, angular craft, his helmet dangling by a strap held in a gloved hand. Inside, he began the familiar pre-flight inspection. The wind buffeted the ship. Gusts swirled, changing directions after slamming against the cliff face.
The changes he’d noticed, sensed, coming from Arranon and Korin were more serious than variations in the weather, or the season. New faces filled positions of power, including posts advising top authority figures.
Not as many on Arranon. Korin seems to be the focal point of this influx.
Arranon warned him of a very real threat. Nightmares troubled his sleep. In the dreams, forests burned. Smoke covered immense areas pushed by the wind. Animals huddled in the few remaining habitable woods, their food sources nearly depleted. Strange, alien machines tore at the ground, ripping massive holes, gutting Arranon. His people were dying. He would wake, sweating, a scream caught in his throat, the rest of the night lost to his frantic thoughts.
Premonitions with images of Arranon in ruins plagued his days. He saw Korin as well, used up, an empty hulk cast aside—dead. A legion of immense power was taking control, hidden in plain sight, spreading, contaminating the purity of his world, of both worlds. But no cry of alarm came from Korin. He knew he must act, no matter the consequences. He would take his insights to Korin and hope someone would listen, someone in power, someone like Commanding General Yager.
Will Damon’s daughter understand the danger and join me in this cause?
Alerted to the troubling changes the people of Arranon believed in the danger. Plans began—strategies took form, the momentum picking up. But without solid proof, Cale could only warn those on Korin without accusing and calling unwanted attention to himself, increasing his risk.
It is my responsibility to try to unite those uncorrupted against this anonymous enemy.
Arranon cried out to him.
I will not refuse.
A voice resonated through the confines of the ship. “You’re cleared for take-off, General.”
“Copy.” Cale closed his eyes. Bright points of purple, blue, and green firelight danced beneath his lids. Musical voices sang through his mind and filled the cabin with a sweet, spicy aroma. “I’ll do my best,” he whispered, and opened his eyes. He powered the engines, the whine building into a roar. Electric blue tendrils raced down his arms, tingled, swirled around his gloved hands and disappeared into the fabric. He pulled back on the throttle. Power defied the strength of Arranon’s gravity, and the craft lifted. With a smooth acceleration, the small ship shot into the bright blue sky.