Whispers of the Skyborne (Devices of War Book 3)
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Authors: S.M. Blooding
Tags: #Devices of War Trilogy, #Book 3
This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events within this book are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to business establishments, actual persons, or events is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Whistling Book Press
Denver, CO
Copyright © 2016 Whistling Books, LLC
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Printed in the United States of America
Cover Design by Ravven’s Glass
Formatted by Champagne Formats
Published by Whistling Book Press
Whistling Book Press
Denver, CO
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T
ABLE OF
C
ONTENTS
Other works by SM Blooding:
Devices of War Trilogy
Whiskey Witches (Paranormal Thriller)
The Dream Killers (Fairytale Adventure)
Season 1
Episode 1: Graveyard of Dreams
Short stories in anthologies:
Twice Upon a Time – Nightmare of Wonderland
Through the Rabbit Hole – The Looking Glass
Of Mist and Magic – Rumple Stilt-Skin
Dreamland Stories (Fairytale Romance)
The Dustman (free on Smashwords)
To the man I love with what had once been
a stone, cold heart.
You are my lover, my best friend.
I don’t know what you did,
but I can’t imagine life without you.
Jerk.
R
AIN BEAT AGAINST THE WINDOWPANES
of the cockpit of the
Khayal Layal.
Lightning flashed though the dark storm clouds metres in front of us. Boiling ocean waves surged below. Thunder rattled through the windowed dome, clattering the rows of controls. A metallic tang laced the air.
One of my crew let out a startled screech.
Three months ago, my family had died. My entire tribe. Thousands of people in a matter of moments. Their ships had fallen from the sky in burning pieces, hitting the ocean’s surface kilometres below.
Yet, in the months that had followed, no matter how hard I tried to hide from the world, people found me. Rogues. Dreamers. Rebels. Non-traditional thinkers. People who had been stripped of home and tribal protection. People who wanted to make a difference. People who wanted their lives to stand for something.
People willing to die.
In the past three months, the world had changed, shifted, morphed, until I no longer knew what I saw. Ino City, who had once ruled the Great Families, had gone into hiding. I worried for my sister. We’d wrestled control of the ruling city from my mother, but my sister hadn’t removed her from their home. With Ino City in hiding, did that herald the return of my mother in the seat of power? Would she reinstate the old ways? Would she destroy everything we’d worked so hard to build? Was my sister safe?
Had my mother exacted her revenge on me for ousting her? Had she been the one to destroy my tribe?
Without facts, I couldn’t worry about that, though. Today, we were testing the first of my new fleet to see if I’d succeeded. This wasn’t our first test, but I was hoping it would be our last. Today, she would be pushed. Harder. Faster. Higher. Further. I had to know where she would bend, where she would break, where she would hold.
The waves rose like reaching hands of death, rising higher as the seas surged. Still several metres away, there was little danger they would succeed in capturing my newest vessel.
Far on the horizon, a billowing ball of gold and green light breached the stormy waters. A
letharan
city, but a large one to be seen so well from so far away through this deluge.
The water tribes didn’t build boats. Well, not most of them. They’d discovered how to build great cities within the tentacles of jellyfish that we called
letharan.
These jellyfish were incredibly versatile, capable of surviving above the water’s surface, and within the darkest depths of the cavernous ocean floor.
“Is that Ino City?” Lash, my new and untested pilot, asked behind me.
There were only so many
letharan
cities of that size. Two, actually, that I knew of. Shankara and Ino. The first one was an enemy for sure, being the second largest of the Great Families. The latter possibly housed my sister who might or might not be in danger. “I don’t know.”
“Do we change course, my El’Asim?” Jamilah Al’Enezi, my second-in-command asked, her voice soft. She was one of the few remaining members of my tribe, and the only reason she was alive was because she had been visiting friends of another fleet. She was one of the few who dared approach me. Mostly because she’d known me as a small boy. She’d been one of many to raise me. She knew me, sometimes, better than I knew myself.
