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    Wishing Wings
    Wishing Wings
    Wishing Wings
    Ebook116 pages1 hour

    Wishing Wings

    By Susan Laine

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    About this ebook

    Sequel to Lofty Dreams of Earthbound Men
    Isleshire Chronicles: Book Two

    Two weeks after their encounter with a ripper, engineering sage Jules Sterling and Earth mage Obadai Bashim are surprised to learn Aelfric Fairburn, a bureaucrat from the Divine Theocracy, has arrived in County Isleshire to reward Jules for his courageous defeat of the ripper.

    Fairburn’s visit couldn’t come at a worse time, as Jules is in the field-testing phase of his dream project—flying. But the Virtuist Church of the Spirit Gods views man’s pursuit of flight as heresy and a contemptuous abomination of the ultimate ambition of the faithful—ascension.

    But Fairburn’s judgment is the least of Jules’s problems. While he struggles to work out the kinks of his flying apparatus, a mysterious figure operates behind the scenes toward an unknown end. Once again, Jules and Obadai face a lethal foe.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDreamspinner Press
    Release dateAug 27, 2014
    ISBN9781632160720
    Wishing Wings
    Author

    Susan Laine

    Susan Laine, an award-winning, multipublished author of LGBTQ erotic romance and a Finnish native, was raised by the best mother in the world, who told her daughter time and again that she could be whatever she wanted to be. The spark for serious writing and publishing kindled when Susan discovered the gay erotic romance genre. Her book, Monsters Under the Bed, won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Gay Paranormal Romance. Anthropology is Susan’s formal education, and she could have been happy as an eternal student. But she’s written stories since she was a kid, and her long-term goal is still to become a full-time writer. Susan enjoys hanging out with her sister, two nieces, and friends in movie theaters, libraries, bookstores, and parks. Her favorite pastimes include singing along (badly) to the latest pop songs, watching action flicks, doing the dishes, and sleeping till noon, while a few of her dislikes are sweating, hot and too-bright summer days, tobacco smoke, purposeful prejudice and hate speech. Website: www.susan-laine-author.fi Email: susan.laine@hotmail.com Blog: www.goodreads.com/author/show/5221828.Susan_Laine/blog Facebook: www.facebook.com/Susan-Laine-128697277229180 Twitter: @Laine_Susan

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      Book preview

      Wishing Wings - Susan Laine

      Wishing Wings

      9:55 a.m., Faithday, 10th of Hay Days,

      Year 2659 of Epoch of Pious Virtues

      HAVE YOU gone completely mad? Do you want another ripper chasing you right after the first one? Obadai Bashim demanded swift answers from his friend, companion, and lover, Jules Sterling, who was incredibly busy and extremely unwilling to reply right away.

      Of course not! Jules snapped, busy with his latest invention, whatever it would turn out to be. Even he sometimes didn’t know. As an engineering sage, Jules was like a sculptor who peeled away layers of stone and metal to reveal a piece of art already there. Only he worked on mechanical contraptions, not blocks of stone. He still saw what he created as art, of the practical and progressive variety.

      Angrily, he yanked the low-hanging gaslight closer, the sound of metal screeching accompanying the move. The workbench was large enough to house several of his small and midsize projects. The smells of wood, smoke, and metal oils surrounded him in the dusky gloom of the new—and thus far unofficial—Sage’s Guild Chapterhouse in Dunbruth.

      The airship that had crashed against the outer curtain wall of Dunbruth’s New Town nine years ago had now been converted by Jules into a new inventor’s workshop. The shipwreck of Bad Gambit was cozily lit by dim lanterns hanging from the soot-blackened boards of the rafters and swaying slightly in the breeze coming from the tiny cracks in the planks of the wooden hull. The lanterns illuminated the vaulted space that had once been the cargo room of the airship galleon. Every available space had been commandeered by workbenches, artifact shelves, writing desks with quills and inkwells, stacks of books, and rows of parchments. Sunlight filtered through the round, colorful stained glass portholes, the beams fracturing into prisms. The air was warm and smoky and filled with the clinking and clattering of the various steam contraptions scattered around, with the occasional hiss and puff adding to the mechanical cacophony.

      It’s been two measly weeks since the attack by the smokeforged up at Lofty Lodge, Obadai reminded Jules in his most infuriating know-it-all voice. Exactly two weeks today.

      Jules bit his tongue to avoid snapping at Obadai. So?

      And it’s Faithday, last day of the week, rest day. You shouldn’t be working at all, least of all with one of your harebrained— Obadai stopped abruptly, but it was already too late.

      Jules’s fierce gaze shot up to meet Obadai’s lilac Earth mage’s eyes. My—what? I thought you believed in my work. He couldn’t mask the hurt in his voice, and he couldn’t believe his lover had said that to him, thrown it in his face like an invisible gauntlet.

      Obadai seemed to be seething, if the manner in which he ground his teeth was any indication. "That’s not what I meant."

      Jules was getting mad too. He worked his butt off to better the world through scientific effort and practical mechanical applications, even now in an age when steam technology was being ruthlessly pushed out to make way for the rise of religion and the Theocracy. Oh?

      Obadai raked a hand through his black spiky hair in obvious frustration. Why can’t you create something pragmatic and useful? Something that might actually convince the Theocracy that progress isn’t such a bad thing? Something that won’t send the whole world up in flames of revolution? Something the world can’t live without?

      Like what exactly? Jules countered, his pitch rising. Brighter gaslights? Horseless carriages? Improved teleflickers? Steam-powered sex toys? With great difficulty Jules controlled his temper. I’m an inventor. I’m a sage, one of the few left in town. And I’m a journeyman now, responsible for this new chapterhouse. I create what fires my brain, what lights up my imagination, what awakens my heart. If you can’t see that…. Angry at his lover, Jules shook his head and looked away, feeling betrayed and abandoned. He’d thought Obadai understood the dream and even shared it with Jules.

      A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing softly. Forgive me, Jules. I didn’t mean it like that. Obadai let out a sad sigh, the puff of air hot against the back of Jules’s head. I just worry, you know. I always worry about you. I lov—um, care for you greatly. I can’t help it.

      It warmed Jules’s heart and melted some of his icy demeanor to hear the slip of the tongue Obadai had made. But he wasn’t willing to concede idealistic defeat. The whole world is going mad with blind faith, with theocrats stalking every street corner. I can’t give up on the dream. What if all sages in hiding did that? What would we have left to strive for? What would the future hold if we abandoned all thoughts of progress? He let out a stifled, cold chuckle. A stagnant, stilted world, with only the sounds of forced prayers and ceaseless church bells to guide us on our way back toward social, legal, and spiritual regression.

      Obadai hugged Jules’s waist from behind. I know, my fey. He kissed Jules’s nape a few times before retreating a few steps. You’ve got a way with words. I guess I’m just a dumb old mage because I honestly can’t see the use for horses—with wings.

      Jules turned to watch Obadai stare at the table where the wooden, metal-tipped wings lay, half-finished and firmly attached to their struts and harness. As usual, Obadai’s lilac gaze was a mix of apprehension, curiosity, and admiration. That look, above anything he might have said, assured Jules that Obadai still did believe in Jules’s work, even if he worried.

      Everyone wants to fly, he argued with the devout faith of a believer in imagination being the herald of brighter things to come. He realized how odd that was for him to say when his recent experiences up at the Lofty Lodge had reminded him how much he feared heights. Would flying be any different, with still nothing but air between him and the hard ground below?

      Even horses? Obadai sounded skeptical. I find that concept, um, a bit hard to wrap my brain around.

      The steam technology we’ve built and relied on for two centuries is becoming scarce and obsolete with the advance of the Theocracy among the common populace. We need something to replace our steam airships and cableways now that they’re not getting the regular maintenance they require. Reliable, swift transports. Jules’s nonstop mind fired up with images of new possible creations, and to keep them fresh in his mind, he quickly began to scribble them down on a parchment by the workbench. Just think of it. If we could attach floating carriages, like tiny airships, to winged horses… well, there’s no place on Nebulosia we couldn’t reach. He wrote down initial schematics and rough plans while he spoke, his hand practically flying over the parchment. Everyone, and every thing, wants to fly.

      I don’t.

      Jules looked

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