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    The Nephele Ship: Volume Two - The Fire-Beasts (A Steampunk Adventure): The Nephele Ship, #2
    The Nephele Ship: Volume Two - The Fire-Beasts (A Steampunk Adventure): The Nephele Ship, #2
    The Nephele Ship: Volume Two - The Fire-Beasts (A Steampunk Adventure): The Nephele Ship, #2
    Ebook51 pages1 hour

    The Nephele Ship: Volume Two - The Fire-Beasts (A Steampunk Adventure): The Nephele Ship, #2

    By Luke Shephard

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    About this ebook

    Volume Two of The Nephele Ship series!

    After a catastrophe that covered half the world in inhospitable ice, a team of treasure hunters finds a lead about a mysterious workshop said to contain miraculous and wondrous inventions that could be worth fortunes.

    Captain Strallahan and the crew of the Nephele have arrived at the mythical workshop, but when they go inside, they will find much more than just dolls! Steam-powered automatons, human-sized dolls, and even something that might not belong to this world, all await them in the bowels of this madman's sanctuary.

    Will they be able to escape with the greatest treasure-- their lives? Will the Nephele and it's crew survive?

    Praise for The Nephele Ship:
    "I thought the book had good, sharp writing...The story moved at a good pace with well- paced action scenes. I loved the world created with the mix of old and new...I look forward to the next edition."

    "The story was different, the style of writing is great and I really enjoy reading it...I will be reading the next and next after that when it's available. Plus, I picked up his earlier stuff. Definitely worth reading..."

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOur Pack Press
    Release dateJan 19, 2016
    ISBN9781497753624
    The Nephele Ship: Volume Two - The Fire-Beasts (A Steampunk Adventure): The Nephele Ship, #2

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      Book preview

      The Nephele Ship - Luke Shephard

      ~Volume Two: The Fire-Beasts~

      The huge chunks of ice fell from the ceiling of the tunnel, massive, jagged pieces crashing down like thunder spilling from the mug of a god. As I watched the scene unfold, one piece came crashing down on the heat cannon that was attached to the prow of the Antimony Eyes' ship, wrenching it from the wood and sending it tumbling to the ground, breaking into large pieces. The men on the deck began to run, trying to escape the shower of razor-sharp shards and huge, bludgeoning blocks. It was over in seconds—the ship was buried in a mountain of tons of ice, the entrance to the tunnel was blocked off completely and the rumbling died down, leaving my crew and I in an almost eerie silence.

      My breath showed as thick white clouds as I waited for a sound. For any sign of life. Ten seconds, fifteen seconds; no sound from the other side.

      I turned, dusted off my collar, and smirked. There arose a loud cheer from my crew, and I raised one fist in the air, returning the shout of elation. We were safe (in a manner of speaking), we'd escaped the Antimony Eyes (for the time being), and we had access to the entirety of the workshop of Copernicus Wrightworth (about which I could think of no drawbacks).

      Victoria positively shook with excitement. You foolish, reckless... she began, and went on in a manner one might expect for several minutes. Her excitement wasn't wholly unfounded—I had just taken a flying ship and dove into a hole in a mountain of solid ice encasing a workshop into which nobody has been in around two centuries, so I guess she was justified in yelling at me.

      She paused for a moment, her hand raised to hit me. Slowly, she let it down, grasped her collar, and sighed. My god, you're clever.

      *****

      The doors to the workshop, heavy, dark oak inlaid with brass rivets and reliefs of figures dancing and posing with each other, swung sluggishly on the hinges, creaking loudly as they opened. Inside, the ice seemed to have stopped at the doorjamb, as if it were unwelcome and had been turned away. The whole of the interior looked like something from a haunted house attraction at the carnival—a layer of dust covered everything from the hardwood floors to the vaulted ceiling beams, and dull grey light streamed in through the dusty air in large beams, illuminating mottled patches of a lush, if thickly shrouded in particles, carpet.

      On either side of the threshold, which oddly opened outward rather than inward, two mannequin-like dolls, dressed in lavish velvets and silks, stood on rounded platforms set into a track on the floor. A sort of whirring sound under the floor caught my attention, and I motioned everyone back, as the mannequin on the right side jerked forward on its track. The other one tried, but something was broken in its mechanism, so it only shuddered a few times against the obstruction and then stopped.

      As it reached the end of the track, placing it just to the right of the entrance, it straightened its posture, and bowed at the waist deeply. I caught a glimpse of a small phonograph table on her back that began to turn as she straightened up. A warbly female voice came from her wooden mouth:

      Welcome to the main workshop of Dollmaker Copernicus Wrightworth. The Master is not in at the moment, but feel free to wait in the drawing room. He will see you as soon as he returns. Listening to the warped voice from a mouth that did not move was sort of unsettling, but it was made even more so when the doll, whose hands were folded neatly at her waist, gestured with one hand, and the fingers articulated with a measured preciseness that looked too real for my tastes.

      The doll

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