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    Lofty Dreams of Earthbound Men
    Lofty Dreams of Earthbound Men
    Lofty Dreams of Earthbound Men
    Ebook83 pages1 hour

    Lofty Dreams of Earthbound Men

    By Susan Laine

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    Isleshire Chronicles: Book One

    On the night of the summer solstice, Obadai Bashim encounters Jules Sterling, a young engineering sage. Jules is on the run from a ripper, an assassin of the Theocracy who has already killed his master. Open atrocities by rippers are unusual in County Isleshire, where freedom and acceptance reign over prejudice.

    However, political instability between the Five Kingdoms and the Divine Theocracy has set the theocrats on a mission to crown religious doctrine over science, and the Sage’s Guild is number one on their eradication list. If Obadai helps, he’ll have a price on his head too, but he can’t abandon Jules.

    Escaping the ripper’s clutches is not enough. Jules has a mission of his own: to repair a faulty airship inn about to crash into the fortified township of Dunbruth. Luckily, Obadai has a few magickal secrets up his sleeve.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDreamspinner Press
    Release dateJan 29, 2014
    ISBN9781627983716
    Lofty Dreams of Earthbound Men
    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

      Lofty Dreams of Earthbound Men - Susan Laine

      The Isleshire Chronicles is a forever project of mine that I’ve been working at for twenty years, on and off. Finally off the ground!

      I would like to thank my Dreamspinner Press editors for their amazing work. Especially Andi, whose insights I’ve come to value greatly and without whom this story wouldn’t be quite the same. Thank you kindly.

      Lofty Dreams of Earthbound Men

      11:59 p.m., Newsday, 24th of Golden Peak,

      Year 2659 of Epoch of Pious Virtues

      WHO’S THERE? Speak, or I’ll cut you in half with my blade!

      Obadai Bashim knew his words rang hollow. He didn’t have a sword, though he did have a hunting knife stuck in his boot. That was it really. With his lilac eyes, he gazed into the dark shadows of Linden Copse, one of the five large town parks. Only the two crisscrossing main paths were illuminated by tall gaslights, which sent their greenish glow and vapor down sparingly. The rest lay hidden in darkness on this night of the summer solstice. The midnight hour passing would bring them to the last day of the week and of the midyear month.

      The Town Watch station wasn’t in hearing distance, but was within running distance, he knew, and he started to back off from the hushed sounds of shrubberies rustling nearby. He wasn’t afraid, but these days it paid to be cautious of things stirring in the shadows.

      Please, help me. The soft sound came from the bushes on his right, and Obadai peered at the obscured outlines of deciduous trees and other lush vegetation. As on most nights year-round, the fog had rolled in from the chilly Thulian Sea, but in midsummer it was only a thin veil covering the ground, and it did not further impede vision, though it added to the eerie atmosphere.

      Step out into the light where I can see you, Obadai commanded harshly.

      A small shape climbed out of the bushes, nothing more than a silhouette. Please, don’t hurt me. The tiny voice cracked. It was a masculine voice, but shaky, scared, and on the verge of tears.

      Who are you? Why were you following me? Obadai asked just as the midnight bells rang in the Abbey’s clock tower, their deep, gloomy sound echoing throughout the fortress town of Dunbruth. Everyone knew that the chartered town’s name was old Scottish Gaelic. The founder of Larkhall—the old bailey and keep—Sir Ector Macaledon, had been of Scottish descent, a rogue who had been granted this faraway county to rule as an Earl. The initial town name had been longer, Dùnan Bruthach Súmaid, which meant Small Fortress on a Steep Slope of Waves. The current form had been abbreviated and twisted by time, wrongly, as it happened. It was supposed to mean A Fort on Surf Mountain since the hilltop castle stood on the summit of Surf Mountain—but because the word bruthach didn’t abbreviate correctly, the literal translation was A Fortress on Pressure. Considering the crazy times, it had begun to make insane sense.

      Of course, all that business with Sir Ector had happened seven hundred years ago and had no bearing on the events of tonight.

      The Dunbruth Clocktower chimed for midnight mere moments after the Abbey bells, more melodic and higher in pitch, like a cheerful echo to the prior darker rings.

      The boy looked about, wide-eyed with fright at every sight and sound. I’ve seen you around town. I know you live up in Eldritch Castle. I thought you might get me past the Jackdaws on Stone Maiden Bridge.

      Why would I do that? Obadai’s voice had gentled when he saw how young the boy was: surely not older than twenty but possibly as young as fifteen. This one could not take him on, given Obadai’s martial arts training. But he also didn’t know anything about the boy’s motives, so he remained wary.

      Please, I have to get up to the Lofty Lodge, the boy said, sobbing now and wringing his hands, frightfully nervous.

      Why? Obadai demanded, suspicious.

      The boy’s shoulders slumped, and he wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands. ’Cause if I don’t repair it, it’ll drop out of the sky.

      Now things were starting to make sense, and Obadai quickly discerned the seriousness of the situation and the potential threat in his surroundings. Who’s looking for you?

      A ripper, likely from Caligosbury. He already took my Master.

      Obadai swallowed hard. This was bad. Captured or killed?

      What in the name of the unholy Vice Masters would a ripper be doing here, across the Cloudburst Channel? They had no jurisdiction to operate here in Dunbruth without the express permission of the local constabulary. And they definitely didn’t have the right to capture, torture, or kill sages and inventors of any science, regardless of the current shaky political climate between the D’monican Theocracy and the Five Kingdoms.

      I don’t know. Killed, I think. I hid in the closet. I only heard the racket and saw the flames when…. He screamed so loud…. Then I ran…. The boy’s voice broke, and he swayed in place as if about to fall down, at the end of his rope.

      Obadai acted quickly, closed the gap between them, and wrapped his arm around

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