Wings of Fire (Godstone Saga 4)

Minutes slowly ticked by. The engines of the battleship were killed and the boat steadily slowed until it was safe for the engines to be kicked in reverse. The battleship wouldn’t come to a complete stop, but if they could slow to only a knot or two, they’d be able to safely dump the launch onto the ocean.

Caelan’s stomach knotted and his chest tightened up, refusing to let him drag in a deep breath. He climbed into the boat with his companions, and it was steadily lowered to the black water. Spray from the side of the ship splashed across his face and soaked into his knit hat. They’d all been given waterproof coats to help protect them, but the cold was still finding a way down to the bone.

The call of “Release!” went up and the boat slapped the water. The engine gunned behind him and Caelan was thrown back on his ass as the craft surged forward. The nose lifted and the boat bounced across the waves, heading quickly away from the bright lights of the battleship.

Cannon fire exploded, both from the Erya battleship as well as the New Rosanthe battleship that was still a distance out and sinking. The Empire was desperate to stop their mission to the Isle of Stone.

Rayne reached out and pulled Caelan so that he was practically lying in the pool of icy water gathering on the deck. “Keep your head down!”

It was an awkward position, but Caelan could barely make out the outline of the shadowy rocks and land in the waves. They couldn’t have been in the water for more than a minute or two, but the smaller craft had crossed the distance in the blink of an eye. Before he could ask how much farther they had to go, Eno was directing Adrian to kill the engine, allowing them to coast the last bit and up onto the sandy shore.

They scrambled up the beach, pulling their launch onshore a little farther. Caelan looked over his shoulder to see the flash of lights and color against the black sky as the ships continued to battle. Christie had the upper hand in this one. By dawn, the New Rosanthe ships would be sunk and the Erya ships would be pulling any survivors out from the waters.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” a firm feminine voice announced.

As one, they swung around in the direction of the speaker, weapons drawn. Eno clicked on a flashlight and illuminated a short woman with platinum-blond hair that fell to her waist. She was unarmed and dressed in a dark-blue robe edged with white fur that fell to her ankles.

She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the light. “Outsiders aren’t welcome here.”

Which was pretty much the welcome Caelan had been expecting when they landed on the Isle of Stone. Fresh from one problem and into another.

FIVE

Rayne Laurent

The woman was not being particularly helpful.

So far, the only useful information they’d been able to drag out of her was that her name was Mio, and they were not welcome on the Isle of Stone. One of those things they’d been able to guess before they landed.

She stood watching as they pulled the launch far enough ashore for it to be safe from the incoming tide and covered it with a waterproof tarp. The plan had been to disassemble it and hide it until they were ready to leave. Unfortunately, Mio would see where they hid the boat and could easily lead her own people to it the second they left.

It also didn’t help that there was a good chance they might need to make a quick escape considering they’d already been discovered. The hope had been to sneak close to one of the towns and watch the people for a bit, then discuss options for approaching someone for assistance.

The one positive they’d discovered so far was that there was no language barrier; at least they could understand one another.

Caelan stepped forward with Adrian hovering behind his shoulder. “My name is Caelan Talos and I’m the King of Erya.” The woman’s expression never changed. Her eyes didn’t widen. Not even a twitch of an eyebrow. “Erya is your closest neighbor to the south.”

“We don’t care what happens to the south. Or to the east. Or to the west,” Mio countered. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave a rather impressive bored look.

“I can respect that, but I’ve been sent here by the gods on an important mission.”

She huffed. “We don’t care about your gods either.”

“What about the will of your goddess?”

Finally, her nose wrinkled and she frowned. “What goddess? There’s just the Goddess of Life, and she’s the problem of the southern lands.”

That was interesting to hear. Where the Zastrians knew of the Dead God, the people of the Isle of Stone were like those in Erya and Caspagir—aware of only Tula, the Goddess of Life.