Read Online Aethosphere Chronicles: Storm of Chains by Jeremiah D. Schmidt - Free Book Online

mucking up my bridge.”
    But their argument came to an abrupt end
when troops began rounding the alleyway’s corner. Shooting almost
immediately followed. And as bullets zinged off the truck’s metal
exterior, Drish flung himself to the floorboards for cover. Not
like this , he prayed bitterly into the grit, as hot bullet
casings came raining down around him from the pirate’s return-fire. I’m not going to die like this; not on the floor of a filthy
delivery truck; surrounded by lowborn savages from Black
Blood.
    Visions of his townhouse flashed through
Drish’s mind…of a comforting fire glowing hot in its hearth, a warm
cup of tea held between his hands, a silk robe draped around him as
he melted into soft sofa cushions. Maybe he’d have a book spread
out across his lap; maybe the phonograph would be playing some
light orchestra music; something from the early Oberarch Dynasty;
nothing as vulgar as the modern dribble that had come spewing out
from the slums last night.
    This is all my father’s fault, Drish
accused bitterly, if I ever see that man again, I’ll save the
Empire the trouble of executing him by doing it myself.
    And then, as though by divine providence,
the truck trembled to life beneath him.

Chapter
5
    The pirate delivery truck rattled and bounced down
the cobbled backstreet before spilling across the main causeway
with all the grace of a newborn moose. Wheels squalled and spun as
they drifted through the slush sideways, sending two cars
screeching and careening wildly out of control to avoid hitting
them. From his spot, curled up in the dirt of the truck’s bed, like
some newborn in the fetal position, Drish heard screaming people
fleeing in terror. He could only assume that the madman-captain was
putting everyone on the streets in danger with his reckless
driving.
    “Hope you’re worth it,” grumbled Lance, and
when Drish looked up, it was to the greasy man glaring out from
beneath the crushing weight of his mechanical pack, while its
antennas shook and waved in time to the truck’s bumpy ride. Above
the man, Drish caught sight of the High Crown’s western edge, its
mountainous terrain standing black against the gray clouds. The
tethered isle seemed abuzz with Iron airship activity today; no
doubt launched from the commandeered airdocks of the Ragnarok
Cloudfortress in order to support the mission below.
    “ All this for me,” whispered Drish as
he pulled his astonished gaze away, only to find the pirates around
him glaring hard, as though they sensed his treacherous nature.
    Across from him, O’Dylan grimaced in pain as
he held a hand to his bleeding back. His face had gone white and
his wolfish appearance had waxed to haggard exhaustion. Drish made
a halfhearted attempt to ask if he was okay, but the man just
snarled and turned away. It appeared he preferred the unforgiving
chill of the wind in his face than the nobleman’s attempt at
sympathy. That set the tone for the deration of their high-speed
escape; the worm in a mechanized turtle-shell, the wolf, the brute,
the tattooed Glenfinner…he wouldn’t find any friends in this lot,
and to prove his point, Lance’s earlier words were the only ones
spoken to him from there on out.
    It was a bone-chilling drive to the
Lordswater Lake Industrial Park on the southeastern outskirts of
Throne. By the time they arrived Drish was sure that all his
appendages had frozen solid. Even on the floor the wind had been
cutting, pushing him past the point of shivering, to where he
simply felt dead all over, much like the district surrounding him.
This once thriving juggernaut of production was nothing more than a
cold graveyard now. In a different time, the waterfall cascading
off the Shield Veil Wall had powered the machines which provided
for all the floating isle’s energy requirements. During that lost
golden age it was impossible to have ever imagine a time would come
when the machines sat silent and the falls roared for their own
sake. How