Order of the Air Omnibus: Books 1-3
THE ORDER OF THE AIR OMNIBUS
By Melissa Scott & Jo Graham
LOST THINGS
STEEL BLUES
SILVER BULLET
A Mystique Press Production
Mystique Press is an imprint of Crossroad Press
Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press
Digital Edition Copyright © 2015 / Melissa Scott & Jo Graham
Cover Design By: David Dodd
Background Images provided by: Bob Eggleton
LICENSE NOTES
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Meet the Authors
Melissa Scott
is from Little Rock, Arkansas, and studied history at Harvard College and Brandeis University, where she earned her PhD in the Comparative History program. She is the author of more than thirty science fiction and fantasy novels, and has won Lambda Literary Awards for
Trouble and Her Friends
,
Shadow Man
, and
Point of Dreams
, the last written with her late partner, Lisa A. Barnett. She has also won Spectrum Awards for
Shadow Man
and again in 2010 for the short story “
The Rocky Side of the Sky
” (Periphery, Lethe Press) as well as the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer. She can be found online at mescott.livejournal.com.
Jo Graham
worked in politics for fifteen years before leaving to write full time. She is the author of the Locus Award nominated
Black Ships
and the Spectrum Award nominated
Stealing Fire
, as well as several other novels, including the Stargate Atlantis Legacy series and
The General’s Mistress
. She lives in North Carolina with her partner and their daughter. She can be found online at jo_graham.livejournal.com.
OTHER BOOKS
BY MELISSA SCOTT & JO GRAHAM & CROSSROAD PRESS
The Order of the Air:
Lost Things
Steel Blues
Silver Bullet
Wind Raker
Melissa Scott Novels:
Five Twelfths of Heaven
Silence in Solitude
The Kindly Ones
The Armor of Light
SG1-22 Moebius Squared
SGA-16 Homecoming - Book I of the Legacy Series
SGA-18 Allegiance – Book III of the Legacy Series
Unabridged Audiobooks – Melissa Scott
Five-Twelfths of Heaven
Jo Graham Novels:
The Emperor's Agent
SGA-14 Death Game
SGA-16 Homecoming - Book I of the Legacy Series
SGA-17 The Lost - Book II of the Legacy Series
Jo Graham Collections
The Ravens of Falkenau
Unabridged Audiobooks – Jo Graham
The Ravens of Falkenau / The Hand of Isis / Stealing Fire
These novels are volumes 1-3 of
The Order of the Air
, which
ties in with the Crossroad Press original series O.C.L.T. – featuring the novels
The Parting
by David Niall Wilson &
Incursion
by Aaron Rosenberg, as well as the novellas
Brought to Light
&
The Temple of Camazotz
.
The Order of the Air
occurs in the past, but O.C.L.T. members were there…
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CONTENTS:
PREVIEW of WIND RAKER
– Book IV of the Order of the Air
PREVIEW of THE PARTING
– Book I of the O.C.L.T.
The world is full of lost treasures. Some of them are better off not found.
In 1929 archaeologists began draining Lake Nemi looking for a fabulous treasure. What they awakened had been buried for two thousand years. For a very good reason.
DEDICATIONS
For my grandparents
Elma Shoffner Wyrick Edwards (1900-1988)
Lt. Granville Glenn Wyrick Sr. (1895-1940)
Col. Raymond F. Edwards (1890-1982)
with love from Jo, your “angel”
For Great-great-aunt Marion (Lt. Marion L. MacNab)
&
Great-great-uncle Alex (Col. Alexander J. MacNab)
Veterans of both World Wars
With thanks for the books, the sword, and the inspiration
Melissa
LOST THINGS
Prologue – May, 1929
T
he bowl of the lake reflected nothing. On bright nights the full moon seemed magnified by the water, as though it had come to rest in the dark pool. That was why the Romans had called Lake Nemi Diana’s Mirror.
The sounds of the massive pumps covered any noise it might make, working night and day to drain the lake. It was the most significant archaeological site in a generation – two Roman ships from the reign of Caligula, resting beneath the waters of Lake Nemi in almost pristine condition. But then It knew all about the ships. It had known them for a very long time.
They were ruins in the mud, a few beams exposed as the lake drained. They were gone like the Sanctuary of Diana that had once graced the shore. But She was still here. Far away in the woods the man heard it and stiffened – the faint baying of hounds.
It inhabited this man. It wore him, frail thing though he was, already weakening in Its grasp. They were running, he and the man, his sedentary feet made fleet by fear. They were running through the woods while briars grabbed at them, while moonlight mistook their path before them. The hounds were louder. They were coming. The hunters were behind. They could see the flashes of their strange torches, incandescent in the darkness, silver against the trees. A white hound led the pack, sharp nosed and keen, the others following her. It was She who led.
The man’s breathing was harsh. They were being driven. Out of the trees, out of the wild wood. Now there were shouts behind, calls from one hunter to another in strange, bastard Latin. The hunters had seen them. The ground was muddy and they slipped. This man was no hunter, no soldier, and he had been run hard. He slipped and slid down the bank, one leg catching beneath him, knee twisting. He was down. The white hound crested the bank, beautiful and implacable.
And then She was not there. It was two brown ones, bloodhounds, the man thought, and they stopped and set up a cry. It was only a moment before the hunters came up. Silver lights played over their face, and they cringed, It and this man, hiding from the brightness.
“Poor soul,” one of the hunters said, sliding down the bank. “It’s Signore Gadda all right.”
They wore blue uniforms, all the hunters. A second one climbed down, lifted this man’s hands from his face. “Signore Gadda? Can you understand me, sir? Do you know what has happened?”
This man would reply, but It would not let him. It could see the white hound behind the hunter, and It screamed.
The first hunter spoke again. “I thought we’d never find him. His wife is frantic. God help him.” He moved his hand across his chest, as though making some sign of warding.
Another man climbed down, a tall man in middle age, wearing black rather than the blue uniforms, and the second hunter spoke to him. “Signore Davenport, it is definitely your man. But I do not think he understands a word.”
“It is a terrible tragedy,” Davenport said, and he leaned over them. This man knew him. This was his leader, his patron. He was afraid he would lose his job. But he could not speak. “Vittorio? Can you hear me?”