Wind Raker - Book IV of The Order of the Air

WIND RAKER

Book IV of The Order of the Air

By Melissa Scott & Jo Graham

A Mystique Press Production

Mystique Press is an imprint of Crossroad Press

Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press

Digital Edition Copyright 2014 by Melissa Scott & Jo Graham

Cover art by Bob Eggleton – Cover Design by David Dodd

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

This novel, the fourth in the Order of the Air, following the novels
Lost Things,Steel Blues and Silver Bullet,
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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For Amy Griswold, who gives us all Stasi’s best lines.

Prologue

Honolulu

April 1935

L
ily sat on the edge of her bed, the shutters closed tight against the gaudy tropical sunset, and reached determinedly for bottle and glass. She poured herself two fingers of neat rum, downed it at a gulp, and poured again. Perhaps it was ill-advised — no, certainly it was a bad idea, but she hadn’t had a better one for years. She closed her eyes, the maudlin tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She’d done her best, done everything she was supposed to, everything she could do, and despite it all, the job was falling apart. She’d hoped to outrun her reputation, the whisper that said she was a jinx, a Jonah, but three thousand miles wasn’t far enough. Nothing ever would be.

She pressed the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, feeling the spots where her pince-nez had pinched. She wasn’t supposed to wear one, and as far as she knew, no one had seen her slipping it on and off again to read the menus, or the small print in the manual: one more thing to lay at his door, if she thought about it.

Because that was exactly what he had promised her, for daring to leave him. You will never have luck again, he had said, his fingers digging sharply into the flesh of her arm just above her elbow. She could feel his touch there still, ten years later, an echo of an ache like a bruise that never healed
. You dared to cross me — you who are nothing, less than nothing, except what I made you. I gave you your career, I opened up the doors of power, and I can close them again.
She shuddered even in the warm unmoving air, feeling the chill of a San Francisco summer fog closing over her.

Look
, he had said, his voice low and clear and steady, freezing her to the bone
. Look at me. Hear me and despair. I abjure you, unworthy disciple. You have strayed and failed and you shall be punished. You will have no luck, no good fortune, until the end of your days. That is the curse I lay on you.

She hadn’t laughed it off, she’d never been that brave, but she had thought she could bear it, that his power was finite, and eventually he would turn it to someone else. After six months, she had gone back to her old lodge, the one she’d left for him, and begged for help. They had considered, consulted, agreed to perform a protective ceremony. She had consented, participated with all her heart and soul, and — nothing. No power of theirs could breach the chill that enclosed her. They had quarreled over it, and the lodge had split, the first time she had seen what her true curse was. Not only was she lost, but she destroyed others.

And it wasn’t just the magic. That she could have lived without. But she had survived two crashes when her co-pilots died, and the whispers followed her along the west coast: not reliable, not safe, not competent. She had put her head down and tried to fight through, but disaster after disaster had washed over her, beating her down until there was no resistance left. This had been her last chance, and it was gone.

She took a deep breath, stiffening her spine. He was her master, yes, but surely — she could at least ward herself from him, at least for a night. She took another breath, and then another, seeking the rhythm that had once come as easily as dancing, searching for her center, the power that was her own. Yes, there… she felt it, a spark of warmth, steadied herself as though she stood in a whirlwind. She knew the forms, they were at the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t seem to find the words. Write them down, she told herself, and reached for the hotel stationary and the neatly sharpened pencil. Write it out, you know how this goes; write it out and then you can find just a little peace.

The pencil snapped in her hand, gouging a hole in the heavy paper. She stared at it, disbelieving, then slowly bowed her head. The tears overflowed at last, burning her cheeks. There was no escape, not ever, and anyone who came too close to her was doomed.

Chapter One

Colorado Springs

May 1935

"G
et the end. Careful," Lewis said, trying to maneuver the wooden case through the Terrier's hatch.

"I've got it," Alma said. She crouched just inside the plane, trying to lift the box in without dragging it across the floor. Sweat ran down her forehead for all that Lewis had most of the weight. This thing must weigh two hundred and fifty pounds.

"Al…" Mitch was trying to get around the box, but Lewis was entirely blocking the door.

'"I've got it," she snapped, pulling forward another few inches. The last thing she needed was Mitch trying to lift this thing. He’d taken shrapnel in the groin and belly during the war, a shell exploding under his plane, and the doctors had warned he’d always have to be careful lifting heavy weights.

Lewis frowned, holding the other end. "Ready?"

"Ready."

He pushed, moving it forward and sliding it in, onto the felt pad that protected the Terrier's skin.

"There," Alma said, shoving it onto the centerline ready to tie down. "We've got it."

"Let me balance it," Mitch said, climbing in. "Come on, Al."

She nodded, getting to her feet. He wasn't going to rupture something that way. She shoved damp hair back out of her face.

"We needed Joey for this," Lewis said.

Joey Patterson usually helped load cargo, but he hadn't showed up for work in three days.

"Yes, well," Alma said. "It's time to hire someone else. I'm sick to death of his benders and his excuses. If he can't show up for work even half the time, he's out."

"He's got a lot on his mind." Mitch was bent over the case, securing the straps to the floor. "And he's got three kids. Give him a break, Al."

"I've given him a break," Alma said. "And a break and a break and a break. He hasn't shown up for work in three days. He hasn't called in sick. There's a limit to what we can put up with."

"He's a vet," Mitch said, winching the strap tight.

"So's half the town, and they get to work." Alma leaned out the hatch. Lewis was carefully not offering an opinion. He was very aware that Gilchrist Aviation belonged to Alma and Mitch. He might be the boss's husband, but he wasn't an owner, and whether they let Joey Patterson go or not wasn't his decision.

She looked up as Stasi came clattering across the concrete floor of the hangar on her Cuban heels, Dora on her shoulder wearing a very bizarre paper hat. "Alma, you need to come to the phone," she said. "Floyd Odlum from Consolidated is calling you from LA!"