Wings of Dawn

By Adam D. Jones

With a wild gambit, Dawn leads the rebels against the Republic’s greatest power.

The land of Telarine is in chaos. Seeing an opportunity to stop the rebellion once and for all, the Republic gathers its scattered sandships into an unstoppable fleet, a storm of steel destroying everything in its path.
In desperation, Dawn invades the deep desert with a daring plan to take on the Outsiders, hoping to steal their ships and build a fleet of her own.

Meanwhile, Marshal follows the trail of his missing family into the dark heart of the Republic and discovers the Sovereign is a greater threat than anyone realized, and that finding victory will require the help of unexpected allies.

With the Republic’s full strength moving against Gamon, Dawn rallies the rebellion in a race against time as they prepare for one final standoff against the Sovereign.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adam D. Jones
• Release date: Jan 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215620632

Adam D. Jones

Adam D. Jones is a fantasy author and published academic whose writing includes novels and anthologies, magazine articles, board games, and research on medieval studies. He lives in Texas where he spends time drinking coffee, listening to vinyl, and wrestling his cat.

Book preview

Wings_of_Dawn_Cover.jpg

Wings of Dawn

Marshal Law, Book 3

by Adam D. Jones

Copyright

Wings of Dawn (The Marshal Law series, Book Three)

Copyright © 2024 by Adam D. Jones

Reproducing any part of this work without permission is not allowed.

www.AuthorAdamJones.com

Published by Archgate Press, Dallas, TX

Edited by Renea McKenzie

Artwork by Bethany Vaughan

Design by Ryan Swindoll

This is a work of fiction. Obviously. The characters portrayed are also fictional and are certainly being used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real life events represents an impressive coincidence that should be reported at once.

Prologue

Dawn saw it first. A glimmer of silver on the horizon.

It had only been a few hours since they had escaped in Balen’s sandship and left Raine behind in Zatfu mountain where he hoped to uncover its long-forgotten secrets. They sped along the southern edge of the Divide on a flight to Gamon, hoping any Republic ships were flying in the other direction.

After the battle, the Outsiders had disappeared to the east, into unknown lands where survival was considered impossible, while the Republic soldiers fled across the Divide toward their cities in the south.

Balen didn’t have many ships in Gamon, but Dawn was hoping she could return to the mountain with at least one to protect Raine from the Outsiders. They would be back soon, and the Republic wouldn’t be far behind. Every powerful force on Telarine was regrouping, each hoping they could return to the fight stronger and faster than everyone else. After all, whoever controlled Zatfu controlled Telarine.

When the shiny glint appeared in the distance, Dawn could only stare. Her eyes widened further when she realized it was flying toward them. It was a vessel, small and impossibly fast. She bumped Balen with her elbow and pointed.

By now, the craft was so close they could see two people on board. A single cannon was mounted on each side, and the prow ended in a point, like a bird’s beak.

We’ve got a speeder! shouted Balen to the crew.

A what?

Some of these idiots juice up their engines to outrun the other ships.

It seemed stupid to Dawn. The engines would burn out and leave the ship stranded in the desert.

Take cover! the old man screamed.

Everyone on the crowded deck crouched as low as they could, but Dawn couldn’t help but keep her head up to watch.

The silver ship darted toward them and fired a cannon shot that flew wide. At their reckless speed, the two-person crew couldn’t hope to actually hit anything. Dawn flinched at the sound of the cannon. She blinked and the ship was gone, like an insect buzzing by.

What in blazes? Balen glanced around at his soldiers, looking for answers, but he only saw empty faces.

Not a speeder? asked Dawn.

I’ve never seen anything that can move like that, captain, said the engineer.

Dawn finally noticed the woman at the controls. She had a soft face and well-kept brown hair. Dawn was certain they had worked together once, but names and faces were difficult to remember. Mia? she ventured.

Yes? The engineer glanced her way. Yes, ma’am? Mia obviously wasn’t sure how to address her.

It’s comin’ back! yelled Marshal. It was the first thing he’d said in hours. After learning about his family, he had kept to himself at the back of the ship, refusing to talk to anyone.

Can’t be. Balen stomped over to his favorite cannon. Nothing’s that fast.

The crew barely had time to duck before the interloping ship sped by and fired again. This time, the cannonball flew close enough for them to hear it sail overhead.

We’re coming up on a city, said Mia. Maybe someone up there can help?

No one’s home, said Marshal. That’s Third Bend.

Third Bend? Dawn had barely paid attention to the settlement they were approaching, but now she couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized it. As they flew closer, she could see the remains of broken buildings and wrecked sandships.

Get us closer, Mia, ordered Dawn. We need to skirt the edge of the city.

Balen? Mia looked to the grizzled commander.

Dawn had nearly forgotten that she wasn’t in a position to give orders. This wasn’t her lab. It was Balen’s ship.

Do as she says! Balen locked eyes with Dawn from across the ship and raised his harpoon-shaped prosthetic to his forehead in a mock salute. "From now on, you’re Captain Dawn. Battlefield promotion. Long overdue."

Yes, ma’am! Mia pointed them directly at Third Bend.

The crew hushed as the small ship returned, suddenly on their tail.

Dawn shoved the leverman out of the way. I’m taking us to full speed. Mia, we need to fly close to the city, no more than a hundred feet away, and try to keep the engines positioned over places where the sand is taller. She pushed the levers forward.

They’re speeding up! yelled Amelia, pointing behind them.

The strange ship was approaching from directly behind. Its cannons were mounted on the sides, which meant they wouldn’t fire until they were alongside Balen’s ship. Dawn looked at the soldiers around her and noticed half of them were prepping their rifles.

All guns need to point to the left! she ordered.

Dawn was certain there was a proper way to have said that, something that sounded more like a real military command, but everyone with a gun swiveled it to the left and waited for the next order. No one even bothered to complain that she’d said left instead of port.

As she expected, the smaller ship moved to the right to avoid the guns as it neared. She had a moment to appreciate the approaching ship’s sleek design. Dawn had seen it once before, but only in a series of sketches. This had to be a prototype.

Third Bend was close enough that Dawn could read the remaining signs that hung in front of a few buildings. Sunlight shined through the broken walls and glinted off shards of glass and metal that spread across the abandoned, war-torn streets.

The crew froze as the silver vessel soared closer. In less than a heartbeat it was flying next to the larger sandship, and Dawn realized she was staring down the barrel of a loaded cannon when—after a sudden clang from underneath—the little ship suddenly vaulted into the air.

It rose above their heads. The cannon fired a shot that was never seen. When the ship fell back to the sand, it careened through the town in a reckless, uncontrollable flight until it crashed into an old post office.

Mia, who had been cowering behind the controls while keeping the ship on course, looked to Dawn in astonishment.

Lots of debris out here, just under the sand. Dawn patted Mia’s shoulder. Looks like their super-powered ship found a big piece of it.

"That’s all well and good, but what kind of ship was that?" demanded Balen.

Dawn gazed through the clouds of dust and fixed her eyes on the metal hull. It’s called a silverhawk. Her voice was far away. Images of ambitious drawing boards and half-crazed sketches paraded from deep within her memory. Let’s go get it.

1

Dawn approached the crashed sandship with slow, reverent steps. Its wild flight through Third Bend came to a stop when it crashed into a wall, knocking it down completely and shaking off the two-man crew. It now rested atop a pile of bricks.

She ran her fingers along its smooth side, all the way to the sharp tip of the pointed prow. No riveted panels made up the hull; this ship looked like it had been made by pouring liquid metal into a mold. She walked around to the other side and then crouched to look under its belly.

Most sandships had four engines, two in front and two in back, but the silverhawk boasted six, positioned in three pairs. The middle pair, Dawn believed, were used to push the silverhawk higher off the ground so it could be level with taller ships. When her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she finally saw what made this experimental craft so fast: the central distributor was attached to each engine with a pair of oddly narrow pipes, which would propel the fuel more quickly. Those pipes made this little ship the fastest craft in the desert, but she could tell it would need to be flown delicately. Not only was the silverhawk apparently prone to crashing at the slightest provocation, but its design also looked susceptible to overheating.

Nearby, the pair of men who made up the ship’s crew were seated on the sand with their hands tied behind their backs. After the ship crashed, Marshal and Amelia had led two groups of soldiers into the city to swarm them from both sides; these men were captured before they could get off the ground. They weren’t talking.

Have you found the ship’s log over there? shouted Balen.

Dawn hadn’t thought of that. She glanced around the scattered wreckage until she found what Balen was asking about: a leather-bound journal bearing the symbol of the Republic. She opened it up and noticed the pages were filled with unfamiliar writing.

Let me see that. Mia gently took the book from Dawn. Balen had me cracking the Republic’s codes when I was a child.

You’ve been a Corsair…your whole life?

So far, said Mia. I hope we can get this sorted quickly, because I want to go home. Sorry if that sounds selfish, but I’d rather be taking a bath. She ran her finger along a few lines and then shook her head. It’s a new code. It’ll take some time to translate, but I’m sure their orders are in here. Mia turned more pages. The most recent will be in the back…here, this is the last page with writing.

Dawn watched her flip to the end and saw something she recognized after the very last line. "I can’t read this code, but I know that isn’t good."

Mia frowned, not understanding.

A large, ominous symbol was stamped onto the final page. Only the top commanders did that. The stamp’s design showed a snake curled around the letter S.

What does it mean? asked Mia, already afraid of the answer.

It means we’re not going home today.

Marshal’s mind returned to his family.

He stepped to the edge of the broken town and faced south, away from the river, so he could gaze over the endless sand that spread all the way to the southern coast. There weren’t many settlements between the Divide river and the sea, just sand and rocks for days on end.

And on the other side, Erianthe and their daughters, Agna and Cora, were on their way to be…

Marshal couldn’t finish the thought.

He’d spent his life believing the lie that every husk had once been a terrible criminal, someone guilty of a crime so great that it seemed an appropriate punishment to shove a control rod into their forehead and turn them into a mindless drone. But as Amelia explained what she remembered from her old life, Marshal realized he’d been a fool. Amelia’s only crime had been getting on the Republic’s bad side, but that’s all it took to end up on the Sovereign’s operating table.

And now his family was in the same crosshairs.

There’s plenty of time, came Amelia’s voice. Broken glass crunched under her boots as she walked toward him. I told you, we’ll find them if I have to die trying. And you know the Republic bureaucracy doesn’t do anything quickly. We have time to save them.

He frowned at the horizon. My family’s in…Primm? The city seemed vaguely familiar, but he didn’t know anything about it. "I don’t even know where that is, and I’m stuck all the way in Third Bend. Again."

You’ve been here before?

Marshal smiled. His mind flew back to the time he’d joined the Corsairs on a half-cocked mission to start a fight with the Republic. This is where I met Dawn and Raine. Marshal kicked at a broken windowpane. Third Bend would have been a nice place to live before the Republic destroyed it.

You’ll get to Primm by caravan, said Balen, who’d joined them while Marshal was reminiscing. A carriage rides through here every few days on a long route across the continent. It’ll get you there.

And you’re sure it’s where they make husks?

Balen lowered his voice. This information only came to us recently. We’ve got a man who’s been down south looking to involve himself in the Republic’s affairs.

A spy.

You bet. His name is Gregor. Gregor’s job is finding out what the Republic is going to do next. He locked eyes with Marshal. Gregor.

Why do you keep saying his name?

Because you’re going to find him.

Marshal shook his head. I’m going to find my—

Your family. I know that, Marshal, and I want you to find your girls, too. Half the military in Gamon is praying for them every night, but there’s a war on, in case you forgot. I’m afraid Gregor’s in some trouble, so I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.

How will I find him?

Don’t worry—he’ll find you. Just make yourself seen and he’ll do the rest.

Marshal, for the first time, realized he would be walking around in a Republic city. Openly.

I know what you’re thinking, said Balen, but don’t worry. I don’t think more than a handful of people in the Republic know what you look like, maybe even less. You’ll be fine. He glanced at Amelia, looking up and down at her tall, lanky frame. You, on the other hand, someone might notice.

I used to have a hat… Amelia ran her hands through her hair. I could pull this back, or maybe cut it.

Or learn to walk like a normal person, said Marshal. Everyone can spot a husk because you all march everywhere like there’s an engine inside you. Normal people meander a little.

Amelia considered it. I’ll practice. She took a few steps and then paused. Meander, she whispered, reminding herself. The next step was very slow. She dragged her boot along the ground and leaned into the motion.

Balen whispered, I only walk that way when I’ve sat down for too long.

Is this better? asked Amelia, who was bobbing her body with each deliberate step.

Marshal forced himself to smile. You’re doing great.

Dawn crawled under the wreckage to get another look at the engine. While the ship’s exterior was flawless as the day it was made, the underbelly was in shambles. Pipes were bent and banged up, and a few hoses were torn open.

Dawn reached toward the tools. Mia? You there? I need the heat grip.

Mia leaned over and peered under the ship. "You need what?"

Heat grip. We use it to work on the hot pipes.

We do? Dawn, I fly these things, but I’ve never looked underneath one.

Looks like a wrench, said Dawn, but it’s got thicker teeth. Heat pipes are made of different metal to keep them from melting, and they don’t turn easily in their sockets with just any tool.

Absolutely fascinating, droned Mia. She pored through the tools twice before coming up with one. I think this is it.

Dawn took the tool from her and used it to grab a pipe jutting out from the central distributor. It turned, but barely. That was encouraging. She had to use both hands on the next one, but eventually it also turned. More good news. If she could take apart the piping, then she could fix the broken parts and put it all back together.

This can work, said Dawn, handing the tool back to Mia.

"What can work? And what do you want me to do with this?"

Just put it with the others. Haven’t you seen a repair job before?

Mia put down the heat grip, but in the middle of the broken parts instead of alongside the other tools.

It can fly again. Dawn got to her feet and dusted off her clothes. "But we’ll need to steal a few parts from Balen’s ship.

Excuse me? The old Corsair stumped toward her, followed by Marshal and Amelia. My ship isn’t a general store.

Relax, you’ll have enough of a ship to get back to Gamon. We’ll need this one. Dawn patted the silver hull. It may be the only silverhawk ever made. We’re lucky these two idiots crashed it.

Maybe we should take it to Primm, offered Marshal. I’d love to get there as quick as possible.

I think there’ll be a lot of questions about how you got it, said Dawn. Besides, the caravan will pick you up before I even finish repairs. By the way, did Mia show you the ship’s log?

Mia turned to the last page of the journal and handed it to him.

Balen’s eyes lit up in anger. Well, that’s all we need. He held it up, showing the stamp to Marshal. Know what that means?

Marshal stared, obviously not recognizing it.

I do. Amelia took the log. She ran a slender finger along the stamped ink, tracing the pattern of the snake as it coiled around the letter S. It means this last order came directly from Commander Slayton. He commands the sandship fleet.

Balen turned to Mia. What’s the rest of this say?

Mia shrugged. I can only get a few bits and pieces. Lots of these are new code words, but since this…silverhawk is probably a scout ship…do you think it’s here to scout for an actual fleet?

Balen grumbled. I’d bet my other arm on it.

Slayton. Marshal turned the word over slowly. I’ve heard people talk about him.

Captain Balen spat. I’ve been fightin’ the Republic since I was a boy, and I’ve learned that the one unbreakable rule of surviving the desert was to stay away from Slayton. He travels with the most ships, and his ships carry the most guns. I honestly don’t know if he’s a brilliant commander or if he’s just good at outnumbering his enemies, but he never loses. Never.

How many ships do we think Slayton can gather? asked Marshal.

Dawn realized she’d never considered the size of the entire fleet. Since the start of the war, the Republic sandships had been spread out across the continent, searching for Lodi in the south and hunting for Dae stones in the North. Gathering every ship would take some time, but there would be dozens and dozens of them, more sandships than anyone had ever seen all at once.

Zatfu was always a gamble for the Republic, said Balen, but laying siege to Gamon is a sure thing. I’ve won some fights against the Republic here and there, but their big fleets are unstoppable. Absolutely unstoppable. We won’t be able to put up a fight.

Dawn stared him in the eyes and matched his hard gaze. Yes, we will.

She felt the others stepping back. Balen wasn’t accustomed to being corrected.

With what? Balen slapped the hull of the silverhawk. Including this beached whale, we’ve got a grand total of six working sandships, Dawn. Six! Slayton might have sixty!

Dawn turned her eyes north, beyond the river, toward the faint outline of Zatfu mountain, where the Outsiders patrolled the desert in their stolen sandships. Then I’ll get more ships. I’ll come back with my own fleet, and then we’ll give Slayton a fight.

Her words hung in the air while some of the soldiers scrutinized her, trying to decide if she was being serious. Dawn returned an unflinching stare to show she meant every word of it.

Marshal smiled proudly. Sounds like the best plan we’re gonna get. How can we help?

I need soldiers, as many as you can spare. Dawn pointed her chin toward Balen’s ship. And some parts.

Oh, no. Balen’s voice raised. I already told you, you’re not tearing my ship apart just to make a new one!

Relax. I just need a few bracers and two hose pipes. And your chemical welder, if you brought one.

‘Course I brought a chem welder! It’s a proper ship and I’m a proper captain. I suppose you’ll want my fuel and my boots while you’re at it?

Dawn stared at Balen’s ship thoughtfully. Maybe some of your fuel…

You’d better stop giving her ideas, said Marshal.

The silverhawk is still in pieces. Mia pointed to the broken parts spread along the ground. Are you really going to fly it back to the mountain?

Nope. Dawn crawled back under the wrecked ship. You are.

Me?

Dawn held out her hand. Heat grip.

Right. Mia rummaged through the parts. Heat grip…heat grip…

What about the log? asked Marshal. We can’t read it.

Lying on her back, Dawn returned her gaze to the distant mountain. I think I know someone who can.

2

Raine knelt.

In the center of Zatfu, a dim column of blue light filtered down to the place where he, wrapped in yellow robes, closed his eyes and reached out to the stones. The Dae stones, which made up most of the mountain, responded with a warm pulse, a deep murmur of ancient awareness. He could feel every stone, no matter how deeply buried.

These feelings had been vague at first, but with daily practice Raine had learned to feel them with accuracy, like glancing at a page and knowing every word.

But that wasn’t all.

He could sense something behind him, just outside the door at the edge of the mountain.

He’d noticed it two days ago. Just the feeling of it as he communed with the mountain. It took another day before he realized what it was: a sandship. Specifically, the sandship they had stolen from Dawn’s parents, still sitting where it had crashed at the foot of Zatfu.

From within the mountain, Raine could sense the metals that made up the ship, the Dae stones embedded in each engine, and the fuel. The fuel spoke the loudest. Raine had learned that substances he could manipulate with the Gift were easier to notice. He was even learning how to sense what he could do with any nearby substance, just by feeling for it.

He reached out again. The nearby elevator that he could lower and raise. The secret door and the artifacts within, and even the books. All of it radiated a notion to his open, calm mind.

The world was new to Raine. Every moment he spent in contemplation revealed the lost history of his people and the still-unknown potential of his power. As the self-appointed Master of the Mountain, he looked forward to imparting these traditions to students. There would be a school in this mountain again. He had always imagined the Master of the Mountain as an older person with grey hair and a walking stick, not someone young. But Raine felt excitement at the idea of starting a school and eventually growing old in this place. He enjoyed picturing himself as a bearded man who greeted students when they arrived, eager to learn the Gift.

After smiling a while at this idea, he forced himself to be calm. He couldn’t focus when he got excited. He held out his arms and took in a slow breath, feeling…knowing…certain that there would be more secrets if he could only—

My toilet’s stuck again!

Raine shut his eyes hard until his prisoner’s words stopped echoing in the chamber.

Silence returned. Forcing a long exhale, Raine tried again.

It’s really jammed up this time. Gonna need a stick or something.

Verin, shut up!

Look, if this thing doesn’t clear, pretty soon I’ll be—

Fine, I’m coming!

Raine hurried down to the cell, which was supposed to be used to hold students who needed to learn meditation but was, instead, holding a prisoner. The barred door would open easily to one with the Gift.