City Of Brass Audiobook Novels & Stories

“I am giving it exactly what it wants. I am giving it the Dissonance. Can your gears handle a song that has no end?” ​The brass orb began to shudder. The rhythmic ticking of the clocks grew faster and faster, until it became a continuous, frantic scream. The glass jars on the walls began to shatter, the captured frequencies escaping in a whirlwind of colors. The light of the South and the songs of the East swirled around the room, a chaotic storm of reclaimed magic. ​“Stop it!” Vane roared, his mechanical arm sparking as he tried to stabilize the controls. “You will tear the city apart!”

Outside, the city continued its work. A train roared close enough to vibrate the glass. A car horn flared, indignant and brief. Someone laughed below, the sound ricocheting off brick before fading. The city watched, as always—watching was its habit. Neon from the bodega blinked on, casting pink light on the table. She let the city’s soundtrack thread through her quiet, humming with stories she didn’t need. Inside, Celeste narrowed the field.

I whispered. The words felt like stones in my mouth. "Burn the Wastes until the sand turns to glass. Collapse the tunnels. Poison the water. If a rat moves in the Dead City, I want a battalion there to crush it." "But the population... the Nulls..." "Are fuel for the fire," I finished. Bile rose in my throat, hot and acidic. I swallowed it back down. "Do not stop until you bring me the Asset. Alive. Broken. Weeping. Everyone else... kill them. Barzil. The Berserker. The Tactician. The Shaman. Hang their bodies from the walls of my city."

suspiciously at Conrod. Conrod looked down in embarrassment. He stood for a couple of seconds and, unable to bear the ridiculous situation, headed away from this place. The black surface of the polished boots was already covered with a thin layer of dust, it was getting hotter outside. Conrod strolls slowly through the cozy streets of the old part of the city, if you do not go too deep into the slums, this is a very nice place with good architecture. A painfully familiar ringing tone sounds, Conrod picks up his cell phone. The black surface of the polished boots was already covered with a thin layer of dust, it was getting hotter outside. Conrod strolls slowly through the cozy streets of th

“Please tell me that no one plays piano down there.” The music became louder. Not threatening. Almost inviting. Like a memory. Mara didn't know the melody. And yet she felt she had heard before. Somewhere. Sometime. Then the stairs ended. Abrupt. A huge space opened before them. And none of them spoke. Because what they saw was impossible. There was a city below Bremen. Not a ruin. Not a cave. A real city. Streets. Places. Building. Bridges. All built from dark stone.

James and Walganus continued to venture deep into the abandoned and desolate city. The city was huge, and although its buildings had collapsed, it was evident that it had once been a prosperous city a long time ago. The city was now eerily silent, and no sound could be heard. Clack! Clack! Clack! As they walked the streets, their footsteps broke the silence of the desolate city. “Hee hee hee…”

Running has always been the nearest thing to honesty some wolves ever know. You can hear lies in a voice. Smell them too, if you are paying attention. But the body at speed tells the truth with a kind of cruelty no speech can match. Who is strong. Who is wounded. Who is carrying fear. Who is burning too fast. Who has measured the ground and who is merely trusting instinct not to disgrace them. The city opened before me in iron, brick, drainage cuttings, broken fence-lines, industrial shadows and old routes the humans thought belonged only to rats and men with nowhere to be by daylight. I took them all cleanly.

"Drogo's new bride." A man in a white shirt approaches. His eyes rake over my face for a moment before he takes his jacket off and slides it around my shoulder. "Welcome to the East City." The east city? I heard it's the largest city in a country that consists of different species, mostly human. It had great resources and wild places with luxurious business exposure and tourism. I dream of visiting here one day. Well, not in this kind of situation. "I'm Bran, by the way. Drogo's right-hand man. Come with me."

Then reaches for the wrapper, licks a smear of chocolate from the inside, and looks away like she hasn’t seen him do it before. She says nothing. That is becoming a skill. Outside, the city has changed voices. The first day was sirens and screaming. The second was breaking glass, car alarms, distant gunshots. Now there is a quieter sound underneath everything. Shuffling. Waiting. The dead aren’t fast. That’s the one mercy. They gather where noise happens and stay there, patient as unpaid debt.

The sound of shattering glass and crumpling metal filled the air as they stumbled into the street, causing chaos and destruction in their path. “This city is so messy,” Richard commented from the front seat. “Why's the summit held here?” I lazily rested my elbow on the window and propped my head on my knuckles, gazing out at another group of hoodlums either drinking along the road, or breaking into people's parked vehicles to steal. “Worthless scums," I muttered with disdain. I also hated the fact that the summit was held in this city this year. Anywhere, even the most rundown, rural town would have been better than this festering pit.