Category: The Globe Folio

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Vernon leads Captain Ward to the heart of Belmont

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Outcast of Belmont

Part 2

BY FRASIER ARMITAGE

Captain Ward cradled her head in her hands. She hadn’t killed anything in days. Not since she’d landed. And playing politics with these cities made her ache for a kill. What she wouldn’t do for a single snap of a neck. 

But she had a duty to perform, and she couldn’t let a little thing like not killing someone get to her. 

She rolled her shoulders, the tension assaulting her vertebrae. Even her hair wound in a bun so tight, it stung her forehead. 

A screech through the intercom made her wince, and she held herself back from slamming her fist through the terminal. Achieve the objective, by any means necessary. She let out a deep breath. Just relax. 

“What is it, Montoya?” she snapped. 

“There’s a Vernon from Belmont asking to see you, Captain,” his voice crackled. 

“Send him in.” Ward scrambled to her feet and brushed the creases out of her uniform, checking her lips still held their crisp purple shade. Vernon had been the only one on this planet who could’ve given her a decent hand-to-hand, especially with the muscles she’d felt beneath his robe when she’d teased a squeeze of his shoulder. 

She needed to relax. Either he’d have good news, or he could do something to relieve some of this mission’s tension. Achieve the objective, by any means necessary.

The door opened and Vernon entered, bowing in his customary way. 

“I wish all men had your manners, Vernon. What have you got for me?” 

“I know a way into Belmont, Captain.” 

Finally. Some good news. “You found the other Belmontian?” 

“He asked me to give you a message. He said that Lorenzo of Belmont pledges friendship to the Polity.” 

“And who is this Lorenzo? Anyone of interest?” 

“Just a boy, Captain. But he is wise. He showed me the spot on the mountain where we can access the city. You can fly us there.” 

Or a hike in the fresh air and a mountain climb might just be the thing to release some stress. “Could you guide us there on foot?” 

“Is that an order, Captain?” 

Ward’s smile grew until it strained her cheeks. “A request.” 

“In which case, then know it won’t be an easy climb.” 

“I’ll bring my best men.” She slammed the intercom. “Montoya, get Valdez, Johnson, and Ringo, and meet us outside the hangar in five. Make sure you’re cammo’d and ammo’d.” 

“Aye, Captain.” 

She turned back to the Belmontian. “Lead the way, Vernon.” 

“As you wish.” 

Ward scooped up her gun and gloves, and they left together down the ramp. The other officers met them by a land cruiser, and Montoya piloted them across the dunes towards the distant mountain range. 

They abandoned the cruiser and fixed breathing masks to their mouths before they strode into the mist. 

“They abandoned the cruiser and fixed breathing masks to their mouths before they strode into the mist.”
Photo by Jason Blackeye

“Here.” Ward pressed a small diode onto Vernon’s back, attaching it to his robe and letting her hand linger on his muscular frame for a moment longer than necessary. “So we can follow you through the fog.” 

“Mind your step,” he said. 

Over the barren rockface, they clambered. Ward followed first, and Montoya brought up the rear. Montoya was a good officer, paternal, with just the right amount of spunk to keep him wired without losing that level head he wore so well. He’d make a fine replacement for her one day. That’s why Captain Exeter had chosen him at the last minute for her crew. 

The only person who didn’t like Montoya was Cookie. But Cookie couldn’t stand anyone with a food intolerance. 

The light blinked on Vernon’s back as he climbed ridges without any need for the balance boosts wired into their suits. A sheer, fifty-foot drop faced them. 

Vernon scrambled up using the thinnest of handholds, and the final bound took him ten feet to the top of the ridge. Ward followed slowly, maxing out her artificially enhanced grip, and as she neared the top, she slipped just short of the ledge. Vernon reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her up as though she weighed nothing. 

She gripped hold of his arm. “Thanks,” she said. Her hands refused to let go of the muscle bulging beneath the fabric. “What else are you hiding under that robe of yours?” she asked. 

“What do you mean, Captain?” he said. 

Her breathing mask hid the blush reddening her cheeks. “I mean, what other secrets have you kept from me, Vernon? About Belmont?” She let the rope fall and Valdez caught it, hauling himself up the final peak. 

“Belmont is a cage, Captain. A cage of their own making. They say that segregation is purity. They have no interest in outsiders. You’ll have to be wary of the Council.” 

“You mean, they won’t be welcoming us with open arms?” 

“I doubt they’d welcome you at all.” 

The others joined them at the top, and Vernon led them to the vent, which he found in the exact place Lorenzo had shown him. 

“Down there, Captain,” Vernon said. “That is your back door into Belmont.” 

Ward deactivated her breathing mask, and it snapped back, revealing her lips. “Nice work, Vernon. Montoya, take Valdez. I want surveillance on the city. And when the time’s right, I’ll follow you in.” 

“Aye, Captain,” Montoya said. 

“Expect a hostile response. You copy?” 

Montoya drew his gun and charged the blast cycle. “Loud and clear.” 

“Montoya, take Valdez. I want surveillance on the city.”
Photo by Daniel Stuben

The two officers switched on their chest-cams and lowered themselves into the shaft. 

Ward took a marble from her pouch and held it in her palm. It projected the feed from Montoya’s suit. 

In darkness, he navigated his way between twisted metal, like climbing through a dinosaur’s skeleton. Eventually, he found a grill, and kicked his way through, emerging onto solid rock. 

“I’m in,” Montoya said. He raised his pistol and swept an arc around the shaft’s opening. “All clear. Far as I can see.” 

Smoke smothered the feed, denser than the mist swamping the mountain. 

Montoya inched forwards. He crept along a passageway, and found steps chiseled into the rock. 

“I’m heading down,” he said. “Valdez, watch your step.” 

“Copy.” 

“They scaled the mountain’s core on the smooth steps chiseled into its side.”
Photo by Parastoo Maleki.

They scaled the mountain’s core on the smooth steps chiselled into its side. Smoke charred everything. Soot festered around them. Shadows loomed out of the smog, but they held no threat. A lump of rock here. A shard of metal there. Then a shadow moved in the distance. 

“Did you see that?” Valdez said, his voice faltering. 

“Stay close,” Montoya ordered. 

They crept forwards, but the shadow disappeared into the mist. Footsteps echoed around them, pattering like rainfall. 

They followed the shadow deeper into smoke, their guns raised. A faint red glow burned through the mist. 

“Whew, it’s getting hot in here,” Montoya said. He crept towards the glow and a blood-red river flowed from between two pillars that loomed out of the smog, towering over the heart of the mountain. 

Across the river, a metallic pounding rang once, reverberating around the cavernous chamber. Then it rang again. And again. Harder. Faster. 

“We’re not alone,” Montoya said. 

A clang struck behind them. Then all around them. 

Sparks flew as iron met iron and shadows swarmed their vision. A form leaped through the mist. By the time the officers fired their weapons, the creatures were already on top of them, red eyes fixed on their faces, and they clawed the guns away and threw them into the river. 

The creatures possessed human faces, but their snarling teeth and unbridled shrieks made them animals rather than men. The enhanced power of the suits couldn’t compete against the rage that fuelled the beasts’ strength. 

“To the King,” voices cried around them. “To the King!” 

A mob dragged Montoya and Valdez to the pillars and they plunged through an opening into darkness. A lift ascended. Gears whirred. 

“Captain, are you seeing this?” Montoya said. 

“Stay strong, Montoya,” Ward whispered into the feed. “I’m here.” 

The lift stopped and they were thrown into a chamber where an iron throne reigned in its centre. On the dais, a man sat in a hooded robe, his red eyes glowing behind the shadow of his hood. Beside him, a woman sat quivering. 

“Ophelia, leave us,” the man said. 

“Treat them kindly. He’s alive, Brutus. I know it. Maybe they know where he is?” she said. 

“Did you not hear me? Leave us.” 

The woman disappeared into the corner, and she shivered, holding her legs and rocking back and forth. 

“Speak,” the King said. 

“Oh, mighty King,” one of the mob said. “We found these outsiders trespassing in Belmont.” They pushed Montoya and Valdez before the throne. 

“Who are you?” the King commanded. 

From Montoya’s chest, a blue glow illuminated the chamber, and Captain Ward’s face appeared larger than all of them. 

“My name is Captain Ward,” the hologram boomed, “and I represent the Polity. These are my men. Who are you? Where is the Council of Belmont?” 

“The Council is no more.” The man on the throne’s eyes narrowed. “I speak for Belmont. I am the fire.” 

“No man is a fire.” 

“Fool. What know you of fire? You appear in light and yet your flame holds no heat. There is no spark. You are an illusion. You are a myth, waiting to be judged by the true fire of Belmont.” 

Captain Ward scowled. “Is that a threat?” 

“Heed this warning. The fire of Belmont will consume you. It will purify you or turn you to ash. You cannot escape the fire. The time for our reckoning has come.” 

The hooded king stood from the throne and picked up an axe. He ignited its blade and swung through the hologram. Valdez’s head rolled across the floor before Montoya fell, and the feed was slashed by his blade. 

On the mountain, the hologram dissipated into smoke, and Ward stared at the mist, her fists clenched so tight, her nails drew blood from her palms. 

That’s two for the butcher’s bill. And not by her hand. 

“Did you know this was going to happen?” Ward yelled. 

Vernon shook his head in dismay. “What has become of Belmont?” 

“If it’s a fight they want, it’s a fight they’ll get. You said they built themselves a cage. Then let’s cage them.” She turned to her two remaining officers. “Johnson, Ringo, I want you to stay here and set up a perimeter. Nobody in or out. We’ll assemble a team and surround the gate. Let’s see how long they last without food or air. Vernon, you’re with me.” 

“Should I not stay? Perhaps I can go down and reason with the people?” 

“Vernon. Don’t be a fool. They want a war, and the Polity will give them one.” 

“Belmont dreamed of peace once. The people are not beyond hope.” 

Ward bit her lip. “Ringo, Johnson, you have your orders.” She snatched Vernon by the arm and yanked him into the mist. 

Ward began the climb back down the mountain, retracing their path. Vernon followed easily. It had been years since he’d dared approach the mountainside, but the tricks to crossing the rocky terrain and steep slopes hadn’t escaped him. 

His mind reeled from the violence he had witnessed. And he knew Ward was ready to kill anyone or anything to avenge her men. Her movements were lythe as a hunter, as if she were stalking prey through the mist. He waited for the climb to take some wind from her. When they reached a flatter plateaux, he spoke, knowing any time would be too soon.

“Captain,” he said, “I’m from Belmont. I’m an outcast, but not an outsider. Perhaps I can broker a peace?” 

Ward whirled on him. “Listen, Vernon. Those officers gave their lives for the Polity. So don’t you dare think you can go down there on some kind of suicide mission and get yourself an easy way out of this. You hear me? Those people are savages, and we’ll treat them as we do all savages. But until then, you have a duty to avenge those officers whose lives were just wasted. So I need you here. I need you with me. Understand?”

“I understand, Captain. Duty is sacred. I won’t fail you.”

She paced the flattened path, her blood rising, death yearning to find its way into her hands. “Just calm down, Ward,” she whispered to herself. “Find a way to relax. To think.”

Achieve the objective, by any means necessary.

“What can I do?” Vernon asked.

Ward snarled, succumbing to instinct as she flung out her hands. Knives twirled in her grip. The first blow rang from where it collided with his staff. But her rage only grew. She swung again. And again. Each thrust stronger than the last. Even over the rough terrain, she moved smoothly, in her natural element. Ward and Vernon began to dance, the only music the knives ringing against his spinning staff. Their breath and the slide of their footsteps across the gravel punctuated the tune. She stretched her muscles, striking high, and then swooping low, making him bend to meet her glinting blades.

His hood fell back. They breathed deeper. 

She slashed at his face, and he ducked, but lost his footing. She swept his leg, and he planted his staff, launching himself through the air in a somersault over where she stood. Her roundhouse struck air, and she pirouetted, facing him, their shadows growling through the fog. 

Apparently, Belmont’s Gatekeepers knew how to fight, better than a lot of her Marines. But Ward was not just a Marine, she was a Polity SEAL.

In a flourish, she sheathed her knives. The time for finesse was over. Two of her men were dead.

Tears filled her eyes. Not tears of sadness. No, she had lost Marines before. Some of them better than Montoya and Valdez. These were tears of rage, she told herself. She unleashed herself upon the Belmontian with a force deadlier than any beast he’d encountered in the savagelands. 

Vernon dodged the full brunt of her kicks and blocked others with his staff. She closed in and slugged it out, her punches growing sloppy, as if she didn’t care where they landed. Anything to vent the fire within her. 

Vernon dropped his staff and blocked the lunges with his palms. Then he wrapped her fists in his own large, gloved hands.

“Fighting will get us nowhere,” he said.

“You’re right.”

She fed from his strength, finding solace in his touch. He leaned over her, surrounding her with firm shoulders, biceps of iron, and his dark cape.

She withdrew her hand from his grasp and reached up. He flinched, but saw in her eyes the smoulder of her anger transmute into desire. They breathed heavily. She pulled his head towards her and planted her lips on his.

“Captain—”

“Shut up, Vernon. That’s an order.”

Guilt inflated her chest. She thought he had emerged from the fight unscathed. But she’d slashed both his wrists and ankles. Nothing serious. She had merely kissed the skin with the blade’s edge. But in a few seconds they would sting, and he might bleed into his leather gloves. Yet, she relinquished her guilt to the pressure of his lips, and surrendered to the fire that burned inside him.

To Vernon, her perfume mingled with the mist, intoxicating him. Swallowed by the mountain’s veil, they found comfort in each other’s arms. A flame ignited within Vernon, one that had long since died. He would never need to wander again. His heart became glass, and it took the shape of the warrior in his arms, an outcast no more.

If you enjoyed Frasier’s story, please make sure and share some kind comments below. If you would like to see how this story began, read Frasier’s “Pillars of Smoke,” which kicked off the Belmont stories in the Globe Folio series.

Be stellar!

Matthew Cross

P.S. Now you can enjoy the Globe Folio from the beginning:

Act 1: Night of the Rocket

Act 2: Nights of Revelation

Now you’re all caught up. But don’t worry, we have more stories from the Globe on their way soon!

Be stellar!

Matthew Cross

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Cleo finds a kindred spirit in her latest trainee, Emilia

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Glass towers in shades of blue and green rise sharply into the sky

The View from the Wall

Part II

BY SHANEL WILSON

Emilia shifted her feet as she stood next to the desk where Cleo was stationed. If Emilia was successful in throwing the placement test just enough to land her a spot as a Vestra, she would gain access to security systems and learn about the shielding equipment. It was the only way she could think to get the mission to help rescue Antonio back on track. She said a silent prayer to Elizabeth Hathaway as Cleo studied the results on her comm tablet.

Photo by Jean-Philippe Delberghe

“Alright, I have your results.” Cleo looked up at Emilia, who bit her lip. “Not nervous are you, Emilia?”

“No, I just . . . I . . . oh. I guess I am!” Emilia laughed anxiously.

“I won’t keep you in suspense. You’re designated a Vestra.” Cleo smiled.

Emilia let out a breath. “Great. When can we start training?”

“Got somewhere to be?” Cleo stood, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, no. I guess I– I am just excited to know what I will be studying.” Emilia’s face flushed.

 “Glad to see you are so eager, but we can start tomorrow. Today has been long enough for you anyway.” Cleo motioned toward the lift.

“Yes, of course.” Emilia entered the lift. “Actually, I’m feeling a bit hungry. Am I able to explore the city on my own during training or am I restricted to my quarters?”

“Now that your eyes have recovered, you are welcome to come and go as you like, with a few minor restrictions. You need to be on time for training each day and you must be in quarters for nighttime curfew.” Cleo handed Emilia a miniature version of her comm tablet. “This will have your daily schedule and meeting location on it. It also has study materials you are able to look at after our sessions.”

“Thank you and that will not be a problem.” Emilia turned the tablet over in her hands. “Can you point me in the direction of somewhere to get a bite to eat?”

“I’ll do one better. I’ll take you to my favorite spot for when I’m missing home.” Cleo winked as she exited the lift.

“Lead the way!” Emilia jumped out of the lift to catch up with Cleo.

Once they exited the tower, Cleo led Emilia through the tree-lined plazas and gleaming white concourses that wound below the glittering spires. Emilia enjoyed the crisp evening air against her face as she took in all of the sights around her. Among the geometrical architecture, she felt worlds away from the warm, earthy streets of Westminster and the colorful prism of her room. Emilia realized for the first time since leaving, she missed home. Emilia was not sure why she had not felt that way in Newlondon, but she did know that whenever she was with Valentine, she felt close to home.

Cleo rounded a corner to stop at a grouping of tables under angled, glass awnings. Emilia’s mouth parted as she watched the purple hued light dance within the glass. 

“This canteen reused malfunctioning photo-voltaic cells for their awnings. To the Hallers and rest, it’s just a glass awning but to violet-eyed Westies and Brides, it’s a light show.” Cleo raised her eyebrows toward the awnings. 

“It’s beautiful! I could always see a bit of ultraviolet light, but this is unreal!” Emilia’s eyes sparkled as they reflected the light. 

“They also have the best Westie frybread this side of the river.” Cleo found a table next to a rail overlooking a fountain and the central plaza.

Cleo found a table next to a rail overlooking a fountain and the central plaza.
Photo by Gautam Krishnan.


Emilia sat across from Cleo, getting a better view of the fountain she had raced past this morning on her way to surgery. She saw the light posts flick on over crowds of people sitting on benches and strolling in the diminishing daylight. A golden-haired woman with blue eyes racing through the plaza holding hands with a young man in ill-fitting clothes caught Emilia’s eye. The woman’s eyes and the way she swiftly moved around the crowds reminded her of Valentine. She longed to be sitting here with Valentine, on an adventure, together. 

“It’s crazy down there. I mean it’s always busy at night with the restaurants and bars to tickle the Hallers’ fancies, but with everyone coming because of the Polity, it’s unlike anything I’ve seen here yet.” Cleo peered over the railing. 

“Yes, it does seem quite busy.” Emilia watched the mismatched couple. 

“A little overwhelmed? It’s okay. I was, too, when I first arrived.” Cleo waved for an automated waiter to take their order.

“How long ago was that?” Emilia turned back to face Cleo. 

“Long enough, I suppose. It doesn’t really matter much anymore. The Hallers are quite happy to have a Bride as a trainer so they can get back to other, ‘more important’ things.”

The auto-waiter hovered by their table.

“We’ll have two frybread-and-tuber specials, extra spice and two glasses of wine,” said Cleo. The auto-waiter beeped then hovered away.

“I’ve never had wine before. Father thought I was too young to drink.” Emilia’s eyes widened.

“If you’re old enough to be shipped here as a Bride, you deserve a drink.” Cleo winked.

“Thank you for taking care of me tonight. It’s odd being all alone in this new place.” Emilia batted her eyelashes like she had when she tried to charm the guard at the gate.

“No need to thank me, just cut out the cutesy act. I’m not some Haller you have to impress.” Cleo smirked. 

Emilia covered her face, then let out a laugh. She felt her shoulders relax as the auto-waiter brought their meal. Emilia knew she should not be letting her guard down with Cleo. Valentine would scold her for that. Yet, something inside told her that she could trust Cleo. 

Over dinner they shared about growing up in Westminster, Emilia in the Smith and Cleo in Wildcat Fields. Emilia listened intently to Cleo’s stories about the creatures she met with her father growing up. Cleo’s natural charm radiated from her like the lighted awnings above them. Emilia was about to ask another question when Cleo checked her comm tablet.

“Oh wow, we’ve had quite the chat haven’t we? We should head back so we are ready for training in the morning.” Cleo set her napkin on the table and stood.

“I’ve been having such a wonderful time hearing the stories about your childhood. It sounds like it was wonderful.” Emilia stood and they walked out of the canteen.

“It had its challenges, but I would gladly take those over being stuck inside these walls day in and day out.” Cleo’s shoulders tensed.

“I’m sorry, Cleo. The world is wider than our traditions and responsibilities. You’ll find your path.” Emilia linked arms with Cleo as they walked.

“What did they do to you in that surgical suite, give you a wisdom injection?” Cleo laughed. 

“Very funny. Trust me, you never know what life has for you around the next turn.” Emilia squeezed Cleo’s arm.

Over the next few days, Emilia’s nerves eased, and she fell into a comfortable routine. She started each day by rising early and taking a morning walk around the city. She quickly learned it was the quietest time around Whitehall, and she could wander anywhere she pleased, as long as it wasn’t locked or guarded that is. As she learned more about the security systems, she was able to memorize all the locations she decided needed more investigation.

She started each day by rising early and taking a morning walk around the city.
Photo by Leo Manjarrez.

Before her training session, Emilia would go back to her quarters to change into the uniform Cleo gave her to wear. Emilia mainly wore dresses at home, so the pants and fitted vest felt odd at first, but soon she relished the advantages of being able to crawl into a small workspace or onto a ladder with ease. Emilia’s favorite part of the outfit had to be the smaller version of Cleo’s toolbelt. There was a place for each of the beginner tools she’d need and a small pouch for the mini comm tablet. Emilia made sure to always arrive ahead of schedule to start the training session. She didn’t want to give Cleo any reason to suspect she was snooping around on her downtime. Emilia’s plan seemed to be working because Cleo was instantly impressed with Emilia’s work ethic and how quickly she learned. Emilia even surprised herself with how quickly she grasped the skills. 

In the evenings, Emilia would share a meal with Cleo in the colonnade. They spent hours laughing and sharing stories, becoming fast friends. Emilia would then excuse herself to take the long way back to her quarters. There were a lot more people out and about so she would make note of anything that caught her eye to come back to the following morning and explore in peace. When she got back to her quarters, she would check her medallion for any messages from Valentine. Emilia would send quick updates like “Learned about camera mounts today” or “Missing my Shadow.” She’d get messages like “Secured new intel” and “Thinking of my Iris” in return. It was miraculous to be able to communicate while she was away without having to use a drone, but it was limited. Emilia was keenly aware as each day passed how far away from Valentine she truly was.

One morning stroll, Emilia discovered an area by the south wall where there were more security cameras than anywhere else in Whitehall. There was no signage, but her eyes revealed that the doors in the area were protected by shielding as well. In her training, Cleo explained that shielding was generally used for exterior fortifications and rarely used inside any city in the Globe.

Photo by Scott Webb.

Ding.

“Oh blast!” Emilia pulled the mini comm tablet from her bag.

She had set an alert for herself in case she lost track of time exploring. Emilia hiked up her skirt and ran back to her quarters in the tower . Sweat was rolling down her temples as she dashed into her room and changed her clothes.

Ding.

“I know, I know! I’m going as fast as I can!” She shouted at her mini comm tablet.

She grabbed it off the bed as she slung her belt around her waist. She ran out her door and nearly collided with Cleo.

“Whoa!” Cleo grabbed Emilia’s shoulders to steady her.

“Oh! I apologize. I overslept and was racing to meet you on time.” Emilia panted and wiped her brow.

“These things happen, Emilia. No need to be in a rush, that’s how accidents happen. That was another one of my Dad’s favorite things to remind me of when I was little.” Cleo smirked.

“Yes, of course. I won’t let it happen again.” Emilia took a deep breath and smiled.

“That’s beautiful. I never noticed you wearing that before. It doesn’t look like something from home.” Cleo leaned closer to look at the eel coiled on Emilia’s medallion. Cleo reached a slim finger out to touch it when Emilia grasped the medallion with her palm.

“My father gave it to me. He went on many journeys and would return home with gifts from all his travels.” She tucked it quickly into her shirt.

“I see.” Cleo raised an eyebrow at Emilia.

“The schedule said our training will be on the wall armaments, correct?” Emilia fumbled to pull out her comm tablet.

Cleo crossed her arms across her chest and studied Emilia’s rosy cheeks. “A bit flustered today, are we?”

“I, I am just ready to start training. Shall we?” Emilia forced a smile and started toward the lift.

“Of course, Lady Vestra.” Cleo tipped an invisible hat to Emilia and followed her into the lift.

Photo by William Daigneault.

Cleo silently led Emilia through a set of narrow hallways inside the outer wall of Whitehall. While the exterior of Whitehall glistened in the sun like a crystal ornament in Emilia’s room back in Westminster, the worker passages were dank and dim. The overhead lights were fitted with special ultraviolet filaments, since it was mainly the Vestras that traversed them. 

Emilia bit her lip, hoping she hadn’t ruined their easy camaraderie with her carelessness. Emilia opened her mouth to say something when they reached a metal ladder mounted to the wall. Cleo wordlessly began climbing the ladder, so Emilia followed behind. Cleo opened the hatch on the ceiling, letting a flood of sunlight fill the darkness. Emilia lifted her hand to shield her eyes as she climbed out of the hatch.

Emilia found Cleo kneeling beside a metal circuit box with conduit coming out of each side. The shielding at top of the wall by Emilia glowed solid purple, but a few feet away by Cleo, it erratically flickered. Cleo gazed over the wall, studying the green sea of trees that lead to the Forest of Arden while she waited for Emilia to join her.

“Any creatures out today?” Emilia hedged, as she knelt beside Cleo.

“Most don’t venture this close in daylight. Plus, the shielding is quite effective, thanks to Vestras. Just don’t let a Haller hear you say that. They’ll think you are saying their engineering is less than perfect. If it was so perfect, why do they need us, huh?” Cleo continued to look out beyond the wall.

“Must be tough to be so close to the creatures you love but stuck behind this wall all the time.” Emilia readied her tools as Cleo taught her during their previous training sessions.

“Let’s just say, shielding days are bittersweet for me.” Cleo unlocked the box to reveal wires and circuits chaotically arranged inside. “Okay Emilia, tell me where we should start.”

Emilia looked inside the circuit box and saw a bare wire that blazed purple.

“That wire needs to be replaced and recapped,” Emilia responded.

“Okay, get to work.” Cleo sat back and closed her eyes.

Emilia set to work repairing the wire in the shielding circuit box using what she learned from Cleo’s previous training and the schematics she studied last night after curfew. As Emilia’s confidence grew with each repair Cleo led her through, she knew her training would be ending soon. She needed to make her escape before the Hallers tried to place her somewhere as a Vestra, but Emilia needed to know about the portion of the south wall she had found that morning. The more she thought about it, she was sure it must be where they were holding Antonio. Her training made it clear that if they had any hope of rescuing him, Emilia would need to stay in Whitehall to disable any security and shielding from inside the city.

Photo by Linh Ha.

“You said that shielding is only on the exterior of city walls and armaments, correct?” Emilia asked casually while tidying up the circuit box after the repair was complete.

“That’s correct.” Cleo reclined against the short wall behind them picking at her fingernails.

“Well, I noticed something funny on a morning walk recently. There is a portion of the south wall that has shielding on the interior side of the wall. Why would that be?” Emilia placed her last tool back in her tool belt.

“Would ‘recently’ be this morning?” Cleo flicked her eyes to meet Emilia’s.

Emilia’s cheeks burned before she could control them. She blew out a breath and leaned back against the wall next to Cleo.

“Was it that obvious I hadn’t just ‘overslept’?” Emilia hugged her knees to her chest.

“Otherwise, you are the sweatiest sleeper I’ve ever met.” Cleo cocked an eyebrow.

“I was really sweaty, wasn’t I?” Emilia laughed.

“You did look a bit like you had just come from a swim in Lake Avon.” Cleo rested her hands behind her head.

“Oh dear, what a sight I must have been! I like to take morning walks. Normally, I am better with my time than today,” said Emilia sheepishly.

“You could have told me the truth. You were still on time, but when you weren’t waiting for me early like normal, I came to find you. And when you got so flustered when I mentioned your necklace, I figured you just wanted your privacy.” Cleo’s gaze grew long again, scanning toward the tree line.

“It’s not that. I just . . . it’s complicated.” Emilia rested her hand on her chest where her medallion hung below her shirt.

“You don’t have to tell me your business. I’m just your trainer. You’ll be placed and moving on soon.” Cleo leaned forward to lock the circuit box with the keys on her belt.

“Cleo, please. If you were just my trainer, you would not spend every evening with me. You’ve become a sister to me. The big sister I wish I had back home.” Emilia rested her hand on Cleo’s arm. “And because of that, I don’t want to get you into any trouble with the Hallers. I wish we had met under different circumstances.”

“Trouble? Different circumstances? What are you talking about Emilia?” Cleo turned to face her.

“Just trust me, Cleo. You do not need to get tangled up in all this. Can you just tell me why there is shielding on the inner wall?”

“Something tells me you already know the answer.” Cleo frowned.

“I have a hunch, but it is very important that I know for sure. Please. Will you tell me?” Emilia pleaded.

“That’s the prison. They leave it unmarked. Only a Bride would be able to see the extra shielding so the average person wouldn’t think twice about it.”

“I knew it! I finally found it!” Emilia threw her fist in the air to celebrate her guess had been right.

“What’s going on? If I’m really your friend, Emilia, now trust me. Don’t worry about me and the Hallers. I can handle myself.” Cleo caught Emilia’s fist and looked directly into her eyes.

Emilia’s smile wavered. The lines around Cleo’s eyes tightened. They seemed to beg Emilia to tell Cleo the truth. Emilia closed her eyes and exhaled.

“I’m trying to help someone that is imprisoned, wrongfully, here in Whitehall. That’s why I need to know where the prison is,” Emilia said.

“A Westie? What did they do?” Cleo’s nose wrinkled.

“It’s not a Westie. I have not been exactly honest about this being my first time away from home.”

“You’re a Globe traveler then?” Cleo crossed her arms. 

“That is not quite it, either. I should have arrived in Whitehall the morning after the Polity landed. Instead, I went with the guide who took me through the savagelands to her home in Newlondon. We soon discovered that her sister’s fiancé was wrongly accused of smuggling and thrown into Whitehall’s prison. As we planned his rescue, I volunteered to come to Whitehall, since I could use my status as a Bride to gain access where they could not.” Emilia brushed the hair from her face. “When I was whisked into surgery immediately, I realized I underestimated how hard this would be. I’ve spent every morning before training trying to find where he might be without raising suspicion and how we would be able to get past the security and guards.”

Emilia waited as Cleo’s eyes pierced her own. Emilia’s ears were filled with the sound of her heart pounding in her chest. 

“That’s some story, Emilia.” Cleo blinked.

“I wasn’t planning on telling you any of this. At first, I wasn’t sure who I could trust. Then, as I got to know you more, I figured the less you knew, the better. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you if you got involved and things went wrong. Being forced to live behind one set of walls is more than enough for you to deal with.” Emilia motioned to the wall they sat on.

“My father always said that no creature should live their life in a cage. How ashamed he would be if he knew that’s how his daughter ended up.” Cleo’s eyes glistened.

“Then help me. Once we are done, you can be free to go where you please! The Hallers and the rest of the Globe are too concerned with the Polity and how they can exploit them. Plus, we can help protect you. You could slip away and finally be with the creatures you love so much.” Emilia leaned forward.

“Let’s fly.”
Photo by Tyler Rutherford.

Suddenly, a skycrawler pierced the treetops, flapping its terrible, scaly wings. Cleo stood to get a better view of the creature’s stilted flight. It let out a metallic screech before diving back into the verdant canopy again. Emilia stood beside Cleo with her hand out waiting. Cleo looked down at Emilia’s hand and back to where the skycrawler disappeared. Cleo lifted her chin and grasped Emilia’s hand.

“Let’s fly.”

If you enjoyed Shanel’s story, please make sure and share some kind comments below. If you would like to see how this story began, read Shanel’s “Shadow of the Dunes,” which kicked off the Westminster stories in the Globe Folio series.

Be stellar!

Matthew Cross

P.S. Now you can enjoy the Globe Folio from the beginning:

Act 1: Night of the Rocket

Act 2: Nights of Revelation

Be stellar!

Matthew Cross

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The governor interrupts Cordelia’s song of madness

  By ,

Song of Thieves

by Frasier Armitage

Cordelia’s chains rattled against the prison wall, the only music she’d heard in years. Memories of old shanties came to her in quiet hours between the rising of the moons, and she whistled them when she closed her eyes. But the curl of the ocean’s waves cresting on the shore was no more than a forgotten dream.

How many cycles had she spent inside this cell? And for what? A single moment of foolishness. Her best cycles gone, never to be recovered, and no one to mourn for them. She clanged her chains against the stone that held her irons and played a dirge that only she could hear.

“Inmate,” a voice echoed through the dark. “Why do you make such a racket?”

Cordelia stopped clattering her chains, and sang towards the voice, combing her fingers through wiry strands of black, matted hair.

There once was a maiden put to sea,

Of gentle face and soul was she,
‘Til the day that she became a thief,
And the jailer threw away the key.

She stopped, and raised her hands to her mouth, her fingers dancing as she blew.

“What are you doing?” the voice asked.

“Playing the tune on my piccolo,” Cordelia replied, her head swaying in the silence.

“Well, I hope it’s a short tune. We have important matters to discuss.”

Cordelia straightened. If this wasn’t a guard, then who? No visitor had ever bothered to trudge the dungeons of the brig for her sake.

How many cycles had she spent inside this cell? Photo by Mike Hindle.

She peered through the dark. But the figure to whom the voice belonged remained an outline, a silhouette without features.

“Forgive me, sir,” Cordelia said. “But I receive so little company. Won’t you come in and sit down?” She gestured to the middle of the cell.

The figure didn’t so much as flinch, choosing to remain in shadow. “I heard a story about you.”

“Is that so?” she asked.

“That you were caught stealing a pendant from the wife of a Newlondon Guild member.”

Cordelia scowled, her cheeks reddening as the blue of her eyes turned to ice. “Is that such a crime to deserve banishment? Is it fair? Me. Banished. For what? I warned her that she had no right to that pendant. It belonged to another. And when I hatched a plot to return it to its rightful owner, I was the one punished. If you came to see a thief, you’ll be disappointed. Better for you to make an appointment with the Guild. All you see here is a self-righteous fool.” She stomped across her cell, hands on hips.

“You have no love for Newlondon’s Guild?”

“And I told them so. It’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Locked up like an animal all these years in a Haller cell.”

The figure shifted, and a shaft of light exposed the fringe of their cape. “It’s a shame you’re not a thief. I was rather hoping I might find one in these parts.” They turned to leave, and footsteps faded into the distance.

“Wait!” Cordelia cried. “Sir, I beg you. Don’t go. Let me steal a word with you.”

“Ah, so you would steal from me after all?”

“If you wish it, sir. You have a very fine cape. A Whitehall garment. And I detect the aroma of influence in the scent you wear.” Cordelia squinted, yearning to snatch a glimpse of the man. “Why would a man of influence visit a lowly woman such as me?”

The figure crept closer. “I see that nothing in this darkness is hidden from you. Not so mad as you would have me believe, are you?”

Cordelia brushed frayed ends of hair behind her ear. “It passes the time, to play the fool.”

“Then let us stop speaking foolishly. For there is already so little time. Do you know of the Polity?”

“Only from old fishermen’s tales.”

“Then you do not know that they are here? On the Globe as we speak?”

Cordelia shook her head violently, as though someone had tossed her overboard. “I get it. You’re here to mock the mad girl who dared speak her mind. Very well. I beseech you, sir, tell me your best stories. I shall believe them all.”

“It’s true.” From his palm, an image glowed. A ship bigger than any hovercraft Cordelia had ever seen illuminated from the orb he carried.

The hologram danced over Cordelia’s eyes. “Is that real?”

“It rests on sand no more than a klom beyond that wall.” The figure zoomed in to the hull, where a dozen smaller vessels attached to the larger craft. He let the image linger on the small, one-person flier, and then extinguished the projection.

“And why would you show this to me?” Cordelia crossed her arms.

“I heard another story about you.”

“Oh, really?”

“That you were the finest pilot in all Newlondon.”

Cordelia’s lips curled. “You’re a well-informed man.”

“I heard that you could pilot anything.”

“Anything that moves,” Cordelia bragged.

“Could you pilot one of those ships? The solo-fliers?” The figure stepped towards the bars of the cell, his body rigid. The air between them sparked with a restless electricity.

Would you rather stay where you are? Photo by R.D. Smith.

Cordelia shrugged. “Like I said. Anything that moves.”

The figure’s shoulders eased, and he reached into his robe. “Then I wish to make a trade with you.”

It had been so long since Cordelia had traded anything but her memories. Blood surged through her veins with more force than the ocean’s waves. “State your terms,” she said.

“You’ll play the thief, and steal a ship. You’ll take it from the surface and fly beyond the sky to dock with the good ship Shakespeare. Once aboard, you’ll find a command console and program a specific series of instructions into it, and unless you hear from me otherwise, you’ll leave before the Shakespeare comes crashing down on our Polity friends.”

Cordelia’s laughter skittered through the cell. And people thought she was mad! “A hover can only reach thirty metes above the surface,” she said. “Even children know as much. But a craft that can sail above the sky? Impossible.”

“And yet, there it is.” The figure lit the projection once more.

Cordelia stared at it, analyzing the design. The closer she surveyed it, the quicker she lost her smile. “I’ve never seen technology like this before.”

“But you can fly it?”

“Over land. Sure. But into the heavens? I haven’t been free of this cell for many cycles. And you ask me to rise above the surface of the Globe?”

“Would you rather stay where you are?”

Cordelia folded her arms, and rubbed her chin. “I know the Shakespeare remains in the sky. You can make it out glowing as a speck in the heavens. Newlondoners use it to guide them when the light fades. But you wish me to actually go there? To cross that distance?”

“A feat no other Glober has ever performed.”

Cordelia shook her head. “And what would you trade for these services?”

The figure slipped his hand from his robe and dangled a key from a chain. “Once your task is complete, you’ll be free.”

The figure dangled a key from a chain. Photo by Ainur Iman.

Cordelia’s eyes locked on the key, transfixed by it. But her instincts prevented her from snatching it. She knew better than to make a deal without knowing all the angles. “Just tell me one thing, sir — what are these commands you wish for me to give the Shakespeare?”

The figure snarled below his breath, his hands clenched into fists. “The Polity have us in their palm. They rule from on high. Another ship lurks above us in the sky. They call it—the Pacifica. I’ve tracked this vessel using sensors on the Shakespeare—”

“Wait,” Cordelia interjected. “You can communicate with the Shakespeare?”

The figure straightened the collar of his cape. “There are certain men in Whitehall who hold such power.”

Cordelia nodded. “Then you truly are a man of influence. If you can communicate with the ship, why not give it your instructions from here? Why do you need me?”

“We receive telemetry, meteorological data, topographical charts from the Shakespeare. Things like these. But we cannot broadcast messages. When our ancestors traveled across the heavens and settled here, they landed in transport ships, and left the great engine which had carried them in the sky.”

“The Shakespeare. I know my history.”

“Then you know it is much more than just an engine. It is a city. But a city that the Polity believe is dead. I intend to bring it to life.”

Cordelia’s eyes frosted over once more. “You’re going to turn it into a weapon, aren’t you?”

“There is a city in the sky which belongs to the Polity. They look down on us as insects. Unless they can believe that we are every bit as human as them, they will not hesitate to crush us.”

Cordelia stroked her chin. “So you wish to destroy them first? What of peace?”

“There can be no peace without talk. I don’t intend to use the Shakespeare without reason. I shall try to persuade them in negotiations. But there is no harm in securing a little leverage. Once you reach the Shakespeare, if I succeed in convincing the Polity of our independence, then I shall contact you with the abort codes. Look out for my signal by scanning the rooftop of Whitehall’s tallest tower. But if you do not receive my signal, then we must strike first, or not at all.”

Cordelia considered his words, and raised her arm towards the bars of her cell. “Then I believe we have reached an accord.”

The figure inserted the key into the lock, dispelling the electric charge running through the bars. He twisted the latch and flung the door open. His cape followed behind him as he strode across the cell and shook her arm, before he unfastened her chains.

Cordelia’s eyes widened as the insignia of his cape fluttered in the light. “Why, Governor, I didn’t realise I was in such distinguished company.” She bowed to him.

The Governor of Whitehall put his hands on her arms, straightened her upright, and smiled. “Needless to say, if anyone finds out about our agreement, then you won’t be returning here. There’s a spot outside the city you’ll end up in. Where the Mirrim roam.”

“Governor, you need not threaten me. Once we have reached an accord, there is no question of my loyalty. I may be a thief, but I’m no liar.”

The Governor nodded. “Now, pay attention while I teach you the commands I wish for you to input.”

“Very well.”

He smiled. “And then all you have to do is figure out how to steal a Polity flier.”

Music spilled from the tavern in Newlondon, flooding the dock with its cheer. A Polity officer stumbled from the bar, his boots staggering across the cobbles as he swayed to the tune. The stench of ale on his breath clouded the air around him.

“Hey, handsome,” Cordelia called from an alleyway.

Music spilled from the tavern in Newlondon, flooding the dock with its cheer. Photo by Giuseppe Famiani.

The officer turned on the spot, and through bleary eyes, toured the contours of her body, before coming to rest on those blue irises, almost glowing in the darkness. He flashed his best Polity smile and stumbled towards the alley. “You talking to me?” he slurred.

“I don’t see any other handsome men around here. Do you?”

He turned left and right, but the harbor was empty, save for the slosh of waves and the odd fishing net. “What’s a lady such as you doing alone on a night like this?”

Cordelia backed into the alleyway. “How would you like to remedy that?” she whispered as she slunk into the shadows.

His eyes bulged as he wobbled closer, striking blind into the narrow alley. Darkness consumed him, and he reached through it for the promise of the maiden’s lips. A pinprick jabbed his neck, and he swatted it away, thinking it no more than an insect bite.

“Come to me, my pretty Glober. And let me show you what the Polity can do.” He tumbled into the wall. His head swam. From the bite on his neck, heat spread down his back. His vision clouded and he lost his footing, collapsing in a heap as the black fog of unconsciousness overwhelmed him.

Cordelia backed into the alleyway. Photo by Darwin Vegher.

Cordelia pocketed the syringe, offering a silent thanks to the Finsber who’d mixed the sleeping cocktail. She stooped to the officer and searched his pockets until she found his ident-strip.

She flicked her wrist, and a drone whirled down from where it had hovered overhead.

“Copy the data,” she instructed it. The drone emitted a green strobing beam as it scanned the ident-strip, duplicating the information into its storage banks. The beam vanished.

Cordelia replaced the item on the officer and left him sleeping. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered. Then she turned to the drone. “Inform the Governor that we move at dawn, and return to the meeting point.”

The drone thrummed skyward, vanishing from sight.

She turned to the officer and blew him a kiss. “Better luck next time,” she said, leaving him to sleep off his stupor as she disappeared into the night.

The engine of the Governor’s hovercraft rattled, skirting the desert. Strapped below the underside of the craft, Cordelia clung to the frame. Sand kicked up her back. Why couldn’t they have just put her in the trunk, like she’d asked?

Brakes whistled, biting her ears as the hover screeched to a halt in the shadow of the Polity’s lander.

Cordelia’s sinews roared. She breathed through the pain. Beside her, two sets of feet exited the craft, and voices drifted to meet them.

“Governor, this is an unexpected pleasure,” a woman said.

“Captain Ward,” the Governor answered, “I wonder if you’d permit me the pleasure of your company. There’s a small matter I wish to discuss with you.”

“It couldn’t wait?”

“I’m afraid not. May we come aboard?”

Cordelia’s skin itched as the pause stretched into an eternity. Since when did the Governor of Whitehall have to beg for an audience with anyone?

She allowed her body to lower into the straps that held her in place, and craned her neck for a glimpse beyond the hovercraft. From her waist, she slipped a pistol from its holster, loading the pellet she’d purchased from one of Westminster’s beast-chasers. In all her trades along the river, she’d never succeeded in obtaining bullets from an Artemis. But she’d never had the Haller’s credits to barter with before. If every Newlondoner knew the value of Haller credits, they’d all be working for the Governor.

Cordelia snapped the barrel shut, taking aim at the hulking metal landing-frame of the Polity’s cruiser. Its size dwarfed everything she’d thought possible in an airship. How could something so colossal ever lift from the ground? Still, at least it made an easy target.

Come on, she thought. Hurry up, Governor. I agreed you’d be on board before I fired. But a girl can only wait so long.

She strained her wrist, stretching it for a clear shot at the prow, her finger closing in on the trigger.

She strained her wrist, stretching it for a clear shot at the prow, her finger closing in on the trigger. Photo by Sofia Sforza.

“Fine,” Ward capitulated. “I can spare a few minutes.”

The feet beside the hovercraft shuffled towards the lander, and the huge mouth of the shuttlebay consumed them all.

Cordelia’s lip curled. Here goes nothing.

She released the shot, and the pellet flew through the air, erupting in clear goo across the lander’s hull.

Across the sand, a rumble echoed.

Cordelia snatched the knife from her hilt, and sliced the straps that held her to the underside of the Governor’s hovercraft.

The rumble grew louder. Louder.

She checked her hoverpads were fastened tight to her boots.

Grains of sand shuddered as the ground slithered around the lander.

Cordelia took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

From the heavens, a thousand skycrawlers descended. The beating of their wings forcing the sand to shiver beneath them. They dove at the lander, snapping at each other with fangs of steel, all of them drawn by the Artemis’s lure, splattered across the hull.

Countless beasts crowded, wrestling for a taste of the clear nectar, the air filled with their beating wings. There were so many, they blocked the sun.

Cordelia activated the hoverpads on her boots and emerged from her hiding place under the hovercraft, lifting from the clawing nest of skycrawlers. Their distraction disguised her flight perfectly, and she landed on a wing of the Polity ship, deactivating the boots as she ran towards the nearest solo craft.

Below, between the screeches of the beasts, Polity officers emerged from the lander, blasting rifles into the pack, but still the skycrawlers lusted for a morsel of the clear liquid.

Cordelia flicked her wrist, and the drone zipped across the sky, appearing at her side.

“You got those credentials?” Cordelia asked the drone. It scanned the copied ident-strip across a panel on the solo-flier, and a green light flickered as the cockpit slid open with a hiss. Cordelia climbed in and eased herself behind where the rudder should’ve been. But instead, a series of wheels and levers protruded from a console.

It’s okay. All machines are the same.

A series of wheels and levers protruded from a console. Photo by Leonel Fernandez.

As the carnage crescendoed on lander’s hull, the shrieking beasts flapped in a frenzy, rifle blasts following them. Talons slashed against reptilian hides, spewing the ground with a carnival of torn flesh and neon blood.

This must be the thrusters. And here’s the tiller.

Cordelia reached on instinct for the controls, and the whoosh of hydraulics released the clamp which fixed the flier to the main ship. She called to the drone, “Engage protocol Mirrim.”

The drone bleeped and lowered to where the clamp was open. It scanned the flier’s systems and duplicated the readings showing on the console, then it pressed itself onto the clamp, allowing the vice to squeeze its frame until it closed. The drone plugged into the Polity’s systems, and fed data back so that if anyone ran a diagnostic, they’d see a solo flier on the readout, exactly where it should be. A perfect switch. Unless the Polity did a manual inspection. But what were the chances of that when all the readouts looked normal?

Skycrawlers broke from the surface, rising in spirals like a swirling cyclone. Cordelia lifted with them, shielded from view in the melee of beating wings. She secured the latch on the cockpit door, and strapped in for the ascent.

Everything shrunk as she drew further up. Below, she saw the spires of Whitehall diminish until they were the size of children’s toys. Desert stretched all the way to the misty mountains of Belmont. The river seemed no more than a pencil line, tracing a path to the ocean. Waves patterned the sea like rips in fabric, their majestic surf reduced to mere ripples.

She reached out to taste the ocean air, the desert’s heat, the mountain’s mist. But she met only the stale glass of the cockpit window.

Cordelia glanced around her. There were four walls, the same as her cell. And no way out. She could no more reach out and touch the Globe than if she were back in the brig, chained to the wall. And then the sky darkened as the atmosphere thinned.

Her hand pressed against the glass, searching for a connection to the world, but it had been robbed from her. Yet, such a world that she beheld—the beauty of it startled her as much as its vastness. How small the Polity. How tiny was Whitehall. The higher she climbed, the greater the wonder of her vista magnified. She sailed above the sky, looking down on the Globe, and as her eyes absorbed the planet unfolding before her, Cordelia’s head filled with music. An aria unlike any that she’d ever heard.

The beauty of it startled her as much as its vastness. How tiny was Whitehall. Image by NASA.

She raised her fingers to her mouth and imagined the piccolo piping the tune. When she opened her eyes, the planet sparkled brighter than any treasure. A perfect pendant to adorn the heavens.

The world she saw didn’t belong to any of them. Hallers, the Guild, the Polity. None of them. And as she joined the company of stars, her voice called out in song—

The world is not ours,Not the land or the seas,To the Globe be the power.All who take it are thieves.

If you enjoyed Frasier’s story, please make sure and share some kind comments below.

We will be seeing more of Governor Octavius in future installments of “Nights of Revelation,” and we’ll catch up with Cordelia in Act 3 of the Globe Folio series.

Be stellar!

Matthew Cross

P.S. Now you can enjoy the Globe Folio from the beginning:

Act 1: Night of the Rocket

Act 2: Nights of Revelation

Be stellar!

Matthew Cross

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In a time of crisis, Valentine and Emilia’s love blooms

  By ,

Swift as Shadow

Part II

BY SHANEL WILSON

Emilia looked out a window overlooking the Newlondon Harbor. She had eaten the food Valentine gave her and took a short rest. She couldn’t really sleep with the events of the last day flashing through her mind. When Emilia made the choice to stay with Valentine, she imagined a beautiful world by her side, free from worry and full of adventure.

Such a world would never have been hers if she had become a Bride as planned. Once in Whitehall, she would have been registered and taken into surgery to enhance her already ultraviolet-sensitive eyes for a job either repairing defense systems as a Vestra or monitoring the beasts around the Globe as an Artemis. Neither of those tasks had ever seemed appealing to Emilia, but her eyes destined her to be prized for their usefulness instead of Emilia’s own talents and desires.

Photo by Håkon Grimstad.

She longed to get to know her beautiful Shadow, the name she had given Valentine before she learned her real name, and to explore this new world lying in front of her. Now she was stuck in a room with a window, not unlike the one she had left behind in Westminster. Emilia knew she was in unfamiliar territory, so she tried to accept her place and wait for Valentine. But waiting was getting hard.

I can help. I should be doing something! Emilia thought to herself.

But all the things she thought of would jeopardize them all by exposing her eyes to anyone in Newlondon. Instead, Emilia decided to study Valentine’s room. It was sparse and tidy. Emilia’s own room in her father’s house was filled with all types of glass blown into the most intricate and beautiful shapes. It was an explosion of color. In Valentine’s room, the only color came from a few small paintings tacked above the small desk. Each was a beautiful landscape; a lush green forest with accents of golden sunlight filtering through the branches, craggy mountain peaks swirled in grey mist, the teals and blues of an outlook over the sea. The last one was vibrant oranges and browns of sand dunes. Valentine had clearly explored each piece of the Globe, from the top of the Elizabeth River and down to the sea.

Emilia understood then just how little she knew about the Globe, and Valentine for that matter. Emilia studied the painting of the sea cliff further. She should have felt terrified to come all this way, leaving her father and ignoring her fate, to be with a stranger. Instead, a calm washed over her. She smiled at the thought of this new adventure with this new, beautiful person by her side. Emilia looked back out the window. She caught a swish of a cloak as the front door creaked open.

“Emilia?” Bianca called.

“Yes! I am here. Did you find your Antonio?” Emilia said, as she descended the stairs.

Bianca embraced Emilia and led her to the sitting room through the carved wood archway on their left. Dark wood paneled the walls, and a few paintings like the ones in Valentine’s room hung from them. Heavily carved chairs with striped cushions sat around a tea table with a beautiful inlay of sea creatures swimming in the wood’s surface.

Photo by Wonderlane.

“I did. By the grace of Elizabeth Hathaway. It is as Valentine feared. He was made a member of the Guild upon returning from slaying the kraken and was made the representative to go to Whitehall to meet with the Polity.”

“Why would they let the newest member be their representative?”

“That is a very good question, Emilia. I am positive the Guild means to use him to their extreme advantage, but there is something I am not seeing yet. The Guild is somewhat of a necessary evil here in Newlondon. Us Newlondoners are born a bit restless, with the sea in our veins. Some choose more dubious ways of life than others, but that is the charm of Newlondon. Our destinies are our own. The Guild maintains the thinnest semblance of order in exchange for carte blanche in their racketeering and shady dealings. That’s why people like my father have tried to tip those balances to protect those unable to wield such power. Those like my sweet Antonio.”

“If the Polity is to be feared, as we’ve been taught, and the Guild protects themselves first, as you said, perhaps they feel Antonio is expendable?” Emilia suggested.

Before Bianca could answer, Valentine appeared in the room.

“Valentine!” Emilia crossed the room to greet her.

“Taking your Shadow business seriously, I see. You don’t have to sneak into your own home,” Bianca said playfully.

“You never know who is watching, sweet sister,” Valentine replied.

“You sound just like Father,” Bianca said. “Come, tell us what you know.”

“We retrieved the dead pirate from Antonio’s skiv and left Antonio a warning. It’s up to Antonio for now,” Valentine shared, as they took their seats.

Bianca let out the breath she had been holding.

“We will protect him, my sister. All have been alerted along the river. And those in Newlondon have brought more news,” Valentine said, taking Bianca’s hand in hers. “Solanio has also left the harbor on his way to Whitehall. The word on the wind is that he is to represent Newlondon to the Polity.”

“That scoundrel! I knew there was something I could not see.”

“And more still, Solanio is how Antonio ended up on the Tempest. Antonio had panicked about the pirate and went to Solanio for help. The only help he offered was certain death.”

“A death that did not occur. Perhaps he will correct this error on his way to Whitehall?” Emilia interrupted.

Bianca’s hands involuntarily tightened around Valentine’s.

Bianca’s hands involuntarily tightened around Valentine’s. Photo by Zoe.

“Solanio cannot risk another failure. If he has persuaded the Guild to trust him as their actual representative to Whitehall, he certainly has been able to twist the Guild’s questionable motives to enhance his own. Antonio is the only thing in his way to a rightful spot in the Guild and to your heart,” Valentine said, looking deep into her sister’s eyes.

“Me? He knows I find him wretched.”

“Yes, but men like Solanio only want the things they cannot have. So, we must be vigilant and ready for what lies ahead. I am leaving to organize a crew of Shadow Walkers that will go to Whitehall. That way we will be prepared for any ills Solanio or the Guild, for that matter, have planned.”

“You aren’t leaving without me! I cannot rest while that vile bottom-dweller lurks toward my beloved!” Bianca proclaimed.

“But I need you here with Emilia, staying safe. I promise I will stay in constant touch,” Valentine said, touching her eel medallion.

“Dear Valentine, my Shadow, please. I can help. I cannot be confined to another set of walls when I just left my old ones behind,” Emilia said, breaking in.

Bianca stood, reaching her hand out to Emilia. Emilia stood and took it.

“We are coming with you. We will obey all your orders except those that say we cannot help,” Bianca said. Emilia nodded in agreement.

“Father will have my head if I let anything happen to you and with being newly installed . . .”

“Installed? Oh, Valentine, I am so proud! You are ready for this.” Bianca wrapped Valentine in a hug before continuing. “As far as Father goes, nothing will happen to us. We spent our girlhoods together where we both learned the skills and secrets of Shadows, yet I always knew my life and love would be bound in Newlondon. I slowly stayed behind but never forgot all I have learned at your side. Now that my love is lost in the sea of this turbulent world, I cannot sit idly by. Besides, when have you let Father decide what you did? And in the short time I’ve had with Emilia, I can tell she is wise and cunning. She has put her full faith in you. Would you not return that to her?”

Valentine looked into the two faces before her. She still had so much to prove, to the Shadow Walkers, to her father, and to herself. She couldn’t let any of them down, let alone Bianca and Emilia. Their lives had been diverging, but Valentine and Bianca were as close as two sisters could be. Halves of the same whole.

Valentine wanted to protect her sister from the dangers she had seen around the Globe, yet she could not imagine trying to take this mission on without Bianca. Valentine’s heart swelled seeing Emilia standing so boldly next to her sister. Valentine knew she was inextricably connected to Emilia, with their connection deepening every moment they spent together. Through their journey so far, Emilia had proven she could hold her own, so Valentine could not stand in her way.

“I will have to scrounge up one of Father’s broken medallions to reconfigure for Emilia. We will need to gather supplies and be ready at the drop of an anchor.”

“I knew you’d come around!” Bianca danced around the room.

Valentine brushed the hair from Emilia’s face.

“Are you sure you are ready for this?” Valentine asked.

“Of course not, but I already told you. I can help and I will follow where you go,” Emilia said with a wry smile.

In the shadows and mist, a small skiv bobbed at the secret dock at Limnoreia estuary. Bianca gave Emilia a sisterly hug and stepped aside for Valentine. Valentine hung the newly fashioned eel medallion around Emila’s neck. The amethyst crystal eye of the eel matched Emilia’s eyes perfectly. 

“It’s not too late to change your mind, Emilia,” Valentine said.

Photo by Suhyeon Choi.

“I am ready, my Shadow. This will give us the best chance to save Antonio. I can do this.” Emilia pressed her forehead to Valentine’s.

“She’s right, sister. You and I cannot go where she will be allowed to,” Bianca said, adjusting the strap on the shoulder bag she wore.

Valentine closed her eyes tight. She knew they were both right. Their admiration was blossoming into the sweet first buds of love over the past few days as they gathered information and made plans to help save Antonio. Valentine didn’t feel ready to let Emilia go. She felt a squeeze from the hands holding her own.

“It’s time,” Emilia said gently. She placed a delicate kiss on Valentine’s lips and stepped aboard the skiv with the Shadow Walker that would escort her to the gates of Whitehall to report as a Bride.

Valentine subconsciously touched the medallion around her neck as she watched the skiv unlock and pull back from the dock.  She saw Emilia touch her own before she slipped it back into her dress. Bianca came and stood next to her sister.

“Is this what I am like when Antonio is around? No wonder you call me insufferable.” Bianca giggled, lightening the mood.

“Ha! You’ve always been insufferable, even before Antonio, dear sister!” Valentine prodded back.

“I must have learned it from you!”

“No, we learned it from Father!”

The sisters laughed and shared a long hug.

“Come, sister. There is much to do,” Bianca said as she turned toward Newlondon.

“Swift as shadow,” Valentine said, and she slipped into the darkness of the wilderness.

If you enjoyed Shanel’s story, please make sure and share some kind comments below. If you would like to see how this story began, read Shanel’s “Shadow of the Dunes,” which kicked off the Westminster stories in the Globe Folio series.

Be stellar!

Matthew Cross

P.S. Now you can enjoy the Globe Folio from the beginning:

Act 1: Night of the Rocket

Act 2: Nights of Revelation

Be stellar!

Matthew Cross

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Valentine always wanted to be a Shadow Walker

  By ,

Swift as Shadow

Part I

BY SHANEL WILSON

Spray from the river studded the hood wrapped tightly around Emilia. Valentine’s face was set firmly forward as she pushed the throttle as hard as she could, steering to make their wake as minimal as possible. The rocket could not mean anything good as far as Valentine was concerned and they must get to Newlondon immediately. Emilia patiently followed Valentine’s lead. She had learned from her trip across the desert with her that Valentine worked best in silence.

“Put this on.”

Valentine released Emilia from their embrace and gave her a dark blue cloak like her own.

Emilia obeyed as she watched Valentine sweep into action. Valentine prepared the hover and unlocked the maglock holding it to the dock. She paused for a moment, then went to the controls. Emilia curiously peered toward the spot Valentine had paused. She caught a faint glimpse of a pulsing blue light under the water. She inched toward the edge of the hover to get a better look.

“Hold on!” Valentine commanded.

Emilia fell back into the bench behind her. The hover raced down the river.

“I’ll get us to safety,” Valentine said, turning to Emilia. Her expression was clouded.

Even when the creature had attacked them when they crossed from Westminster to the river, Valentine had remained calm and cool. A chill rose in Emilia that wasn’t from the wind rushing past them as they traveled farther and farther from her home. Emilia stood and placed her hand on Valentine’s. Valentine looked meaningfully into Emilia’s violet eyes and turned back to the river ahead.

Emilia gazed with wonder at the towering trees that lined the left bank of the river as they flew past Finsbury. She had never seen anything like them in her dusty desert home in Westminster. The water then became more turbulent, and the fog spiraled around them. Valentine’s shoulders seemed to relax as she steered into a pocket of fog and the world around them disappeared.

“Home,” she said.

Emilia gazed with wonder at the towering trees that lined the left bank of the river as they flew past Finsbury. Photo by Anna Goncharova.

They soon heard the cawing of sea birds through the fog. Tall masts pierced through the grayness and Valentine slowed the hover to a slow crawl.

“Welcome to Newlondon,” Valentine said, motioning to the shadows of ships and lines of docks cutting through the mist. “The grand tour will have to wait, unfortunately.”

They quietly cruised through the bay and into the docks. Valentine turned into her private dock when a loud groan of an engine behind them grabbed their attention. A dark-black ship laden with a huge creature strewn on its deck crossed into the bay.

“A kraken? That’s impossible!” Valentine exclaimed, while Emilia gawked at the size of the monstrous beast.

Shouts from the docks grew and echoed across the water.

“The Tempest returns!”

“Kraken is slain!”

“Antonio slayed the beast!”

Valentine’s face lost all its color.

“Antonio? It can’t be. The fool. I’ve told Bianca as much so many times.” Valentine wove her fingers through her curls. Emilia reached out and took Valentine’s hands.

“Tell me what you need me to do. I can help. Who is Bianca?”

“She is my sister,” Valentine responded.

Valentine reached into her cloak and pulled a chain with a medallion on the end of it. The medallion was ornamented with a swirl of long, slender body with a fin running the length of its back and a crystal eye.

“It’s an eel,” Valentine answered the question in Emilia’s eyes. “We have to see my father, but I need Bianca too.”

She squeezed the medallion, and the crystal eye pulsed a deep blue.

“That light, I saw it in the water at the dock!” Emilia leaned closer to examine the medallion.

“It’s an alert of sorts. I will explain more soon, but we must get to my father, and quick. Keep your hood covering you and follow close. We will use the distraction at the docks to slip away unseen.”

“I’ll follow where you lead.”

Hearing Emilia say those words transported Valentine back to the Westminster dock and how her heart had stood still when Emilia asked to come with Valentine instead of going to Whitehall as planned. No one she encountered in all her travels so far came close to creating these unfamiliar feelings Valentine was having. Emilia had shown strength and poise through their journey so far, through all the twists and turns that seemed to be coming faster as the day dawned. Valentine embraced Emilia and gently kissed her cheek.

Photo by Meritt Thomas.

She led Emilia around a long loop through the docks away from the crowd growing to get a glimpse of the kraken. They silently raced through the visitor docks when Valentine stopped short. She motioned to Emilia to stay on the dock as she jumped into a skiv covered in nets and tarps. Valentine swiftly searched the skiv and peered under a corner of the tarp. She winced at what she saw. She secured the tarp and returned to Emilia’s side.

“This is Antonio’s skiv. It shouldn’t be here, and what’s on it shouldn’t, either,” Valentine whispered to Emilia. “Come, quickly.”

They raced towards town staying in the shadows.

Photo by Jake Oates.

Bianca paced her bedroom, clutching the medallion at the end of her necklace, its crystal eye pulsing a deep blue. She stopped occasionally to peek out the window, then continued pacing. When she heard the wooden creak of the front door, she sprinted down the narrow staircase to the entry.

“Sister!” Bianca cried out.

Valentine swooped in with Emilia close behind and shut the door as quickly as they had entered. She wrapped her arms around Bianca in a tight embrace.

“Where’s Father? I sent a ping up the river after I saw the rocket,” Valentine asked.

“He’s meeting the others at Selkie’s Kist. He’s not going to be happy to learn you are the one that sent the ping. He hasn’t installed you yet.”

“What was I supposed to do? Ignore the giant rocket in the sky and not warn the Shadow Walkers? My installation is a formality at this point.”

“You know that’s not how Father feels. And who is this, dear sister?” Bianca peered into the dark hood Emilia was still wearing.

Emilia shifted quietly at Valentine’s side. Valentine looked at Emilia apologetically.

“This is Emilia,” Valentine said, as Emilia lowered her hood gently.

“The Bride you were escorting?”

Bianca couldn’t hide her shock. She had never met a Westminster Bride in person before and half wondered if it was just a myth that their eyes were really violet. She should have known better than to assume that myths aren’t real when she knew the truth of the Shadow Walkers. When Bianca looked back to her sister, she saw something else. The warmth growing in Valentine’s cool-blue eyes as she looked upon Emilia was the same warmth she saw in Antonio’s.

“I chose a different path,” Emilia said, speaking for the first time since the docks. “I am pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine. I am sure this tale between you two is worth sharing, but there are more pressing matters at the moment.”

“Yes, more than you know. We must all get to Selkie’s Kist immediately.” Valentine motioned to the door.

“Neither of us are Shadow Walkers! Father warned what would happen if we attended a meeting without an invitation. Sending a ping is one thing, but why should we risk our lives over some rocket?” Bianca’s face flushed with anger. 

Selkie’s Kist. Photo by Kristine Weilert.

“It’s Antonio. I think he is in more trouble than he is even aware. Come, I’ll explain on the way.”

Mist swirled in coils, making the air thick and humid. Silhouettes of trees and marsh grasses loomed as they got closer to Selkie’s Kist. The way to the inlet led further inland than Emilia had expected. Valentine explained that some of the natural inlets had been deepened to provide cover for meetings such as these. In hushed whispers, Valentine told Bianca of the ruckus at the harbor and what she had found on Antonio’s skiv.

They fell silent as the forms of people took shape through the mist. Valentine motioned that she would emerge first.

“Swift as shadow,” she said, signaling to the others gathered.

“Short as any dream,” a deep voice responded.

In a clearing surrounded by reeds and marshy trees, the group before Valentine was composed of about ten people with a tall, slender man standing opposite her. His face was stern and weathered from many years along the river and the sea. Some in the group eyed the newcomers with distrust, while others remained hidden beneath their cloak hoods. Emilia was reminded of the first time she saw Valentine, concealed beneath her midnight-blue cloak as they left Westminster. Valentine waved for Bianca and Emilia to join her at the edge of the circle.

“What is the meaning of this, Leonato?” said the shorter, stouter person to the right of the man in the center.

“Please, I know I have not been fully installed, but this is urgent,” Valentine said slowly.

“We don’t have time for your trifles, child,” said Leonato.

“Father, I am not a child! And I am the one that sent the ping from the Westminster dock when the rocket etched the sky.” Valentine responded with a step forward into the circle, her shoulders back.

“Your arrogance will lead to trouble, Valentine. Do you think you were the only person with their eyes skyward when the rockets passed by? We already have scouts gathering information about the landing and what the Polity are after. And you have already been warned not to interfere with our work until you are fully installed. Perhaps the responsibility is too great for you.”

Valentine shook her curls as if to shake off her father’s rebuke, but she stood strong. Emilia took Valentine’s hand. Whispers wove through the circle.

“Father, please, there is more. Please let Valentine speak.” Bianca lowered her hood revealing herself to the group.

“Both my daughters defy me? And who is this stranger you brought to our secret meeting?”

Before Valentine could respond, Emilia stepped forward and lowered her hood.

“I am Emilia, Eglamour’s daughter of Westminster. I am sorry for my intrusion here. My father hired Valentine to guide me to Whitehall for I was to be a Bride. Valentine saved my life from a beast in the savagelands. I now follow where she goes.”

More whispers rippled through those gathered.

“It’s Antonio, Father. We must help him!” Bianca interrupted as tears started streaming down her face.

“I understand he has slain a great kraken. I am sure the Guild will no longer ignore him after today. We will monitor the situation,” Lenato responded, his face troubled.

“There’s more,” Valentine interjected. “When I arrived with Emilia, I discovered a dead pirate concealed on his skiv.”

“My Antonio would never kill anyone. He is being framed, or he was only protecting his cargo,” said Bianca.

Another person from the circle spoke up.

“Aye, he may be a simple trader, but his ideals are high.”

“Yes, I know this to be true as well,” said Leonato. “If the Guild becomes aware of this, they will use it to their own devious ends. We will take care of it. Bianca, go now to Antonio. The Guild will have spoken to him by now. Find out what you can.”

“Yes, Father. Thank you.” Bianca gave a glance to Valentine and Emilia as she quickly disappeared into the mist.

Leonato turned to Valentine. He saw an echo of himself in her crystalline blue eyes. One from many years ago when he joined the Shadow Walkers to protect the peace of the Globe. Now he stood, as their leader, facing the most challenging times the Globe had seen these many years. Leonato could no longer deny that this was the path his daughter had chosen and was destined for.

“How I tried to keep you from this life, but you girls always found ways to follow my footsteps. I perhaps should have seen this coming.”

“I am ready, Father. This is the life I have chosen.”

Leonato’s eyes fell to Emilia. She blushed and gazed at Valentine, waiting patiently.

“With the landing of the Polity rocket, that peace is threatened in every corner of our beloved home. Now a daughter of Westminster is here and the word from Oberon is that another has left Belmont. We will need all of our most skilled Shadow Walkers at the ready to preserve the Globe’s peace. My fellow seafarers, I ask you to allow the installation of Valentine as a full member of the Shadow Walkers. All in favor say, aye.”

The stout person to his right scoffed, but slowly each of the members of the circle responded.

“Aye.” “Aye.” “Aye.”

“Valentine, by taking the Oath of the Shadow Walkers, you must honor all of our codes and aims. Do you accept?” Leonato asked.

“Aye. I accept.” She nodded gratefully to her father and to the others. “Thank you. Thank all of you. I will not fail.”

“You will be in charge of this mission to clear Antonio’s name. Bring Emilia to our home, and I will send instructions shortly.”

“Thank you,” Valentine said meaningfully to her father. She turned to the rest of the group and bowed deeply. “Swift as shadow.”

If you enjoyed Shanel’s story, please make sure and share some kind comments below. If you would like to see how this story began, read Shanel’s “Shadow of the Dunes,” which kicked off the Westminster stories in the Globe Folio series.

Be stellar!

Matthew Cross

P.S. Now you can enjoy the Globe Folio from the beginning:

Act 1: Night of the Rocket

Act 2: Nights of Revelation

Be stellar!

Matthew Cross