Are you ready to read the opening chapters of
Cities of Smoke & Starlight?
Below, you'll find the first two chapters, one from each main Point of View Character. Kase Shackley is a cocky hover pilot with a privileged yet sordid past. Hallie Walker is a bubbly scholar trying to prove her worth.
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1: THE BEST STARS-BLASTED PILOT
Kase
RAIN BEAT A STEADY RHYTHM on Kase Shackley’s leather jacket. After three years spent earning it, he wore it with his chest puffed out and shoulders high as the moons.
Beowulf, Odysseus, and King Arthur, all heroes from ancient First Earth stories, had nothing on Kase’s piloting skills. If they’d had hover technology, he knew he’d outstrip them by miles. With a small smile playing at his lips, Kase pulled the collar higher.
Leading his hoverbike into the alleyway behind the hangar, he shook more water droplets from his dark brown curls and tugged down his pilot goggles. The buildings of stone and metal loomed over Kase like specters in the early evening. Dark clouds blotted out any chance of a decent sunset, though the gray light peeking through cast a pale glow on Kase’s skin. Perfect weather for the usual induction ritual—no one other than the pilots would be out in it, of course, and as usual, Kase had already paid off the guards.
The soft tut-tut-tut of the yalvar fuel engine overpowered the rain. Kase swung one leg over the seat and pressed the button to lift the craft a foot off the mossy cobblestones below. Without a thought, he tightened his stomach and kept the bike upright.
Easy.
The technology keeping hover vehicles afloat wasn’t new, but it was only in the last twenty years that the nation of Jayde’s Engineer Corp had untangled the secrets nearly lost to time.
The rain’s damp, earthy scent mixed with the smell of burning fuel as Kase sucked in another breath. Yes, this was the perfect night to show the new pilots who ran the airfields. A low rumble sounded from around the corner, and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. The fresh meat, Kase’s first opponent, had arrived.
It was the greenie pilot’s stars-rotten luck to be going up against Kase his first day on the job, but that wasn’t Kase’s fault. All the dulkop had to do was swerve before the bike rammed him—not difficult, even for the greenie. After his pompous words today, he was asking for a beating.
“The handbook states the speed of a hover should be considered when making a turn. If one wishes to do so, slow the speed of the hover and ease into the turn.”
He’d peed his pants when Kase made the next perfect turn at full-speed three seconds later. How did Kase get stuck with such an uptight greenie to train?
Bike fighting usually ended with at least one busted-up engine from the less experienced pilots scraping them against the hangar walls, but the machines were only a cheap practice tool anyway. New pilots crashed them all the time trying to get a handle on the controls. Starting on the bikes made it easier to fly the larger airships, which were like the sleek spaceships the ancient peoples of First Earth used to soar among the stars before getting stranded on Yalvara without their fancy tech.
Kase thumbed his nose and eyed his opponent.
The greenie was fresh out of school, and one look at his thick gray trainee jacket had Kase rolling his eyes. He landed his bike, holding up a hand.
“Judging by how you’ve buttoned that jacket up to your ears, you have no blasted idea what you’re doing, do you?” The drizzle didn’t dampen the echo of his voice on the hangar walls. “We went over this earlier.”
The man was only three years Kase’s junior, but at eighteen, the bloke’s large brown eyes peeking out through the goggles made him appear much younger—though it didn’t stop his tongue. “Pilots must look professional, and leaving buttons undone makes us appear disheveled. Lead Jay said that…”
Ugh. Had Kase been that whiny and priggish when he was that age? “Yeah, yeah, yeah. But Jay isn’t here, is he? This is a contest of men, and you don’t even remember how to turn on the hover components.”
“According to the handbook, when preparing the bike or hover for use, one should first make certain all safety features are engaged. If one is unsure about one or all of the safety indicators…”
Kase shook his head and strolled over to the greenie’s bike. His boots splashed in small puddles growing from cracks in the cobblestone. “You don’t need to explain it to me. Just press that button there—”
“What’re you doing, Kase?” came a gruff voice from the end of the alley. “Hurry up!”
Kase’s ears caught the familiar clipped Kyvena accent, and he rolled his eyes at the other senior pilot hovering on his own bike a few feet away. The rest of the pilots had arrived only moments before, bikes rumbling. “Just because your greenie beat you in that training exercise yesterday doesn’t mean you can rush me. I’m helping my greenie here with his bike.” He winked at his opponent. “You’ll be fine.”
“But according to Lead Jay, we shouldn’t even be here—”
Kase reached over and pressed the hover button in the center of the handlebars. The new pilot nearly slid off the seat.
“Whoa, there. Tighten your abs and hold on.” Kase caught his arm before he smashed his face into the ground. “And it’s tradition. Legend says Jay started this little induction ritual of ours.”
The boy—because that’s what he was, even if Jaydian law considered him a legal adult—paled as he clenched the handles with a rock-crushing grip. He nodded, the goggles slipping down his face with rain and probably a good bit of sweat. “But what if I can’t swerve in time?”
“Pull up. No shame in losing to the best.” When Kase was sure he wasn’t about to slide off again, he stepped back.
“But what about the Hover Colonel? And what happens if I don’t pull up or swerve?” He looked down the alley where more catcalls came from the assembled pilots. “All the training manual states is that—”
“Good luck, greenie!” Kase jogged back to his bike, ignoring jeers coming from both sides of the alleyway. It was time for Kase to put on a show. Too bad the greenie had to suffer for it.
Pinpricks needled his chest and fingers as Kase lifted his bike into the air and revved the engine. The craft responded, vibrating under his fingertips. “Let’s duel!”
With a battle cry ripping from his throat, Kase darted forward, his bike’s engine whining against the sudden speed. Rain and wind nipped at his uncovered hands as he roared down the alleyway toward the—toward the stationary greenie.
The fool hadn’t moved forward. Was he giving up?
“Pull up! Pull up!” Kase’s voice wasn’t the only one screaming the words as he sped down the alley. “Pull up, you stars-idiot!”
“And what happens if—” the greenie’s nasally voice was just audible over the wind rushing in Kase’s ears. “What happens if we get caught?”
At the last second, the greenie yanked the handles toward his chest, whipping the bike straight into the air. The hover components screeched with the sudden force, shattering Kase’s concentration on his own bike. Greenie and machine roared over his head, the wind of their passing chilling Kase’s wet face.
The bike climbed higher and higher, the greenie still pulling on the control, until the bike flipped in midair, his feet flying over his head. With a deafening crunch, the greenie landed on the neighboring hangar roof. The bike crashed at the end of the alley, judging by the other shouts and splintering shriek of metal on stone.
Kase slammed his brake. The force threw him from his seat, and he rolled and skidded across the uneven cobblestone, the knee of his trousers ripping, but he didn’t care. He was up and running toward the limp figure sliding off the edge of the roof.
Not again. Heavens and stars, not again.
As the body plummeted, Kase dove underneath it, catching the boy before his head slammed against the stone.
***
“YOU RECKLESS PIECE OF—How many blasted times must I—”
Kase knew by the lack of complete sentences that his father teetered at the edge of the abyss of his fury. Lord Kapitan Harlan Shackley smoothed his steel-gray mustache and paced the private study of Shackley Manor, his polished black boots clacking with each step and squeaking with each turn. Kase tugged at his rain-soaked collar and winced. Though it would’ve made a good shield right about then, he’d left his jacket at the door.
Focus on the shelves. Focus on the books. Focus on anything else.
But nothing about the weathered spines organized by height on the shelves flanking the large brick hearth comforted him. Instead, all he saw was the broken, bleeding body in his arms. He’d shouted for the others to fetch a medic while Kase administered what first aid he could, but that was his brother Zeke’s specialty. No, Kase was vastly more talented at screwing things up. Just like the night his sister died in the fire.
The gas lantern sitting like a king on his father’s desk was the only illumination in the room. The Lord Kapitan refused to have electricity in his own home, even if the lower classes also had the new technology. With each crackle, a flicker of light flitted over Kase’s clenched fingers. After the crash, he’d told the rest of the pilots he’d take the blame for the night’s events. He knew the Hover Lead wouldn’t do anything to punish him.
Kase never thought they’d bring his father, the supreme commander of the military, into it.
Dealing with him on a good day was less than ideal, but late at night after a man was on the brink of death? Kase rubbed his shoulder and refused to look up. “It isn’t my fault the greenie didn’t pay attention in training.”
Harlan spun and kicked the leg of Kase’s chair. It screeched across the floor an inch, and Kase gripped the arms as his father bent down. Exhaustion and exasperation warred in his sharp hazel eyes. “The boy nearly died because you didn’t use your blasted head.” He stood, running a hand down his aging face. “After everything I’ve done…”
Kase gritted his teeth. “How was I supposed to know he’d yank the bike hard enough to send him to the stars? How’d he even test into the Crews in the first place?”
Harlan’s eyes flashed. “Trainee Laurence Hixon had the highest scores on the written examination. They put him with you for a reason, even if you just earned your jacket. You were to be…but of course, you…” His father marched toward his desk and snatched a piece of parchment. He held it up. “You know what this was?”
Kase squinted at it, but the writing was too small and the lighting too dim to tell what it said. Harlan grasped it in both hands and ripped it, the pieces fluttering onto the desk and immaculate green carpeting. “Jove recommended you for a mission. Your brother and your Hover Lead think you’re the best blasted pilot we have, yet you can’t make the simplest decisions when your head isn’t up in a hover.”
Jove had a mission for him? If Jove was heading it, the Watch was involved…“Where were you sending me?”
“Doesn’t matter. You aren’t mature enough to decide your next steps.”
Kase stood, his chair scraping back. “I didn’t do anything!”
“You’re facing charges that could lock you up for stars know how long, destruction of government property and trespassing being the least of your worries. I thought you would’ve learned responsibility after these three years, but you’re a sorry—”
Kase slammed his fist on the desk, the lantern light quivering and casting strange shadows on his father’s face. “I am the best stars-blasted pilot you have, and I did that without your shocking help.”
The resounding slap reverberated through Kase’s skull as his body listed sideways from the momentum of his father’s hand. He caught himself on the edge of the desk and blinked away tears.
Harlan’s voice dropped to a temperature colder than the snow falling in the Narden Range. “You’re dismissed from the Crews on my orders as Lord Kapitan. I’m through with you disgracing the Shackley name. Now get out of my sight.”
Kase’s eyes still stung, but he gritted his teeth. His blood heated, his rage simmering near the surface, scorching, burning—
A small voice in the back of his head told him to stop, flames igniting at the edge of his memory, their orange glow hovering in the night sky.
That would happen again if he retaliated. And that wasn’t something he could return from.
Instead, he spit on the floor and stalked from the room, out of the Manor, and into the empty streets of Kyvena.
2: YOU NEED ME
Hallie
HALLIE WALKER CRACKED HER KNUCKLES through protective gloves. The image of her aging yet eccentric professor traversing the wilds of neighboring Cerulene just to get his hands on the document before her made her smile.
She allowed herself a silent chuckle.
Definitely not Professor Christie’s style, but it would’ve made for an interesting epic. If he had, the University might have commissioned a marble bust of him to display like the others lining the ends of the library’s towering shelves. It would’ve certainly earned him a spot next to General McKenzie, the man who’d led the Life Ships from First Earth to Yalvara.
That is, if the document had anything worthy scrawled upon it; Hallie’s gloved hands and golden eyes would decide that. The first half of the document hadn’t been anything ground-breaking—only a bit about Yalven cultural history before the Landing. Hallie already knew about those bits.
While it was too early in the year to need a proper fire, the one in the University library’s hearth added a lovely crackling that echoed off too-tall ceilings and wooden beams. Sunlight through stained-glass depicting the heroics of the First Settlers painted pictures across the sparsely populated tables tucked between bookshelves so tall, one needed a ladder to reach the top shelf.
Hallie thought it poetic that the first victory against the ruthless Cerls danced across the parchment in front of her. They were the ones who had chased off the Yalvs two decades before.
She squinted a little and tried to translate the next few words. Stars. The discoloration and faded symbols were one of the many ways Hallie could tell the parchment was ancient. Really, it was remarkable her professor had acquired such an important historical artifact as this.
Grabbing a cheap and slightly stubby charcoal pencil, she scratched out a rough translation in her open notebook. Both only cost her a half bronzer total at the market. Some vendor wanted to get rid of the notebook in particular, and Hallie gladly took it off his hands…even if the binding didn’t want to hold all the pages.
She just hoped it lasted until the end of the semester.
Hallie blew her auburn hair out of her eyes. Blasted pins didn’t keep her too-slick locks in place long enough. Of course, her mother would’ve chastised her, saying she hadn’t done her hair up properly, that a lady’s bun was free of stray hairs, tighter than a miner’s grip, and decorated with fine braids and twists.
But her mother wasn’t here, was she? Bless the stars for that.
As the wisps weren’t cowed by the force of wind, she dug her fingers into her hair, keeping the offenders at bay, and kept writing.
They came with sparking…
The next word wasn’t as clear. She peeked around at the other students near her. Each bore down on their documents like bees to mountain lilies. With a sigh, she looked at the faded word once more. “Could it be science? Maybe? It might also mean something unnatural with nature. Good stars, could Professor Christie have not found this earlier?”
While her mumblings were too loud for the library room, not even one of her fellow university scholars moved. Except she was sure she noticed an eyeroll from the glossy-haired girl next to her.
That would’ve been her friend Petra, who Hallie swiftly kicked underneath the table. Only the jingle of Petra’s jeweled bracelet told Hallie she’d gotten her point across. It wouldn’t do well to get kicked out of the library again this week. Hallie grinned.
With the tapping of her pencil, she inspected the Yalven document once more. Professor Christie had assigned each of her classmates a piece of the artifact, hoping they’d get some good practice in. While Hallie loved the man like a grandfather, she was certain he simply didn’t want to translate it himself. Not that he was lazy, but with each passing year, Hallie feared his eyesight grew worse.
Then again, Hallie didn’t mind being tasked with this. That meant she would know the secrets of the ancient natives before just about anyone else in Jayde. She didn’t know why Professor Christie hadn’t handed the entire document to her. She was top of his Yalven Language Level 3 class. Translating Yalven into Common came to her almost naturally.
Leaving a small blank for the word she couldn’t quite make out and copying the nearly illegible symbols below that, she moved on.
…We welcomed them to our destruction. Yalvara is not meant for man.
“Interesting.” Hallie finished scrawling the last word and tapped her pencil on Petra’s parchment.
The young woman looked up, her thin, obsidian eyes hard. “What is it you want? Are you trying to get us kicked out again?”
Hallie swiveled her head to where the librarian dealt with some sort of issue at the desk. “We’re fine. Madame Terry is busy with a first-year student who seems to have lost a book.”
“Your point?”
Hallie shoved her notes across the table and pointed to the blank and the symbols beneath. “I can’t seem to figure out this word here. It’s too faded. Will you take a look?”
Petra raised a slim brow but nodded. “Don’t know why you’re asking me. You’re loads better at this than I am.”
“Except my superior brains can’t decipher something not there,” Hallie said with a grin, and passed over her portion of the ancient text as well.
Petra took it in her own gloved hands, squinting and chewing on her lip as she inspected it. She smoothed non-existent stray hairs back into her immaculate coal-colored lady’s bun.
A dark stain had smeared across the fingertips of Hallie’s left glove. Blast. Probably from her pencil. Hopefully the old hag of a librarian she borrowed them from wouldn’t mind terribly. The woman already hated Hallie after the incident earlier this week.
Eyeing Petra’s fountain pen, Hallie shoved down her resentment. If only she hadn’t had to work her way through school after that first year at the University, maybe she could afford to be so luxurious in her choice of writing utensils. Not that she blamed Petra herself, of course. That was just the way things were—though it didn’t make the bitterness any sweeter.
Regardless, Hallie would rather be poor in Kyvena than wealthy back home in Stoneset.
Petra’s eyes narrowed further as she chewed the end of her pen. Must be nice to have the privilege of chewing up the end of one’s writing utensils, as daddy could buy another when the teethmarks became visible.
Hallie cracked her neck and stroked the pocket watch hanging around her neck. She sucked in a few long breaths, an attempt to calm the pins and needles pricking her chest.
The pocket watch had never worked properly, even when it had belonged to her twin brother Jack, or their father before him, or even their grandfather if family legend was to be believed. Jack had tried to fix the heirloom many times, but even as skilled with his hands as her twin was, he hadn’t been able to make it work. Hallie didn’t exactly mind. Besides, the engravings on the cover intrigued her the most. Worn down with time, they were somewhat difficult to make out, but in the right light, she could just see the picture they painted.
The wide face detailed a city Hallie had never seen before. Granted, she’d only ever been to Jayde’s capital, Kyvena, but the city didn’t match any depicted in old First Earth storybooks either. A castle-esque structure sat tucked into the side of a mountain with other buildings dripping like rain all the way to the valley, each with oddly slanted roofs building to thin points.
She rubbed her thumb once more across the memorized scene. Breathe in, breathe out. This was her last year of school, and after graduating, she’d open a school in Lower Kyvena and would never have to think of home again.
Petra blew air out of her lips in a very unladylike fashion, which interrupted Hallie’s thoughts. She looked over at her friend. “Tsk, tsk, what would your mother say if she heard you make that noise?”
“She wouldn’t, because I’d conveniently blame it on you,” Petra said, her words laced with subtle mirth. “She thinks you’re a bad influence.”
Hallie shrugged and leaned her elbows onto the table, another rub of the pocket watch taking the unintended sting out of Petra’s words. “I try ridiculously hard to be. Now, I assume you can’t figure it out either?”
Her friend shook her head. “My guess is as good as yours. If Ellis were here, he might be able to figure it out with those eagle eyes of his, but for now, we’re stuck.”
Hallie took back her sketchpad and the document. Ellis completed their trio, but his mother had needed him for a function of some sort that afternoon. Probably one involving too-expensive tea, coattails, and dignified handshakes. All were pretentious in Hallie’s opinion.
Before either of them could say anything else, the clock tower struck the hour.
The University had built the stone monolith keeping the capital on schedule nearly three centuries prior. University legend said the Yalvs had aided its construction, and the High Council, which was comprised of the two Head Guardsmen, three elected Stradats, and Lord Kapitan, had kept one of the Yalvs captive, forcing him or her to work the bells ever since.
Yet Hallie had met the bell ringer in her first year. Or she should say bell ringers. The University employed street urchins from the lower city to ring the bells at the appropriate times.
Hallie counted each peal unconsciously as she stared at the impossible word. One, two, three, four…
Then silence.
Four o’clock. Didn’t realize it was so late. Wasn’t there something…
“Mother of ash!” she squealed, leaping up, her chair toppling over behind her. The librarian and every student turned toward her, the former giving her the nastiest look with eyes narrowed to slits and nostrils flared.
Crashing stars.
“For all the moons in heaven, what—” Petra started.
Hallie shoved her sketchpad and pencil into the satchel and righted the chair. “I was supposed to be at work at three! Oh stars, Jess will be so…ugh!” She flung the satchel over her shoulder. The contents slapped her leather-clad back. “Will you take the document and tell Professor Christie I’ll give him my report tomorrow?”
Petra took the artifact before Hallie upended the table. “I’ll pick you up at a quarter after seven to eat before the play?”
Hallie nodded and took off toward the front of the room, ripping off her gloves and flinging them at the librarian’s desk and ignoring the woman’s low growl.
Hallie didn’t care. She’d already been late twice that week. Trying to ignore the thought of the bookshop owner’s quiet, disappointing words as he berated her once more, she fled through the streets of the capital, praying Jess didn’t fire her this time.
***
THE BELL ATOP THE BOOKSHOP door clanged and nearly fell off its perch as Hallie blew into Beckham Books on Callan Street twenty minutes later. The lacy shirt underneath her jacket clung to her back awkwardly, and auburn strands stuck to her face during her mad dash to work. She’d sprinted through alleyways and side streets all the way to the lower city, as she knew without a doubt the marketplace and main thoroughfare would be full to the brim that time of day.
Stars, I still need to pay for next semester and if I lose this job…oh stars…
“I know I’m late and I know I swore I wouldn’t be, but I didn’t hear the blasted bells until four and I was translating something in the library…” Her words came out jumbled as she wove her way through the too-close shelves and to the back where Jess, her employer, waited.
But the look in his brown eyes said it all. Hallie stopped short, her breath coming in sharp bursts. “I’m so, so, so, so sorry.” Unable to stay upright any longer and face the disappointment lacing Jess’ features, she bent over, hands on her knees and satchel falling off her shoulder onto the floor. “I came as fast as I could! I only got to wave at Edward as I passed him, but I did stop and give Gemma a copper. She hadn’t sold any daisies I don’t think, and I—”
“Who’s Edward?” Jess’ voice was tired and slow like each word trudged through the mountain snows.
Hallie glanced up, a bead of sweat perched on the lip of her brow. “You know…he’s the beggar with that really long red beard? Sits on the corner of Brooks and Flincher? And I’m pretty sure he combs that beard of his, because it’s not tangled and matted like some…”
Jess rubbed his cheek, then the smooth skin on top of his head. “Hallie, this is the third time this week you’ve been late and the seventh time this month alone.”
Hallie straightened, the fingers on her right hand finding her pocket watch. A tingling started in her chest, mixed with heat that felt like the fire in the library hearth. “But you know how hard this semester is. I’ve told you that the workload is much heavier, like Tuesday with my Professor holding me back and then today with the translations and…and…”
She took several deep breaths. It wasn’t Jess’ fault, even if he didn’t quite understand. In the silence, Jess spoke, his voice hard—though not in the way her mother’s got whenever she chastised Hallie for ruining yet another skirt playing out in the spring rains. “I do realize this, yet Evie and I have a business to run, Hallie. If this was a one-off thing every so often, I wouldn’t mind, but you’re late at least once a month if not more—even in your summer months—and mainly because you get distracted on your way over. After our conversation Tuesday, I thought I’d made myself clear.”
The tingling in Hallie’s chest turned to hot, flaming knives. “I know I said I wouldn’t be late again…and I didn’t…I’m so sorry. I just…and what you said about the probationary period…” Tears hotter than the blasted sun clouded her vision, but she blinked them back. “I’ll not be late again. I swear…I swear on Tovo’s name!”
Jess rubbed his cheek once more, and the light from the chipped electric lanterns hanging from the ceiling reflected off his bald head. His cheeks pinked even more under his copper skin as he looked at her again. “You shouldn’t swear by Tovo unless you want the gods after you.” He swallowed as his eyes scanned the shelves. His next words were quiet. Hallie had to lean in to hear each one. “We agreed that if you were on time for every shift the rest of the month, Evie and I would rethink your probation.” He stopped inspecting the haphazard book piles and looked her square in the eye. “But I have to go through with what I said.”
Hallie’s fingers ached from gripping the pocket watch too tightly, and at least one tear liberated itself from her hold. “You can’t fire me. You can’t do that. Not now! I promise you by the stars and moons in the sky, I’ll be on time tomorrow and through the rest of the month. You can count on me. I’m the only one who knows where the Shakespeare books are! Conor can’t do this all by himself, and neither can you. You need me.” Heart pounding in her ears, she took more deep breaths. “And you and I both know Conor can’t take on more hours.”
Jess came around the counter at last and put both hands on her shoulders. He gave them a light squeeze. “I’m truly sorry this had to happen this way, but like I said earlier, I have a business to run, and sometimes I have to make difficult decisions.” His smile was sad and droopy as if melting in the summer heat—yet the air was starting to turn crisp. “Finish out today, and I’ll bring your last pay sum down when we close at six. I’m certain you’ll be able to find something before the end of the month. Maybe even talk to Owen?”
As if Hallie would tell Professor Christie she’d gone and lost the job he’d helped her get a year ago. She swallowed the pain and tightened her fists. “Fine.”
Jess gave her one last squeeze before turning away and limping toward the stairs. His knee, an old injury from the War two decades earlier, seemed to bother him more and more lately, but at that moment Hallie couldn’t find the strength to care.
Once the upstairs apartment door opened with a creak and closed with a thud, Hallie finally made her way around the counter. She dropped her satchel underneath. Working her lips to try and keep the breakdown contained, she fell onto the stool and collapsed into her arms.
It’s all right. It’s okay. Maybe someone at the University needs an assistant. The librarian?
Another few tears leaked from her eyes, dripping down the bump on her nose from where she’d broken it nearly three years prior and plopping silently onto the rough wood of the shop counter.
I still get to go to the theater tonight, and Ellis said he’s taking us to that tavern he’s been raving about the last month or so. I’ll worry about finding a job tomorrow.
She grabbed a stack of books needing to be put away. Part of her wanted to fling them against the wall, but she settled for slamming them on the shelf in random places. Each thud drowned out the conversation replaying in her head.
Bless the soul and stars of whoever walked into the shop during her shift.