Star Angel: Rising (Star Angel Book 4)

by David G. McDaniel

  Depending on the market.

  Upon consideration of that she had another out-of-body moment, shook it off before it took hold and helped herself to some bread—then some fruit that was handed down, then reached for a decanter, filled her own chalice with wine and took a long drink.

  “So,” Cheops spoke between bites. “Galfar.” Jess could see the subtle pall behind his jovial visage. A worry, like all the rest, that she, Jessica, might actually be the harbinger of the Prophecy as Galfar warned. “Through all these ages, after all this time, now here we are. You and I. It’s fallen to us, eh?”

  Galfar nodded, thoroughly enjoying the food. He didn’t look stressed at all.

  “On your watch and mine, old friend.” Cheops bit into a leg of something, chewing as he talked. “We are the last. The ones to realize the grand vision predicted by our priestess.” He waved the half-eaten leg in Jessica’s general direction. “That is, if this one here is truly the one.” Jess could see he didn’t want to believe it. Better if she turned out to be no more than the girl she appeared. Not the One they’d been waiting for.

  Galfar took a drink.

  Cheops studied him, then flashed a wide smile. He looked at Jess, strong white teeth showing through his mighty beard.

  “If it is true, then we may have found the Bringer of Knowledge. The Herald of the Golden Age.”

  Galfar continued chomping heartily, saying nothing. Jess picked at her plate, drinking more than she ate, refilling her glass. It felt weird to be sitting there while Cheops talked about her.

  “Either way we shall see,” he was saying. “The test will confirm it.”

  At that she froze. Inside and out. Test? She sat straighter without meaning to, ears focused hard on Cheops and whatever he might say next.

  “Indeed it shall,” Galfar agreed.

  Wait! She wanted to know what they meant. Test? That didn’t sound good.

  But she was too afraid to ask. Not here. Not now. There was tension throughout the room. Had been, from the moment she arrived at the top of the stairs, only now it was more apparent. None of them, despite their feigned merriment, were happy she was there. She could see that clearly now. It was exactly as Galfar warned: Openly they would accept her. Privately they would resent her. She was feeling the weight of that resentment right then.

  Then one of them piped up.

  “Anyone who thinks this will change our condition is a fool.” From the looks on the others’ faces Jess had the idea he must be one of the more brash among them. The guy who ruffled feathers. She wondered what it took to be “that” guy in this company. “Come!” He looked around at his fellows, up and down the table, a fat leg of meat in one hand. “Who here believes our strife will be swept away by the arrival of a single person? A great herald who will bring us into a Golden Age.”

  “Kafta!” one of them warned.

  “What? I speak only what’s on our minds.” And he looked down the table directly at Jess. “No offense, fair lady. Even if you are confirmed, and that remains to be seen, what do you mean to do? How will you bring our world to balance? Surely if you are the One you come with a plan. How will you deliver us our freedom?”

  Jess swallowed, heart racing. Others around the table were grumbling their agreement. She looked to Cheops, thinking he might restore order, but found him patiently waiting to see how this played out. Almost as if he knew what Kafta was like and chose to allow him his way. For a bit, at least. To create a little dissent.

  Cheops wasn’t going to save her.

  At the sight of that she stood. Why she stood … she had no idea. It was a ridiculous thing to be doing. Once standing she almost sat right back down. Wanted to badly, but it was too late for that.

  Why am I standing?!

  She could’ve just stayed in the chair, sitting there like a good little girl until the moment passed. It would’ve. She had no plan. She had no answers. Certainly she had nothing to say. If she sat quietly, heart pounding, someone would’ve eventually weighed in. Filled the silence. Galfar would’ve intervened—something else would’ve happened. The moment would be forgotten and they would be onto another topic. Instead they were all looking at her. The crazy, wannabe herald, the newcomer in the too-big dress who was all of a sudden on her feet. Standing there looking stupid.

  Then she made matters worse.

  She spoke.

  “What do I mean to do?” she wanted to know. She looked directly at Kafta. “If you expect someone to deliver you your freedom then you’re the fool.” Now she really had no idea what she was doing. But something had snapped. A deep-seated conviction, an impulse, and it was driving this and, while she could not have been more terrified, she was suddenly compelled beyond any reason to get it out. To say these words.

  To make herself understood.

  “Have a thousand years twisted things this badly?” She looked round at all of them. Why am I doing this?! “That you sit here, in your castle, waiting for some herald, some single person to come and make things right? You who have power, resources, the means for change? You who are the Brotherhood of the Fist? Look at you.”

  She studied their faces.

  “There is no future save what you make for yourself,” she no longer even sounded like herself. “If I’m to be a catalyst to move you, then so be it. If I am the One on which you wait. But the responsibility for your future is not mine.”

  Now the whole length of the table, the whole room, was utterly silent. Not a word, not a scrape of utensils—nothing. Just the sound of her voice; soft, powerful. It carried. Filled every corner of the hall. A girl’s voice, yes, her voice, in sharp contrast to the deep voices that had been speaking that evening, but filled with unmistakable authority. More power than all of them; intention far beyond mere decibels.

  “You will bring about your Golden Age,” she told them. “Or not. Through your own strength. Or not. I may show you the way, if that is my purpose, but make no mistake. You will be the source of that change. We are, each of us, the makers of our own freedom. I do not bring you your freedom, Kafta,” she aimed that one directly at him, then turned to the others. “If I am truly the One, perhaps I may help you find it. Your role in this Prophecy is as great as mine. If you have truly waited this long for one person to come and save you, all the while taking no action …

  “Then you have wasted a thousand years.”

  And she sat. Not pausing for those last words to linger. Not waiting to let her point settle. Once back her chair she took a quick drink, before her hands started shaking, then stuffed them in her lap.

  She was doomed.

  The silence in the room was a frightening void. For a long moment no one said anything. The terror grew.

  I went too far.

  Way too far.

  Where the hell did that come from?!

  Her head pounded with the madness of the thing she’d just done.

  Then Cheops smacked the table and she jumped.

  But he was smiling.

  “Blast!” he exclaimed. “All this time we could’ve been bringing about the Golden Age on our own!” That got some nervous laughs. For a difficult moment Jess fought the urge to speak again, to clarify what she meant, but this time kept better control of herself. She sat there pinching tight her traitorous lips as Cheops said something else, then he commented about waiting to see what the test would tell them, then ordered them to eat up and make merry. Slowly conversations resumed and, soon enough, everyone was back to feasting and joking.

  Echoes of her words hung heavy in the air.

  For a long time she sat frozen like that, lips pinched, hands pressed hard into her lap. Fighting the quiver. Nothing seemed safe right then. She’d burned all her chance cards with that little speech and did not want to risk anything else.

  Her situation felt very precarious indeed.

  **

  Now Jess was mad. It was time for Galfar to come clean.

  “Why are we here?” she demanded as she fairly slammed the
door behind them. They’d just been shown to a room high up one of the castle spires and, though the immediate and inviting beauty of the room fought at once to be noticed, Jess had been dying to get the old man alone.

  “I’ve told you,” he said, not making eye contact. He ambled slowly across the room in his blue jacket and slippers. They’d come up immediately following the long, arduous feast. She still wore the oversized dress.

  “No you haven’t.” She stared at the back of his white, curly head as he made a casual inspection of the room. He was mostly just ignoring her, though she herself continued to be pulled into the comforts of the spacious quarters. It was like a princess room, a real one, with a large, comfortable looking bed, complete with canopy and lots of pillows, a small fire crackling in a fireplace to one side, beautiful rugs on the floor and tapestries on the stone walls. A tall, arched doorway on the other side led to a balcony and what looked to be a stunning view of the mountains beyond. A few torches lit the room softly along with the fireplace fire. Someone had come before them and made the whole place ready and inviting.

  So inviting. The scene threatened to draw her without mercy into its cozy cocoon. It had been a long day, preceded by a wet night with very little sleep.

  She wanted that bed.

  “You haven’t told me anything,” she shook it off, continuing her line of prosecution. “Not anything I need to know.”

  “We are at a very delicate juncture,” said Galfar. “You must follow my lead.”

  “I’m following your lead,” she said, exasperated. “I just want more information. Why are we here at Cinderella’s castle? With a bunch of warriors that look like Kratos with Viking beards, whose whole existence is sitting around waiting to fight off invaders no one’s seen in, like, forever?” The English words ‘Cinderella’ and ‘Kratos’ and ‘Viking’ jumped out amid the Kel but she knew Galfar got her meaning. She pressed: “What do they have to do with me finding what a priestess hid a thousand years ago?” She also knew she was a little off balance from two things. One, the wine. It encouraged her belligerence, there was no doubt. And Two, that little speech back at the table. It was so bizarre, so not her yet … was her … it left her with a permanent feeling of disconnect. Ever since she stood up before them and those words came tumbling out of her mouth she’d been in a state of shock. She still hadn’t rectified it with any reality she could embrace. It was almost as if, in those moments, she was possessed.

  Galfar faced her. “The less you know, for now, the better.”

  “Bullshit!” Straight English, no Kel for that, and at once she wondered how that would translate.

  Galfar got it. “It’s better you don’t know everything,” he maintained his confounding patience. “Not yet. You must trust me in this.”

  She felt like she was being chastised.

  “If they don’t have anything to do with—”

  Galfar stopped her with a raised finger. It was remarkably effective. When she was quiet he said: “Please. This is difficult enough. Everything I do, everything I’ve done, everything I’ve shown you, everything I say, has purpose. It is very important you follow my lead.”

  She stared at him levelly.

  “Then what’s this Test? At least tell me that. What the hell am I going to have to do?”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “The test is nonsense.”

  This was just getting more difficult.

  As was becoming usual he said no more. Instead he resumed his investigation of the room. She watched him a bit then walked to the balcony. Outside the night was cool and fresh. It was invigorating. Feeling the pull of its serenity she went further, to the railing, put both hands on the stone ledge and closed her eyes, drawing a deep lungful of air in through her nose.

  All will be fine, she told herself.

  She exhaled.

  Calming. Leaving her eyes closed.

  The stone of the railing felt good in her hands, the marble of the balcony smooth beneath her feet. Everything felt so rich. The steady roar of the waterfall around the corner, the soft sounds of the crackling flames in the room behind; warmth pouring out, the soothing smell of burning wood at her back, the cool of the night before her.

  She opened her eyes.

  The balcony faced out over a terrific plunge. High atop a princess castle, surrounded by snowcapped mountains, gorgeous lake spread below like a mirror, its shimmering black surface reflecting the colorful nebula in the night sky, the Heart of the World, flecked with a billion twinkling stars that filled the heavens. The deeply hued mother planet hovered above the mountains to the right, dominating that half of the view. It was beyond fairytale. It was Super Mega Fairytale.

  With a rotten core.

  All that insane beauty was just set dressing. The play unfolding within it was ugly, no happy ending in sight. And as she thought of this she realized, sadly, it was yet another wonderful moment she could never enjoy. Couldn’t possibly enjoy. Her life as a teenager in Boise had been boring, hardly ever any change. Now her life as a prophetic herald was filled with change, with amazing, exciting new things at every turn, fantastic beauty and wonderful opportunities. The things she’d done! The things she’d seen! None of it hers to enjoy. None of it safe, in every moment, at every turn, always on edge, a hairs-breadth away from certain death.

  “You should rest,” Galfar called from within the room. “We have a long day ahead.”

  CHAPTER 39: A CERTAIN TRUTH

  Jess recognized the dream. Explosions rocked the floor, welcoming her. She went to the wooden door set against the green-iron walls. Beside it was the sleek, high-tech access panel.

  As before she played things through, working in some subtle way to take control—though at this point and in so many aspects it was more like watching a replay than bending a dream to her will.

  She strained to pull more of it to the surface. With a fresh wave of intensity the battle outside shook the walls.

  Such clarity.

  And yet so much remained hidden.

  Gunfire. Not bangs but electric cracks. Advanced gunfire. Another big blast and she steadied herself. She was dressed in the armor, in one hand the long, curved sword of blued steel. She turned it in her grip. Why is this important?

  She took a moment, as before, to look directly at the shiny access panel; to peer at her own reflection. Brilliant yellow, almond-shaped eyes, slightly pointed ears peeking from a wild tangle of shock-white hair. Inhumanly gorgeous.

  It was her. It’s me. Or … was her, at some point. Some other time, some other place.

  Impossible.

  She made herself look away.

  The battle went on outside as before, booming with pulsing blasts. Another hit and she steadied herself.

  “This way!” the male voice she recognized shouted from across the room. She whirled. Standing there was the man she knew. Tall, broad; pale skin like hers, an elven face like hers, complete with pointed ears and sharp, angular features; shock-white hair pulled high into a ponytail that swung from the back of his head. Like her the man was …

  Kel.

  A Kel warrior.

  “Come!” He held out a hand. He wore the same style armor as her; black, ribbed, and alien. “I’m not leaving you!”

  His eyes, like hers, were bright yellow, intense in their demand. For a terrifying instant she remained locked in that other reality, his voice calling to her, hand out, held in place and unable to move. Before she might’ve woken, only now, this time, she wavered; oscillating, as if at some wall of indecision. She felt it tugging her until, at last, she …

  Snapped free and ran to him. He took her hand; looked deep into her eyes and opened the door.

  Releasing them to the chaos. Outside was the downpour. The cool mist of pounding rain wafted in. The battle raged, lightning flashing in the gloomy daytime sky. The man led her into the drenching rain and they went to the side, flush against the wall, just as another flash lit the scene harshly, a spike of brilliance and he pulled her
close, one hand around the small of her back, holding her to him. Water ran off his ponytail, dripping at the back of his head as he looked down into her face. He was so handsome, this Kel man whom she knew, so strong, chiseled features wet and glistening in the rain. Now was not the time for this sort of longing, but the end was near and she could feel the press of its bitter finality. Her lashes fluttered, batting away drops, trying to keep him in focus. Desperate to keep him in focus. She never wanted to lose sight of this man. In the midst of that desperate, imminent feeling that he was, in fact, about to be gone, she had the distant idea that the tactile sensation of what she knew to be a dream was far too real. The rain was too cold, and far wetter than it should have been.

  Why don’t I wake up?

  Sadness rushed. A deep, aching sadness. At the thought, at the painful knowing that this was it. This would be the last time she saw him. And as the ache and the certainty of that coming loss washed over her, with a fury as fierce as the deluge, a shuddering agony enhanced by the cold, cascading rain, he pulled her tighter to him, bent his face to hers and …

  Kissed her.

  A deep, passionate kiss, as if he, too, knew he would never see her again. As if he, too, did not ever, ever, want to let go. Her eyes closed and she sank into his strong embrace, feeling every bit herself in that moment; every bit Jessica Paquin, not this obviously other physical form. Not an alien Kel, not dream girl from another time but human Jess, loving this man with an insatiable hunger as strong as she’d ever felt with …

  Zac. And all at once he was there in her mind. And as the rivers of rain streamed down their faces and she kept her eyes pinched shut, mixing into the kiss and into her mouth, this man was Zac, and she felt him, she knew him, more intimately, more completely than she’d ever known any man and here he was, Zac, and she was in his arms and as the sheer reality of it seized her she gasped aloud and pulled back, eyes flying open—