Star Angel: Awakening (Star Angel Book 1)

by David G. McDaniel

  “In short, everything we gained, we’ve lost.”

  It was clear he had no illusions regarding his own failure in the matter.

  “Kang is with them and is replacing Horus. If they restore Horus we could end up facing two Kazerai.” He gave the image of that a moment to sink in. Everyone feared the superhuman Kazerai, at least inasmuch as they tended to wreak havoc when engaged on the field of battle. Fortunately, by whatever reasoning of the Dominion, there were only five of them active at any one time.

  “What we don’t know,” Lindin continued, “with regard to our original objective, is whether or not Horus still has the Icon. Our intelligence inside the Imperial Compound has broken down. We can’t be sure whether or not they’ve retrieved the Icon along with him. Indications are that they haven’t.” He looked now to one of his aides. “Which means it could be anywhere. In the city. In the woods. Anywhere.” He solicited a general response: “Do we have any more on the girl that was with him?”

  One of the HQ officers answered. “No, sir,” the man reported. “Just that she escaped the city with Horus and went into the hills. We don’t believe the girl was found when they got Horus. She may still be out there. Probably is. The Dominion has sent search parties into the hills, but we can’t be sure if they’re looking for the girl or the Icon or both.”

  Lindin nodded; returned his attention to the assembled officers. “She could have it,” he said. “We don’t know. One glimmer of promise in all this: Horus has unwittingly confirmed our suspicions on the Icon, namely that it is some sort of portal device. When he activated it he ceased to be, at least in this location. Where it goes, we have no idea.

  “What we do know, or at least what we can conclude, is that he met this girl at that other location, then returned with her here. Facial scans of the girl from the Astake video are poor, but they show no matches between her and anyone in our records. This doesn’t mean she isn’t from this world, but that combined with other factors leads us to believe the Icon may in fact be some sort of quantum entangled device, with a location pair far from here. Perhaps on another world altogether.”

  Those listening were rapt with attention. The Icon legends were many, but the most educated theories had it not merely as a Holy Relic, as the Dominion elite insisted, but as a technological device from a time long ago, when travel gateways were established between remote locations. The Icon was believed to be one of these, from ancient times, found by Emperor Kagami a hundred-and-fifty years ago and used to travel to Anitra. Kagami himself was no god, the Venatres believed, but wasted no time capitalizing on the awe of the locals who found him, building on that idea until he’d firmly established an empire with him at the head. Thus creating the Dominion, enemy of the Venatres and, in truth, enemy of freedom and enemy of the entire world. In whose land they were now square in the middle.

  “Satori,” Lindin turned to her. “Is Captain Willet still inside the city?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We may need him in the coming hours.”

  Suddenly a commotion across the room. It was the field tacticians at the perimeter, monitoring the battle. “It’s him,” one of them fairly shouted. Something in the activity had changed and now everyone crowded around a set of monitors. Satori was the first of the officers to reach them.

  “Who?” she asked, Lindin and the others close behind.

  “Kang,” came the report. “He’s entered the battle.”

  Satori found the video feed of Kang, striding out arrogant and shirtless into the fiery night, directly into the fray outside the city walls.

  She cursed as she watched a squad of Skull Boys powered armor run across the burning fields at the new arrival, knowing what they were in for but attacking nonetheless. Satori ached for their sacrifice. They set a line against the mighty Kazerai, ultra-sonic rifles warping the air with the rip of high-speed volleys. Kang ran at them, blown back by the impact of the rounds, rising to come at them again, faster and more erratic. The shots were a nuisance, an annoyance, serving only to wipe the arrogant expression from his face. Serving only to prolong the inevitable.

  And he was to the first suit of armor, then the second … crumpling each and hurling it to the ground.

  Satori turned and ran for her tank.

  This meeting was over.

  * *

  Horus struggled within the shimmering field, unwilling to give. Hate burned in his eyes no less fiercely now than it had hours ago. Ashikagi watched with some small bit of pride, wishing to have his belligerent Kazerai back at his side—and to be done with the witch that accosted him.

  Oinana circled Horus, talking—droning was more like it—as she had been for some time.

  “What you’ve done was not within your control,” she soothed, continuing her attempt to wear away at Horuses’ resolve.

  Ashikagi turned from her. Far below and miles away, out the panoramic windows, the battle yet raged. General Yamoto’s last report had Kang entering the fight, wreaking the expected degree of havoc. The rest went in favor of the Dominion. Not long ago the enemy field commanders had been called back, to their rear command post. No word on whether a retreat was planned.

  No matter. Ashikagi would pursue them. It was his decision that no mercy be shown. The entire Venatres force, all that had come there with this violation in mind, would be made an example of.

  A change in the witch’s voice brought his attention back to her.

  “She’s here, even now,” said Oinana, and motioned to one of the priest warriors standing at a door across the room. That golden-robed priest opened the door and admitted another, escorting …

  Kitana.

  Ashikagi swallowed. Kitana came further into the room, as if on display, following the priest.

  Though Kitana, for a hundred reasons, would never be his, Ashikagi could not suppress his lust. No doubt, he thought, could any man who saw her. Kitana was perfection. Even the dungeons and the emotional trauma of her discovered treachery were not enough to diminish her. She entered the room; sad, terrified, yet radiating beauty. Exotic features utterly captivated; hair died a brilliant purple, the color of her station; her youth, her nubile form combining to make her irresistible. A sheer, lavender gown draped her, arms and legs bare.

  Ashikagi watched her follow Oinana’s beckoning, padding softly across the room to the witch—eyes fixed firmly on her husband, Horus. Kitana had the unmistakable features of the Gyo Tai, the royal race, true descendants of Emperor Kagami. Horus, also of the royal line, showed little of those features, as was true with most of the Gyo Tai, genes diluted through many generations of Anitran influence. But Kitana, as with Oinana, Kang, Ashikagi himself and others like them, bore the look of royalty. She was easera, identified at a young age as one worthy, raised to be the wife of one of the great Kazerai. Horus had been her assignment, and that decision alone sent rifts of jealousy through the ranks of the other Kazerai, and even the Astake below them. Until the assignment every man had his eye on Kitana, and now she belonged only to one.

  One who, with her help, had become a traitor.

  She stood across from Horus, unshed tears glistening in her beautiful eyes. Ashikagi pitied her not one bit. She’d chosen her path. Chosen to side with the Venatres spies. Chosen to betray her own people. By her own actions she’d overseen her husband’s involvement in the theft of the Icon, an act Ashikagi despised her for not so much that it involved the Icon, but that, in order to do it, she’d corrupted his favorite Kazerai.

  If there was one thing he supported Oinana in, one thing he could agree with in this whole proceeding, it was the use of Kitana. Kitana might help return Horus to himself. Might stimulate his feelings for her, thus reminding him of his past. For, unlike most easera, Kitana truly loved her Kazerai husband. And he, by all indications, her. Theirs had not been a mere pairing of convenience. From the time of the announcement—and perhaps even prior—the two were made for each other.

  “Tell him,” Oinana cajoled. “Tell him, my
dear Kitana, what you’ve done.”

  Now the tears welled enough to fall. Kitana held herself with the regal bearing of her upbringing, not trembling, not making a sound, chin high. But the tears she could not control. They trickled freely down her cheeks.

  Ashikagi studied Horus, noting his rage had passed. For the moment he watched Kitana intently through the shimmering field. Calmed by her. Recognizing her, it seemed, or at least curious at the arrival of this beautiful, sad girl who stood before him.

  * *

  The rain had passed. Jess raced down the dark blacktop through the hills. There was no moon tonight, the sky heavy with clouds, making the road nearly impossible to make out with the car’s headlights off. But she wasn’t about to turn them on. Even if the enemy had infrared, night vision and other technologies—which they no doubt did—making stealth impossible with or without lights, there was something psychological about having the bright headlights shining into the night. Nerve-wracking as it was to be speeding along in the dark it would’ve been more nerve-wracking to be driving with such an obvious beacon.

  So on she raced.

  The darkness to her right became a lighter gray, as if opening up to a bigger space, and she realized the road was finally leaving the wooded hills. Just as she was thinking this both sides opened up and the lights of the city popped into view, defining a sharp edge to the hill which had, until that moment, simply been another shade of dark. Heavy clouds on the other side of the city glowed red/orange from beneath, the fires of battle flashing against them in staccato bursts of brilliance. Making that whole image, night-lit city in silhouette, backlit by flickering fire, sitting miles away on the dark, empty plain, alone under a starless sky …

  It looked like she raced toward the capital city of Hell itself.

  In the distance the monorail broke the featureless expanse, stretching across the breadth of the plain, periodic lights marking its length.

  She went a little faster, inspired by the framing of her objective. Though the road was still virtually indistinguishable she at least had a clear picture of where she was headed.

  Yeah, she thought. To my death.

  But those funeral thoughts failed to revive her terror. It wasn’t courage that compelled her; it was simply that her mind was set firmly on the goal at hand. There were no other options. She thrilled to the roar of the roadster’s powerful steam turbine, the control of the vehicle at her command; breathed in the rush of air through the open windows, the fresh smell of the recent rain, focus on one thing: Get into the city, find Zac, find the device, get home.

  Time seemed to pass more quickly than on their escape, or perhaps her thoughts were just that much more consumed. The simplicity of what she intended was fraught with impossibilities.

  She drove on.

  Refusing to let the hopelessness overtake her.

  The city walls continued to grow larger.

  Zac could save her.

  A train appeared on the monorail track, heading out of the city toward the hills beyond. It was long like an Earth train, sleek in its distant outline and shiny metallic. Unlike a modern Earth train, however, it spewed steam from a stack at the front—more like one of those old Silver Bullet engines from decades past, reminding her of an art deco painting or something. At once the scene struck her and, for a moment, she felt a sort of romanticism as she watched the gleaming train make its way out over the open plain, glinting, the walled city a stylized backdrop for it; white smoke puffing high into the air, trailing into the rain-fogged sky behind it.

  But there was little time for longing.

  Rising from the city center were a pair of towering skyscrapers, taller than the rest. She’d seen them briefly before and, though she had no evidence to confirm it, her conviction was that one of those towers was where they’d taken Zac. At the top of one she could make out a large shape, even from this extreme distance, lit with spotlights in the dark, sitting on some sort of giant landing pad, and it looked vaguely like one of the airships that came for him earlier.

  This served only to reinforce her conviction.

  He would be there.

  And she began to think. It was time to come up with a real plan; to reduce her determination, her hope, to a series of steps. First she had to get into the city. The giant city gate lay at the end of this road, the one they left by—probably still off its hinges from their escape—she doubted they’d fixed it yet—which meant there would likely be a temporary barrier in its place. Were there other gates? There had to be, but did she really want to drive around the outer wall of the city until she found one? And any other gate she found would be sealed and locked.

  No, the broken gate was the best choice. In fact, it might be the only choice. Because it was broken, whatever they put in its place would likely be a checkpoint for vehicles or something. Which meant there was a good chance it would have gaps in it, perhaps big enough for a person to sneak through. What she would do, then, was drive as close as she dared, park and sneak wide around it, observe from a distance and find a way in.

  The whole idea was, of course, absolutely insane.

  In her peripheral vision something flashed. She jerked her head toward it—catching sight of the brilliant blue jets of one of the airships.

  No!

  Still far away but moving over the open plain.

  At first it flew toward the hills … then turned and began to circle, out near the monorail. Miles away but feeling like it was already right over her. Lights came on and it began scanning the ground. Bright circles of doom, circling round and round, over and across the ground out there on the plain.

  Searching.

  Her heart lurched into her throat. She stepped on the gas.

  Faster.

  CHAPTER 18: NO WAY BACK

  Maybe the serum was wearing off. Ashikagi believed it was, and that, for whatever reason, Horus simply refused to embrace what he knew to be true. Now, faced with his beautiful wife, it seemed his guard was down. Maybe he was remembering at last.

  “I will tell him nothing, witch,” Kitana announced, voice calm. There was no challenge in it, no defiance. Merely a statement of fact. So certain, so absolute, that it left no doubt of any alternative. Kitana would not do as she was told.

  “I am dead,” she added. “I cry each second I’m left in this state, for this life is no longer where I belong. That you’ve captured my love only drives deeper my despair. But it changes nothing.

  “Someone will stop you,” she informed Oinana in that same matter-of-fact voice. “One day the Dominion will be on its knees.”

  Horus listened to her words, an almost quizzical expression passing across his face. Anger passed across Oinana’s, replaced quickly, smoothly, with her best disdain. She turned her gaze on Horus.

  “Your wife is a traitor,” she told him, ignoring Kitana. “Her treachery has led you to this. Her deception has caused you to forget your own greatness.”

  Some of Horuses’ rage returned, flickering briefly in the direction of Oinana. But it lasted only as long as her words. In the following silence he returned his rapt attention to Kitana.

  His wife.

  His love.

  Ashikagi smiled thinly to himself. Yes, the circumstances leading to this moment made him furious. However, he yet found small pleasure in the unfolding battle: The unmoving Kitana and the defiant Horus, pitted against the increasingly frustrated witch.

  It was a battle he hoped she lost.

  The far doors opened and an aide entered, looking to be in a hurry. He scanned the room, found the Shogun and made a direct line for him.

  “My, Lord,” he said as he approached. “We may have found her.”

  * *

  The airship saw her. Blue jets brilliant in the night, moving toward the road with a purpose, spotlight sweeping the ground. Jess was nearly to the city wall and could see far enough to realize her earlier suspicions about the gate were true: they’d erected a temporary barricade, leaving man-sized gaps through
which she might sneak.

  Might’ve sneaked, before now. Now she was about to be overtaken.

  Now her entire plan was ruined.

  Yet her newfound calm held. Already in the thick of it her thoughts raced to action rather than freezing in panic. As if shifting mentally to a higher plane. At that point she should be slowing down, giving up.

  But that wasn’t happening.

  Patiently she kept on, grimly resolved as the airship swung in behind, the roar of its jets overpowering all other noise. Soon enough she not only heard it but felt it, the thunder becoming so tangible as to shake the fittings of the car. Her teeth rattled, her vision blurred as the soft tissue of her eyeballs rippled from the tremendous waves of sound.

  It must be right above.

  A furtive glance confirmed that it was; directly overhead by less than a hundred feet, underbelly massive in such proximity.

  Then an idea came to her. In that moment she must be in its blind spot, a condition that wouldn’t last but that might be used to her advantage.

  And so, without further thought or consideration, she reached back and snatched one of the smaller suitcases from the backseat, heaved it forward and pulled her feet up to crouch in the seat. Readying herself, she jammed the suitcase down onto the gas pedal and the roadster lunged. Hard. But in that same instant she lunged as well—out the open driver’s window and away, forcing herself to act faster than she could think. Faster than fear could hold her back. It was awkward, legs and arms catching on the wheel and window frame as she hurled herself from the seat, but it worked and she was clear, arcing through the air even as the car continued roaring on its way.

  She hit the muddy field beside the road, her thud into the ground far more jarring than expected. Instinctively she turned the impact into a roll, over and over, too fast, she was going too fast, struggling to hold her limbs close. At length she came to a painful stop amid a spray of wet earth and immediately hugged herself flat to the ground. She wiped mud from her eyes and watched as the car raced on beneath the airship, moving toward the gate with increasing momentum. The mighty craft repositioned itself, fanning the searchlight across the rogue vehicle.