Traitor Winds - Kestrel Saga: Vol. 0 (Kestrel Saga - Origins)

by Stephen A. Fender

  Before her was an unremarkable-looking door, looking like many others she had seen on the street. However, this one was set into a triangular frame just large enough to hold it. There was no other building around for several hundred feet. Grasping a metal ring on the door, she slowly opened it, and was greeted with a dark staircase made from the same beige-colored rock as the street. The gentle humming was louder, but not unbearably so, thanks to the sonic amplifiers quickly intervening on her behalf.

  Flipping on a small penlight with one hand, she briefly entertained the thought of drawing her weapon. Knowing that, with few exceptions, religious ceremonies were a relatively peaceful affair, she decided to keep her sidearm holstered. With her free hand placed on the wall of the narrow passage for support and guidance, Angelika descended into what she hoped was the Hall of Echoes.

  Chapter 13

  As Angelika rounded what she hoped was the last spiral in the descending staircase, she came upon a cramped, T-shaped intersection. Everything around her was carved from beige natural rock, from the staircase to the walls. Every few feet, a recessed alcove had a handful of candles burning to illuminate the passageways. While the songs of the Jidoans seemed to be coming from all around her, the acute hearing of the suppression devices in her ears told her the sound was loudest down the left side passageway. She decided against going further into the depths of the Hall of Echoes before she had a better idea of what lay ahead.

  Turning and heading down the passageway, Angelika soon found herself on a platform suspended high above an enormous chamber that was likewise carved out of the rock. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the space, she realized that she was in an enormous cave. The vaulted ceiling high above her was lit in random places by small glowing orbs of light that didn’t seem to be anchored to anything. Far below her, hundreds of Jidoans were gathered in an orderly fashion, with two even columns facing what could only be described as an altar at the head of the room.

  The altar itself, a flattened table carved from the same rock as the cave and situated on a raised platform, was overlaid with a purple and crimson cloth. Several of the glowing orbs seemed to hover a few feet over it. Behind the table, dressed in a robe of the same colors and wearing an ornate, peaked hat, was a tall Jidoan.

  His head, like all the other hundreds in the assembly, was tilted back, mouth agape as he communed with whatever deity they worshiped. The sound emanating from them—something akin to a low-pitched series of moans—was both soothing and quite beautiful in its simplicity, yet they were able to convey an overlapping number of tones simultaneously. Angelika wished the OSI had known more about these people before she was assigned to the mission. What were they singing, and to whom? The data files on this culture were sparse. Save for a few obvious cultural and economic observations, very little else had been known.

  Just as Angelika was beginning to wonder how the congregation kept in such perfect pitch and harmony, the singing abruptly stopped. So sudden was it, in fact, that it startled her. She stepped back from the rock-carved handrail, unconsciously afraid that all eyes were now firmly fixed on her. After a moment of silence, there was a shuffling of bodies, and Angelika knew the assembly had wordlessly seated themselves. Risking another look, she crept back to the handrail and looked at the proceedings.

  The head priest—or whatever the Jidoans called the position—reached into an alcove under the table and withdrew a thick, flattened hexagon-shaped object. As soon as he had placed in on the tabletop, a soft moan arose from the crowd. Only when he flipped open the cover did Angelika realize it was some form of ancient book, and only then did the Jidoans cease their praise.

  Hoping the congregation would be occupied with their sermon, Angelika thought about investigating the Hall of Echoes further. She turned from the railing, but before she had a chance to leave the balcony, the priest below spoke a single word that stopped her in her tracks.

  “Inanna.”

  Inanna. The mythological entity Katashi had mentioned.

  Curiosity overtook her, and she stepped slowly back toward the railing to hear what else the leader might say on the subject. She looked down to see the cleric, his arms open wide as if welcoming the collection of people into a loving embrace. His eyes swept around the congregation, taking in the face of every Jidoan present. When his gaze instantly shifted toward Angelika’s position high above, she instinctively felt the need to hide, but she also knew that any sudden movement would betray her position if he hadn’t seen her. She stayed firmly rooted in place, with the distinct impression the vicar was looking directly at her for a long moment. When his gaze shifted back to the congregation, he began reading from the open text before him.

  Over the next hour, the historic tale that was told—which seemed to be more embellished with fantasy than reality—was the story of a man named Talfan. He had begun his life as a slave, only to rise to a position of great authority later in life and be given command of a great army. With the help of this army of elite soldiers—called the Sanissaric —Talfan was able to overthrow his adversaries and bring peace to the land. With the various kingdoms now in harmony with one another, Talfan used his influence to usher in what the priest had referred to as Inanna: The Great Awakening. Angelika couldn’t be certain, but it seemed that the end of the story coincided with the arrival of outsiders, offworlders who used a magical form of power to once again enslave the people of Jido and bring an abrupt end to Inanna. The Time of Reflection was brought to a close with one final hymn, and the Jidoans began to slowly file out of the space.

  As Angelika glanced one final time in the direction of the priest far below, she noticed once again that he seemed to be staring directly at her. There was an almost imperceptible nod of his head in her direction as his dark, pupilless eyes bored directly into her position, and it put all her senses on high alert. There was little doubt that he had seen her, and she knew that he would have to be silenced. A being in such a position of authority in Eridu must surely have the attention of Krador, and there was no way she could risk being discovered so early in her mission. The Jidoan then turned and exited the raised platform, disappearing through a nearby doorway.

  Turning and walking quickly from the balcony, Angelika hid in a nearby alcove until the great masses below had vacated the Hall of Echoes. When she was sure the area was clear, she quickly made her way back through the small labyrinth of passageways to the lower chamber where the service had been conducted. Stepping past the altar-like table, she cautiously withdrew her sidearm and slipped into the still-open doorway through which the priest had passed.

  Before her was a long, dimly lit corridor. There were arches extending a few feet from walls and lining the corridor every ten feet or so. Unlike the other passageways of the temple, this one seemed to be constructed from brick rather than carved from the natural stone. At the far end—about thirty yards distant—was a set of vaulted, closed doors. Looking down at her wrist computer, she activated the silent scanner. There was no movement in the room behind her, and nothing was showing up in the long corridor ahead. Still, caution was advised. Her semiautomatic weapon held in the ready position, she made her way down the center of the hallway, ready to fire at anything that would come from any direction.

  Halfway down the passageway, she heard the sound of something shifting across the ground behind her. Before she could turn to face it, she caught a glimmer of movement out of her peripheral vision. She pivoted immediately to the left to see what it was, but was unaware of the movement in the shadows to her right. The figure moved with such speed that it was a blur of motion, and was far too fast for Angelika to react.

  A powerful force knocked the blaster from her grip and sent it spiraling down the hall toward the closed doors. Correctly anticipating another strike, Angelika crouched and rolled back with feline agility, the air just above her head disturbed as something was swung through it with great force.

  Landing back on her feet, she took a look at her attacker. It was a Ji
doan, dressed in red and purple robes similar to those of the priest who had given the service. However, this Jidoan wore gauntlets of gleaming gold, and had similar treatments encasing its shins. The weapon it held was a long staff, made of a material similar to obsidian, and tipped with a point of crackling blue-white energy.

  The Jidoan took a fighting pose, head down, its weapon held in check against its back while the other clawed hand was outstretched in front for balance. It had the training of a warrior, and Angelika knew there would be no way out of the fight.

  She eased the backpack off her shoulders, then withdrew the long dagger she kept strapped to her back. She crouched down again, resting on the balls of her feet, the razor-sharp blade pointing directly at the Jidoan as the native alien appeared to size her up.

  After a tense moment, the Jidoan was again a blur of motion. The alien pivoted, and the long robes obscured his body as he twirled toward her. Seemingly from nowhere, the shiny black staff came crashing down, nearly impacting with Angelika’s head before she slipped sideways and lashed out with her dagger. The knife cut deeply into the robes, but passed through them so easily that she knew she hadn’t touched her attacker’s body.

  The Jidoan was quick to counter. Using its staff as leverage, the assailant pushed backward, its large foot shooting out and slamming neatly into Angelika’s side. The blow sent her skidding across the dusty floor until she thudded against the far wall.

  Stunned, Angelika was nonetheless able to come to her senses quickly. She got to her feet in time to see the Jidoan make another twirling attack in her direction. The alien’s colorful robes were a blur of shades that seemed to spin and undulate in every direction and all at once. She was too close to the wall, and the Jidoan had to know it. In that split second she knew her attacker wasn’t going to swing his powerful staff in her direction—he was going to impale her with it.

  Hoping her guess was correct, she waited until the last possible second, then crouched down and leaned to her left. As predicted, the sparking tip of the spear that was meant for her chest sank deeply into the soft rock of the corridor’s stone wall. Angelika wasted little time, grasping the Jidoan’s spear with her left hand and using it for her own advantage: that of a fulcrum to strike an uppercut with the pommel of her knife in her right hand.

  The Jidoan’s head reeled back, and Angelika instantly placed herself between her attacker and the wall. With her back to the Jidoan, she braced her feet on the wall, then pushed with all her strength. The Jidoan’s grasp on his weapon—still embedded deeply in the wall—faltered as they both fell back into a heap.

  Simultaneously pushing away from one another, they both returned to a fighting stance about fifteen feet apart. The Jidoan reached into the folds of his cloak and withdrew a long, curved knife, very similar to the kukri carried by the ancient Nepalese of Old Earth—only twice as long, and made of a gleaming greenish metal.

  At the moment the Jidoan began to spring into another flurry, Angelika rushed toward him. The movement seemed to catch him by surprise, but he quickly countered. Their blades struck one another in a shower of sparks that lit up the otherwise dim corridor. The two combatants withdrew, countered, and then struck again with the same results. Several times this happened, with neither of them making any advance.

  The Jidoan then made his fatal mistake. Using his free hand, he attempted to grab Angelika’s fighting arm directly after their last collision. Now both of his hands were occupied, and she still had one free; the advantage was hers to take. Reaching into a side pocket, she quickly withdrew a small dirk, then sliced at the Jidoan’s arm at the wrist, just below the gold armor. The effect was immediate. He released his left hand from her forearm, then tried to swing it at her face. Angelika dropped the dirk, deftly grabbed the flailing arm, then pivoted and twisted it around the Jidoan’s back.

  The attacker went to his knees with Angelika standing behind him. She brought her long dagger down with her free arm, intent on slicing the Jidoan’s throat, when a booming voice echoed from behind her.

  “Stop!”

  The voice was both assertive and familiar. Angelika knew it to be that of the head priest. Taking one breath, then another, she became aware of a pressure in her right side. Looking down, she saw that the Jidoan had not taken his fall as clumsily as she had hoped. Though still on his knees, he had somehow managed to get his curved dagger into her side. Her knife was still several inches away from his throat, yet his weapon had perforated several layers of her clothing and was now resting against a thin layer of thermo-shield. Excellent for disbursing laser blasts at close range, the flexible material was all but useless against bladed weapons. All that had stopped his strike from being complete, it seemed, was the single word that had halted their combat.

  “If you would be so kind, Agent Angelika Jordan,” the soft voice continued from behind her. “Ah’J Maboda will cause you no further grief.”

  The pressure on her side instantly decreased, and before she could look down to verify the fact, the Jidoan had hidden his weapon back in the folds of his cloak. Despite the fact that he had his left arm twisted behind his back, he didn’t offer a single protest. There was no grunting of pain or cries of mercy. The Jidoan simply stayed there passively unmoving, waiting patiently for Angelika to release him—or to kill him.

  Caught with no immediate escape route, Angelika released her captive with a gentle shove. Slipping her long knife back into its sheath, she quickly retrieved her nearby sidearm. By the time she could point it at her attacker, he had somehow shifted his position, and was now standing just in front and to the left of the priest some twenty feet away.

  How the hell did he get over there so fast?

  “I trust you have many questions, Agent Angelika Jordan,” the robed priest said, his arms casually folded behind his back.

  Angelika’s eyes shifted from one Jidoan to the other, her weapon outstretched before her and following their movements.

  “That will not be necessary,” the priest said, slowly raising one hand. “We mean you no harm.”

  “So you say,” Angelika replied, although something in her heart told her that this being was telling the truth. “I have no reason to trust you.”

  “You’re referring, of course, to the aid my people are currently rendering Admiral Krador.”

  Angelika acknowledged the remark with a raised eyebrow.

  The priest appeared to smile. “And to the Kafarans, as well, I imagine.”

  “I could kill you right now, mister, and none would be the wiser,” she said slowly, her weapon still trained at his chest.

  “But you won’t,” the Jidoan said, putting his hand back behind his back.

  Angelika scoffed. “And what makes you think that? You’re known allies with a sworn enemy of the Unified Collaboration of Systems.”

  The priest’s eyes never left hers. “My guard could have killed you in an instant, Agent Angelika Jordan. I spared your life. Don’t you think I deserve a moment of your time before you do whatever you’re considering with that weapon?”

  “How do you know who I am?” she asked.

  The priest, now fully smiling, turned toward the open door to the inner chamber. “Please…come. We have much to discuss.” He moved into the room, leaving Angelika and her attacker staring at one another for a long moment.

  “Ah’J,” the priest’s voice came from the inner chamber. “Please. Allow Agent Jordan to make up her own mind.” Her attacker, his eyes unblinking, seemed to bow to Angelika with a bob of his head before he quickly turned and moved into the chamber beyond, leaving her alone in the dim passageway.

  With the priest already alerted to her presence, there would undoubtedly be more guards on alert throughout the Hall of Echoes. In her short time there, Angelika didn’t have the overall layout of the church firmly seated in her mind, and knew that an attack could come from any angle and at any moment.

  And the priest had been right—her attacker could have easily killed her. For the
moment, the Jidoans wanted her alive. Seeing as how they had yet to restrain her, they also wanted her to remain somewhat comfortable. Perhaps there was something to the rumors of the Jidoan dissidents. If they proved true, there was no way Angelika could refuse the information such rebels could offer her. The simple fact was that the risks for failing to eliminate Krador were simply too great to pass up the Jidoans—should they decide to help. Holstering her sidearm, Angelika made her way into the adjoining chamber with all the confidence she could muster.

  Chapter 14

  Once Angelika was through the entrance, the two arched doors closed securely behind her with a resounding thud. The inside of the sanctuary was hardly different from any of the other architecture she had seen in the Hall of Echoes. Carved from the same beige rock as the rest of the structure, the room was perhaps twenty feet on each side, with highly polished floors and a gently curved ceiling about a dozen feet above. There were more glowing orbs, each floating in random places and bathing the room in a flickering yellow light.

  At the far end of the room, opposite the door she had entered, the priest stepped toward an elaborately carved wooden desk. Between Angelika and the desk were a handful of comfortable-looking chairs, each covered in a deep purple velvety material. Small alcoves had been carved into every wall, and each was filled with a single statue. Although the statues depicted distinctly Jidoan figures, each was embellished with some form of fantasy. One had outstretched wings like those of an angel, while another had horns sprouting all over its body. All the statues had similar treatments, and Angelika assumed they were representative of the Jidoans’ many deities.

  She watched as the priest removed his tall, decorative hat and placed it on a nearby stand beside the large desk. He then turned and looked directly at her.