Star Angel: Rising (Star Angel Book 4)

by David G. McDaniel

  “They were just appointed,” said the father, missing the chill in Zac’s bearing. “When you were describing the ones you and Jess went after I thought this might be them. It’s the same ones you were talking about, right? The Bok?”

  But Zac was consumed, and Willet realized he better answer for the Kazerai.

  “It is,” he said. “That’s the ones we were after.”

  “Well they’re not a secret society anymore,” said Dad. “Now they’re going to be our rulers.”

  Willet watched the screen. Checked Zac. Looked back to the images. Voltan, commander of the Kel forces, ran the ceremony. A tall, powerfully built Kel, wide shoulders made wider by armor and a fur wrap from an alien animal of some kind. Black eye patch stark against his pale face, white hair pulled back in a high queue, pale, perfect features too sharp, too defined to be human—though Willet’s mind kept trying to make him human. It was difficult to dismiss the clear similarities between human and Kel. Standing beside each other, however, the humans looked more the part of alien, not the Kel. Mongrel. The Kel their angelic overlords.

  On the audio Voltan and his entourage talked through and over the obvious discord raging in the crowds below. Willet suspected this whole thing was a formality. The hammer would fall and humanity would be told what to do soon enough. The Bok, however they came to be chosen, were figureheads at best. It was plain to see. How Lorenzo could sit there through it, oblivious, looking so smug …

  He was more fool even than Willet imagined.

  “Here you go,” the mother handed him a cold drink and one to the dad. Amy handed one to Zac, her own glass in her other hand as Zac stood watching the mockery on screen. Everyone now had a drink.

  Zac managed to thank Amy, then took a short drink absently, eyes all but locked to the images of the Bok. The last ones to know anything about where Jess might have gone. Willet could almost see Zac’s focus, like a laser sight, bead right on the Bok leader’s head.

  Yes, thought Willet. Lorenzo, you are a colossal fool. And now you’re sitting there waving a flag. Here I am! Did you forget you made an enemy of a Kazerai?

  He took a sip of his drink, something brown filled with ice in a tall glass. It tasted great. “This is good,” he commented even as he had the thought. It was good. He turned to the mother with genuine appreciation.

  “Iced tea,” she said. “We lived in the South before we moved here. Best you’ll ever have.”

  “Florida,” Amy clarified. “Not technically the South.” She raised her glass slightly, as if a toast, and took a sip. Willet returned the toast and took another, longer swig of the tasty tea.

  He turned his attention back to Zac, getting the uneasy feeling his friend was about to bolt. About to charge out of the house and go find Lorenzo right then and rip his head from his neck. The ceremony had taken place in a city called Hong Kong, according to the broadcast, and Willet was convinced Zac was about to run there. The Kazerai was dying to find the Bok. Now he knew exactly where to start.

  He spoke, and everyone looked at him as he, in turn, stared hard at the screen. “They know how to find her,” his voice was grim, low, such power in it that everyone paused.

  Dad asked: “Jess? The Bok know where she is?”

  “They had another device,” Zac held up the Icon, still gripped tightly in his hand. “They may have more.” He turned from the screen. So thoroughly focused that when he faced them it was almost as if he’d arrived in the room for the first time and everyone took a little step back, suddenly confronted with a tall, unstoppable, dark-haired warrior with brilliant blue eyes. He towered before them, filling the space, wide shoulders, a look of intensity in his gaze that could not be mistaken.

  “I will find them,” he said. “I will find what they know and I will find your daughter. I promise you that. I will find Jessica and I will bring her home.”

  There was no doubt among them. Not there, not in that place. Reason had no sway there. The entire Kel army—entire worlds would not stop this man standing in their living room in that terrifying instant. Nothing would stop him from doing what he said. He would find their daughter.

  Jess would be saved.

  Willet took a drink to ease the tension, letting the jumble of ice cubes tinkle in the glass. The audio droned in the background.

  “So,” the father shook it off and looked around, “what’s next?”

  “We need to get you and your family out of here,” Willet spoke over the rim of his glass. “Just in case. There’s no telling if the Kel detected our arrival.”

  “Won’t that raise suspicions? I mean, doesn’t it make more sense for us to continue as if nothing’s changed?”

  Willet lowered the glass. “I think it’s more likely you’ll be in danger here. For now we should get you somewhere else.”

  “What are you guys going to do?” asked Amy.

  Willet looked at the wide, flat screen, at the obvious signs of technology all around. He knew how wired this world was. “You still have communications?”

  Amy nodded.

  “We can use those connections. I have equipment that will help.”

  Zac suggested Bianca’s parents. That they go there. Dad mentioned a few things that would be better seen to in order to make their departure less likely to be noticed. He asked if a few days was okay, and Zac said the sooner the better. He told them of Satori and who she was and how she, too, had been captured and how he and Willet were there to rescue her. Amy, of the three, seemed to absorb things best. Probably due to her youth. As her parents began thinking through preparations, how to handle clothes, transport—work, for they were still carrying on with life—how to make it inconspicuous and all else, Amy joined Zac and Willet in her bedroom with fresh glasses of tea. There she showed them her computer and what they could access via its connection to the world.

  The accessibility available to private citizens was like nothing on Anitra.

  “I still can’t believe they haven’t killed this,” Willet marveled as Amy clicked her “mouse” on different things around the “web”, able to find just about anything they cared to search for. The interface for this Earth system was hugely intuitive. Willet would have no trouble using it, he could tell. Still, Amy seemed to derive great importance from making her contribution, showing him carefully how to do everything. He watched patiently.

  “Maybe they can’t,” she offered. “The internet is way complicated. Maybe it’s hard to bring it down without killing other things.”

  Willet nodded. “I have a feeling it has more to do with their plan. Keeping everyone happy or something. You guys rely on this, right?”

  Amy made a little “pshyeah” noise and kept clicking.

  As she went on Willet realized caution was advised. The Kel might not have shut the Internet down but they were no doubt watching it. He and Zac would need to be careful.

  He glanced across the room at the big man. Zac sat on Amy’s bed, sagging it heavily in the middle, looking so determined Willet thought his head might pop. Gaze far, far away; chewing on the maddening revelations of the Bok and the return of Kang; a dark smudge in that setting in his black Kazerai clothes, completely incongruous against the soft lighting and pastel colors of Amy’s room. Unconsciously he tapped one big boot on the flowery rug beside her bed, holding a gloved fist in the other and squeezing. The leather made little sounds of protest. On the bed beside him sat the shiny Icon.

  Amy’s room was far too girly for all that. She sat beside Willet at a nice white desk, cute statues of winged fairies and stuffed animals and other odds and ends, each item placed carefully, here and there, her computer a big, beautiful screen. Behind it was a window framed with lace curtains and striped wallpaper.

  Among that delicate daintiness Zac stood out like a Skull Boy in a flower shop.

  “So you’re dating Satori?” Amy asked.

  Willet turned to her.

  “You could say that.”

  She looked over at Zac.

 
“And you and Jess are an item?” A curious smirk turned the corners of her mouth. The fact that her sister was in love with this powerful “man” seemed quite amusing to her. And a bit thrilling.

  Zac hesitated, taking a moment to realize the question was directed at him. He nodded “Yes” and Amy grinned.

  “Cool,” she mused. “Jess is going with Superman.”

  She looked between he and Willet.

  “So that means you guys are here to rescue your girlfriends.”

  Willet supposed that was true.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I guess that’s right.”

  Amy smiled.

  “How totally romantic.”

  CHAPTER 37: THE CASTLE

  They got wet. Real, soaking, thoroughly-drenched wet. Jess recalled only one other time in her life being that soaked, for that long, back on her first trip to Anitra when she was in the woods in the downpour. The monsoon last night was worse. It had been every man for himself, each finding what cover they could, and in the end she curled up under Erius, who stood over her all night beneath a tree. The combination of wide horse and sheltering branches were enough to at least keep the lashing rain to a minimum, though with the sheeting gusts there was really no way around it. Still, it was a little more bearable without the direct, pelting hits and she actually managed to get a few winks between bands of the storm—thanking Erius in the morning for his sacrifice. He felt happy to do it.

  Now it was midday and a heavy mist clung in the air, not enough to call actual rain but too moist to merely call fog. No sun made it through and the combination of wet air and no sun meant they were still damp. Jessica’s thin white tunic clung to her, uncomfortably cold in the cool air, and she found herself unable to stop dreaming of fires and furs and a cup of steaming hot something to drink. Maybe the castle would have a few of those things.

  Doubt they’ll have any Swiss Miss.

  “We should be near the first outpost,” Galfar called from up ahead. He was sitting as straight as Jess had ever seen him, none of the usual curve to his back, no loll and sway. Instead he held himself erect on the back of his horse, like he was trying to see or hear or be ready for whatever might come around the bend. The horses tromped steadily along the mud-sodden trail, hooves sucking noisily at the squishy muck.

  Despite the foul weather the scenery was inspiring. Somehow it managed to impinge through the discomfort, evolving in grandeur as they made their way onward until, by then, it had taken on the atmosphere of some magical land. Like pictures from the pages of a fairytale. Jess breathed deeply of the clean, fresh air. Soaring pines; lots of rich green color, a winding, hilly road. Deep, dark forests to either side with deeper shadows—where might lurk a troll or a pack of magic wolves as easily as a cottage filled with dwarves. The mountains in the distance were covered with snow; a full range, slate gray outcroppings where rocks jutted through the white. She kept expecting to spot the castle they made for up on one of those distant slopes, searching for it but finding nothing, and as they rounded the next bend …

  There it was.

  It startled her.

  Incredible.

  A total match for the setting. Built into the side of the cliffs, its color blending into the thick mist beneath the gunmetal skies, such that it was just visible in the misty distance. Like a ghost, shimmering with degrees of clarity as the haze shifted, defining an overall elegant—and unexpected—structure. Not at all what she’d been imagining. Thin, high spires, taller than it was wide; a fairytale castle in keeping with the scenery. More like Cinderella’s castle than the bulky fortress she’d been expecting. With a name like the Brotherhood of the Fist she’d expected their stronghold to be—

  “The castle,” Galfar announced.

  And all at once Jess found herself sitting straighter as well.

  The road ahead was clear, winding down to a valley where it curved out of sight, becoming visible again as it wound up thin and straight on the other side, all the way to a bridge leading across a chasm to the great walls.

  Galfar slowed and Jess came up alongside and matched pace. Haz trailed somewhere to the rear.

  “It is said the priestess built this castle,” Galfar spoke in a low voice. “Before the Wars.”

  Even in the hazy distance Jess could tell the structure was in magnificent shape. Remarkably so, for something so old.

  “Why?” she asked. “She had fantastic machines in her age. Why build a castle?” Whether Galfar knew of the technology from the time of the priestess and the ancient Kel Jess did, and building an archaic castle like this, back then, when they had starships and all else, didn’t make a lot of sense.

  But Galfar came to a stop. He’d heard something up ahead. She stopped Erius and strained to listen. Galloping hooves. Coming toward them. Haz joined them and together they sat atop their horses, three abreast, waiting, the noise growing until … riders burst into view around the bend.

  Jessica’s first reaction was to withdraw.

  These were not shiny-armored knights with colored plumes and flying banners, riding gallantly with pageantry. Not the sort of fairytale gentlemen to go with the beautiful, thin-spired castle up ahead. These were burly barbarians, with colored mohawks and huge muscles, big beards and bulky black armor and they, unlike the castle itself, totally matched the image of a group named the Brotherhood of the Fist.

  They were brutes.

  On they raced, five of them, closing fast, and Jess made herself be still. Surely Galfar must know what he was doing. Though he’d been deliberately vague the whole trip she had the idea everything was so far part of his plan. A quick glance at Haz confirmed he was also nervous, a sudden transformation from his aloof demeanor of a moment before.

  These riders looked dangerous.

  But they weren’t closing for an attack.

  “Hail!” Galfar called before they reached them, raising a hand in welcome.

  The five drew up hard, horses braying and jerking their heads as the riders reined them in—these horses had reins and crude saddles—bringing them to an abrupt halt. Thick mud splattered from their hooves as they dug in and Erius, without Jessica’s urging, positioned himself defensively. His height brought her well above even the highest among them, though these were big horses and big men.

  “Hail!” the leader bellowed in return, gathering his mount beneath him. Their horses snorted and moved, side to side, agitated from having just been ridden so hard and stopped so quickly.

  The leader turned to one of the others.

  “Tell Lord Cheops the Watcher arrives.”

  That man nodded, pulled at the reins and turned his horse round in one move, lunging back toward the castle with a fierce push of mud. In an instant he was galloping away, back the way they came, heavy hooves beating the road to a spray of dark muck as he made haste.

  “How fare thee, Galfar?” asked the leader.

  Jess pulled her attention from the receding rider as Galfar answered: “We are well.”

  Now the leader was looking directly at her. Or, rather, Erius. “Tis quite a beast!” He laughed and the others joined in awestruck good humor. Though their own horses were big, definitely warhorses, Erius was in another class altogether. Jess managed a smile, though she could think of nothing to say.

  The mohawked warrior turned to Galfar, nodding toward Haz. “And this one. This is your son?”

  Galfar glanced to Haz. “Yes. This is Haz.”

  “You old dog,” the man laughed. “How many is it then?”

  “Nineteen,” said Galfar, and that brought a booming round of laughter from the rest. Jess felt her eyebrows rise involuntarily and forcibly pulled them down, trying not to look surprised.

  Nineteen!?

  “If I had half your vigor!” the leader was as jovial as he appeared. Big, red beard, rosy cheeks and a toothy smile. His demeanor belied his deadly physique; hard, corded muscles, thick arms and legs and, though it was hard to tell on the horse, height to go with the breadth. Scars of battle,
piecemeal armor including forearm braces and wide shoulder pads, tattoos on the bare skin of his skull, a mohawk as red as his beard and heavy, hobnailed boots completed the image. He was—all of them were—like something out of an apocalyptic or even a medieval movie or video game. Mad Max or something. One of them was blonde, the other two black-haired, all with tremendous beards and mohawks to match.

  “And who is this?” the leader asked, looking again at her. She shrank beneath his scrutiny. “O fair rider of the mount of the gods.” He guffawed at his own joke.

  “I bring her,” said Galfar. “She comes from the Other Side.”

  This gave them pause, a bit of the leader’s joviality fading.

  “She must meet with your Lord,” Galfar went on. “I believe she may be the one on whom we wait.”

  Now the beefy warriors were really sizing her up. She felt grateful to be sitting atop Erius, his powerful mass squeezed firmly between her legs. Not that it looked as if they were about to try anything. They weren’t. But the air on the trail had, all at once, turned quiet. And a little bit colder.

  “Well then,” said the leader at length. “Let us be on our way.”

  **

  It was the largest gathering of the Conclave Egg had ever seen. Following the announcement of the treaties between Dominion and Venatres their entire, small group had been in a minor state of celebration, though the new union did not necessarily mean they could suddenly move freely. In fact it was rumored they would simply transmute somehow, become a new version of what they’d always been, following the words of the Prophecy but in a more subtle way, rather than standing up and announcing they’d been there all along. Even though it was the Conclave’s subterfuge that was directly responsible for the treaties, they could never come out and say what they’d done. After all, it was also their subterfuge that led the Venatres to the gates of Osaka, chasing the Icon, and the war and the damage that followed. Events that would not soon be forgotten. That those actions then led directly to an attack on the Crucible and the destruction of the Dominion’s most advanced facility—along with the death of their entire religious council and upper leadership ...