Star Angel: Awakening (Star Angel Book 1)

by David G. McDaniel

  Faster.

  Until they were pounding the air with a body-numbing whump. She yawned hard to clear her ears. Held on.

  The pitch rose, the engine dug in deeper. Willet poured on more steam and … the whole thing fairly leapt into the air, catching and surging high, higher with each smooth, powerful stroke. Jess steadied herself, swallowed down her stomach and turned her focus outside the cockpit to the grasslands below.

  They accelerated fast. Forward as they leapt from the ground, striking out low and fast. Willet planed them out early, keeping the altitude low, and Jess looked back at the airfield, looking for pursuit, for guns or anything else that might cut their little escapade short. Willet told her his people likely wouldn’t react fast enough to do anything, absurd as stealing one of these was, though they might take a few shots. Thus he kept it as low as he could, striking out as fast as possible, the ground scrolling closely beneath, wind whipping through the open windows as they raced for the sight horizon.

  Within minutes all seemed safe. The airfield was far behind, Jess had adjusted to the steady surge of flight—like being in a giant metal bug—and they were on their way. Willet kept it low and fast. She looked over her shoulder, behind them as the land raced away; force of the wings strong enough at that altitude to kick up huge, curling clouds of dust in their wake.

  That would surely be seen.

  Eyes front, she tried to concentrate on what lay ahead. Soon the prairie grass gave way to rolling red dunes, which led to hills and … they were clear of any danger from behind.

  Now the only danger lay before them.

  “Couple hours,” Willet yelled and Jess realized just how loud the volume in the cockpit had become. She leaned back; put a boot up on a section of dash and looked out the window. The fierce turbulence had freed a few strands of hair. They blew randomly about her head and face. She reached and cinched her ponytail a little tighter.

  But the air felt good. Cool. Fresh rain gathered in the distance, dark clouds reaching toward the ground. The sky overhead was sunny and bright. Against that looming backdrop an intense rainbow shot through the clouds, nearly a full arc across the horizon, colors crisply defined; pink, violet, yellow, twinkling through a billion tiny prisms in the sunshine. The most beautiful rainbow she’d ever seen. For a moment she felt a rising, if misplaced, sense of exhilaration.

  “Think we’ll pull this off?” she asked loudly.

  Willet laughed. “What choice do we have?”

  She managed to laugh with him, to appreciate the echo of her own sentiment. It felt good not to fret the details. Felt good that Willet was right there with her, winging it just like she was.

  She looked out the window and smiled.

  * *

  Damas acknowledged General Yamoto’s orders, snapped his heels and went off to carry them out. Yamoto looked back to his personal screens at the heart of Osaka’s command and control center.

  Last night the Shogun had left him in charge which, for the moment at least, changed little about his routine. He was still coordinating the elimination of the marauding Venatres, still seeing to his duties as General of Osaka’s forces. Yet, there was an eerie absence to the day’s proceedings. It was already mid-afternoon and he had yet to miss them, yet …

  Everyone above him was gone. Not just the Shogun. The entire Guardian Council. The leaders that ran their world, that ran this city, the capital of it all. Packed up and left.

  More disturbing, perhaps, were the implications of Ashikagi’s parting instructions. Yamoto and the Shogun had had many discussions in private, none more private than the Shogun’s rants on the state of affairs at the highest levels of their government. Specifically that same Guardian Council. Now, upon such rash action by the Council—by the witch, in fact—it looked as if Ashikagi was poised to execute those private threats.

  Yamoto’s allegiance was to the Shogun. His, in turn, was supposed to be to the Council. If Ashikagi saw need for change, and was able to achieve those aims, then Yamoto would follow.

  It was his duty.

  In the end he was a soldier. His only dream of glory was that, one day, he would see the Dominion rise to rule the world.

  CHAPTER 28: LOVE’S END

  A knock at the door brought Ashikagi from his thoughts.

  “Enter,” he called, turning his attention from the windows of his private suite. He sat behind a plain desk, in a plain chair, against the wall of a plain room. Large and accommodating, the quarters were nonetheless inferior to what he was used to. Things at the Crucible, even those meant for the higher classes, were quite austere.

  One of his cadre of assistants opened the door and stepped in.

  “She summons, Lord.”

  Ashikagi waved the aide away, uninterested in hearing anything further—though he must respond to the witch’s call. The man withdrew, closing the door.

  When he was gone Ashikagi sat brooding. After a moment of that he reached and opened a drawer on the desk, taking out a small device. It was the alien electronics found in the wrecked car driven by the girl. The device did not come from this world. It played music, took pictures and also appeared intended for communication. The small device had been found intact, and after some examination was discovered to be within the technological range of Ashikagi’s world. Which made him wonder what sorts of other things lay on the other side. Another world, from whence the girl came. Could the Dominion conquer that world as well?

  The device was brought to him following the crash at the gates of Osaka, where she was lost. Impossibly, considering the circumstances, and so intensive investigations had been ordered. Now, as a result of those investigations, his police had uncovered a small network of safe houses linked to the elusive Conclave. Ashikagi couldn’t help but wonder at their role in this. Had the Conclave collaborated with the Venatres? Were they behind the bid to steal the Icon?

  Did they now have the girl?

  That she got away, leaving nothing but this useless little piece of electronics behind, frustrated him. It was a curious device, no doubt, but he wanted her. Wanted what she must surely know. Admittedly he should’ve followed Kang’s advice back in the woods; should’ve gone for her then, when they were right there.

  He’d had his reasons.

  For now he kept this information and the device to himself, ensuring everything was channeled directly to him and him alone. It was his duty, after all, as Shogun, to relay such things to the Council when he saw fit. And so they knew nothing. The Council was in question, in his opinion, and until their leadership problem was corrected—a matter he’d finally decided to take into his own hands—he would reveal nothing. In the name of the Dominion.

  Giving the device one more cursory examination, he put it back in the drawer and closed it. Now he must go. Lest the witch cause any more damage before he could act.

  He rose and left the room.

  His current stratagems were a tenuous web at best, holding things in place at that moment but with no guarantees for the next. The witch had become such a wild variable that, even in his own machinations to overthrow her, he could count on little by which to predict. He must keep her in check as long as it took, watching all things closely until the perfect moment presented itself and he could act. Until then she must be considered capable of anything.

  On his way to honor her summons he found himself hurrying, quicker with each step, worried, desperate to ensure she hadn’t already taken rash action. It was her intention to elevate Maza, to destroy Horus, and while Ashikagi thought she used this only as a threat—at least for now—he worried she might accelerate it to reality before he had a chance to intervene. The consequences of that would be grim.

  As he entered the top floor of the control building he realized, to his dismay, that his fears were not unfounded. The witch stood with her obedient Council clerics, in full regalia, prepared for Ceremony, Horus off to the side in his shimmering field, Kitana standing by, eyes on the floor, the entire scene one of preparation.
Ranged about the room were the usual compliment of golden-robed priest warriors, several attendants near the witch herself—all of which suggested she may, in fact, already have begun.

  Ashikagi scanned Horus more closely, fearful—relieved to see he yet lived. Nothing had yet been done.

  “Maza is being prepared,” Oinana announced, not directly to Ashikagi but seemingly timed for his arrival. He tensed; controlled the ice that shot through his veins and began rapidly assessing the situation.

  “He will begin his ascension.” Oinana gave that a moment to sink in, careful to check her Shogun’s reaction. Ashikagi, in turn, was careful not to betray one. More than that, he thought, he must not betray his fear.

  “It is time, then,” Oinana went on, “to bring an end to this Hand of God.” And she looked pointedly at Horus. “We have tried to salvage him from his betrayal. At first we blamed the traitor,” she cast a glance in Kitana’s direction, “we assumed the fault to be hers; that his actions were not his own. But we must now acknowledge, after every effort on our part to understand, that Horus is no longer Kazerai. He does not act as such. God has cast him out, after his blasphemous betrayal of the Trust, and perhaps we are to blame for not recognizing this sooner. We have missed God’s will, and for that we must ask our own forgiveness.

  “God clearly wants nothing more to do with this servant.”

  Ashikagi only half listened, mind racing.

  “Whether by chance or divine intent,” said Oinana. “Horus has betrayed us. It is time to end it.”

  She motioned for one of the attendants and a large, silver syringe was produced, filled with a brilliant blue liquid. Ashikagi recognized it, realizing with finality this was real. The witch meant to go through with it. The blue liquid within that syringe was the only concoction that could stop the heart of one of the Kazerai, a chemical mix used to force their “ascension”.

  Now Horus was about to suffer that fate. Only, in the canon of the Council—in the twisted interpretations of the witch—Horus would not be received into God’s kingdom. This “Hand of God” would simply die.

  Ashikagi watched Oinana receive the syringe in ceremonial fashion, hating the way she manipulated their dogma. None would dare refute her Holy precedent. She ruled in the name of the Emperor, a direct servant of God. The Doctrine was unquestionable, could not be reasoned with, and so could be used easily to advance her own agenda.

  Ashikagi resolved not to go down that road. When this was done, when the fallout cleared and this day was far behind, he would rule with real military might, not pretended Divine right. His power alone would compel obedience. He would not resort to the crutch of some intangible fear. Those whom he commanded would fear him for who he was, not for who or what he represented.

  “I do this in the name of God,” the witch intoned.

  And Ashikagi realized, quite suddenly, he must make his move. Ready or not, it was time. The moment had come. Within seconds it would be too late.

  He snapped to, heart racing, eyes darting around the room, taking stock of everyone present. Playing out the scenario before him, rapid-fire snapshots of possibilities. The moment was accelerating. Fear gripped him …

  He froze.

  If this didn’t work he would be cast as murderer, killer of the head of the Guardian Council. Certain death, if not later at the hands of an inquisition then right there, at the hands of the defensive priest warriors—who would react without thought to his shocking action.

  The witch brought the syringe near, long needle glimmering in the lights, still babbling her pseudo-ceremonial rant, preparing to insert it through the field and into the chest of Horus. Horus waited, murder in his eyes but otherwise done struggling. The clerics stood watching, witnesses only, having made no say in this matter.

  That they were all so complicit …

  Kitana seemed alive, for once, here at the bitter end.

  And Ashikagi could not act. He was too far away, stupidly having chosen to stand and mull his decision. Now it was too late. He could little rush her in this final instant without giving himself away. He would be seized before he met his objective. The cordon of clerics was too tight, the witch too far away, and Horus would be dead in a moment.

  Maybe he could try again. Another time, another place, without so many witnesses.

  But this was his chance! What the witch did was in open defiance of their rules, no matter how much she tried to play it as the will of God. She has no right! If he stopped her now he could point to that, could justify his action. Could reason away her blatant violation of their laws and thus stay their reaction. At least until he assumed command. Got things back on track.

  Fear conspired against him. And the needle was turned toward Horus, and the witch prepared to make the injection, and … the moment was lost.

  It was over.

  Horus, his greatest Kazerai, would die. Maza would rise to take his place and the witch would live.

  But no!

  It was not to be, as Kitana lunged. A blur. Snatching the silver syringe from Oinana’s grasp, screaming as she took it, grabbing the witch and turning the needle back on her.

  And for an instant no one moved. No one yet realized what had happened. Kitana …

  Kitana had Oinana. Kitana had the syringe. Was pointing it at Oinana’s neck and, as the reality of that became clear, Ashikagi’s spirit soared.

  Yes!

  Kitana would do it for him!

  It was like a dream.

  “I won’t be pawn in this!” the lithe Kitana grabbed a bigger handful of the stunned old lady’s robes; yanked her closer and stood at her back. Holding the needle closer to her wrinkled neck, quivering. Ashikagi watched the tip, eager. The blue liquid filling the clear body of the syringe scintillated in the light. Yes! He savored the way the shiny tip dimpled the witch’s wrinkled flesh. Mesmerized. Push it! he wanted to shout. Stick her! Stick the witch! The serum would kill her instantly with but a prick.

  But Kitana held.

  “I love you,” she wept, turning instead to Horus. Tears ran down her face, Oinana in her grasp but Horus on her mind. She stared at him with the purest devotion. “I will always love you!” she shouted and there was no doubt these two shared a bond. Horus, in his lockdown field, strained against the Raza energy with such intensity Ashikagi found himself cowering.

  Kitana made her case. “Don’t believe them!” For a moment Ashikagi thought the witch would escape, so distracted was Kitana with her desperate plea. Maybe the needle would find its way home in the struggle. Kill her! He nearly yelled it. Nearly rose up and commanded it. Everyone stood frozen, though Ashikagi could see the priest warriors beginning to edge closer. Ready to pounce.

  The moment would be lost.

  KILL! HER! He wanted to bellow, to drive Kitana’s hand with his will. KILL HER! It was too perfect.

  But she didn’t move.

  “I freed you from their control,” she said to her love. “Don’t believe their lies.” And she wrenched Oinana harder. Ashikagi leaned forward … but Kitana did not stick her. “The witch lies.”

  And with that she released Oinana and stepped away, syringe still in hand. Ashikagi nearly collapsed. Trying to understand what was happening. Frantic, desperate; seeking a way to turn things back to his advantage. Back to where they were just a second ago, Oinana on the brink of death, poised for the perfect ending.

  “They can no longer use me against you,” Kitana went on, owning the moment. All eyes were on her as she stepped apart, away from everyone. She gazed longingly on Horus, who strained outward against the field with such might, pleading with her in expression. As if the two communicated not by sound but by some other, transcendent means. Horus knew what she intended, and in that final instant Ashikagi knew it too.

  “I go first, my love,” she said and … turned the needle on herself. Ashikagi couldn’t believe it. The dream had become a nightmare. “I go first,” she repeated softly. Horus strained, muscles corded and standing out, but Kitana
was at last at peace. She smiled at her husband; a sincere, wonderful smile, full of love, and in that instant even Ashikagi felt her tragedy.

  Then she closed her eyes …

  And drove the poison home.

  Instantly she crumpled.

  “NO!!” a new voice thundered in the enclosed space, shattering skulls and popping eyes—sending the clerics running and Ashikagi nearly to his knees.

  He staggered in stunned disbelief.

  Horus was free.

  “No!” the Kazerai was out of the field and across the short distance, at Kitana’s side, lifting her lifeless form into his arms. Cradling her like a child. In that first instant he ignored all else, uncaring of anything else. He held her, bent over her, shutting out the world. Perhaps realizing the world no longer mattered. Knowing, in a way, this would be the last time he would feel her warmth. Knowing this was the last time they would be together in form.

  Ashikagi made that connection only for a fleeting second, absolutely terrified. Panic gripped the room. There was nowhere to run. They were trapped. Locked in the room with a wild animal. A hundred wild animals.

  Horus could kill them all in an instant.

  In the end, though, that same blind love was all that saved them. Too caught up in his bitter sadness to act, Horus did not attack. He knew what was coming. He had to. But until the hammer fell he chose to spend every last second, every remaining instant with his love, his world. Squeezing her to him that he might never forget the one he lost.

  The priest warriors managed to grasp the impossibility of the situation and brought their staffs to bear. A new crackle marked the end of Horuses’ freedom, fresh fields of energy sending him rigid once more. Kitana fell from his arms. And there she lay, sprawled on the floor, as beautiful in death as in life. Horus strained toward her. Everyone sweated, praying the field would hold this time and, after several tense moments, it appeared that it would. Whatever supreme act of determination had given him the strength to break free was gone. Resolve, faded. His wife was dead. There was nothing more he could do.