Chronicles of Kin Roland 1: Enemy of Man (29 page)

Kin struggled with the knowledge that Clavender had witnessed his ordeal on Hellsbreach during her wanderings. He vividly recalled how she had torn pieces from the wormhole to use against Droon at Stone Forest. She was more a creature of magic than reason, and he wanted her to save Becca and the others. “You took Droon out of Stone Forest. Take us out of here.”

“I moved an army once, and it resulted in eons of war,” Clavender said. “And knowing the danger, I tried to do it at Hellsbreach, but the only portal I could open went to Earth.”

Kin stopped and looked at her. What did she know of Earth? Why would she care?

The thought of this battle going to Earth evoked a primal fear that he didn’t understand, even though he had never been there. “Good thing you didn’t share that with Westwood.”

“The Imperials interfere with my access to the wormhole. They learned their lesson. As soon as it became closed to me, I knew they were going to attack,” Clavender said. She lowered her head and trembled. “My people have arrived.”

Kin looked at the top of the earthworks and saw a winged man. The warrior surveyed the approaching Imperials and screamed a war cry. His face trembled from the exertion of his battle rage, shaking not only his face, but his shoulders, arms, and fists as well. He leaned forward, ready to spring into the air. What looked like blood was forced out of his eyes, spreading down the white fur and whiskers of his face until Kin thought the winged warrior would pass out if he didn’t take a breath. His brightly colored wings darkened to black. He displayed his sword in one hand and shield in the other, arms flexed, muscles and veins bulging, in the universal gesture for “come and get me.” Dozens more landed and r
ushed to his side. They bellowed like fierce animals, and as one, launched themselves into the fray.

Thousands more of the Ror-Rea began to land and form a line. They spread their wings, forming a screen that concealed the movements of those behind them. The larger reserve force moved quickly toward their right flank and straight into the side of the battle. Reapers,
Imperial troopers, and the people of the Ror-Rea died by the thousands.

Kin activated his FSPAA unit and charged toward Droon.

CAPTAIN
Raien led Kin across the mangled bodies and blood soaked ground. Smoke, ash, and the smell of rocket fuel plagued him as it had during the battle, but the sense of it was more pronounced now that he had time to look around. Raien spotted a Reaper rising from a pile of carcasses a hundred meters away. She paused, aimed her rifle and fired a single round.

“That’s it for my ammo,” she said.

Kin didn’t offer his ammunition. He had quite a bit left. He had fought hand to hand for most of the battle, using fallen weapons. The swords, axes, and mauls had been heavy, but eventually broke. He tried to use one of the Reaper flame whips, but it tangled around his arm and seared the surface of his armor. Pain throbbed in his shoulder despite his efforts to massage it. Thirst overpowered the pain just as anger and desperation had overpowered fear during the long, vicious battle.

“Here it is,” Raien said. She backed away
and allowed Kin a moment alone.

He approached Becca’s mechanized unit and looked down on the shattered ceramic and steel. The armor had been cracked open. She had been dragged out. Kin knelt and placed one hand on the edge of the hole. He sensed Clavender watching him and faced the distant circle of Ror-Rea warriors that sat cross legged around her. A gentle wind moved her hair and dress where she stood, her wings dusted with ash. She fluttered them briefly. Much of the grime fell away.

“My men will search until they find her body,” Raien said.

Kin nodded. Raien’s company now consisted of less than thirty troopers, most of them wounded badly.

Laura and Rickson were alive at least. They made it to one of the fallout bunkers after the last Fleet ship blasted off and sheltered there with the door barred.

He saw Orlan standing on the berm, laughing and making jokes as other troopers gathered to him. The man’s demeanor surprised him—relaxed, generous, and reassuring. Even battle hardened soldiers needed reassurance after a day of killing. Troopers were drawn to him. Kin watched as Orlan waived several winged warriors into his circle and shared his good humor with them. The
strangers were reserved, but welcomed the interaction with curiosity.

“Have you ever seen Reapers flee?” Raien asked.

“Never. But they never faced Imperials. Commander Westwood must have known no Fleet force could ever beat them.”

“We beat them.”

Kin shook his head. “They chased the Reapers and left us, probably because they know they can take us at any time.”

“I’m counting it as a win. I expect a medal,” Raien said. “I’ll contact you as soon as we find Becca.”

Kin didn’t watch her leave. He sat near Becca’s unit and checked his weapons. Night came and he didn’t move. The last several days had depleted his reserves, both mental and physical. Without Becca, or at least the idea of Becca, he wasn’t sure any of it was worth the trials of soldiering on. He thought he would sit on this field of death until the end of time.

The troopers and the warriors of the Ror-Rea eventually left to make camp where the stink of death and scorched earth was less severe. Kin watched them without thinking. He was tired, hungry, and thirsty but didn’t feel like moving.

“Kin-rol-an-da.”

Kin stood and faced the night.

“Last man on Hellsbreach. Last man on this battlefield,” Droon said.

“The Imperials hunt your people now,” Kin said.

Droon made a sound similar to a laugh, but it consisted of throat clicking and growling. “My kindred lead them away so I can come to you.”

“Are we going to kill each other?” Kin asked. He didn’t care.

“No. No. No. You have no fear. It wouldn’t be good for me,” Droon said.

“Something’s changed.”

“Something. Everything,” Droon said, moving to one side, seeking advantage if there were to be one last fight. He tapped the side of his head. “Many changes.”

Kin took a step closer. “You have to kill me, just like you have to kill Clavender. That’s how it works with Reapers.” The night was darker than any night had ever been on Crashdown. The moons had waned to slivers and the wormhole could be sensed somewher
e over the ocean, but not seen.

Something
had
changed in Droon. Kin sensed the danger, but didn’t attack. The Reaper seemed ready to kill him, but only glared menacingly. Kin studied the shadow of the Reaper and saw his eyes were no longer yellow, but orange, gleaming as strongly as those of any Reaper he had ever fought.

Something was
on his back, but not a Clinger.

Kin drew closer, unable to believe what he saw. A
rms were tied under Droon’s throat like the clasp of a cloak. The comatose form of Becca hung on his back.

“No closer, Kin-rol-an-da,” Droon said. He showed his teeth and took a step back. “She has no fear. Bad to eat. Hard to torture.”

“I made a mistake on Hellsbreach, but I won’t make another,” Kin said.

Droon pulled Becca from his back and placed her at his feet. He balanced on one leg with a clawed foot over Becca’s face. A human doing the same thing would have looked ridiculous, but the Reaper seemed ready to kill.

“Do you have a home world?” Droon asked.

Kin didn’t answer.

Droon spread his jaws and clicked his throat angrily. “Do you have a home world?”

Kin nodded.

“What would I have done there?”

“You would have killed us all. You’d have done what I should’ve done on your home world,” Kin said. He moved closer to Becca, but Droon hissed.

“No. I would have left some to hunt. As I am leaving you to hunt. Our young warriors will prove themselves by hunting Kin-rol-an-da.”

“Yeah, well you will have to leave Becca
or the deal is off,” Kin said.

He saw again that Droon’s illness had passed or had been healed. His eyes were their proper color. The markings on his skin were uniform and dark, though scarred with Clinger bites. This new Droon possessed intelligence that Kin hadn’t expected. They were having a kind of negotiation. Kin realized he was probably dead or dreaming, but didn’t waste time trying to learn the difference.

“From this day until the end of days, Droon only hunts Cla-ven-da,” Droon said. “Droon wants to hunt you, but things are different since the Long Hunt is over. Droon has taken what he needs from Kin-rol-an-da.” He stepped away from Becca.

Kin looked into the night. He couldn’t see Clavender or her people, but wasn’t worried. Droon might be able to kill warriors of the Ror-Rea, but there were too many for him at present. When he looked back at Droon, the Reaper was gone.

Kin spent a long time reviving Becca. She finally opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Are you okay, Kin?”

He kissed her forehead. “I am. I have all I ever wanted.”

Something moved in the piles of bodies behind him. Kin pulled his pistol close to his chest as he held Becca with his other arm. He concealed the weapon and turned slowly. The leg of a fallen Reaper fell out of view. Something tugged on it, growling.

Kin put a finger to his lips as he stood and moved away from Becca. He searched the tangled bodies and blasted pits, catching movement to his right. He faced it, raised the pistol, and waited.

“Ogre, put that down,” Kin said. The dog plodded toward him and dropped the Reaper foot in front of Kin.

“You’re in rough shape, dog.” Kin squatted and examined the scrapes, cuts, an
d burns marking the large mutt.

Becca came to his side, but didn’t bend down. She leaned on his shoulders and examined Ogre. “That thing needs a bath.”

“Go find Rickson,” Kin said.

The dog perked up, sniffed the air, and bolted.

Scott Moon loves audio books, especially the works of George R.R. Martin, Stephen King, Patrick O'Brian, and Michael Connelly. He has been writing fantasy, science fiction, and urban fantasy thrillers most of his life and aims to read or listen to 100 books a year. Currently, he is a commissioned police officer serving in a street level counter drug and gang unit. Some of his most rewarding and heartbreaking work was as a detective in the Exploited Missing Child Unit. His favorite assignment is SWAT, primarily for the eighty pounds of tactical gear he gets to wear in the blazing summer heat. In 2005, he helped arrest a serial killer who had been at large for over thirty years.

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