Son of Orlan (The Chronicles of Kin Roland Book 2) (19 page)

DROON’s army waited on ridges and
mountain sides. A few were covered with Clingers, eyes peaking between scales
and fangs. Others had a single parasite attached and seemed frustrated by their
lack of armor and status. The valley floor writhed with the struggle of Reapers
who had lost the battle to subdue Clingers. Weak minded kindred had attempted
to wear the living armor and been devoured.

Droon hissed. He told them how to master the monsters, but
they didn’t listen—or they lacked strength.

He shrieked a challenge. Clan leaders and other dominant
males shoved rivals aside and strode forward, but stopped to gaze up at Droon
and Garjiin. The Reaper King wasn’t the largest. He hadn’t won an unusual
number of battles.

Why do they follow me?

Because Droon hunted on many worlds.

Droon found Kin-rol-an-da. Droon took his blood, learned
the secrets of the man who had been last on Betaoin.

Kin-rol-an-da calls my home Hellsbreach. He is friend to
Cla-ven-da.

Is he friend to Droon?

Every warrior who had dared the Long Hunt held power and
respect in the hierarchy of the kindred. Each member of the quest knew the
loneliness and confusion Droon felt during years of seeking.

But they would feed on Droon’s fear. Droon must not show
fear.

He wasn’t the most massive of his kind, but astride Garjiin
he appeared as a lord of death. Though some rode into battle, none commanded
obedience and loyalty of a mount as Droon did. And no other Reaper had found
Kin-rol-an-da and taken spirit voices from his blood.

Droon must challenge them. Droon must not fear.

When none answered Droon’s roar, he glared at their ranks.
The Mazz would descend soon. His kindred gathered to him. He drove them back.

“Not close together. Easy targets for Mazz troopers!” He
paused to check Cla-ven-da where she sprawled unconscious in front of his
mounted position. Then he called for his best clan leaders.

“Jaik, Toozak, Hust. We must leave the Valley of Clingers.
Drive your warriors to Mazz base, not fortress city. Kill everyone.”

Cla-ven-da awoke and stared up at him. He met her eyes. “You
do not help. So we kill.”

A moment passed. “It is your way.”

“Yes.” Droon shook his head, focused his gaze on her, and
leaned forward. “Killing. Feeding. Mating. Dying. Our way.”

“Has it always been so?”

Droon grabbed her throat. “You couldn’t ask another Reaper
this question.”

She waited.

“I won’t answer.”

“Then I won’t help you.”

Droon relaxed his grip, but moved close. His teeth brushed
her lips. When she squirmed, he drew back, but not far. He wanted her to speak,
not tremble in fear. “You will take us to the Bleeding Ground and make us the
masters. You will watch us destroy our enemies.”

She stared into his eyes, which always bothered him because
no creature had ever dared to face what it meant to be seen by a Reaper. “It is
your way to kill and eat fear, but not your way to destroy. Who would you hunt
with your enemies gone?”

“New enemies.”

“Why must you destroy the Mazz? How are they different?”

Droon sat straighter, giving her more room as he considered
the question, realizing he didn’t know. He felt the need, but could not explain
why. A long time passed as he struggled to form his mind along a path that made
sense to him.

“Because they took Kin-rol-an-da.”

She smiled. “Is Kin a friend of Droon?”

“No,” Droon snarled. “No. But he is not for the Mazz.”

She waited.

“He is for Cla-ven-da.”

“He is my friend. I would see him safe.”

Droon turned to Jaik, Toozak, and Hust. “Take the base camp.
Bring me worldbreaker.”

Reapers swarmed from ledges and mountainsides, racing
through the valley into the pass leading toward the Mazz camp. Clingers
scurried out of the way, then pursued.

Droon leaned from his mount and scooped up the largest
Clinger he could find, squeezing it until it convulsed. He forced his mind into
its hive consciousness.

Mazz. You take the Mazz.

He hurled the creature toward Mazz troopers advancing
through the mountains. The eastern pass soon swarmed with Clingers that fell
from cliffs on soldiers and their war machines. Gunfire cut them to pieces, but
the Clingers were tired of being eaten or enslaved. They crawled over the men
in armor and attacked.

Droon raced after his kindred warriors, passing them on his
fierce mount. He would lead the attack on the base camp. It was time to kill
and forget about future things.

He had liberated many of the Mazz Reapers, though they acted
strange and liked to fight in groups. They used weapons and caution. Droon
snarled as they slunk toward the Mazz flank rather than charge the walls. His
true kindred didn’t hesitate.

He left Cla-ven-da with Garjiin, commanding the animal to protect
her.

“Do not run from Droon.”

“You would enjoy the hunt,” she said.

“Yes. Droon would enjoy hunting Cla-ven-da again, but there
is no time for games.”

He dodged rockets and bounded toward the wall. When he
reached the first line of fortifications, he sprang up the side and killed two
troopers at the top. One he slashed across the throat, opening his armor at the
weakest place. He smashed his head into the other, causing the man to fall to
his death.

Others came. Droon ignored bullets striking his flesh,
wishing he had enslaved a new batch of Clingers to protect him, but Garjiin
feared them and was hard to control with the parasites chittering and
screeching. They feared the living armor almost as much as they feared Droon.

Droon grabbed the next Mazz and hurled him from the wall. A
rocket exploded at his feet as he jumped. Rockets were slow. He saw them
arching toward him and avoided each fiery plume curving through the battle to
kill him.

Toozak was slower. He vanished as rockets struck him from
the right and left, pounding him into a ball of fire and sending his arms into
the air.

Mazz troopers died and in great numbers, but three Reapers
fell for each enemy torn from armor and devoured. Droon fought long after his
Kindred began to retreat.

He thought he would soon die. In his mind, he saw
Cla-ven-da’s face.

Why do I see her?
The question upset him and he
attacked his enemies with fresh enthusiasm. Though he killed and killed, fear
receded from the Mazz soldiers.
They think they have beaten me
.

Droon opened his maw and howled at the wounded wormhole
above.

They know they have beaten me
.

Droon hesitated. Mazz troopers surrounded him. In the
distance, Cla-ven-da stood near Garjiin, hair floating in the wind, sadness in
her eyes. She hated him, but she would heal him. Droon understood she was
powerless. He didn’t understand why she healed when it caused her pain.

If he didn’t break free of the Mazz army, she would watch
him die no matter what was in her heart.

CAPTAIN Trak taught Kin a lesson he
never thought to learn. There
was
someone in the universe as strong and
ruthless as Orlan. He wondered where the murderous bastard was now.

A little help would be nice.

Trak removed his gauntlets and straddled Kin, holding him
down with the weight of armor. He punched Kin in the face, smashing his head
against the rocky soil. Again. And again. And again.

Kin slipped his right arm free from beneath Trak’s knee,
feeling as though skin was being scraped from his elbow to his wrist, and
blocked the next blow. His arm lacked strength. He barely had the will to
fight.

“What’d I do to you?” Kin grunted.

Trak froze with his fist raised high, ready to fall like a
hammer. “You’re Earth Fleet.”

Kin flinched as the fist pounded his bloody nose. He started
to laugh. “I guess you didn’t get the memo. I was sentenced to death. I’m not
exactly a member in good standing.”

Trak hesitated.

Such an idiot.
Kin wondered how the man became a
captain. “Just hit me again. I’m tired of staring at that stupid look on your
face.”

Trak, unsure if Kin were manipulating him, dragged him to
his feet and pushed him. “Traitor.”

“That’s unfair. I can’t be a traitor to my side and your
side.”

“A traitor’s a traitor. You’re lucky Nander won’t let me
kill you.”

“Yeah, I’m full of luck today.” He spat on Captain Trak’s
boots.

The beating recommenced, but Kin’s second wind gave him
enough strength to cover his head from the worst of the strikes. He tried to
hit back, but it was a foolish tactic against a man in armor. One of his front
kicks to the inner portion of Trak’s knee bought him a moment of relief as the
Mazz Imperial staggered, but earned him the dubious privilege of being lifted
in the air and brought rather quickly to the hard ground.

Kin endured the punishment
until it stopped. He lie on the ground, ears ringing, thoughts wandering. When
he stood, several Mazz soldiers watched him without comment.

THE journey to the forward base was
miserable, long, and uneventful. Nander refused to elaborate on what happened
to Captain Raien, Orlan, and Tass.

“They escaped. Stop asking or I’ll go back and make sure
they’re dead.” Nander walked with his helmet open so he could rub his eyes. He
staggered, which for a man wearing power assisted armor, meant he was in bad
shape.

Kin knew what he saw. Tass had soared over his Mazz captors,
prompting Kin to break free and run. Fighting erupted around his position, but
he never located Tass and the others. There had been a surprising number of
Reapers—angry Reapers that reminded him of the worst battles on Hellsbreach.

He didn’t get far. Captain Trak and his troopers ran him
down with nocturnal optics and radio communication. He’d made a fool of the
captain. Unfortunately, Mazz captains didn’t die of embarrassment.

After traveling through the night, Nander ordered a halt and
sent out scouts. When they returned, he sent others to confirm what they found.

Kin watched Nander sit and remove his helmet. Red streaks
marred the whites of the Imperial’s eyes and he seemed ready to pass out.
Captain Trak and the other Imperials studied the general with apprehension.

“What happened? You deployed two sets of scouts,” Kin asked.

Nander shook his head without looking up. “The base may have
been destroyed by Reapers.”

Kin shook his head, less than certain he should mock the
Imperial officer. “Welcome to Crashdown.”

“Primitive.”

“What?” Kin asked.

“You are little better than a caveman. Edain is the name of
this planet. Edain-Arn the name of the star system. I can’t believe we have not
wiped out humans long before this.”

Kin forced a laugh. “The only reason you’re alive is your
superior numbers. From what I’ve seen, one Earth Fleet trooper is worth three
Mazz cowards despite your oversized war machines and fancy armor.”

Nander looked up. “What do you hope to gain with insults?”

“A warm feeling in my belly. Speaking of which, I’m hungry.
Do you feed prisoners or carry them when they collapse from malnutrition?”

Nander turned away, hesitated when he saw Trak and another
trooper muttering in low tones, and glared at them. Fists on hips, he addressed
his second-in-command.

“Captain Trak, give me a three-hundred-and-sixty degree
security check out two klicks.”

Nander seemed nervous as they waited. None of the other
troopers looked away from their assignments. Despite the tension in the group,
each man and woman guarded a sector as though it were the most important
assignment in the war.

Trak’s cronies were the problem. Kin didn’t understand why
Nander didn’t break them apart.

“Trak and his companions perform well under stress,” Nander
said.

Kin waited for more.

“And I believe he is ready to die.”

War could do that to combat veterans. At a certain point,
the suffering and emotional fatigue was too much. Kin had been on the line many
times. The sensation wasn’t bravery, but looked the same. He caught Nander’s
attention.

“He’ll do something foolish. My advice, send him to the rear
until he’s over his death wish.”

“There is no rear.” Nander squatted next to Kin and handed
him a damp towel to wipe his brow.

Kin worked grime and dried blood from near his eyes. Then he
concentrated on the rest of his face and his hands. A bath would feel better
than sex.

“Do you know why the Slomn want to destroy Earth?”

Before Kin could answer, he heard the distinctive sound of
Shock Trooper weapons in the distance. The state-of-the-art technology allowed
troopers to fire chain guns and plasma rifles simultaneously—one on each
shoulder.

Nander followed his gaze. A moment later he faced Kin and
answered his own question. “A people without a home world are beaten. I think
Mazz and Humans are the same in this regard. Loss of home eats a man’s soul. We
fight and survive, but to what purpose?”

Kin refused to comment. They weren’t friends.

Nander nodded several times, then went still as stone. “When
we return to base, you will be asked to join us.”

“By you?”

“If I survive.” He paused. “Consider the request seriously.
Our agents understand the details of Earth politics better than most humans.
Spies often have a unique perspective. No matter what you’ve lost or believe
you’ve lost, think about what it will mean to yield before the Slomn.”

Kin listened to fading sounds of Shock Trooper gunfire.
Rebecca was moving away.

“The Reapers have Clavender.”

Nander rubbed his forehead as though he might banish
exhaustion. “We will take her back. Our 5th and 6th regiments are dedicated to
the task.”

“She could heal whatever is eating you inside out,” Kin
said.

“Not unless she can travel through time and save our home
world.”

“Can she?”

“No.” Nander seemed to age as he exhaled. He rubbed the base
of his neck. “Your friend Droon is irritated. It is a development I never
considered. My soldiers are dying to defend you from the Reapers. That is why
Captain Trak abuses you.”

Kin watched the general glance away. He was either lying or
holding something back.

“That might explain his actions, but why do you let him do
it?”

Nander shrugged. “He must accept change.”

It seemed he would say more, but he checked his monologue
and stared over his shoulder. Kin followed his gaze and realized Trak watched
him, visibly resentful.

“Do not antagonize him,” Nander said. “Your survival will be
in his hands. I can’t promise he will follow my orders when I’m no longer in a
position to monitor him. He will try, but every man has limits.”

Kin winked at Trak without allowing Nander to see the petty
barb. To his surprise, Trak narrowed his eyes and seemed thoughtful before
gathering two squads and issuing commands.

“Kin, I told you not to do that. He has an important
mission,” Nander said as he rested a hand on Kin’s shoulder. “You want him to
succeed. Trust me in this.”

Kin faced the man and retreated a half step for distance.
Too far and Nander might be attempted to use one of the Imperial FSPAA weapons.
Too close and the general could squash him like a bug. Kin’s position was just
right. In an emergency he might dive at Nander’s legs and trip him. His escape
plan after that was a bit hazy.

“What’s the mission?”

Nander shook his head. “Maybe I’ll tell you later.”