Son of Orlan (The Chronicles of Kin Roland Book 2) (26 page)

Westwood walked straight to the large table, rested his left
fist without sitting, and attacked the point. “My sources believe you lack the
support of the Ror-Rea. I can’t guarantee cooperation without assurances.”

Dax stared at Westwood, down on him rather. It was easy to
forget how tall the Ror-Rea was because many of his chief rivals stood a head
taller. Inside the rustic room with the low ceiling and uneven floor, Dax
appeared regally intimidating.

Westwood didn’t flinch. He crossed his arms and stood near
the stove.

Dax growled as he spoke. “I risked my life to attempt the
rescue of Kin Roland. At my daughter’s request. She is the key to victory, have
no doubt. Worry about her support of Kin, not mine. The warriors of the Ror-Rea
respect his fighting ability and know my daughter holds him dear.”

Westwood pondered the declaration.

Through a small window, Kin observed Droon with a mixed
group of Earth Fleet and Imperial troopers watching him squat. Droon struck his
face and hopped up and down in agitation.

“Dax, how is Clavender?” Kin asked.

Long moments passed. “I no longer know her heart. It seems
she suffered a physical injury, or heartbreak. The wisest of the High Lords
fear the wormhole has been damaged by the Imperials and she suffers pain we
cannot comprehend.”

“The wormhole has been sabotaged,” Kin said. “The Slomn subverted
it using their alien technology. General Nander destroyed their beacons, losing
his life in the process. My advisers tell me this means the Slomn must attack
soon.”

Dax and Westwood listened.

“With your permission, I would speak to her in private. She
is the key to victory. Without her help reaching the place you call the
Bleeding Ground, our chances are slim.”

“And I would like clarification on that point,” Westwood
said. “What is the Bleeding Ground? Why must we rely on the Ror-Rea princess? I
can’t imagine any force in this universe that could stand against the combined
might of Earth Fleet, the Mazz Empire, Dax’s warriors, and the Reaper horde.”

“The Slomn have destroyed armadas greater than anything you
have imagined,” Kin activated a tablet and showed video footage of a space
battle. Dax remained stoic, but Westwood clenched his jaw, his fists, and
exhaled forcefully several times as Slomn warships—and individuals of the
serpent race—tearing through an Imperial fleet ten times larger than Kin now
commanded.

“When can I speak with Clavender?” Kin asked.

Dax continued to stare at the computer screen long after the
images faded to black. “I will take you to her at once.”

KIN left the cabin and walked to
the field of wildflowers that served as Bear’s front lawn. Westwood and Dax
followed. Soldiers and warriors from each force, except for the squads
surrounding Droon, watched intently.

The Reaper screamed and howled like Kin had never heard, not
even on Hellsbreach. His Reapers fled in all directions, naked fear on their
faces and in their panicked movements.

“Droon,” Kin said. “Why are your kindred running?”

The Reaper King grunted. Kin didn’t know the Reaper word,
but thought it meant something like burning skies.

“Cla-ven-da!” Droon cried the name over and over. He gave
Kin a final look, mounted his war steed, and raced toward the Ror-Rea camp
miles away.

“He’s going after my daughter!” Dax sprinted forward and
leapt into the air. His warriors followed him. The strongest among them raced
ahead of their King to save the Sun Princess.

“Westwood, we better help Dax.”

“Understood,” Westwood said, moving toward his officers.

Kin issued orders for his troopers to move.

The Slomn equivalent of an artillery barrage came without
warning. Nothing in Kin’s experience compared. Even a planetary bombardment
seemed civilized in contrast to the molten fire bursting from the ground. Earth
Fleet and Imperial air strikes came down. The nuclear fire of the Slomn came
up.

Kin couldn’t see the peak that exploded first. It was too
far away, too deep in the Crashdown mountain range. Within minutes there were
many others, the closest a few valleys over. Burning debris, smoke, and clouds
of dust burst skyward from planetary shotguns.

In other places he saw fissures of flame erupt from vents
too symmetrical to be natural volcanism. At the end of the valley he viewed,
the mother of all plasma beams thrust from the bed of a river, vaporizing the
water in a flash of steam. An Earth Fleet platoon ceased to exist. Others fled
the destruction in panic.

Columns of heat thrust to the sky like the deadly swords of
gods. Droon was nowhere to be seen. Winged warriors fell from the sky like
thousands of Phoenixes. Kin doubted they would rise again. He closed his
helmet, commanded his troopers to advance on the Ror-Rea camp, and led the way.

He encountered a sudden wave of blackness on the way to his
objective. Even the memory of sight vanished. He stumbled to a halt and called
for his officers, but there was only ear piercing static on the radio. His suit
froze, quivered, and began to initiate start-up procedures.

Blinding light came next. When it cleared he witnessed Earth
Fleet troopers having difficulty restarting their FSPAA units. Armored and
unarmored bodies littered the mountainside and valley floor.

“Westwood, can you read me?”

Someone grunted through the radio link.

“The Slomn are trying to capture or destroy Clavender.
Protecting her must by our first priority.”

“Roger,” Westwood said.

Captain Trak raced ahead of the others. The power and grace
of his SKIN-assisted movements was something to watch. He hurdled a burning
slag of rock, twisted around a beam of fire erupting from the ground, and fired
at the Slomn vanguard emerging from walls of flame.

Kin’s armor responded like an old friend. He had found the
balance and responsiveness of the SKIN unwieldy at first. He felt as though he
moved too fast, quicker than his brain could react to threats and obstacles,
but he maximized his speed and prayed.

Closer and closer he came to the center of the fight. He
observed Ror-Rea warriors retreating on the ground and in the air. He stumbled.
The Wingers didn’t retreat. A second evaluation of the scene revealed many of
Dax’s followers were not fleeing, but were being hurled back by an unstoppable
force.

Westwood ordered his troopers to assault the center and the
right flank. Kin sent all of his strength at the left flank. He raced along the
slight gap between the badly formed assault groups, looking for Clavender. When
he failed to find her, he looked for Droon, assuming the Reaper would track her
position with the blood link between them.

Garjiin went down after a trio of Slomn grounded their
numerous legs, cracked open chest cavities, and sent lances of nuclear death
through the torso of Droon’s mount. The Reaper King stepped off the burning
corpse and ran straight for Clavender.

Kin did what he could to help the Reaper. He could barely
see. His SKIN suffered incredible damage. Entire units of his Mazz Imperial
Elite Guard disappeared.

A slug of darkness hammered Kin upside down and backward.
His left leg touched the ground first and twisted beyond the safety limits of
the suit. When the face shield struck, he vomited and blinked as vacuums sucked
slimy stench from his face.

Coming to his feet was a battle. Dignity evaporated as he
flailed forward, looked up, and saw a Slomn standing over Clavender. The
creature opened his chest. Kin aimed before the Slomn could destroy her. His
weapon malfunctioned, a heat warning flashing across his helmet display.

Kin drew his sword from his back and swore.

Clavender!

The Slomn hesitated, bent forward with its open chest cavity
and seized her violently.

Kin stared. During the moment of hesitation, the monster
fled with surprising speed.

“Roland to Westwood, they have Clavender.  Fix on my
position and send all available units.” Kin rushed forward, knowing his guns
had overheated from constant firing.

“Westwood to Roland, we are paralleling your movement.”

“Try to head it off.” Kin watched as rockets lanced toward
Clavender’s captor, unconcerned for her welfare. He held his breath as the
Slomn deflected each attack with its tail and upper arms.

Kin’s radio screeched when he called off the missiles. With
no better option, he drove forward and grabbed Clavender’s arm.

She contorted her face with a scream. “Stay away. He is
forcing me to the Bleeding Grounds. Don’t try to follow.”

The Slomn tail whipped against Kin’s armor. Kin grunted,
holding Clavender’s arm though he feared he’d tear her apart.

Crystal silence spread from his radio and he used the
unexpected gift without hesitation. “The Bleeding Grounds are open. Initiate the
assault. Shift fire away from friendly target in Slomn custody.”

Planetary assault forces dropped from Earth Fleet and Imperial
Mazz orbit. Enormous wheeled land destroyers lumbered from the mountain base
and the Crater Town fortress. The first reinforcements to arrive would be the
Imperial Airborne troop transports. Until then, Kin had a scattered force of
personal guards, Wingers, and Reapers in Bloodlust.

Kin was far ahead of them, armed with his sword as he
entered a realm painted by a red sun. He saw versions of the ancient Earth
ships scattered for miles, cast down from a battle that didn’t start here.
Other ships were familiar. Many were strange. The shadow forms of men and women
turned to watch from across the distance.

We’re these people dead? Did they live here? Were they
servants of the Bleeding Grounds? Sadness weighed on Kin’s senses as he pitied
the damned.

He stumbled, unable to keep pace with Clavender’s captor.

EARTH VI. Crashdown. Hellsbreach.
These were places Kin considered real. Even in memory, they had physical force.

The Bleeding Ground appeared as Long Canyon without rock
formations, rivers, or a terminus point. The horizon seemed incredibly distant
and impossibly near at the same time. A great red disk dominated the sky. From
its perimeter radiated a thousand wormhole tendrils.

Every Slomn that followed Clavender through the gateway
forced the opening wider. It was a jagged boundary between the Crashdown that
was and what it would be. Pockets of swirling light and dark destroyed units
that pursued the enemy. Kin realized the serpent men were spaced at two-hundred
meter intervals. The battle formation was three lines deep and the center
supported flanking units that dug in to fire the heavy beams of fire that
devastated Human, Mazz, Reapers, and Ror-Rea warriors.

Kin had sought to fight the final battle here.

So had the Slomn.

He studied the monsters created by the Mazz Emperor and the
Reapers created by ancient Earth generals. They were weapons rebelling against
their masters.

Earth Fleet assembled adjacent from Kin’s army.

“General Pouk,” Kin said. “Status report.”

“Units are being deployed.” The Imperial General seemed to
be inside Kin’s head. Communications had been eerily clear one moment and full
of static the next. Now the Imperial technology appeared unnecessary. Kin felt
as though he could step into the mind of each trooper at will.

Surely it was an illusion. He tested the theory and found
himself unable to use telepathy.

“Clavender!” Kin moved ahead of his bodyguards to a field of
cooling sand where Clavender, no longer important, had been cast down.

“This is the nightmare I resisted. If I could have blocked
the migration of my people, they would not have seized the opportunity to enter
this place as you have.” Her hair fell over her burnt face. She looked toward
the ground as she talked.

“You knew this would happen.”

“I dreamed it many times.” She stared toward the sky where
the entire nation of the Ror-Rea descended into the battle.

Kin wanted to comfort her, tell her she was beautiful even
with horrible wounds distorting her form. But he couldn’t think beyond the
vision of winged warriors. Thousands upon thousands engaged the snake-like
creations of their worst enemy. It didn’t seem there was enough room for them
to fly.

A hundred Wingers perished for every Slomn destroyed, yet
victory, as costly as it was, seemed assured.

Kin activated his radio. “Support the Winger attack. Throw everything
into the fight, all reserves, hold nothing back.”

Captain Track stood near Kin. “The Ror-Rea are also the
enemy.”

“No longer,” Kin said.

Track shifted uncomfortably as his dark, emotionless face
shield stared at Kin.

“Do you serve?” Kin asked.

“I serve and obey.”

“Ensure that my generals understand the orders, then report
back.”

Kin hailed Admiral Westwood. “Let the Reapers fight the
Slomn.”

“They’ll turn on us as soon as the battle ends.”

Kin looked at Clavender, who stared back, her face calmly
waiting his words. He held her eyes as he spoke to Westwood. “Clavender will
send them back to Hellsbreach.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Westwood closed the radio
link and went to lead his portion of the battle.

“And what would you have me do with the Slomn?” she asked.

“They are losing. We should erase them. “

She narrowed her eyes. “But you can’t allow that.”

Kin shook his head.

“When they have lost the fire of battle, I may send them to
the remotest world in this galaxy. Is that what you desire?”

“I want this to end.”

She looked at Captain Trak as the man returned from his
mission.

“I could not have helped you if that man’s father had not
destroyed the Slomn devices—the things you call wormhole beacons.”

Tears streamed down her face as her people poured their
lives over the Slomn fire like water. “Help my people, Kin Roland, or I will
have no one left when this is done.”

Kin abandoned her to her grief and sought Rebecca and the
remaining Shock Troopers.

“Are you ready to get your hands dirty?” Rebecca asked.

“Are you going to protect me?” Kin asked.

“That’s what I’ve been doing since we crash landed.”

Kin shook his head. He laughed. “Then show me what’s so
special about the infamous Rebecca’s Brigade. “

Kin issued orders, and when there was nothing left to be
decided, he went to war beside the woman of his dreams.

The battle lasted for days and made Hellsbreach seem a training
exercise.

The final shots were fired. The last of the Slomn herded
into a circle of Clavender’s choosing. She opened three ways out of the
Bleeding Grounds and sent first the Slomn, then the Reapers, and finally the
few surviving warriors of the Ror-Rea to their home worlds.

On the edge of the canyon a rock formation grew into place.
Color became rich. The scene took on the weight of reality. A man sat watching
the ragged survivors of the Bleeding Ground as they marched away from the
battle without armor or weapons. The battle had consumed many lives and every
last instrument of violence.

Earth Fleet troopers looked at the man strangely as they
passed. The Mazz Imperials stopped in a circle, bowed their heads, and sat
cross-legged when the figure waved a hand for them to sit. His manner was
subdued, but welcoming. He looked each person in the eye for a moment, but when
he saw William he beckoned him closer.

Kin followed Orlan’s son, but stopped when he climbed the
rock and sat next to the spectator that commanded the complete attention and
obedience of the entire Mazz race.

“Have you any water?” asked the man.

William smiled. “Water isn’t so easy to find in the Bleeding
Ground.”

“No. It is not. Sit beside me. I wish to tell you a final
story.” The man who seemed regal despite his rags stretched his back for a long
moment. “I may also tell you how I fell injured on the Bleeding Grounds and was
caught between immortality and oblivion.”

“I always liked your stories in the Iron Box, even the scary
ones,” William said.

“Especially the scary ones, if I’m any judge of young boys
and their fascination with such things,” the Mazz Emperor said. “This tale is a
dark warning to all who come after us. It will leave you shaken, but wiser. I
will explain how two races created demons to destroy what war machines could
not touch.”

William looked at the Mazz Emperor as a student, or perhaps
a son, gazes upon a master.

Kin held his breath.

“This, young William, is how two races sought to destroy
each other and spent thousands of years fighting their own creations.”