Son of Orlan (The Chronicles of Kin Roland Book 2) (8 page)

“KEEP moving, but stay low,” Kin
said.

“Listen to him, boy. Those are Reapers. Maybe they’d take
you in. Serve you a nice Reaper dinner and tuck you in bed.” Orlan slapped the
side of his helmet. “That’s right, they only eat screaming little boys.”

“And big, stupid sergeants,” William said.

Kin chuckled. “He’s got a point.”

Four Reapers prowled through the evergreen trees, pushing
branches aside carefully and moving slower than shadows.

Orlan’s voice quieted. “I’ve never seen a Reaper stalk like
that.”

“These are different.” Kin waited for Droon to burst from
the darkness, because he recognized the King Reaper’s tactics. When Kin first
tracked the Reaper on Crashdown, Droon had ignored stealth and left obvious
trails. By the end of their contest, the Reaper learned to be sneaky.

Over two-meters tall and moving on legs able to bend either
direction if needed, the Reapers were the classic boogiemen feared by all
descendants of Earth. Oversized jaws twitched in anticipation of biting off a
human head or swallowing a smaller creature whole. The arms were long and
powerful, shoulders thick with muscle and scars. As fierce as they were, they
lacked the Clinger parasites that made Droon the most dangerous single opponent
Kin had faced.

What set Droon apart from the others were his eyes, too
intelligent and cunning by half. These monsters were mindless killing machines.

“You and I could take four Reapers. These are young,
inexperienced,” Orlan said.

Kin motioned for Orlan and William to stay low, then crept
forward to get a better look. Creeping in FSPAA armor was a chore. The
composite surface lacked shine. Small, almost invisible pits, reduced radar
detection, but the units were still large. An unwary operator smashed bushes as
easily as a leaves. Yet most troopers knew stealth, especially after
Hellsbreach. Staying hidden was the best way to survive. Fight when you must,
move when you can, always seek the advantage of terrain.

The four Reapers were smaller than Droon, larger than Kin
without his armor. They moved through the wilderness for a time, then gathered,
chattering at each other in a circle.

A premonition swept over Kin. His skin tingled. He whispered
in his radio. “Don’t move. I think there is another one.”

“Droon?” Orlan asked, his rough voice made rougher without
volume and profanity to bolster it.

“Yeah. How’d you guess?”

“I just got a feeling. William is about to piss himself.”

Darkness rolled over the scene. Kin knew it had to be his
imagination, but that changed nothing.

Would Droon be covered with Clinger armor? Surrounded by
Crashdown wolves under his command?

Kin waited.

The trees parted. They were indistinct shapes in the
gloom—branches and leaves playing tricks on his mind. It seemed the night
opened like a stage curtain. He saw the creature’s eyes first, barely visible
through slits as he approached the four young Reapers.

Something was wrong with the picture. Droon was too high. A
moment later, Kin understood the cause. The Reaper King rode a mount more
intimidating than any warhorse.

The beast under Droon moved like a cat, but its fur was so
short that the animal presented a reptilian appearance. Kin doubted that was
the case, because a mountain chill held the air and the creature didn’t act
cold blooded.

Kin took pictures with his FSPAA unit, hoping the low light
wouldn’t ruin the images. He would need to study them later. From what he could
see, the mount seemed a four-legged version of a Reaper, but five times as big.
Moonlight thrust the barbed tail forward in silhouette, and for a moment, it
seemed rider and mount were one horrible creature.

“Are you dinner for wolves?” Droon asked.

The young Reapers jumped apart and stared at Droon. Then
they fell to their knees, stretched their hands across the ground, and groaned.

Kin understood the language. He had been their captive long
enough to comprehend the guttural speech, though the words made him feel sick.

“Don’t do that. Never do that here. What if Kin-rol-an-da
saw you? He would cut off your heads with his wicked blade.” Droon controlled
the mount, which seemed to hunger for the prostrate Reapers. He rode among
them, looking down, snarling, flashing his eyes open.

Eyes like hellfire
.

Kin whispered in his helmet. “Don’t move. Don’t breathe.”

Orlan’s response came slowly, one syllable at a time, quiet,
subdued, and awed. “Roger that.”

Droon sat straighter on the mount. He scanned the small
clearing. Patches of moonlight splashed his face. He ceased all movement,
forcing his steed to do likewise. Then he turned his head.

He looked at Kin.

“Kin-rol-an-da!”

The mount charged, Droon goading him to greater speed,
smashing through bushes and leaping rocks.

Kin surged to his feet and retreated several steps, freeing
his rifle from the magnetic holster, and aiming it in the same motion.

Droon charged straight ahead, eyes blazing, jaws snapping.
The mount huffed, pulled across the ground, and roared a staccato challenge as
appealing as machine gun fire and shattering glass.
Cak-cak-cak-cak-cak
.

Until Orlan blindsided the beast.

The Hero of Man FSPAA struck the thing in mid stride,
driving into its front legs. Orlan, Droon, and the four-legged monster tumbled
into darkness.

Orlan tried to hold the creature down and jam his gauntlet
pistol into its face, but though they had fallen, Droon remained mounted. The
incredible beast clawed to its feet still holding its rider. Orlan fired and
dodged away.

The young Reapers rushed Orlan while his attention was on
Droon, catching him as he turned. They bore him down.

Kin had no time to watch.

He blasted with the rifle, but Droon and his mount danced
out of sight. Kin heard them, but didn’t find a shot. He aimed controlled
bursts of suppression fire into the wilderness, estimating where to shoot next
as Droon crashed through the night.

The sound of undergrowth being demolished stopped.

Droon called to Kin from the darkness. “Kin-rol-an-da! Teach
my warriors to fight.”

“I could,” Orlan grunted, “use some help.”

Kin advanced, mindful of a suspected ambush by Droon. The
Reaper had spared him once, but it wasn’t like they had a legally binding peace
treaty.

“Take that.” Orlan seized the jaw of the closest Reaper with
both hands and twisted his head two-hundred degrees the wrong way. As the body
fell, he dragged his rifle forward on its sling and shot two more of them in
the face. The fourth hesitated.

Kin shot the last in the throat as he spread his jaws to
challenge Orlan.

“Nice work, Kin.” Orlan still faced the dead Reapers.

“There’ll be more. Droon knows four of them can’t take us.”

As he finished the words, the forest exploded with charging
Reapers.

“Run or fight?” Orlan asked.

“You’re crazy.”

“No sense of humor. Lighten up, Kin. I’m right behind you.
Where’s William?”

Kin veered away from where he last heard Droon. “He’s your son.”
Moments later he spotted the Reaper-boy waiting at the top of a trail, poised
to flee.

I always wondered what fear looked like on the face of a
Reaper
.

“Run, William. We’ll catch up.”
Orlan put his words into action, speeding up the sloping incline as though
gravity barely existed.

“SOMETHING is wrong.”

“Other than Billy leaving us behind?” Orlan asked, striding
forward like an officer. “He’s not worth the trouble. Won’t listen. Won’t act
his age. Won’t even stay human.”

Kin smiled at the trooper’s back. For all the man’s talk, he
seemed determined to find his son. If not for the unnamed danger ahead, Kin
would have laughed and teased Orlan. But something dangerous lurked just beyond
perception. He felt a battle in the air, and on Crashdown battles meant
hopeless odds and no chance of escape.

He followed Orlan deeper into the valley, feeling tension
and wondering where the wolves had gone. The sentry on the ridge pursued for
half a mile before disappearing. Occasionally Kin heard wolves howling, but
they were distant and didn’t approach.

“They may be hunting beyond the valley,” Kin said.

“Then why post a lookout?” Orlan had fought Crashdown
wolves. He knew how smart they were.

Kin scanned the ridges on the far side of the valley, hoping
to see movement. “Maybe it’s a trap.”

“Damn right it’s a trap,” Orlan said.

It wasn’t long before Reapers pursued Kin and Orlan into the
valley, gathering near the entrance to the place. Droon wasn’t among them. The
largest of the group jumped up and down, waving his arms at the others.

“Impressive.” Orlan didn’t seem impressed.

Kin combined a nod with a slight jerk of his head to one
side. “He’s big, even for a Reaper, but I don’t think he could have usurped
Droon.”

The antics should have been funny, but weren’t. Reaper claws
flashed. Challengers and challenged snapped jaws and growled. Two keened
atonally as they wrestled, tearing the earth as others paced around the fight
extending and retracting talons.

Orlan spoke softly, words flat. “You have to admire their
spirit.”

The commotion diminished. The Reaper band expanded the
circle and gazed into the sparse trees. Kin watched. “They’ve been here before,
I think. They seem to understand the danger.”

Orlan grunted. “Here comes Droon.”

The Reaper King led a larger force down a steep trail. When
the first group approached his war party, he charged forward on his mount and
drove them back—like a knight in hell.

Droon yelled and pointed, flashing his jaws at those who
didn’t obey. His macabre majesty dominated the scene.

Orlan moved closer, but never took his eyes from the distant
spectacle. “Tell me, Kin, does it look like Droon is forming two groups as
flanking units?”

“Looks like it.”

“I know I’m a badass, and you’re no slouch, but his tactics
seem excessive. They could swarm us, no sweat.”

“There’s going to be a battle.” Kin turned to search for the
other half of the impending conflict.

“I thought the Crashdown wolves followed Droon. Thought he
was their Alpha.”

Kin agreed, but couldn’t deny what he saw. Thirty wolves
approached Droon cautiously, then rolled onto their sides as he rode forward.
They sneered at the Reaper’s mount, but didn’t attack.

“Some obey Droon, but I have a feeling there are other packs
nearby.” Kin remembered the first time Droon ran with the wolves. He recalled
the battle of Imperials, Reapers, and Ror-Rea. Droon’s sorrow the wolves died
was as vivid as a high quality surveillance video.

“The wolves are dead, Kin-rol-an-da,” Droon had wailed.
“Lonely.”

But he wasn’t lonely now. The killer had his people and more
of the lupine stalkers to serve him.

Three great packs of Crashdown wolves slunk from the
mountains, emerging into the clearing cautiously. One pack consisted of red or
brown wolves. Another held gray or black animals with an occasional white pack
member. The third and final wolf force appeared black at first. On closer
examination, most of these were an earthy green hue.

“Red, black, and green,” Orlan said.

“More or less.” Kin’s fear gave way to fascination.

“I don’t think Droon expected so many.” Orlan grunted. “If
we’re careful, we can search for Billy and stay out of the fight.”

“I’ll lead for a while.” Kin worked his way toward the far
side of the valley. Orlan followed ten meters behind.

Rickson was out here somewhere. Kin doubted Orlan could
appreciate the bravery of the young shepherd. Even before Reapers and Mazz
Imperials came to Crashdown, the lost world was a dangerous place. The young
man had grown up on the planet and probably didn’t notice the heavy gravity.
But it taxed the body. Muscles grew stronger over time, bones resilient. The
heart and cardiovascular system adapted, but none of it thrived in such
conditions. The human mind craved Earth gravity.

Clingers, wolves, and scores of other deadly predators
inhabited the area. Humans who dared wander the wilderness were devious and
untrustworthy—willing to do anything to survive. From time to time, meteors
blasted holes in the ground.

“I think I have something,” Orlan said as he crouched and
studied the path.

Kin examined the tracks. “Fresh. He should be close.”

“The incoming wolf packs must have cut off his escape. He’ll
be hiding nearby.”

They found William clinging to a branch. Few trees of the
dense grove showed marks of wolf passage. Crashdown wolves had pelts so coarse
they scraped bark free when passing. Kin had seen them gnaw low branches as
well.

“Get down here,” Orlan said.

William made a Reaper sound, but then his voice sounded more
human than it had since he changed. “You should come up. From what I see, this
valley is about to bleed.”

Orlan spared Kin a tired look. “The boy reads too much.”

Kin considered abandoning his armor to climb the tree. It
would be smart to get a better view of the conflict. He needed to find a way
out of the valley without stumbling into the raging battle.

“Don’t even think about it,” Orlan said. “There won’t be
time to re-arm. You probably can’t see as much as you think.”

“I don’t like this low area. If the battle spreads, we’ll be
in trouble.” Kin strode away from William’s trees and spotted the green wolves
swarming over a group of Reapers.

“More are coming from the east,” William called. “And the
north east.”

Wolves—green, red, and black—ran at the grove. Orlan started
firing before Kin could shout. The veteran trooper conserved ammunition at
first, taking careful, long-range shots where there were few saplings blocking
his view.