Chronicles of Kin Roland 1: Enemy of Man

by Scott E Moon

  Emotions. Fear?

  He focused his mind and studied the planet and the sky. When he hurt Cla-ven-da, wind rushed through the mountain pass. Sky lights trembled. Somewhere far away from him, but near the ten-thousand-warrior pack, Cla-ven-da’s people screamed for vengeance. His kindred avoided Cla-ven-da’s people. They wore no armor but were not bound to the ground as were normal men because they had wings.

  “Where are your warriors, Cla-ven-da?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer.

  He reached for her face.

  “Don’t,” she said.

  He pulled his hand back.

  “How do I kill Kin-rol-an-da?”

  She stared at him defiantly. “You cannot.”

  Droon whined. “I knew it.” The Long Hunt was ruined. He wasn’t strong enough. He wanted to throw himself at the world breaker and die, but he grabbed Cla-ven-da, flung her over his shoulder, and ran into the night. He needed to kill something, but most of all, he needed Cla-ven-da for himself.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CLOUD banks advanced across the sea, stretching across the horizon, reaching thousands of feet into the air. The cloud wall, a uniform line of darkness when viewed from a distance, was a tempest of thunderheads, cyclones, and smaller, ominous clouds hurtling the wrong direction less than a hundred feet above the surface of the water. Kin took one last look at the coast and the preparations of the Fleet forces. The Reaper’s tracks headed inland. Kin might not see the town for days.

  Quietly, in a strange mood, he spoke to no one in particular. “Welcome to Crashdown.”

  The war machines of humanity paid him no heed.

  Bear and Rickson watched the storm with equal unease. They understood the fury of the planet. Wormholes, Reapers, and deadly terrain were only a taste of Crashdown—a dangerous kiss. Crater Town had fallout shelters for more than meteor storms. There were hurricanes, tornados, and lightning flurries in the spring, murderous drought each summer, and winters that were as though the void of space caressed the planet’s surface.

  Raif stared at the panoramic view sullenly, his expression a mixture of fatigue and petulance. He was walking again, tied behind Bear’s horse. Kin doubted the man’s feet had ever traveled so far without the protection of armored boots.

  “Your Reaper is leading us into Long Canyon,” Bear said.

  Kin nodded. It was where he predicted Droon would go. For several days they moved less than a mile between sunrise and sunset. Every step was treacherous. It was doubtful Droon feared any living creature. He could pry a Fleet trooper out of battle armor and survive extreme wounds, but he could fall and die like anyone else. Reapers were crazy, not suicidal. Traveling through Long Canyon was a less direct route to Crater Town, but it would get them there.

  “Do you think the storm is coming for Clavender?” Rickson asked.

  “No,” Kin answered. “When did you start believing she controls the weather?”

  “I never said she controlled the weather, but you know there is a connection. Why are we risking our lives if she doesn’t matter?”

  “She matters. Just like you’d matter if a demon were terrorizing your dreams and planning to eat you inch by inch as you scream.” Kin didn’t completely understand Clavender’s influence on this world, but he believed in it with greater conviction than Rickson or any person from Crater Town. He had been on other planets. He had been farther into the mainland of this planet than anyone. He knew exactly how strange Crashdown was beyond the mountain range.

  Sophia’s vague hints confirmed there was life inland, but confused the reasons why it was almost impossible to leave the coast. He had spent hours pondering the conversation. If Sophia was telling the truth, Clavender kept them trapped on the coast in order to keep them alive.

  Crashdown wasn’t meant to sustain human life. The gravity was too severe, the storms too deadly, and native creatures seemed to come straight out of a nightmare. He watched the stormy sea and the toxic gloom around Crater Town from where he stood on the mountain.

  “I hope she’s alive,” Rickson said.

  “Me too.”

  They moved into Long Canyon, which Rickson had never heard of and Bear had only viewed from a distance. The canyon was wide enough for hundreds of battlecruisers to set down for repairs or to deploy armies. In the center of the panorama, smaller mountains and lakes surrounded fields of tundra. Droon could lose himself in the vast space, but would probably follow the water as every man and beast must to survive. The shallow waterway twisted around rocks and ridges reminiscent of Hellsbreach without the scorching heat and metallic stink in the air.

  “It’s getting dark,” Bear said.

  Kin studied the terrain and listened for sounds of danger, hearing only Raif’s muttered curses. Images of Stone Forest and Clavender’s desperate fight with Droon played in his head. She was so small, so beautiful. For a brief moment, he felt compelled to describe the incident to Bear in more detail, but wondered if the man would turn back. He would start by cursing Kin for keeping Clavender’s ability to summon wormhole portals from him and finish by claiming she could escape on her own.

  Perhaps she already had. Kin doubted it. The image of her weakening was vivid and disheartening.

  “Keep moving,” he said. They plodded in silence, increasingly wary of the strange weather in the distance.

  “What is that?” Rickson asked.

  The boy’s eyes were good. Kin searched in the direction he pointed. A trail twisted through a final cluster of Crashdown’s version of pine trees, scrub, and disintegrating rock formations before opening into the canyon. Even as he heard the cries of pain and terror, Kin saw the orange glow of a campfire on the tall rock that sheltered the side of the stream from wind. Pleasant campfire aromas came with the breeze, though the effect of Droon’s throat-clicking, atonal whistling ruined the moment.

  “Stay with the horses, Rickson. This isn’t the time to prove how clever or brave you are,” Kin said.

  Bear tied Raif to a tree and moved as near as he dared to the campsite. Kin followed, aware that Rickson didn’t stay as close to the horses as Kin intended, but hadn’t completely disregarded his advice.

  “Do you know these people?” Kin asked. He assumed they were the travelers Sophia had mentioned, but that wasn’t why he asked the question.

  Bear nodded without looking away from the scene and Kin understood he had a problem. Bear didn’t seem interested in their rescue. The mountain man clenched and unclenched his jaw, causing his thick beard to come alive as he squinted at three men and one woman writhing against crude bindings. Droon pranced around his captives snapping his teeth and whipping his head side to side.

  Bear smirked. “They have charms.”

  Kin squinted into the night. All three of the men and the woman wore talismans around their necks, silver medallions in the shape of Crashdown’s many moons. Religious tattoos covered one man. An intricately knotted cord dangled from the wrist of his companion as a ward against evil.

  “Now isn’t the time, Bear,” Kin said. His friend frequently mocked travelers and their reliance on talismans. He offered such adventurous individuals protection and guidance for a price, but not everyone valued his skill, preferring rituals and faith to Bear’s sturdy axe.

  Kin saw the travelers also had technology salvaged and converted from a space vessel. Near the fire was a large tent made of heavy, reflective material. The door was a three stage affair, not a perfect air lock, but able to purge gases most harmful to human beings. The shelter would probably keep them alive in a storm, but hadn’t protected them from Droon. The generator still ran. At times it surged, drowning the pleas of the travelers.

  “How do you feel? They seem concerned about air quality,” Kin said.

  Bear shrugged. “They’re headed east. Might be good to have a fancy tent there.”

  “Do you see Clavender?” Kin asked.

  “No,” Bear said.

  Kin looked over his shoulder, locking eyes w
ith Rickson. The boy didn’t blink or retreat. He kept his knees bent and his staff in both hands. The horses were tied to a bush twenty paces behind him, too far if Droon came this way, but not a complete death sentence. The boy was learning.

  “He could have her in the tent,” Kin said, as he carefully adjusted his position.

  “That monster can’t figure out the tent,” Bear said. He kept his eyes on the three men and the woman.

  “I don’t know what these people did to you, Bear, but I need your help.”

  “Clavender isn’t here. Leave these cheating, lying clowns to their own mess. You can’t save everyone. Maybe they’ll think twice before stealing fuel from a host in the middle of winter.”

  Kin started to argue, but stopped. Winter was long past. These people needed help, however despicable their crimes. Crashdown wasn’t so over populated that living, breathing human beings could be sacrificed to even a score. His friend held a grudge, which was unfortunate.

  Kin studied the scene, thinking Reapers didn’t adapt quickly to stolen technology and would ignore it. There didn’t seem a compelling need to hide Clavender inside the tent, so Droon wouldn’t bother with the complicated door. But she could be on the other side of it tied up in a shadow. Kin shivered. Nice image, Kin. Focus.

  “Are they asleep?” Rickson asked. He whispered, but his voice was too loud. The pitch of his words quavered near a plea for mercy.

  “Be quiet. Go back to the horses,” Kin said, quietly.

  “I’ll watch the horses and the prisoner.” The sound of Bear’s voice was cold and emotionless.

  Kin spoke before Rickson had time to exploit the mountain man’s reluctance.

  “I need both of you with the horses. Reapers love horse meat almost as much as human meat. If we lose the horses, this mission is over.”

  Bear grabbed Rickson by the arm. “Come on, boy. You heard him.”

  Rickson tensed, but Kin stared at him until he went with the man.

  “Rickson,” Kin said.

  The boy pulled his arm from Bear and stopped. “What?”

  “Never close your eyes in the presence of a Reaper, not even for a minute. They invade your dreams.”

  Rickson nodded vigorously and retreated with Bear to the horses.

  Kin counted to twenty then crawled inch by inch toward the fire.

  Droon thrust his hands to the sky and threw back his head. The howling that erupted from the creature’s mouth caused Kin’s teeth to rattle, vibrating down his spine into his stomach. The night song of the Reaper felt like a sonic weapon. When he arrived at the point of no return, he looked back to see Bear leading the horses and the prisoner farther up the trail.

  Rickson followed, walking in a half crouch. He looked toward Kin, often walking sideways or backward. Kin was glad to see them go. The more distance between his friends and the campfire, the better their chances would be when it went bad. Bear would’ve been able to help. Kin wouldn’t have bothered with the man and his horses if he didn’t need him, but this wasn’t the time to wrestle with the man’s moral code.

  Droon squatted over the woman, running his claws along her body from head to feet. He clicked and growled and snarled. She wept, moaning when he slowly stabbed his longest finger-claw into her navel.

  Kin couldn’t watch. He had a plan, but needed to know whether Clavender was inside the tent or near the generator. He crawled as quickly as he dared and found Clavender bound near a log on the other side of the tent.

  “Quiet,” he said.

  She didn’t respond, though she moaned in semiconscious delirium.

  With agonizing slowness, Kin dragged her away from the campsite and left her behind a pile of boulders overgrown with lichen. He didn’t bother to untie her. There wasn’t time.

  He made his way back to the log, aimed his pistol at the generator fuel cell, and fired. The Reaper turned and looked at Kin during the exact moment he pulled the trigger. For an instant, their eyes met. Before Kin could identify the expression he saw in Droon’s eyes, the explosion struck the Reaper at close range. Kin dropped to the ground, aware the distraction had nearly caused him to be hit by the shock wave.

  He turned his face to the aftermath. The blast injured the travelers lying on the ground. They’d thank him even if they died. Having been a Reaper’s captive, he understood their nightmares had only just begun.

  Kin ran to Clavender and scooped her up, tossing her over his shoulder. Her wings brushed his face, surprising him with delicate softness. He had never touched them, but thought they looked stronger than they felt.

  Near the blazing campsite, the woman crawled to help her comrades.

  There was no time to help them. He fled with Clavender over his shoulder. She was small, virtually made to be carried away, and he moved with the strength of fear pounding through his body. He listened for the Reaper, hoping the monster had been killed, but not squandering much time or energy on the thought.

  “Kin!” Rickson said, appearing beside him. “Let me carry her. You have weapons.”

  Kin pushed Clavender onto Rickson’s shoulders and drew his sword. He briefly considered firing his pistol into the night where he thought the Reaper was struggling to stand, but decided not to waste bullets or expose his position. “Where’s Bear?”

  “He should’ve been here with the horses by now,” Rickson said.

  Kin led the way back to the horses with a bad feeling in his chest. The horses were gone. The prisoner was gone. He heard the horses galloping through the night, whinnying in terror, and Raif cackling with insane laughter.

  “I’m coming for you, Roland. I’m coming for you and I’m bringing friends,” Raif screamed from the darkness.

  Kin ignored the fading rant of the one-handed trooper and ran up the trail. He saw Bear thrashing on his back with a swarm of Clingers fighting for his body. In Bear’s left hand was the rope that he had tied Raif with. Bear must have decided to deal with Raif while Kin fought the Reaper, but had been ambushed by Clingers before he could finish it.

  “Bea—!” Rickson tried to shout as Kin slapped his hand over his mouth.

  “They have him. We need to go,” Kin said. He pushed Rickson toward a side trail.

  “I thought troopers never left a man behind.”

  “I’m not a trooper and he’s no longer a man,” Kin said. He pushed, shoved, and dragged Rickson. He pushed Clavender back onto Rickson’s shoulder when he started to drop her. “I can’t do everything. Move your ass.”

  The sound of Bear’s tortured voice echoed through the valley. Rickson turned back, eyes wide.

  “That’s not Bear. Listen to me, Rickson. Droon is in your head.” Kin grabbed the boy’s shoulder. With one hand, he pointed toward a stand of rock in the middle of the broad canyon floor, ignoring the eerie light of the distant wormhole. “Focus on that point. Walk there. Carry Clavender and think of nothing else.”

  Rickson turned toward the distant shelter and marched forward like a machine. Kin followed, lost in thought. He understood how to build mental walls and play tricks on himself. Orlan had sealed him still breathing inside the space casket and he had spent what seemed a million years and a hundred lifetimes mastering his mind. He had lost toes to frostbite and spent a fortune on genetically grown prosthetics before boarding the Goliath. Patches of skin on his hands, feet, and body remained insensitive from the damage of space.

  The casket barely kept him alive until chance put him in the hands of junk-scavenging space pirates. But throughout the ordeal, he had faced his fear. He had held the image of Orlan, because his face was the last human he saw before entering a living hell that should have destroyed his sanity forever.

  “This is a farce, Kin,” Orlan said. “Being buried in space is an honor, but since you’re not dead yet maybe it doesn’t count.” He smiled and closed the lid. Years later Kin could still feel the change in air pressure and see the total blackness. If the casket had been opened moments later, it would have felt as though years had pass
ed.

  Not much air inside, Kin. Try to remain calm. Don’t look at the monsters you see emerging from the darkness. Don’t answer the voices. They lie. They lie. They lie. They lie.

  Kin watched Rickson carefully, but didn’t relieve the boy’s burden. Rickson had to carry Clavender. Even if she regained consciousness, she would be too weak to move fast. The boy’s thin body was stronger than it looked. He wouldn’t stop until they were inside the island of rocks Kin selected as the most defensible position within reach.

  Kin looked back, searching for Droon or the Clingers.

  Night birds hunted and chattered. Thin clouds wandered across the vast sky. Kin thought about the space casket and the pirates that salvaged it. He did some work for them, since he had nothing to pay for his rescue. They weren’t very good pirates, but their ship made it to a port and Kin eventually purchased a new identity and boarded the Goliath. He still didn’t believe his luck. He spent many long nights pondering how the pirates could have been so near the Fleet without being detected. He wondered what made them pluck one worthless casket from the river of space junk the Armada left in its wake.

  Most of all, he wondered whether Becca had anything to do with it. She had claimed not to believe the Fleet would execute him in such a cruel manner, but perhaps that had been an act. Who else would pay pirates to risk approaching the Armada to steal anything—even junk—under the shadow of battlecruisers and space stations?

  “I can’t go any farther,” Rickson said, after traveling several hours. It was a solid performance. Clavender was easy to pick up, but time and distance added weight.

  Kin took Clavender without a word and carried her into a cave, thinking of Bear. Not even the memories of Hellsbreach or the casket could push aside his sorrow. It was foolish to try. Now he suffered from nightmares as well as the loss of his friend.

  He covered Clavender with his cloak and checked her breathing. “Clavender, can you hear me?”

  She didn’t answer. Kin surveyed the cave. People had lived here once, probably before time began. Many cave dwellings loomed above them, out of reach. The ancients had the right idea—lower rope ladders to friends and pull them up when enemies approached. The cliff dwellings seemed familiar. He stared at them, unable to recall which world the memories came from.