by Scott E Moon
Kin tripped and fell down the trail. He clutched his wound as he rolled to a stop and struggled to his feet. Wolves howled from nearby.
Keep moving.
Kin imagined the pack charging across highland meadows and smashing against the Reaper, but guessed they would probably set upon him first, then run from Droon. His plan was brilliant, the best yet.
With no strength left, and little hope remaining, Kin marched into the Valley of Wolves, barely caring who caught him first. If he were wearing an FSPAA unit, his blood would be fortified with emergency plasma. Lifesaving medication would be trickling into his system. He fantasized about the smell of his helmet when the first-aid systems had treated him so many times in the past. He hated the smell, though it was comforting. He could hear the servomotors assisting his suit. He remembered walking like a zombie across Hellsbreach. Those had been the days. Only his instincts and the curse of Hellsbreach sustained him now.
He crossed the floor of the valley and began the ascent on the other side. Up and down, he was sick of trekking through the mountains. His calf muscles bulged, hard as rocks, slick with sweat and trembling with fatigue. The blisters on his feet had come and gone so many times he no longer cared.
He heard the wolves attack the Reaper. The animals snarled, growled, and yipped in pain. Several howled for reinforcements it seemed. Kin looked back but could only see vague shapes moving violently in the gloom.
More wolves raced toward the scene from every corner of the valley. One, two, five, twenty wolves joined the fray. Snarls, screams, and howls drifted up, disjointed from the action by the time the sound reached him. Trees and bushes shook. Dirt filled the air.
Kin turned away and climbed. He reached a good place near the top and began stacking rocks. His movements were slow and inefficient. He could barely move his left arm. He looked at his injury often. When he was not watching it, he imagined Clingers were growing over the wound. The shoulder wound throbbed cruelly.
He placed stones so they would fall and dislodge other stones. An avalanche might not kill the Reaper, but it would slow him. If Kin was lucky, the Reaper would be entombed. Catastrophic confinement could trigger a catatonic state, if the stars were aligned and God admitted Reapers were demons. They rarely died, however. That would be too much to ask for.
Silence. Dust settled in the distance. He took a break, wiping sweat from his face as he tried to see who won the battle.
No animal dared move after the clash between the wolves and the Reaper. Kin sat on the pile of rocks and waited. He forgot about Rickson and Clavender. He forgot about Crater Town and Laura and the Fleet. He forgot about everything and everyone, except Becca. All he wanted was to be with her.
Why did he volunteer for the Hellsbreach Campaign?
A cold breeze touched his face and ruffled his hair. He could smell whatever noxious fumes were poisoning Crater Town even from here. Perhaps the entire world was done for.
He cradled his arm and stared down the trail. Something moved through the trees below and burst onto the trail.
The night breeze shifted. He smelled blood and fur. He turned slowly, not wanting to betray his position. Sudden movements attracted attention, especially when the creature in the night hunted with keen eyes.
Three wolves descended the trail, surprising Kin. He was near the summit and had been waiting for something to come up the trail, not down it. The leader had a snout matted with blood and eyes filled with hate. Kin had a feeling the wolves blamed him for the fight with Droon.
“Fancy meeting you here, beastie. I thought you would be down there killing a Reaper,” Kin said. He slowly drew his pistol and raised it. The wolf snarled and charged. Kin fired three times at the alpha wolf, pivoted, and fired twice at the other two. None died, but they howled in pain and reconsidered their prey.
“I have to admit this wasn’t what I had planned. What did you do? Take a back trail?” Kin said. He reloaded his pistol and holstered it. He only had so many rounds and wanted to save them for Droon. Pushing away his pain, he took the axe from his back, gripped it with both hands, and went after the most seriously wounded wolf.
The animal pulled away, but Kin gauged the distance perfectly and sunk the blade into its neck. The result was not quite a decapitation, but he hadn’t really believed he could sever such a thick neck. The remaining wolves crowded him, snapping teeth and snarling. Droon began up the trail and Kin hadn’t started the avalanche.
“Let’s all die together like proper monsters,” Kin said. He hurled the heavy axe at the pile of stones. Some of the rocks tumbled. He watched the landslide, leaning his body this way and that as though he could steer the rocks into a greater tumult as they fell.
The wolves moved in the corner of his vision. He knew he should forget the rockslide, but he desperately wanted it to work. The wolves jumped on him. He grabbed one by the muzzle and held the teeth shut, but couldn’t hold on for long.
The wolf twisted violently. He kicked the second wolf in the stomach, pushing it back for a moment. When the second wolf attacked again, Kin tried to grab its muzzle but missed. Teeth snapped at him. He kicked with both feet as he drew the pistol. Teeth flashed for his face. He fired five times as fast as he could. The wolf yelped and fell over. Without waiting, Kin scrambled to his feet and emptied his pistol on the last wolf. Before it finished dying, Kin ran to the top of the trail and looked down.
Droon charged through falling rocks. The avalanche pulled him down. By the time he reached the first twist in the trail, Kin was using his sword to pry a large boulder from the side of the slope. The blade bent and he reduced the amount of force he was applying, changing the angle, wiggling the blade from side to side. When the bolder finally exposed its dirty underside and began to roll, Kin almost laughed. The effect was better than he had hoped for. The huge rock smashed trees, rocks, and knocked clumps of dirt loose as it tumbled.
Kin picked up a rock and threw it side arm after the avalanche.
The parts of his body that didn’t ache burned and throbbed. He held his side with his other arm and gathered his weapons. The axe was no worse for wear, but the sword would need to be cleaned, honed, and oiled. He gathered all the shell casings he could find and climbed out of the Valley of Wolves. He mentally checked it off his places to visit.
“Kin-rol-an-da!” Droon screamed.
Kin looked down the slope. The Reaper called again, but didn’t move.
“Why can’t you die?” Kin asked.
Kin didn’t want to run. He wanted to lie down, but he retreated. Droon sounded as though he had finally entered Bloodlust.
Great.
Something caused Kin to stop. A moment passed before he realized what it was. Droon wasn’t moving. He was pinned, hopefully dying. Kin turned around and moved down the hill until he saw the result of his labor.
Droon was indeed pinned, but was already rolling aside rocks from the pile that held his legs. Kin sat down, drank from a flask, and watched. Should he run away, again, or gamble that Droon would remain relatively helpless until he climbed down the steep slope and attacked? As he watched and catalogued his injuries, strength reserves, and ammunition, Dax returned.
Kin saw Clavender's father soaring across the valley, descending in a long arc that brought him to the rock pile where Droon was growling, salivating, and shaking his head—clawing at the rocks that were too large to fling aside.
Kin slid the flask into his belt pouch and ran recklessly down the hill. With Dax's help, Kin had a chance. He stopped halfway when he saw Dax land on the rocks and squat to examine Droon closely without attacking. Here was the creature that would eat his daughter alive, and he just looked at him as though he were a strange insect.
Dax showed no fear, no anger, and no hint that he was about to draw his sword and attack. Kin moved closer. Droon was stuck more thoroughly than Kin had realized. Had he known the extent of Droon's predicament, he wouldn’t have hesitated to descend the mountainside and kill him, but he had wasted time.
&n
bsp; Dax looked up. He pointed at Droon. “Do you see? It is a warlock.”
“I see. Why don't you kill it?” Kin yelled.
Dax looked confused. “It cannot fight back. Do men such as you fight only with desperate tricks?”
“That warlock is in Bloodlust. Tell me what you think of my tactics when he gets free,” Kin said. He took another step then stopped. Dax revealed a new expression as he looked at Kin, lowering his chin slightly and narrowing his eyes. Kin knew that look. Dax wanted payback. There were two enemies at the bottom of the slope.
“You lied,” Dax said.
“You bet your feathery ass. What kind of father are you?” Kin asked.
“I am the kind of father who gave up a kingdom to find her.”
“I tell you your daughter is being hunted, and you are worried about something she did a long time ago. She probably saved you and all your people from a war that would have destroyed you and you’re still pissed off. You’re worried about your kingdom? Take your kingdom and go to hell.”
“My kingdom is hell. The Mazz turned my land into hell. Should I thank her for that? Perhaps I should give her a present and sing a little song,” Dax said.
“We have to save her. Then you can argue with her about the storms and the Mazz and whatever else your people think is important besides living,” Kin said.
“She must release the storms. The Mazz are near,” Dax said.
Droon thrust a leg free. Dax moved away from him, but still did not draw his sword.
“Clavender keeps the storms at bay. She keeps Crater Town safe,” Kin said.
“She should let the storms have this Crater Town and allow her people to pass. The Mazz are near and they know only war and treachery.”
“There is a full division of Earth Fleet waiting at Crater Town. They would have found any Imperial, or Mazz, presence in the area,” Kin said. He retreated up the hill. Droon was almost free and Kin needed better ground to fight on, or an escape route.
“You do not understand. Clavender will not quiet the storms that keep us from the skylights, what you call the wormhole. She will not open it to us, but that does not mean someone else cannot open it. I tell you the Mazz are near. When the skylights erupt from the ground, the Mazz hordes will come.”
Kin thought about Dax's words. The man seemed calmer now, but resolute.
“We must strike before they can form their ranks,” Dax said.
Droon burst free. Dax casually jumped away, spreading his wings to soar an extra twenty feet.
“Help me fight it,” Kin said.
“I think not. Perhaps next time we meet, you will be more honest. Fear not. I believe you can make it to the top of the slope before he does,” Dax said.
“What are you going to do?” Kin asked. He didn’t believe Dax could stand by and not join the fight. He seemed too much of a warrior for that.
“I will watch.” Dax smiled, but it wasn’t like the smile of their first meeting. Kin was developing a strong dislike for Clavender's father. It didn’t help that he heard Dax laughing as he struggled to climb the slope. He focused on speed, grunting as he charged higher and higher. He needed to tend his wounds and form a new plan. A small part of his consciousness whispered that if he could run, he could fight and he hated himself for not facing Droon. But he kept running.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
KIN sheltered in a cave until morning, ate the last of his rations, and executed a forced march out of the area. By the time night fell, he knew he was in trouble. He had no idea where Rickson or Clavender were, and Droon was still on his trail. That could mean that Clavender was out of the Reaper’s reach or it could mean she was dead. Either way, Droon was deep in Bloodlust and would destroy any living thing that crossed his path.
Kin continued to search for the trail of his friends, but only found evidence of Fleet patrols. One seemed to have been made by a company, Captain Raien’s men most likely. The other was made by a squad and could only be Orlan. If history repeated itself, his nemesis would have a core group of murderous thugs under his command.
He made for Raien’s 11th LRC, but Orlan found him first. He tried to run, but on his best day it would have been a near thing. Troopers equipped with FSPAA units didn’t get tired and could run as fast as their coordination and skill would allow. For most soldiers, this was as fast as a champion distance runner. For some, it rivaled what a good sprinter could do, but for much longer distances.
Orlan’s men ran him down and surrounded him until Orlan wrenched his weapons out of his hands. The sergeant immediately lowered his helmet assembly, revealing a fresh scar that crossed his upper and lower lip.
“You should have stabbed me in the eye. I clamped down my teeth as soon as you jammed that knife into my mouth,” Orlan said. He smiled showing his chipped teeth. “Almost got me, didn’t you? But now I got you and you’re going to pay double.”
“Take off that armor, Orlan, and let’s try it again,” Kin said.
“Oh, no, I don’t dance with Class IV Weapons Masters.” Orlan’s sarcasm had improved over the years. Orlan was a Class III Weapons Master, but only because the final test for advancement required leaving his victim alive, and Orlan always lost control of his anger. He released Kin and stepped back. “Go ahead and run. I need the exercise and I was trying to describe to my men what a human head sounds like when you crush it with an FSPAA boot.”
The four Fleet troopers said nothing. They were ready for a fight—calm veterans standing relaxed but poised to strike. Kin wished he could see their faces.
“Where’s the girl and the Reaper?” Orlan asked.
“I sent her back to Crater Town. She should be there by now,” Kin said.
“You’re either lying or she’s dead. I would’ve been notified. Commander Westwood wants her safe, because he’s such a compassionate, caring conqueror. Or maybe he’s just tired of your girlfriend and wants something new, a little native tail to brag about.”
The Fleet troopers turned from their duties just enough to consider Kin. Apparently, the mention of Laura interested them. She wasn’t quite the most attractive woman in Crater Town, but she was definitely a runner-up and there was something about her that fascinated men. Kin had been her thrall since the Goliath left port. She was arrogant, opinionated, and obnoxious. He missed her.
“She doesn’t have time for grunts like you,” Kin said.
“Your sweet little princess can’t play the shy maid with the Commander forever.” Orlan smiled. “And I know she is no maid. She’s all you ever wanted from a woman, but I’m afraid you’ll never know.”
That didn’t describe Laura at all. Orlan wasn’t making sense.
Orlan laughed. “You think I was talking about that Crater Town wench! You are an idiot. Becca, Kin. I am talking about your sweet Becca.”
“I haven’t seen Rebecca since before Hellsbreach,” Kin said. He stared at Orlan. Every man in their unit had shared the name of the person who meant the most to them before the last big push in the campaign. They swore to take care of the little brothers and sisters, widows, parents, and broken hearted girlfriends. Kin regretted admitting his feelings for Becca, but it was expected. Every man and woman had shared their deepest fears. As their leader, Kin couldn’t pretend he was somehow less human. And he had wanted someone to tell her that he died bravely and that he loved her always. Now he was looking at Orlan, who used his deepest secrets to mock him.
“She saved your life, Kin,” Orlan said.
“What?” Kin asked.
“I took her money and I didn’t even put the scorpions I had bought in the casket when I closed it. Don’t know what she saw in you, you coward. But I blackmailed her. Conspiring to free a convicted traitor is punishable by death. She didn’t have much money left after paying the pirates and modifying your casket with insulation and oxygen tanks, but she has a nice ass. Man has needs, right Kin?”
Kin lunged forward. Orlan backhanded him savagely.
The other troopers w
atched without comment. Kin measured them carefully as he stood, wiping blood from his mouth. They were either completely loyal to Orlan or destined to be murdered before they reached the Fleet Base Camp. The sergeant was confessing high crimes.
Orlan was the only one stupid enough to lower his helmet assembly. But each man stood impassively, unmoved by Orlan’s words. Were they all murderers and traitors? Maybe they would take Orlan out before the day was done.
Kin felt weak, realizing Becca had saved him. She risked her life to equip his space casket with just enough life support to get him to the pirates that had salvaged his casket.
Pirates.
Kin never understood why the pirates rescued him. A man just didn’t get that lucky. They never revealed the plot. It was likely Becca had paid them to deliver him someplace where she would’ve contacted him and explained everything, but they took her money and jumped the first wormhole away from Fleet Armada space lanes.
“You men ever seen what Commander Westwood does to traitors?” Orlan asked. The troopers stared at him, helmet visors obscuring their expressions. Orlan turned to Kin. “I want you to know I respect you for nailing Captain Raien. I’ve been after her for a year. You hit her on the first day.” He punched Kin in the gut, and though Kin saw it coming and moved to reduce the impact, the force of the strike lifted him into the air.
“I know why you botched the Hellsbreach detonation,” Orlan said. “A lot of people thought you were disoriented from wounds and half-crazy from captivity. Maybe, but it was stupid to put such an important job in your hands. But not because you were hurt. You didn’t want your sweet Becca to think you were a monster that ended an entire species. How stupid is that, Kin? Reapers murdered every man that mattered to her.”
“They didn’t murder me.”
“You don’t matter to her. Girls don’t fall in love with their childhood friends. Don’t you read? Get a little romance in your library. They go for bad boys like me.” Orlan laughed.
“If I thought you touched her, you’d be dead.”
Orlan laughed again, louder this time. He walked around the circle of Fleet troopers. “Can you believe this? Kin Roland, Class IV Weapons Master, thinks his sweetheart is a lily-white virgin!” He grabbed Kin and lifted him three feet into the air. The servomotors of his armor whined. “You could ask her if I take you back to Base alive.”