by Scott Moon
Bear shrugged. Rickson nodded at the same time.
“Then we go. We have wasted too much time already,” Kin said.
“Corporal Raif is going to slow us down,” Bear said.
Kin looked at the man. “Can’t be helped. He’ll keep up or he’ll be left behind. I’m sure he could survive with no weapons, food, or maps, assuming he’s a lot smarter and tougher than he looks.”
“We should leave him,” Bear said.
“We can’t leave him.” Kin worried about Sophia and the other women. He wouldn’t leave Corporal Raif to prey on them.
Bear mounted his short, sturdy horse. “We could kill him.”
“There is that option,” Kin said, staring at Raif.
“I knew you were a murdering deserter,” Raif said, holding Kin’s gaze.
“That’s good, coming from you,” Rickson said.
Raif spun toward him. “I’ll cut your throat, boy.”
Bear yanked the rope and rode closer to Kin, dragging his prisoner.
“I’ll cut your throat too!”
Bear ignored the man and spoke to Kin as though Raif didn’t exist. “Some of the ladies claimed the Reaper passed this way not long ago, although I don’t know how they could have seen anything, being tied up as they were.”
“Sophia probably told them,” Kin said. He adjusted the reins and prepared to ride as Bear stopped with the prisoner.
“How would she know?” Rickson asked. He stood by his horse, stalling. The shepherd had never ridden a horse before this adventure. His eyes went to Raif more than once, his usual cockiness absent.
“She knows many things,” Kin said and smiled, remembering the words as Sophia had said them to him.
Bear laughed. “Sure she does. Like how to lock the doors when strange Fleet troopers come to visit.”
“I’ll lead for a while,” Kin said.
“I’ll bring up the rear,” Bear said. “Mind that horse, Rickson. Try to relax. She can feel your nervousness. Probably remembers there used to be four of them.”
Kin looked back at Rickson. The boy held the reins too tightly. He wasn’t in rhythm with the mount. He was probably remembering the screams of the packhorse before it smashed against the rocks. Sophia’s admonition echoed in Kin’s mind and he hoped Rickson would be more cautious.
Raif jogged behind the horses, stumbling due to his bound hands and the rope around his neck. “Let me go now and give me my guns, and I won’t say a thing to Captain Raien.”
“Shut up,” Bear said.
“I’m not talking to you,” Raif said. He faced Kin, tripped, recovered, tried again. “I won’t tell them who you are. By my Oath of Service, I won’t say a word.”
“Shut him up,” Kin said without looking at the trooper.
Bear slowed his horse abruptly so that Raif ran beside him, then struck the man with one large hand and pulled him up with the rope when he fell. “Next time I’ll use my axe.”
“You’re all going to die. You’re going to pay. I’ll kill every one of you. Fucking wait and see.”
Bear swung at him and missed. Raif laughed. Bear jumped from his horse, tackled the smaller man, holding him down on the dirt path. He grabbed Raif’s throat and squeezed until his eyes bulged. He leaned forward, breathing into Raif’s face.
“I’ve been ready to die for a long time. Your type surrenders when things get tough. That’s the difference between you and me. Next time, remember this; I don’t show mercy and I don’t give second chances.” He pulled a hand axe from his belt and struck Raif with the flat of the blade.
Kin walked his horse back and watched Bear fling the prisoner across his horse.
“Should’ve done that in the first place,” Bear said.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DROON cut Cla-ven-da’s skin carefully, crooning at her fear. For a moment, he thought of eating her, starting with her face because her eyes didn’t please him. He looked at the sky but concentrated on the feel of his claw lightly breaking the skin from her chest to her navel.
Just a scratch. Just a shallow mark to terrify her.
He jumped back when the Clinger, aware of his distraction, leaped from his body to attack her.
Stupid Droon.
He grabbed the Clinger from the air and smashed it against the ground as it coiled around his arm. He punched it several times. The Clinger had his arm but wasn’t coiled around his body as it had been. This was his chance to be free of the thing.
He hesitated.
Then, without understanding why, he draped it over his back. He hadn’t noticed the oppressive weight of the monster before. The Clinger whispered wordless thoughts, dulling his senses. Droon reached behind his back and squeezed the Clinger until it was silent. He slumped and despaired. The Long Hunt was ruined.
Cla-ven-da began to crawl away. Droon lazily grabbed her by one foot and pulled her back. He needed to eat. The mistake with the Clinger taxed him. Fighting for control took effort, physical and mental. Her fear pulled him out of his stupor, but he didn’t eat her. He slid one claw into her mouth, pressing it against her tongue. He considered pulling it out. She trembled and tried to turn her face away, but his hand was too strong. His palm covered most of her face as his claw explored.
She doesn’t like this game.
Droon understood Kin-rol-an-da was following him. The Long Hunt could be won if only Droon could turn and face the world breaker. Instead, he carried this alien woman like a child, teaching her about fear and pain, things a young Reaper should know. He slid his claw free of her mouth as she gagged. He pushed away her sobbing face and turned to look the way he had come.
He needed to hunt Kin-rol-an-da, but he ran instead, not knowing why, not controlling his thoughts or emotions.
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. Skylights 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 wit
hout 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, although 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 with 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 horsemeat 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 w
ith 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, although 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.