The Chronicles of Kin Roland: 3 Book Omnibus - The Complete Series

by Scott Moon

  He stopped and looked again. The shadow could be Droon. Something was on its back — wings. Without warning, Kin sprinted down an abrupt slope where the stream turned into rapids.

  The figure matched and then bested Kin’s speed, moving faster than any man Kin had ever known. As the ridge narrowed, the figure leaped, wings spreading so wide that Kin was momentarily stunned. The man, who must be from the Ror-Rea, glided over the water and turned to land in Kin’s path.

  “You are not a very good swimmer,” the winged man said, laughing. “I am Sibil Dax and must admit that I cannot swim at all.”

  He towered over Kin, long legs spread in a wide stance. His back and torso differed in symmetry and design from a human, or even a Reaper. Cords of muscle ran into the base of his wings. Travel grime stained the fine white fur covering his body. He wore only an elaborate kilt of woven material.

  The feature that drew Kin’s attention, however, was the stain under his eyes. At first, it seemed the man had been crying blood, but on closer inspection, this seemed to be the natural color of the facial fur and long whiskers that drooped from the sides of his face. His belt supported a sword on one hip and what looked like a narrow shield on the other.

  The man was very different from Clavender, except for the wings.

  “How did you get here?” Kin asked. He was not certain where the Ror-Rea was, but understood it must be far away, deep within the portion of Crashdown that seemed uninhabitable and dangerous. Clavender kept her people away for years. He worried something had happened to her since they separated, allowing the protective barrier to fall.

  “I came with much difficulty,” Dax said, smiling. The expression surprised Kin.

  Kin hadn’t missed the similarities between Clavender’s name and Dax’s. He didn’t look old enough to be Clavender’s father, but Kin now knew she was ageless.

  “Can you help me?” Kin asked, shaking with fatigue.

  “What sort of help? Do you need dry clothing, or do you need help killing the Clingers and the beast they have captured?” For a man who had obviously traveled a long and dangerous road, his manner was full of humor.

  “I need help saving your daughter,” Kin said.

  Dax moved closer, until he was face to face, bending forward menacingly. His wondrously strange smile transformed into a murderous scowl. “Why should I save her, when she will not open the Ror-Rea and the sky lights? My people come. My people die to cross the Storm Lands and reach the wormhole because she protects the Mazz.”

  Kin struggled to understand the heavily accented words. His body trembled from hypothermia. He lifted his head and stared at Dax. “Fine. Let the Reaper eat her.”

  Dax drew back abruptly. “Tell me.”

  Kin thought he knew what Dax was asking, although the man didn’t have all the words to clarify the request. “A beast my people call a Reaper has bonded with Clingers. He kidnapped Clavender. I rescued her and the Reaper wants her back.”

  “Tell me of the Reaper,” Dax said.

  Kin described Droon. Dax listened and motioned with his hand for more. Kin undressed and began to squeeze water from his shirt as he explained. Dax demanded details, interrupting frequently and staring away from time to time as though he wasn’t listening. Kin started a fire and huddled near it. He kept his pistol, sword, and axe close.

  “You speak of a warlock. The Mazz have warlock slaves as well as Clingers. And many other creatures,” Dax said. He pointed his finger into the night. “Clavender is that way?”

  Kin nodded. Dax turned and ran. When he reached maximum speed, he leapt into the air and soared a considerable distance. Kin watched him repeat the maneuver, but this time, he rose into the air.

  Kin checked his shirt and his pants, sat near the fire, and shivered. He tended his wounds, absently wondering at the rate of healing. He was in bad shape but should have been worse.

  Almost like a Reaper.

  He laughed crazily. Then he wept.

  The night grew deep and he remembered the sight of Dax and his people trying to fly to the wormhole. Kin had encountered many dangerous warriors, but Dax left an impression. He didn’t fear the man but thought he might if they became enemies. And that was a distinct possibility, since he sent Dax in the wrong direction. He tried to decide why as he pulled on damp clothing and worked the slide of his pistol. Dax’s paternal instincts seemed suspect to Kin. The man had come through hell, but that didn’t make him a saint.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  KIN searched the sky for Dax and the rest of Clavender’s people. Then he searched the shadows for Droon and everywhere else for Fleet troopers. Once he found Rickson and Clavender’s trail, he turned away from it. They were moving slowly, but in the right direction. Satisfied, he loaded himself with antibiotics, painkillers, and as much caffeine as he could tolerate.

  “Droon!” Kin stood on a ledge overlooking the way he had come and the direction he wanted to lead the Reaper. “Droon, are you ready for a fight?”

  The Reaper’s voice rose into the night. Kin saw nothing in the shadows, but a few minutes later, the Reaper challenged him again, closer this time and moving fast.

  “Thanks for nothing, Bear,” Kin said. There hadn’t been time to mourn his friend, but he was still angry. The bite mark on his arm throbbed. Fever burned in his skull and he felt the familiar urge to run toward the Reaper. With luck, the chemical binding worked both ways. Droon was compelled to hunt Clavender after what he had done to her but must also have a primal need to slay Kin as well.

  The ascent to the Valley of Wolves was treacherous. Darkness fell as he crossed the crest of the pass and descended into their territory. He called Droon, knowing the monster would close the distance between them.

  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, although 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, howe
ver. 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 boulder 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.

  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.