by Scott Moon
“Who are you?” Dax asked.
Hasic looked at each member of the Council before stepping forward. “We are the Ror-Rea. Command us.”
Dax took Hasic’s sword and handed his own to the lord. “You are among the greatest warriors I have ever known. Take my blade. Fight by my side. We will take Clavender back from the Reaper King. She will take us to the Bleeding Ground. We will be victorious.”
Hasic knelt.
Dax stared in amazement. Before he could speak, Ceana and the warriors near him knelt and bowed their heads. The High Lords, one by one, displayed the blades and followed Hasic’s example.
When they rose, Dax ordered the warriors of the Ror-Rea to battle. Wave after wave of winged warriors launched from the heights, soaring over the screaming Reapers. They descended on Droon’s fortress and fought through every cave opening and gap.
Time stretched toward infinity. Dax remembered little, but when he entered the vast cavern within the stone walls, Ceana and many others moved by his side. He had a new sword, although he could not remember losing Hasic’s broken blade and finding another. Pain and fatigue seemed nothing, because it was all he had ever known.
On a naturally formed dais, Clavender sat near Droon, two jagged steps down. The Reaper King didn’t seem surprised or afraid. He looked curious. Wounds marred his body and the Clingers he wore as armor bristled with bloody teeth.
“Stand aside, Droon. I’ve come for my daughter.”
Droon spread his jaws and made a series of horrible clicking noises. The Clingers rippled across his torso. “Battle breeds fear. My kindred have fed well.”
“Stand aside or die.”
Reapers poured through the entrance opposite of Dax and his band. Droon held up a claw and the horde of bloody demons halted in a massive collection of snapping teeth. They brandished claws, lunging as though they could not wait to continue the fight.
“We are outnumbered,” Ceana said, “As usual.”
Dax waited. Warriors of the Ror-Rea poured into the space behind him. He stepped ahead of his people.
Droon jumped down from the dais and strode forward.
Dax spread his wings wide, realizing too late his followers might think he was attempting to appear larger out of fear. His only satisfaction was that Droon stood taller than usual, opened his jaws, and thrashed his tail in a similar gesture.
“I will take you to the Bleeding Ground but not to fight each other,” Clavender said.
The words commanded silence from both Reaper and Ror-Rea warriors.
Droon turned to face her, exposing his back to Dax.
“Kill him,” Ceana whispered.
Dax faced the hero, disappointed. He wanted to do as Ceana suggested, but such a cowardly act repelled him. Although he had not sought to parley with the monster that stole his daughter and slaughtered his people, the circumstance was beyond his control. A king should be honorable.
Clavender addressed Droon in the Reaper language. Dax understood not a word. She ruffled her wings sadly and settled on the dais as though this was her palace and she was its ruler. She looked at Dax, waited a moment, and spoke.
“There can be an alliance, but at the end, there must be peace.”
“Daughter, there can be no peace with the Mazz. They have come for us and will not rest until we are destroyed.”
She started to speak, but Droon interrupted.
“Kin-rol-an-da.”
“What does he say?” Dax asked.
She glanced at the Reaper. “He is angry that the Mazz hold Kin hostage. When he first learned of this, he attacked the Mazz with all his Kindred. You would have been glad to see it.”
The High Lords studied the mass of Reapers with new interest.
“But he failed,” Dax said.
Clavender nodded.
“Droon kills Mazz. Dax kills Mazz. Then Droon kills Dax King.”
“No!” Clavender swept across the floor to stand between the kings. “I do not wish to open the way to the Bleeding Grounds. For that reason, I attempted to close the wormhole to all creatures of this universe.”
Attempted? Dax struggled to understand. He knew the Mazz bent the skylights to their will, but they did not control them. Earth Fleet Huumdans used them when they could. Dax was certain that neither Mazz nor Huumdans could interfere with his daughter’s mastery of the wormholes.
Clavender addressed everyone in the room, Ror-Rea and Reaper alike. “Rest. Heal. I will go with my father and Droon on a quest. When it is complete, we may face the Mazz together.”
Dax approached her and leaned close. “What quest?”
Droon answered, “Kin-rol-an-da.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
SILENCE came with the dawn like a warning there would never be peace again. The valley surrounding the Imperial base was less extensive than Long Canyon, although still impressive. Once, years ago, Kin had sat with Bear discussing how the place would support agriculture for a small city if they could convince anyone from Crater Town to resettle this far from the coast. Gentle hills sloped away from where armored vehicles, walls, and observation towers now protected enemies of Earth Fleet.
Kin leaned on the railing, comfortable with the slight sway of the structure. From a distance, the tower appeared solid and inflexible despite stretching toward the sky.
The Imperial army presented an attitude of strength and discipline. Nander had barely consulted Kin since their return to this base, but Kin had eyes and ears. Nander’s son, Captain Trak, revealed more than he realized. As a veteran of many campaigns, Kin understood the intricacies of soldier-talk. Worries half expressed, complaints, jokes — every word pointed to an army with normal problems and tensions. Kin wondered whether Commander Westwood had ever suspected the Mazz were more human than they acted or appeared.
He looked down on the precise formation of tanks, temporary tents, and wheeled battle machines beyond the inner perimeter. Morning mist drifted away from reaching sunbeams. Disciplined troopers changed the guard, serviced latrines, and drilled. A powerful feeling of foreboding surrounded Kin in every direction.
Did prisoners normally stand on the balcony of the command tower, unguarded? The door behind him was locked and guarded by Central Security. Somewhere in the core of the structure, faceless men and women monitored secure areas by remote video feed, checked face recognition software of soldiers passing through the recently completed gates, and watched.
They’re always watching me.
He decided to enjoy the illusion of freedom. Until General Nander returned from deliberations with the other Imperial generals, Kin remained a prisoner. Well fed? Better than he’d eaten in years. Sheltered from the elements? The bland, minimally furnished suite was a box of luxury with a view. The valley and all the martial power of the Mazz Imperials spread around his tower cell.
Kin gripped the rail with both hands and thought of his friends fighting for survival. The irrational impulse to jump the rail and run into the mountains called like the voice of God. The tower was too high, his guards too numerous, and he had no idea where they were hiding. Negotiating with Nander was the only way to protect them, even though he couldn’t believe the general wanted his cooperation so badly he would make deals.
Only Captain Trak had spoken to him, which was an odd turn of events. The guards stood back, armor securely in place, weapons ready.
Kin’s best escape route was over the side — an impossible choice for a man without wings or a zip line. One guard walked the narrow deck between railing and tower. The trooper couldn’t stop him from jumping. Feigning casual interest, Kin leaned out to study the wall below the deck. With specialized climbing gear and unlimited time, a descent might be possible.
“Dream on, Kin.”
The guard stepped closer. “Excuse me?”
Kin smiled as he shook his head and turned away from the fully armored trooper. “I was planning to climb down the wall and escape. You don’t mind, do you?”
An uncomfortable
pause followed.
“Lieutenant Paulis in Central Security advises you not to try.”
Kin looked at the guard. Might as well entertain myself. “You know, after Hellsbreach, I went through some physical changes. Never thought I would need the suction cups on my palms until now.”
The guard tensed. A moment passed as he communicated with his supervisor. Kin imagined the conversation, unable to resist the urge to smile.
The guard checked Kin’s hands brusquely.
He stepped back, speaking inside the helmet.
Another pause.
“Lieutenant Paulis says no more jokes.”
“An Imperial, a Reaper, and a Ror-Rea walk into a bar…”
The guard turned and resumed his patrol of the walkway. Less than two minutes later, Kin saw the man as he came around again.
“How did you get stuck with this assignment?” Kin asked.
The guard seemed to ignore him but then spoke without actually facing Kin. “I made stupid jokes.”
Kin laughed. “Good one.”
For the next hour, he observed the Imperial position and soldiers intent on improving it. If Nander had his way, Kin would soon be in command of a force larger than any he had served in.
How hard could it be?
“INTRUDERS have breached the perimeter,” Captain Trak said to the guards that had suddenly joined Kin in his apartment near the top of the tower. “Weapons hot. Destroy any who attempt to penetrate this section.”
“What about the area beyond our post, the motor pool or wall security, for example?” a guard asked.
“Save your ammunition to repel a direct assault on this position.”
Kin stood from the bunk that served as a reading chair, workbench, and occasionally a bed. Without making eye contact or seeking approval of his action, he strode toward the door. Captain Trak flicked a finger and one of the guards blocked the exit.
“Relax, Captain,” Kin said. “There’s no way to escape. If there were, I’d be gone. Given your father’s intentions regarding my future, I thought it might be prudent to see how this army functions.”
Nander approached without a word, paused, then motioned for the guard to move aside.
Kin stepped into the night air. Sounds of battle came from the east — Reapers, wolves, and Clingers filling the darkness with terror. He sensed something above but didn’t look up. Could Dax’s warriors be taking advantage of yet another suicidal Reaper attack? His deception proved useless. Hoping his guards would forget to watch the sky did not cause them blindness.
Imperial guns blasted the darkness above the base with exploding flak. Kin crossed the fingers of his left hand and twitched each time a winged shaped avoided an aerial burst explosion. Watching the wings slash through smoke brought a mild case of vertigo. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be to be part of the radically changing flight patterns. Wingers fought for altitude only to wheel in tight circles and drop out of sight.
On a clear day with only the sound of burbling brooks and songbirds would have been easier to watch. He gripped the rail of the balcony, tensed his shoulders, and reminded himself to breathe.
“Since when did the Wingers and Reapers fight on the same side?” a guard asked.
“Don’t assume they are allies,” Trak said. “Every creature on this planet stands against us. Yesterday, they killed each other in Long Canyon. Tonight, they test our defenses. Tomorrow, they will be after each other’s throats.” He considered Kin, clearly suspicious.
Kin spread his hands. “I’m just a prisoner. What would I know?”
Trak grunted. “You’re a prisoner either side would like to have. Every Reaper we capture screams for Kin-rol-an-da.”
“That’s creepy,” the guard said.
“Hunting the Earth Fleet traitor is a rite of passage for them,” Trak said.
“Lucky me,” Kin said. Sounds of battle were everywhere, but he didn’t see casualties. The action felt like a diversion.
“Take Roland inside,” Trak said.
“Yes, sir.”
Kin hesitated, stalling for time. He couldn’t imagine a rescue attempt would succeed against the formidable defenses. During his own raid to liberate Captain Raien, fortifications had not been complete. Much of the Imperial force had been in the field. Tonight was different.
“Emperor preserve us!” Trak stood motionless for a heartbeat, then whirled and threw Kin to the ground as several Ror-Rea warriors burst from an explosion of light near the top of the tower.
Clavender! Kin twisted to stand.
Trak activated his helmet assembly even as he pushed Kin down with FSPAA enhanced strength.
“Don’t shoot her!” Trak shouted. “Take her alive. Launch nets. Bring me the Winger princess.”
Two guards joined Captain Trak and the first guard, working to attach net launching devices to weapons. Kin stood, momentarily forgotten. The chances of shoving them over the ledge were small. He considered it. He thought he could run around the tower platform and wave his arms for the Ror-Rea rescuers.
The moment passed. Shapes swooped toward the tower and veered away. Trak and the guards remained preoccupied. Nets missed targets as the explosions silhouetted other winged shadows executing diving attacks on Imperial positions.
And just as he began to curse himself for his hesitation, he saw Clavender. Briefly, she looked in his eyes.
“Get out of here!” Kin yelled.
She shook her head in confusion. Trak’s modified rifle boomed. A net expanded toward her. When it seemed she would be snared, she folded her wings and dropped suddenly.
She came to save me. Kin yanked his arm away from a guard who seized him.
He glared at the Imperial trooper. “I could have jumped into her arms.”
“I would have shot you both,” the guard said.
“I ordered you to take him inside. Are you deaf?” Captain Trak strode across the narrow deck and attempted to shove Kin, but missed as Kin sidestepped.
“Relax, Captain. The Ror-Rea are in retreat.” Kin wasn’t sure what to think. The sight of Reapers and Ror-Rea warriors coordinating attacks against the Imperials, for some inexplicable reason, caused him to remember the Slomn and the terrible fire in their eyes.
“We must stand together against the serpent men,” Kin said.
Captain Trak said something.
Kin heard the words but didn’t bother to understand them. All he thought about was Clavender and how he had betrayed her.
She risked her life.
In the distance, Droon howled.
What am I doing here?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
KIN walked between two guards in full armor. He wore form-fitting Imperial combat fatigues and tried to remember if Earth Fleet uniforms were made to the same standards. Years of living rough on Crashdown made appreciation for such things counterproductive.
Soldiers in the underground Mazz bunker wore the same dark tan uniforms, each with rank insignia and embroidered symbols of valor — not medals, but close enough. Only the men escorting Kin had armor and field weapons. Other attendants bore sidearms and combat knives. Rows of men stood along the walls at parade rest. The front of the room held situation tables and important officers.
General Nander motioned for Kin’s escort to approach, then turned his attention to a computer screen Kin lacked the angle to read.
“General,” Kin said.
Nander considered him a moment, glanced at his staff, then turned off the monitor. “Commander Westwood has returned.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
Nander and the other imperials looked annoyed.
“Yes,” Nander said. “This time, there can be no doubt. Earth Fleet’s armada contains every ship we have faced during the previous year as well as the newly constructed 20th Fleet. Had I the intention of fighting them, it would be a difficult contest.”
“I wouldn’t want to be caught between Earth Fleet and the Slomn.”
&nb
sp; An officer snorted.
Nander ignored the interruption. “This is the reason I have selected you as my successor.”
“It is the exact scenario we warned you about,” an old battle-scarred soldier said. “Only a fool would put a human in charge of this operation now.”
“Your objection has been noted, General Pouk. Do you serve?”
A moment passed. Officers and enlisted troops waited.
“I serve and obey.” The veteran saluted without breaking eye contact. “For the Empire.”
Nander guided Kin aside. “Earth Fleet is my concern for the present. But soon you will have to face Westwood, hopefully in negotiations.”
“I won’t fight Earth Fleet.”
Nander had aged ten years. Sweat beaded on his sallow skin. For a moment, it seemed he would send Kin away and retire to his quarters. A weaker man would have taken a seat and called a medic.
“You obviously believe Westwood can be made to understand the greater threat. At some point, I’ll need answers,” Kin said.
“You’ve seen the Slomn warriors. You witnessed the wormhole beacons.”
“I know nothing about them. Where are they from? What do they want?”
Nander shook his head. “It’s better not to search too deeply for certain answers. You held the future of the universe in your hands at Hellsbreach. You understand the burden. This time, you must not fail.”
“You assume I’ll take your Devil’s bargain,” Kin said.
“I can promise the safe treatment of everyone from Crater Town and won’t interfere with Earth Fleet personnel rejoining Westwood’s force.”
“Assuming they’re alive,” Kin said.
“Some have died in recent hostilities. Others have fallen to Reapers. What’s done is done.”
Kin wanted to ask if Rebecca was among the fallen Earth Fleet troopers, but dared not. Was it right for him to be concerned for her more than the others?
He couldn’t deny his heart. Thoughts of Rebecca kept him awake, destroyed his appetite, and had caused him to stare across the valley from his lofty prison night after night.