by Scott Moon
Kin held his ground, unwilling to run. When Droon was two strides away, he stepped into the trees, causing the Reaper lose momentum.
Droon recovered quickly and charged.
Kin slashed, putting his weight behind the blow as he swung. The blade struck near the neck but slid to the shoulder. The Clinger flared to life, tangling Kin’s blade, nearly pulling it from his hands as Droon jumped back.
Time to go.
Kin turned and raced through the woods to Amanda’s Gap. He jumped, knowing he was going to fall short even as he entered the air. The gorge below was tame by the standards of Crashdown, but he didn’t like his chances of surviving a twenty-foot drop. He impacted the far wall and clung to a tangle of roots with one hand, feeling them tear free of the unstable soil.
His fall wasn’t a total failure. He managed to slow his descent and hold his sword without impaling himself. Droon came after him, springing from one wall to the other, down and down and down until he landed ten feet from Kin.
Kin rushed forward with the sword, striking the Reaper’s clawed hands as he lashed out.
Attack. Kill. Retreat. Die.
Droon struck again, lightning quick, long arms forcing Kin to duck, dodge, and parry, despite his desire to press forward. The Reaper’s legs owned the distance between them, jumping forward, back, and sideways to dodge Kin’s sword.
Attack, Kin. Press the attack. Strike now!
The Reaper was too fast, too vicious, too fearless. Kin couldn’t find an opening.
He dropped low and spun in a circle, kicking out with one leg, sending the Reaper onto his back. Without hesitation, he jumped to his feet, leaping over the fallen monster, fleeing the only direction he could. He sprinted along the narrow escape, through shallow water and across uneven rocks, never looking back. His left hand found the axe on his backpack and yanked it free. Sword in one hand, axe in the other, he searched for anyplace that might shelter him.
Kin ran with single-minded determination, reaching a point in the narrow trail that went up the side of the mountain. At first, he didn’t slow his pace, but the gravity of Crashdown bore down on him and his legs burned with effort.
He abandoned the trail and cut straight up the mountainside, smashing through underbrush. He needed to take the high ground and find a place to fight. The Reaper wasn’t invincible, but the Clinger gave the Reaper added protection, making Kin doubt his chances. He needed to spy on his adversary from a distance to develop a strategy ensuring victory or escape. To kill the Reaper only to die in the wilderness of injuries would be as pointless as jumping off a cliff.
You should be attacking.
Droon gained ground, grunting savagely. The Clinger on his back made strange clicking and whistling sounds.
Kin knew the area well. There was a trail to Gold Village on the other side of the ridge, but he wouldn’t make it. The only thing close was the Rabbit Hole, a narrow cave children from Gold Village dared each other to enter. Kin was too big to fit through the opening easily, but when he saw it, he dove headfirst, scraping his face, shoulders, and arms as he thrust into darkness.
The cave was like a chute. No one knew where it went, but Kin thought it came out under the waterfall near Maiden’s Keep. He struggled to a tiny ledge slightly wider than the mouth of the cave, sensing a vertical drop to unknown depths.
Droon roared behind him, unable to follow.
There wasn’t a way to turn and face the monster. He began to worry that Droon would drop the Clinger into the hole. With that horrible fate in mind, Kin shoved over the ledge, falling face first into blackness.
CHAPTER TEN
THE journey from Maiden’s Keep to Crater Town wasn’t easy. Kin rested as long as he dared after his escape, following the infantryman’s time-honored rule: never stop without sitting down, never sit down without lying down, and never lie down without going to sleep. But he had nightmares the moment he closed his eyes. Thousands of Reapers swarmed through the mountains, killing him again and again, putting Clingers on his face, but worst of all, finding Becca and killing her. When he finally woke, four hours had passed, twice as long as he had intended.
The road back wound through the steep mountains for miles before turning toward the sea. Kin was tired, foot sore, and hungry by the time he came to the foothills overlooking Crater Town and the coast.
Something was wrong. Townspeople searched house to house and seemed dismayed when they encountered each other in the streets. Dawn yielded to day, yet some men spreading across the dunes carried extinguished torches as though they had been searching for hours. Thomas Smith led the way with his dogs. A hundred men followed in a line to his right and left, carefully examining the ground for tracks.
Fleet troopers stood at their posts and watched, feigning indifference, refusing to assist the frightened townspeople. Kin studied the guards. Two out of three covertly enjoyed a smoke break, although the Earth Fleet version involved dermal patches administered by their armor rather than actual cigarettes. Modern soldiers held a subtly different stance when on the patch.
One out of three guards held weapons ready. Something wasn’t right.
What am I missing? Kin took a deep breath, exhaled, and examined the scene again. Moments later, he spotted Lieutenant Raker and his spies dressed in local garments, working hard to blend.
Perhaps Intelligence Officer wasn’t as stupid as he seemed. The man probably learned Brian Muldoch rarely went to the lighthouse and was on the far side of town when the assault began.
By now, he probably understood Clavender held special significance for Crater Town.
Rickson, barely more than a boy and full of boyish enthusiasm, ran toward Kin. Ogre ran before him. Kin knelt to pet the dog. It twisted and jumped, as excited as a puppy. Kin stood as Rickson slowed to a walk and stopped.
“We can’t find Clavender,” Rickson said.
“Where have you looked?” Kin asked, but he already knew where she was.
“Everywhere. Laura sent men to her house to get her and she was gone.” Rickson glanced nervously at the troopers standing guard. “The Fleet Commander heard someone call her the Storm Watcher and told Laura he wanted to interview her about the planet.”
“Were you eavesdropping?” Kin asked.
For a lonely shepherd, Rickson seemed to know everything that happened in Crater Town. He was sneaky as a cat, but also had an alarming network of contacts. He chatted with the baker’s wife, who thought he was too thin and made him cakes, and learned all the secrets of the town’s women. He spoke with the blacksmith, a friend of Rickson’s late father. He traded news with fishermen, travelers, and other shepherds. Now that the Fleet had made planetfall, he probably plied the troopers with wine and knew more about intergalactic military operations than any herdsman should know.
“I was listening. They had to know I was hiding in the rafters. They have binocular night-vision and forward looking infrared sensors,” Rickson said.
“Which they wouldn’t be using during a private meeting.”
“Fleet troopers are required to remain on high alert during all phases of a mission,” Rickson said, standing a little straighter. “They should’ve been able to catch me.”
He had definitely been spending time with the Fleet’s finest. He probably tried to con them out of a plasma rifle, or at least a brace of tactical knives. Kin walked toward Clavender’s house in the dune, but that wasn’t where he was going.
“And you did it anyway,” Kin said.
“What are they going to do, shoot me?”
“They might. And they might torture you first,” Kin said. “Go back to Clavender’s house. Go inside and search everywhere. She could return anytime. I told her not to go far.”
“She isn’t home, Kin. I can feel it.”
“Relax. I know where she is.”
“Then why’d you tell me to go to her house?”
“To keep you out of my hair.” In truth, Kin wasn’t certain she was at their meeting place, but fe
lt her absence from the town. When she left, the air seemed charged with ozone and shadows appeared where they had no right to be. Without Clavender, the planet seemed more hostile.
The hazy, daytime moons seemed to judge Kin’s brief inaction.
Like you’re doing anything. Must be nice to just float around the planet.
Clavender would probably be near Stone Forest a mile inland, but Kin wanted Rickson to wait for her possible return to her home. He didn’t want Rickson to take her to the Fleet Commander, however. The problem was explaining this to the young shepherd without seeming to betray the newcomers everyone believed were saviors.
“I’ll go to a secret place where we sometimes meet,” Kin said.
“Stone Forest?” Rickson smiled when he asked the question.
Kin massaged his temples. “Can you just go to Clavender’s house?”
Rickson laughed. “Sure, Kin. I won’t pretend to do what you say and then follow you without being seen.”
“I always see you.”
“Whatever.”
“But this time, I’m serious. I don’t want Fleet troopers following you following me. And before you roll your eyes, they could follow you, even in their armor. The rawest recruit knows more about stealth than you ever will,” Kin said.
Rickson argued, but Kin sent him and the dog away. He left Crater Town and slipped past Fleet sentries and observation posts he was certain Rickson had never seen. One tactic favored by troopers was to bury their FSPAA units with only a viewing device protruding from the ground. Kin had used this surveillance technique many times and knew what to look for.
The people of Crater Town avoided Stone Forest. It was just another meteor strike, but old. The wormhole must have delivered the space rocks close to the ground, because the impact site was parade ground flat. Meteors of this size should have blasted craters into bedrock. It was almost as though they had been placed there by some mysterious, intergalactic race of compulsive rock movers.
The dagger-like megaliths formed a complex pattern in the marsh. The Goliath blasted a massive crater when it went down and scattered ship parts throughout the region. Stone Forest, by contrast, seemed organized by a godlike hand. Kin had negotiated the maze with Laura on one of their more dangerous liaisons.
Clavender had met him there several times, each encounter stranger than the last. She seemed to want to tell him something, but sat in silence, her face turned to the night sky.
The place was visible from the lighthouse. Kin was certain the Fleet had reconnoitered it. He approached carefully, seeking guards or Fleet survey crews, but saw nothing. Soldiers could be a superstitious lot and Stone Forest radiated darkness. Many local ghost stories involved Stone Forest and evil spirits. There was a good chance troopers would avoid the place if given a choice. But Kin couldn’t be sure until he checked the area.
He squatted in the reeds, listening for danger and watching wind brush the nearby water. Time passed.
He circled the area and approached Stone Forest from the far side to avoid long-range Fleet sensors. Observation posts near Crater Town could monitor the twenty-foot-tall shards of rock but couldn’t see inside the rings that made the place a labyrinth of shadows. Kin paused at the threshold and looked up at the looming megaliths.
“Clavender,” he called.
Orange, red, and purple light gently washed the tops of the formation. The morning sun muted the eerie effect, although the shadows inside persisted. Stone Forest pulsed with mystery and flashed with reflections of wormhole lightning. The pale, shadowy belt of day moons turned slowly in the sky, always present, although not always visible when the wormhole flared and danced.
Kin found a single bead of silver from Clavender’s hair near the entrance. He crouched in the shadows, moving slowly forward. Clavender’s custom was to leave three beads carefully arranged near the entrance to warn Kin she was naked. She was never embarrassed but understood the people of Crater Town were modest folk when sober. Kin had seen her naked once, and although he was far from modest, his heart stopped. She revived him with a kiss and he told her she must never kill him again. She laughed at his joke and promised to always give a warning.
But there was only one silver bead here.
Kin turned left at the first corridor of stones, immediately spotting a handful of Clavender’s silver beads scattered across the ground. He stopped. Clavender never removed more than three beads from her hair. She claimed the talismans helped her hide from her people.
He moved quickly until he heard Clavender running through the maze, breathing heavily and speaking in a language Kin didn’t understand.
Peering between the stones sealed by tendril vines, he saw Clavender. Her eyes met his briefly and she cried out.
Kin hurried from one passage to the next, unable to reach Clavender. He caught a glimpse of Droon racing around a corner, pressing against the gap to claw at him. Kin held his gaze. He might not be able to kill the Reaper through it, but he could keep him busy and give Clavender time to escape.
He understood her strategy. She dared not leave Stone Forest because the Reaper would catch her if she fled across open ground. How long had she been playing this game? How long had she been running through Stone Forest with no chance to escape?
Why had Droon come for her? Kin regretted his secretive journey to this place. He needed a squad of troopers. He needed Orlan, as much as he despised and distrusted the man.
“Kin-rol-an-da!”
Droon roared. He snapped teeth and reached one clawed hand through the gap, pressing his face against the stone, stretching as far as he could.
Kin aimed his pistol.
Droon disappeared from the gap and appeared in another. “Last man! The Long Hunt ends!” Droon stepped back, then rammed against the stone spires and tangled vines.
Kin didn’t like the sound of Droon’s words. The Reaper language was mostly images and grunts, but many of them spoke the Fleet’s language. It probably wasn’t hard to learn the language of a man when you had been deep in his mind.
“Leave Clavender alone. Come after me. Squeeze your ugly face through that gap over there.”
Droon looked where Kin pointed.
Without hesitation, Kin stuck his arm through and fired.
Droon dodged out of sight, but soon bashed against the barrier again. “Kin-rol-an-da! Kin-rol-an-da!”
The Clinger twisted and squeezed Droon, whispering something sinister. For a moment, Kin thought the Reaper was crying — frustrated, desperate, and in pain.
Droon groaned. “Not Cla-ven-da, Kin-rol-an-da!”
Kin saw the Clinger tightened with such force that Droon fell to his knees and assumed the posture of a beaten man listening to his master’s demand. Droon nodded, but abruptly slammed one huge fist against the Clinger, subdued it, and resumed his attack on Kin.
“Run, Clavender. Find Rickson,” Kin yelled.
Droon wanted him. Kin had never seen such single-minded determination in a Reaper. They normally went after the closest victim, but Droon repeatedly tried to force his way between the pillars. And he called Kin by name. Memories of captivity threatened to descend. Kin clenched his teeth and forced the images out of his head.
Droon stepped back, panting as he stared at Kin. Venom slid from his jaws. He didn’t blink for several moments. Then he smiled and turned. “Cla-ven-da.”
The sly expression on the Reaper’s face alarmed Kin, but nothing could be done to stop the Reaper from resuming his pursuit of Clavender, sprinting away quick as a hunting cat. The thought of her being ripped apart sparked rage so fierce Kin thought it would choke him.
He ran at the gap in the wall, forcing his upper body through and getting stuck. Droon spun around and charged, laughing and barking words Kin couldn’t understand.
That’s right, I fell for it. But Clavender can escape now.
A thought ruined Kin’s triumph. Clavender didn’t fly, despite graceful wings promising miracles. He’d never seen her take to the
air, but she could run. She won foot races against the town’s best, using her wings for balance, surprising people with grace and agility.
Nothing runs like a Reaper. Don’t kid yourself.
Kin struggled forward. Droon was two steps away.
“Kin-rol-an-da!”
Kin fell through, rolling when he hit the ground. Droon snatched him up by one arm. Kin flailed, trying to get free, but his feet were off the ground.
The Reaper snapped his teeth in the air between them. Again and again the nightmarish teeth missed.
Kin ducked and dodged with his head, but really he was just flailing wildly until he wrapped his legs around the Reaper’s waist to steady his position. He drew his pistol with his free hand. “Open your mouth a little wider!”
“Kin-rol-an-da!”
Kin fired.
Droon yanked his head sideways, releasing him abruptly. Kin’s short-lived feeling of victory evaporated when the Reaper, having avoided being shot in the mouth, leapt on him. An instant before impact, brilliant white wings knocked Droon sideways and engulfed him.
Clavender tackled Droon, embracing him with arms and wings. They fell, rolled, and Droon stood with her holding him like a lover might — legs around his waist, arms around his neck. She pressed her forehead against his lower mandible, almost as though she sought forgiveness. Droon trembled with rage, spitting venom over her head.
“Let him go, Clavender!” Kin shouted. He ran forward with his pistol but couldn’t find an opening. Droon and Clavender danced. He roared. She sang. He flexed muscles and twisted his body to dislodge her.
Kin considered shooting her. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being eaten alive. His pistol felt heavy. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He moved again and again, always seeking a better angle to attack until he saw a piece of the wormhole drifting down toward Stone Forest. The multicolored globe was like a drop of mercury, deforming as it hovered near the battle.
