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

by Scott Moon

  Orlan gave no indication he heard, other than to alter his course. The landscape changed as they entered a dry creek bed. The new terrain offered a chance to stand up. Orlan kept going, circling past a fresh battle between wolves and Reapers.

  Something cut across the sky, barely visible in the night. Kin had no doubt it was one of the Ror-Rea. He slowed his pace, checking for signs of pursuit. When he looked again, two more of the winged warriors descended to attack a Reaper.

  “That’s a waste,” Orlan said. “Dax’s fighters can’t hope to change the outcome of this battle, and I thought they were only interested in fighting Imperials.”

  “Keep moving. We’re getting close to the pass leading to Maiden’s Keep,” Kin said. His words faltered when he saw another figure dashing across the meadow with several Reapers in pursuit.

  “Rickson!”

  KIN had witnessed Rickson carry a winged person before, but that had been Clavender. The woman the young shepherd now bore across his lanky shoulders was a warrior. Had she been able to stand, she would be a lean, well-muscled fighter taller than Rickson — a marked contrast to Clavender’s lithe form.

  Rickson heard Kin yell and looked his way.

  Kin motioned frantically with one hand. “Get down.”

  Orlan whispered, “Don’t do it, Kin. We’ve come this far without alerting the Reapers. That boy can escape on his own.”

  Looking into the eyes of his friend and listening to the words of his unfortunate ally sparked vicious resentment in Kin. Rickson was like a son or a younger brother. He looked forward to the young man’s bad jokes and petulant arguments. There had been a time when Kin observed the shepherd standing on a hill as wind pulled at his cloak. Staff in hand, gaze directed over the horizon as he dreamed of adventure among the bleating of sheep, Rickson deserved a life he would never have. And for all his striving to find trouble, Rickson never complained. In many ways, he was already the man Kin couldn’t hope to be. What kind of universe required the sacrifice of noble innocents to protect the son of an enemy?

  Kin feared the Reapers chasing Rickson were too close. He had come to rescue the boy, and now he had a hard choice to make. Fight Droon’s followers or save himself and Orlan’s son.

  “Curse you, Roland.” Orlan moved to Kin’s side, weapons ready, his demeanor as aggressive as it always was before battle.

  Kin took careful aim and waited until the sound of other battles reached a crescendo. Then, hoping his attack would be concealed by chaos consuming the valley, he looked down the barrel of the rifle, paying special attention the front sight. He exhaled, resisted the impulse to suck back his breath, and squeezed the trigger.

  FSPAA weapons were no louder than they had to be. Experience in battles on every conceivable world in every conceivable situation reinforced the reality that noise drew enemy fire. His FSPAA rifle suppressor chuffed. The round traveled thousands of meters per second and took the first Reaper chasing Rickson in the forehead. He squeezed off three shots, taking as much time as he could to aim.

  But then the remaining squads of Reapers were too near for a sniper’s subtly. None hesitated when their companions went down. Kin flicked the selector switch, changing the rifle to automatic. The sound suppressor didn’t work during sustained fire. With stealth no longer an option, he jumped to his feet and charged.

  Orlan, ten meters to Kin’s left, paralleled the movement. Even though Kin distrusted the man, he respected his skill and understood there was no braver trooper on this planet.

  Before Kin could intercept the lead Reaper, a dog leapt to defend Rickson and the wounded Ror-Rea warrior. Kin marveled at the ferocity of the animal. Ogre made most mutts seem civilized. Shaggy brown and black fur framed the dog’s square head. Neck and shoulders rippled with muscle. On an ordinary day, most people would shy away from the brute. But here in the Valley of Wolves, the dog seemed small, not as deadly as the monsters who ruled the area.

  Yet Kin was impressed. Ogre struck the Reaper in the chest, slamming him backward. The dog’s jaws dueled with the Reaper’s impressive maw. They snapped and bit at each other until the Reaper fell. Ogre scrambled away, circled behind the alien killer, then attacked from his blind side.

  The Reaper twisted, lunging with a claw.

  Kin jumped into the fray.

  The Reaper seized the dog by the throat and held him against the ground. An instant later, Kin tackled the Reaper, wrapped his arms around his opponent, and bore him against the rocky soil. They slid against the base of a small tree and bent it.

  Kin grabbed at the Reaper’s neck but found his left hand enveloped by fangs. Rather than pull back, he pressed deeper, forcing his knuckles into the throat. This would have worked better had he still been wearing gauntlets. Pain was intense, yet during the fight, it was fear more than physical discomfort that mattered. Injuries would be dealt with later if he survived.

  Before he sent his FSPAA to lead the attackers away, he had taken the removable weapons from the unit and holstered them. The rifle was almost too heavy to be used barehanded. He kept it strapped across his back. The pistol, however, he had placed in his leg holster. Now he slid it free, reached around the torso of the Reaper, and pushed the barrel against the dangerous jaws. He pulled the trigger and blew a hole in the Reaper’s face.

  Orlan grabbed Kin from behind and yanked him to his feet. “You’re going to shoot off your fingers if you’re not careful. Time to get out of here. More Reapers are hunting the wolves than I’ve seen since Hellsbreach.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  NIGHT gave way to dawn. Kin and Orlan moved ahead of the others, gazing over rifle sights, searching for enemies. The Reaper versus Crashdown Wolf battle continued but spread farther from the epicenter of the initial clash.

  Kin found a stream and hesitated. Although only a trickle of dark liquid in the growing light, the rivulet promised something bad. A quick glance up the slope confirmed his suspicion. No water source existed. He knelt and touched blood with his fingers.

  “You better wipe that off.” Orlan faced the other direction, covering his zone as he talked. “And hope it isn’t Reaper blood.”

  Morning light crept across the hill Kin wanted to climb. Nothing moved. He wiped his hand on his leg as he held the heavy rifle with the other. “Let’s go.”

  Orlan and the others followed. Kin signaled for Orlan to hang back as he crested the foothill. Evidence of slaughter stretched before him. He scanned the scene through the gun sights. Sweeping the barrel across the landscape should have reassured him.

  “All clear. Come up.” He pushed a wolf corpse with his boot until it rolled over. Bullet holes pierced the face and neck of the animal. “Looks like we have more to worry about than Reapers and wolves.”

  “Did you hear gunfire?” Orlan asked.

  Kin shrugged. “No.” He lowered the rifle but remained alert. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

  “I’ll scout ahead.”

  “Stay with your son and Rickson. Try to keep the Ror-Rea alive. I know the landscape. I’ll go.”

  “Suit yourself.” Orlan turned from Kin. “Billy, get your Reaper ass over here.”

  The Reaper crouched, ready to spring, and flashed his teeth. A snarl grew from deep in the open mouth.

  When he learns to do the throat clicking sound, he’ll scare the hell out of me. Kin saw Orlan’s face pale. The trooper didn’t fear Reapers, especially not fake Reapers. Kin understood. William acted more like one of the creatures the longer he maintained the form. And the boy’s father dreaded the inevitable.

  “Tell him to change back.”

  Orlan didn’t look away from William the Reaper as he spoke. “I have.”

  Kin shifted foot to foot, adjusting his grip on the rifle.

  “Fifty times.” Orlan stared until the Reaper turned away. “He can’t even talk.”

  Kin doubted that. Can’t or won’t?

  He moved away from the hilltop, angling for high ground and looking back to see how exposed
Orlan and the others were. What he saw worried him, but there was nothing to be done. He easily tracked the Mazz Imperial company, finding them preparing to assault in another direction. He backed away.

  A voice whispered behind him.

  “Kin.”

  Slowly, Kin turned. He didn’t see Rickson right away. The young shepherd crouched low, concealing himself in what had been a bush but was now a ruined tangle of branches and mud. “Did Orlan send you?”

  Rickson nodded. “Reapers are coming. He says there isn’t much time.”

  Kin glanced toward the Imperial force, then faced Rickson. “Tell him to draw the Reapers this direction. We can slip away toward the waterfall. You remember the waterfall?”

  “I’ll never forget it.” He paused for a moment before crawling down the hill toward Orlan, William, and the Ror-Rea.

  The last time Kin came this way with Rickson, they’d been trying to rescue Bear’s packhorses. The mountain man and the shepherd had become good friends during the trek. Kin had hoped Bear would be a father figure to the young man, or at least a semi-reliable uncle. A man in any case, a replacement for Rickson’s family.

  Something twisted in Kin’s chest. Normally, Rickson had a smile or a joke no matter the situation. He either was injured or exhausted, perhaps both.

  Kin whispered a whistle. “Hey.”

  Rickson stopped and looked back.

  “You’re not going to argue with me?”

  “I’m saving it up for later.”

  “Good.” Kin watched Rickson disappear. He wasn’t sure there would be a later. Maybe things had been worse when Droon hunted him, captured Clavender, and bonded with Clingers, but it didn’t feel like it.

  The timing had to be perfect. Once he alerted the Imperials, they would charge — sending flanking teams and redirecting snipers. If the Reapers didn’t arrive on cue, Kin and his companions were done.

  Everything happened fast. Reapers charged after Orlan, who engaged them to give William and Rickson more time to drag the Ror-Rea woman onward. The sight was something Kin never imagined — a boy, a Reaper, and a winged warrior leaning on each other as they fled.

  Orlan attacked the first Reaper with a sword. Of course, it wasn’t just a sword. That would be too much like something Kin would use. Orlan’s blade merged the most brutal qualities of a sword and an axe. He hammered apart the face of one Reaper after another.

  You’re smarter than I thought, Orlan.

  Kin shouted in the Reaper language. His command of the dialect wouldn’t fool a Hellsbreach veteran. He was betting the Imperials would hear the harsh atonal words, investigate, and find Reapers racing up the hill. By then, he planned to be halfway to the waterfall with his friends.

  It almost worked. Imperials engaged the Reapers with rapid-fire death, but a few Reapers continued to chase Orlan as he joined Kin and the others. Which meant some soldiers followed as well. Before long, Kin fired at Reapers and opponents in armor, hoping the larger battle just out of view would cover the noise.

  Blood and bullets flew. Claws slashed.

  As they fought clear, Orlan ran back toward the battle Kin was trying to leave behind.

  “What are you doing?”

  “They left one.”

  Kin checked to see that Rickson led William and the Ror-Rea in the right direction. “One what?”

  “An Imperial. I think he’s alive.”

  Kin slapped his palm on the barrel of his rifle, glanced at the sky in frustration, and then ran toward Orlan.

  The Imperial held his wounded arm. A Reaper had bitten through his armor. “Please. My clotting agents are used up.”

  Kin struggled to understand the man’s version of Fleet language. He spoke over Orlan’s shoulder as Orlan stripped away empty weapons and checked the wound. “Now you’re saving the enemy?”

  Orlan spared him a glance. “You’re right. It’s more like something you would do.” He ripped off the Imperial’s helmet. “No armor for me, no armor for you.”

  “I’ll fight for you. Truce. Until we get away from the Reapers.”

  Orlan struggled to unlatch the Imperial’s chest plate. “Give me the code or I’ll cut your throat right here.”

  Kin moved between Orlan and the direction of the main battle. He resented the need to provide security when all he wanted to do was join Rickson and the others at the waterfall. “You can’t leave him now. He’ll give away our position.”

  “I wasn’t going to leave him. If he won’t cooperate, I’m going to cut his throat. Are you deaf?”

  “A little bit.” Kin backed toward them. “Time to go, Orlan.”

  The Imperial gave a series of numbers. Orlan jammed them into the control panel and yanked off the armor, leaving the arm protection to cover where he had applied clotting agent.

  The man stood, forming a smile of thanks, when Orlan grabbed him by his throat and threw him to the ground.

  “I want you to understand who is in charge.”

  The Imperial scrambled back but never looked away from Orlan. “I understand.”

  Kin led the way to the waterfall. Orlan pulled the Imperial’s arm over his shoulder and helped him. Blood seeped around the clotting agent and arm piece as the man lost the ability to focus his eyes. He trudged forward, leaning on Orlan.

  Although the Imperial was tall, Orlan still had him by a few inches and fifty pounds. Their progress was less graceful than Rickson and William dragging the Ror-Rea woman. “Maybe you should take a turn.”

  “He’s your buddy, not mine.” Kin hurried toward the waterfall, searching for Rickson and the others. With nothing left to do, he went through the cascade of water. Moments later, Orlan and the Imperial followed.

  Orlan dropped the man.

  Kin stepped close. “What are you doing, Orlan?”

  “You never take prisoners?”

  “When I can.” He studied the stranger. “This will slow us down.”

  “Maybe he’ll tell us something. Help us escape the Imperials.”

  “Maybe he’ll kill us in our sleep.”

  Orlan laughed. “Yeah, he could get the jump on you. I better watch him.”

  Sounds of battle faded beyond the waterfall. Rickson approached, gripping his staff, walking sideways in a catlike fighting stance.

  “Can we trust him?”

  Kin looked at Rickson, then the Imperial. “What’s your name?”

  “Nander.”

  “What’s your rank?”

  Deep-set eyes stared at Kin. “Soldier, Class II.”

  Orlan laughed. “As in second class soldier. I can’t disagree.”

  Nander either didn’t understand the mockery or concealed anger.

  Kin thought of snipers and spies. “Do you know who I am?”

  Nander shook his head.

  “Tie him up and leave him.”

  Orlan moved forward. “Roger that.”

  “Wait. I won’t tell my commander where you went,” Nander said.

  Kin leaned close and spoke softly. “That’s a problem, soldier. You might not betray our position, but you’d confirm our existence.”

  Nander swallowed.

  “You’re a little old for a grunt.”

  Nander winced as Orlan pulled the man’s hand behind his back.

  “There is a battle wheel beyond this waterfall. You’re walking into a trap.”

  Kin frowned. The Imperial trooper seemed to have avoided the implied question. To what purpose, Kin couldn’t guess. He considered pursuing the issue but admitted a battle wheel was not only more dangerous than Nander’s combat record, but wasn’t something the man had to reveal. Wounded and scared, Nander was trying to prove his trustworthiness.

  Orlan stopped tying and looked questioningly at Kin.

  “A battle wheel? If that’s what I think it is, the terrain is too steep for it to be beyond this passage.” Kin drew his knife and touched Nander’s chin.

  “Not the battle wheel itself. Just the regiment assigned to it. The bat
tle wheel remains in the valley as a forward base until our engineers can clear roads through the bedrock.”

  Kin thought about Nander’s claim and watched for deception. He paused. “Tie him up. We need to talk.”

  Orlan yanked the cord tight. “Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll feed you to my Reaper.”

  William snarled.

  A moment later, Kin and Orlan stood close to the waterfall, using the noise to obscure their conversation.

  “Long term, I think keeping him is a good idea. We know nothing about the Mazz Imperials. Short term, he’ll get us killed.”

  Orlan shrugged. “Not sure why I went back for him. It’s your call. Say the word and I’ll put him out of his misery.”

  Kin glanced at Nander.

  “What if he is telling the truth?” Orlan asked.

  Kin sheathed his knife. “There should be another way out. Caves and secret passages are common on this planet.”

  “We could wait for a while and go back the way we came.”

  Kin felt time leaking into the past. He walked around the cavern looking for tunnels. When he found one, he signaled Orlan. “Keep watch. I’ll scout it and be back in five.”

  “We’ll be gone in six.”

  Kin hesitated at the tunnel entrance. He looked back. “I won’t go far. Wait for me. I’m not coming to rescue you when you get ambushed.”

  He moved into the shadows and allowed his eyes to adjust. The passage descended sharply, then began to climb. When Kin was convinced it went toward some distant opening, he went back for the others.

  “This better not be a dead end,” Orlan said.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “GO!”

  Kin rounded the corner, rifle presented for battle as he moved forward and across the tunnel. He took cover in a niche and peeked at the distant light.

  Orlan assumed Kin’s original position, aimed his weapon, and leaned on the wall. It wasn’t Kin’s favorite shooting technique. Leaning on a fixed object, unless prone, gave the illusion of stability when all it did was alter body mechanics. Orlan seemed to make the method work.