Free Son of Orlan (The Chronicles of Kin Roland Book 2) by Scott Moon Page A

hammer
on an anvil, the strike echoed through the valley.
    The trooper staggered, caught his balance, and charged.
Orlan drove him over the edge of the steep trail and rode him like a sled for
ten meters. As they slid to a stop, Orlan rose and struck hard. Kin’s helmet
monitor scrambled for a second, enhanced optics blurring, audio inputs
overloading.
    Kin rolled sideways, scrambling to his feet. He took the
high ground and looked down on Orlan. “Are we done? I came to warn you, and I
warned you. You want to kill your son? Go ahead. He’s probably the only person
in the universe who might love you.”
    He braced for an attack, but Orlan stood from his fighting
stance and stared. Then he turned away.
    Kin followed, wondering if he had gone too far. Orlan didn’t
feel physical wounds, but the words stunned him. His scrunched shoulders and
lowered head told a tale of misery. During the campaigns before Hellsbreach,
Kin and Orlan had been comrades if not friends. Kin had never seen the man
without a profane rejoinder.
    “The Imperials were closing in on us when Westwood appeared
out of nowhere and led them away.”
    Orlan glanced back, then turned his attention forward as he
descended the trail. “What the hell are you talking about?”
    “I’m telling you I didn’t know William was among the Crater
Town refugees. He turned into Commander Westwood to distract our pursuers. When
they had him cornered, he changed into Reaper form and escaped.”
    Orlan led the way in silence.
    A pack of Crashdown wolves howled in the distance. The
nightmarish chorus ended abruptly. Kin shuddered, staring into the night and
wondering if Reapers or something worse had silenced the monsters.
    Orlan either didn’t hear the wolves or ignored them. He
seemed to analyze Kin’s explanation before pausing to stare. “Then I caught
him.”
    Kin took a moment to understand Orlan’s words. “You almost
caught him. You told me he was a tough kid—survived living on the street. Now
all we have to do is find him and get to Maiden’s Keep.”
    “You were taking the refugees to Maiden’s Keep?”
    Kin thought about Laura and the others. The keep wouldn’t
protect them long. “Yeah.”
    “I can’t say that’s a great idea, Kin. You were always the
smart one. Couldn’t you think of a better hideout? Someplace the Imperials
won’t find in a day of standard patrolling.”
    “Our options are limited. Crashdown is full of Reapers and
Imperials. Unless we can find the Ror-Rea, I doubt there is a safe place.”
    Orlan shook his head as Kin moved beside him. “I spoke to
some of the Wingers. They spent a year coming from the Ror-Rea, and they had
boats. This world has a lot of ocean, but you wouldn’t know that.”
    Commander Westwood had told Kin something of the geography
of the planet. The Fleet surveillance satellite had made one pass before
crashing into the temperamental wormhole. The Fleet’s maps of Crashdown weren’t
perfect, but they were superior to Kin’s crude things. His exploration had been
thwarted by the barrier Clavender erected to protect Crater Town.
    “I think I have his trail,” Orlan said. “Thought I taught
him better than this. Course, it was mostly book learning and videos. The boy
has never been planet-side.”
    “Never?”
    “The whorehouse was on a space station. When they kicked him
out, he lived on a second station in a nearby orbiting pattern. Every shining
city needs slums. In space they build dumping grounds for the unwanted.”
    Kin stared at Orlan. “William was on the Iron Box?”
    “Yeah. And he survived. I killed three people trying to find
him. Broke up a few others. Most of the Iron Death gangs have it in for me.”
    “Show me his trail. I’ll see if I can guess where he’s
headed.”
    Orlan knelt and pointed to the ground. “Makes sense now.
These foot impressions are softer than a Reaper. He has the appearance, but not
the weight. And what looks like claws aren’t. Tabitha explained it to