Lords of the Seventh Swarm

Chapter 17

Orick sniffed as he stepped from the ship. The ground under him felt spongy. His paw sank deep on the first step. Though they’d waited hours before disembarking, the air was still filled with pulverized limbs and leaves, detritus pounded into atoms by the shuttle’s phased gravity waves.

Upon entering the tangle, the ship had burrowed a thousand meters, until the atomized foliage and hapless animals beneath the ship got so deep that the ship could burrow no farther.

Orick looked up. The sky above was perfectly black, as if in a mine shaft. No light could reach him, the sky was up so far, the clouds had been so thick.

“I smell smoke,” Tallea said. It came faintly, masked by the moist scent of alien trees.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Felph said. “The gravity waves we used to pulverize the trees create some heat. The powder beneath our feet will stay hot for weeks, but won’t catch fire. There isn’t enough oxygen in the mix.”

“Shhh …” Athena warned. She held a brilliant glow globe in one hand, a pistol in the other. “Follow me.”

The young woman walked down a mild slope, bouncing with each step. The powder at her feet drifted up like blowing smoke. Orick followed at Athena’s heel.

Drops of water splashed down from time to time, and the going was slow. Massive tree trunks, wide enough so a house could fit inside, thrust everywhere through the tangle. Fallen trees provided roofs and pathways, and detritus had collected in crooks of branches or on ribbon trees, creating something of a false floor, paths for them to tread.

Along many trunks were ledges-outcroppings, formed by enormous growths, like giant colonies of mold. Epiphytes and parasitic plants had lived here but then rotted away as the canopy of the tangle climbed higher, robbing the plants of light, so that even though the area showed signs of plant life everywhere-hanging vines and rotted trees-little survived. Only dew trees, massive as houses, still lived.

Everything seemed familiar, nothing was familiar. Giant worm vines twisted in broad ribbons, forming roads that Athena eagerly sought. Yet the branches and deadfalls combined to form strange caverns. In places, the immense weight of the foliage above caused plants to collapse, so that frequently the trail led down at a precarious angle.

Though the air was humid, Orick felt surprised at how little water seeped in from the canopy above. Often, water ran down a winding tree trunk in rivulets, but surprisingly, just as often Orick was able to find dry footing.

Still, the journey became treacherous.

Little lived here. The tangle was strangely silent, save for an occasional creaking of limbs, the thud of heavy branches snapping far above.

Yet Orick felt as if the tangle were alive in spite of its silence. Watching, writhing. Everywhere was movement, distant creakings, water cascading, soggy footfalls.

A march of several hours along various fallen limbs brought them far enough down and away from the havoc wrought by their ship that Orick could finally breathe easier, and they dropped to a false floor, with real dirt.

Here was life in abundance. Huge pale worms, perhaps five meters in length, each as thick around as a good-sized rattlesnake, fed among the humus, while small armadillo like creatures scampered about, growling when one of the party approached. Here were sounds hard to identify buzzing insects, strange hooting. As they moved into this region, Orick felt frightened.

Athena dimmed her light. To Orick’s surprise, along the ground were huge clods he’d thought were turds, but these glowed pink, with their own dim light. Athena kicked one over. Orick saw that it had a dozen small legs at its base, so thin they could hardly move such a. massive body.

Athena grabbed several of them, placed them in a net at her hip. She gave one to Gallen. “Darkfriends,” she explained. “They give light to attract mates, but they are very much in tune with other creatures of the tangle. They dim if they smell enemies.”

“So if the lights go out, we’ll know that something wants to eat us?” Orick asked.

“It’s better than no warning at all,” Athena admitted. “I’ll flip on my torch, if that should happen. But beware. We’re down at least fifteen hundred meters. Here, we are not far above the first lairs of the sfuz. If we find a good path, the sfuz will know of it. Watch for traps.”

Orick wondered, “What kind of traps?”

“Snares and webs. The webs of sfuz glisten like water. It takes a keen eye to tell the difference.” Athena stopped a moment. “If the sfuz attack, they usually drop from above. Watch for them.”

Athena took the lead, followed by Gallen, who kept his vibro-blade in one hand. His mantle of black rings jangled on his head; Gallen seemed little more than a shadow, sometimes tinkling as he walked. Behind Gallen, Felph sauntered along easily, carrying only a walking stick. He wore an amused expression. Orick wondered at his aloofness, until he realized that Felph did not care if he lived or died down here. If he died beneath the tangle, he would be reborn.

Behind Felph came Orrick, followed by Tallea, who remained watchful, sniffing at the ground as she prowled.

Orick breathed deeply, testing musty air. The pungent odor of dew trees, like rotting oranges, somehow made him hungry. The worm vines smelled rich with turpines, like cut and polished ash. The air was thick with their scent, so heavy Orick felt almost as if he were traveling through liquid. Beneath these aromas lay the heavier odor of molding detritus. All sound was muffled, deadened. Orick had never experienced such total quietness outside a cave.

Some huge insects fluttered up, seeking escape. Others skittered away to the far side of a tree, defying gravity. Twice the group slowed and climbed down holes, dropping to some deeper level beneath this wretched tangle.

The dullness of sound, closeness of vegetation, the smell of decay-all became suffocating, till Orick wanted to run. Their scent could lead him back to the shuttle. Orick knew he only had to follow it. Yet he suspected that even in the shuttle, he would feel closed in, trapped. He kept his nose down, followed Gallen.

After many hours, Athena located a wide branch in the crook of a tree, then called a halt. “It’s dark out,” she whispered. “I think the sun set an hour ago.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Felph whispered. “Let us all press on.”

“It matters,” Athena warned. “We’re getting tired. The farther we march, the more certain it becomes that the sfuz will cross our trail. If we are tired when they find us, we will be less alert, less able to fight them.”

Felph grunted in disgust. “Fine then, sleep if you must!”

He squatted against the tree, leaning back, and Orick saw it-a misty white vine hanging behind Felph, so thin and watery, it seemed almost invisible.

“Stop!” he shouted. Felph stood bolt upright.

Orick ran to the vine, sniffed it. It had an odd odor, somewhat like shellac, or some material he’d once smelled boatmen use as glue. The vine came to rest a handspan from Felph’s back, where it ended in a glob of goo that was hidden with crushed dust. The line was tight as a lute string.

“Good eyes,” Athena praised Orick, patted his head.

She scrounged till she found a long limb, then touched the gooey end of the web. It snapped, ripping the limb from her hand, pulling it up far into the darkness above. “Had one of us touched the trigger, we’d have been carried as easily as that stick,” Athena warned. “The pull is enough to snap your neck. Let this be a warning. There is no rescue from the snare of a sfuz. We might manage to retrieve your corpse.”

She gave Lord Felph a hard look, as if ordering him to thank Orick for his very life. Felph merely grunted, leaned back where the snare had been.

“Not here,” Athena hissed. “We can’t rest here. The sfuz will check its snare. We don’t want it to find us.”

“Of course we do,” Felph replied, “I brought Gallen here to become acquainted with the vermin. What better way than to rest here, till the maker of the that trap comes?”

Athena looked in Gallen’s eyes. He merely shrugged.

“I’ll keep first watch,” Athena whispered.

They set a glum camp. Gallen unpacked a bit of cold food, some fine ham from Felph’s larder, along with fresh fruits and bread. The food lightened Orick’s mood, made the darkness seem more bearable.

Gallen took a canister of explosive foam, sprayed it on the trail behind them, then set wards that would light up and emit sound if something large approached.

Felph lay on a thermal blanket.

And Gallen stood, ready. “I will keep vigil with you,” he told Athena.

“Get some sleep,” she said. “The sfuz live far below us by day, but in an hour, they’ll make their journey up for their nightly hunt in the canopy of the tangle. We shouldn’t have any problems until then.”

“My mantle can watch with you,” Gallen said. “It can waken me at the first sign of trouble.”

Athena shook her head. “The sfuz don’t give warning.” She stood, went around camp, setting out darkfriends at equal distances, as if Gallen’s wards and precautions were worthless. When the darkfriends were separated by a few yards, they began glowing fiercely, then ponderously began making an hours-long journey back to one another. The night glowed around them as they struggled in the dirt. Almost, Orick could imagine he was in a deep forest back on Tihrglas, with merry campfires guttering about. But light of these creatures was too dim, and the trees beside them too desiccated, too twisted and alien to remind him of home.

Lord Felph lay back, resting comfortably in his little nook, watching the frightened faces of the others with amusement. Athena took watch in the deepest shadows she could find amid this pool of light. Surprisingly, though the darkfriends seemed to gleam brightly, their light didn’t shine far; the twisted branches around Athena threw enough shadows so she remained concealed. Gallen lay beside Felph and soon fell asleep.

Orick could not rest. He could see better in the darkness than a human, and decided to keep watch a bit. Meanwhile, Tallea opened Orick’s Bible and began reading from the book of Genesis, but found it rough going. She could not understand the archaic language of the book, the symbolic references, figures of speech. So Orick expounded the Bible’s teachings, beginning with the creation of the Earth, the fall of Adam, and the promises God made to Noah, Abraham, Moses, and other prophets. He told how David slew Goliath, how Elijah healed a pagan of leprosy-until he got to the life of Jesus, whose birth in Bethlehem was announced by a new star shining in heaven and by the voices of angels.

Orick felt glad of Tallea’s interest. The she-bear often asked pointed questions. And as Orick taught, he began to see patterns he had never considered. He saw how the stories he knew so well each added to a great theme which told how God spoke to man, giving him promises if he should act well, then helped man reach his highest potential. At times, Orick found himself relating ideas he had never considered. He felt sure God was inspiring him, that he was expounding beyond his natural wisdom.

Even more gratifying, he found that his words were taking root in more than one heart. As he spoke, his voice filled the little hollow. Athena had been keeping guard, but by the tilt of her head, Orick could tell she was not listening for sounds of predators, she listened to him, and after a bit she did not even keep up a pretense of disinterest, but came and crouched quietly beside Tallea, her pulp gun resting casually on one knee.

Athena watched Orick intently, absorbing each word, saying nothing. Orick was reminded of the words of Christ, “The gospel is likened unto a fisherman who cast his net into the sea, and gathered fishes of every kind.” Orick had cast his net for Tallea, and was pulling in a decidedly odd fish.

But as sure as God walked in the Garden of Eden, so did Satan, and it seemed to Orick that he was just getting to the best parts of the New Testament when Lord Felph roused from his nap and sauntered over.

Orick had been expounding upon the Beatitudes, and he quoted, “`Blessed are the poor in spirit who come unto me, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Then Orick added, “This is God’s promise that He will strengthen us, regardless of our weaknesses, so that we can withstand His presence.

“‘Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.’ This is God’s promise that all things shall be given to those who submit to His teachings.

“‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled with the Holy Ghost.’

“This is God’s promise that He will not leave you comfortless, in moments of trial, but shall grant His spirit to meet your needs.”

Felph groused, “Speaking of tribulation, how is a man to sleep, Orick, with your incessant babbling?”

“I was just telling Tallea and Athena here about the life of Jesus,” Orick said.

Felph sat next to Orick, wrapped his arms around his legs. Felph’s eyes were a bit puffy, swollen, and his face looked drained, tired. Yet he stroked his short beard thoughtfully and studied Orick from under heavy lids. “Ah, yes, a venerable enough chap, I gather. But I find other gods more intriguing.”

“Other gods?” Tallea asked. “You mean there are stories of other gods?”

Orick got an uneasy feeling. The Bible mentioned such gods-Baalim and Asteroth, Moloch and Diana. To worship them was forbidden. On Orick’s world, nothing was known of their ways. Orick believed God wanted to keep it this way.

“I always found Asteroth fascinating,” Felph said, watching Orick’s reaction. “I loved the way her worshipers used fetishes, and all the delightful sacred orgies they threw. Devotion toward the divine mother-with all her creative forces, and her concern for hearth and home those make so much more sense to me than worship of a war god. Don’t you think, Orick?”

“God is not a god of war,” Orick said, “but of peace.”

“Yes, well, tell that to the Canaanites, and the Hittites and Jebusites, and the Perizites and the Ammonites and the Philistines. I’m sure I’m forgetting a few, but those were just some of the nations the Israelites slaughtered under inspiration of your God of Peace.”

“I’m sure He had a good reason,” Orick countered. “God could not simply allow His people to die at the hands of their enemies. He must protect them.”

“Protect them, of course,” Felph said. “Now if I recall correctly, with the Hittites, Joshua slaughtered their men, their women, their children, all their flocks and herds, then burned their cities, melted their idols, and ground the gold into dust and threw it into the rivers. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Orick admitted glumly.

“I can understand discarding the gold, and I suppose cities were dirty enough back then that burning might have been in order. Personally, I’d even back that God of yours on his decision to kill the children in the cities. But for the life of me, Orick, I can’t figure out what the poor sheep did so wrong! Really, was it their fault if those shepherds had unwholesome amorous preferences? Oh, and let’s not even mention the babes-Sock it to those mewling infants, Jehovah!” Lord Felph cackled horribly at his own jests.

Well, whatever presence of the Holy Spirit Orick had felt, it had about all fled by now. It wasn’t as if Orick didn’t have answers to Felph-he believed that God ordered the flocks destroyed so the Israelites would not be tempted to fight over the spoils of war. As for the babes, who knew what had really been done? The Bible was so old, it was probably filled with some inaccuracies. An uninspired scribe might have thrown in the thing about the babes. But Felph was throwing out questions of such moral complexity they were difficult to answer, especially for someone like Tallea, who needed to receive the milk of the gospel before she could tolerate the meat.

“There are answers to the questions you pose,” Orick said.

“Ah, those who have ears, let them hear!” Lord Felph joked.

Athena saw how Felph annoyed Orick. She said, “You were telling us about the Sermon on the Mount…”

“Yes,” Orick tried to remember where he’d left off.

“Are you certain your Jesus wasn’t an impostor, Orick?” Felph asked. “None of his ‘miracles’ seem very miraculous to me. Their effects would be very easy to accomplish with modern technology.”

“But they didn’t have modem technology back then,” Orick countered.

“Perhaps, but imagine this, Orick: imagine that a modern man went back in time, with the idea of posing as the Son of God. Using modern equipment, he could have easily performed the ‘miracles’ you describe.”

“What of turning water into wine?” Orick asked.

“Nanotechnology,” Felph said. “A small tablet filled with nutrients and the proper nanoware, and in moments your water turns to wine.”

“What about healing the sick or raising the dead?”

“Who knows how sick those people really were?” Felph argued. “Nanodocs can work wonders.”

“What of walking on the water?”

“An antigrav sled, floating just below the surface. I’ve accomplished the same effect myself.”

“What of calming the troubled seas?”

Lord Felph fell silent, considering. “Weather satellites. Jesus knew when the storm would end.”

“I don’t accept that answer,” Orick said. “Even after a storm calms, the seas stay rough. So what about it, how about calming the seas?”

“I don’t know-yet,” Felph admitted. “Such technology doesn’t exist at the moment.”

“And here is another question for you,” Orick said. “Can a man travel back in time that far?”

“Time travel is possible, though the technology is strictly controlled,” Felph said. “One can go back in time, a few days-even a week.”

“But we’re talking twenty thousand years.”

“If we had an energy source large enough, one that he could carry with him, so that he could duplicate the effort over and-” Felph began.

“It’s not possible, is it?”

“No,” Felph admitted. “It’s not, by modern standards. But you’re missing my point entirely, Orick.”

“Which is?”

“I’m getting to that. I’m not saying that a man went back in time-either from our present day, or from some future. I simply wanted to say this: that as a species, we are evolving into something equal to your god.”

Orick found the statement befuddling. “Look at me,” Felph continued. “I’ve been alive for four thousand years. I’ve worn out thirty clones, and lost another fifty by accident. I’ve been ‘raised from the dead’ some eighty times. I won’t live forever, but who knows how long your ‘God’ lived. And though I’m not omniscient, as your god supposedly is, I could gain something near that. I could collect all the knowledge of mankind into one huge Omni-mind, as the Tharrin do, and use it to help me rule the stars.”

“But that isn’t the same as what I’m talking about.”

“Yet it is very near,” Felph said. “One might argue that, as god’s children, we are naturally struggling toward godhood ourselves-seeking the same rights and powers you ascribe to your god. So, my question is this, Orick. Who is to say that this isn’t all your god wants of us? Perhaps he created us, knowing that just as a salmon will swim upstream, or that a gosling will take to the air-perhaps in the same way, he knew in time we would evolve into gods. Perhaps that is all he wants.”

Orick considered the idea, rejected it as pure fantasy. Too often, he’d felt God’s spirit, promptings that told him his life, his actions, mattered deeply. He didn’t buy for a moment the notion that virtually without any struggle on his part, his children would someday become coequal to God.

“I find your philosophy to be a bit … implausible.”

Felph laughed. “How so?”

“Because it requires no moral effort,” Orick said. “Attaining perfect love, perfect hope, perfect faith, perfect harmony among mankind-won’t just happen. Your four thousand years of life hasn’t shaped you into a godling.”

“Touche, Orick. Yet there are special cases. Some men struggle to become gods. In time don’t you think one of them will succeed?”

Orick said, “Someday, one of your descendants might gain all knowledge, all power, and all goodness. But that does not free me from the responsibility to do all I can with my life to achieve those same ends.”

Lord Felph considered Orick’s words, his brow wrinkling. “For a young bear, you have learned much. I’ll think about your arguments, but I am not certain I care for your god. Other gods were worshiped in his time, gods who were more personable, more earthy, more human-and therefore perhaps more approachable.”

Does the man hear nothing I say? Orick wondered. “We don’t invent gods to suit our needs. We follow God to attain our potential.”

Felph laughed. “Well, perhaps you don’t invent gods, but that happens to be my life’s work.” He glanced slyly at Athena, who still squatted beside Tallea. She arched her back and yawned. In that moment Orick could see her full figure, the graceful curve of her breasts, the dazzling auburn hair curling down nearly to her waist.

“I’m afraid you’re asking too much from your children,” Orick told Felph. “If you hope that they’ll be gods, you’ll be disappointed.”

“Of course, of course-” Felph said excitedly. “In this generation. But eons from now, in the twentieth and thirtieth generation.”

Felph turned to Athena. “What do you think? I bred you for wisdom, child. Who is right, me or Orick?”

Athena stared up at her father, and said shyly. “I think … a foolish man loves the sound of his own voice. A wise man listens to the words of others.”

Felph frowned. “Confucius. Are you quoting Confucius at me?”

“No,” she said. “I’m quoting myself.”

“So you’re calling me a fool? For not listening to a bear.”

“His words aren’t his own, but come from those who sent him,” Athena said softly. Orick almost laughed, for he had just quoted that line from the Scriptures a moment ago, only it was Jesus speaking about his doctrine.

“I’ve read his Scriptures,” Felph said. “I’m sure I recall the words as well as he does. And I’ve read other ancient texts, too-the Koran, the Egyptian Book of the Dead, the Popolvuh-”

“A wise man does not merely hear words, he listens.” Athena grinned.

“You believe my children will fail?” Felph cried in dismay.

Athena gazed into Felph’s eyes, bit her lower lip. “You think that because you made us to crave, to crave power and life and love-we will seize those things, and that will drive us toward greater heights. If you imagine that this is progress, Father, then, yes, we will progress. But I fear-that we will only become supreme consumers.

“You say you admire ‘more human’ gods,” Athena continued. “But I fear you admire yourself too much. Perhaps you cannot imagine anything more noble than man, but Orick here has just revealed it to me.”

“So you will become a Christ worshiper?” Felph said. “You’ll let this bear turn you against me!”

In answer, Athena stood, turned her back, and walked to Gallen, prepared to wake him so he could take his watch. Orick stared in wonder, his heart swelling with joy.

He glanced from the comer of his eye to see Tallea’s reaction. Something huge and black, like a giant spider, landed atop Tallea with a whump, and Orick cried out, startled. It was only there for a moment, moving rapidly. Yet for a fraction of a second he saw it: the creature had six enormous long hairy legs all spreading out from a compact, round body. Its face was something from a nightmare. The face was generally doglike in shape, but it had no ears that Orick could see, and it had no hair. Instead, the slate gray skin looked as if it had burned away. Its dark eyes were horribly large.

The creature bit Tallea’s neck, and Orick shouted, “Here now!” and leapt to his paws, thinking to kill the creature. But at that moment, something heavy landed on Orick’s back, knocking the breath from him. The big bear dropped with a groan. Everything went black.

For a moment, Orick did not know if he’d been knocked unconscious, or if the lights had simply gone out. Then-he remembered that the darkfriends would quit shining when they sensed enemies. And for some reason, Gallen’s warning devices hadn’t worked.

Lord Felph shouted, “Sfuz!” Orick was vaguely aware of screaming-Athena shrieking for help, mingled with a sudden whistling, a sound like dozens of birds twittering loudly. He heard scuffling feet as Felph scrambled away. He felt something pierce his back, a sharp talon. Something was tearing him open, yet Orick seemed paralyzed, unable to react. In this darkness, if he bit and clawed blindly, he night accidentally kill Felph.

He had to be cautious.

A terrible light exploded, a blinding white. The creature attacking Orick shrieked and roiled away.

Orick swatted in the direction the creature had rolled. He felt a thud as he raked his claws through flesh, snapped bones.

Tallea roared. In a moment Orick was beside her. The brilliant light had blinded him, but now another dim light shone. Athena must have got out a glow globe. His sight began to clear. The huge spiderlike being that had attacked Tallea shrieked in pain and rolled on the ground, kicking its legs in the air. The light devastated the sfuz. All around, Orick could hear the nasty creatures shrieking.

Orick pounced on it, bit its throat; gooey blood spurted into his mouth. He leapt on the thing once, twice. It did not die all the way-merely slowed in its movements.

Orick was growling at the top of his voice, and thus did not hear Gallen and Athena shout. Instead, he heard the concussions of Gallen’s pulp gun as he fired twelve shots, heard the hum of Gallen’s vibro-blade.

All around was whistling, and Orick found that his right shoulder was suddenly covered with a sticky web. He couldn’t get his front paw off the ground-it felt as if it were glued. Tallea shouted for help, and Orick suddenly realized that dozens of sfuz were dropping from above on sticky webs. He blinked fiercely, trying to get the tears from his eyes, trying to see well enough to defend himself. As Orick’s vision began to clear, another web landed across his face, gluing him more firmly to the ground.

He drew his head back, trying to break free. As enormous as Orick was, he could not budge the web. He uttered a hopeless prayer, wishing for the strength of Samson. “God help us.”

A second brilliant strobe went off. Everywhere, sfuz shrieked in pain. Gallen was tossing photon grenades-small weapons intended to blind an enemy at night. The grenades were small enough so Gallen could easily hold a dozen in his pack. Perhaps more than anything else at hand, the grenades affected the sfuz, for they were born to the magnificent blackness that reigned here beneath the tangle.

As suddenly as the fight had begun, sfuz leapt away, whistling frantically. Orick’s eyes adjusted. He pulled at the web that pinned his head. He bit its strands, chewing free. Tallea grunted, doing the same.

Lord Felph seemed miraculously unaffected by this whole thing. He’d somehow rushed from Orick, over to Gallen and Athena. No sfuz had leapt on his back or captured him in its web. It seemed oddly miraculous. The old man chuckled merrily. “Well done, Gallen! Well done! My, what one can accomplish with a Lord Protector. Why, if it weren’t for you, we’d be stuffed in their guts like sausages in casings!”

Orick stopped chewing, yanked himself free. Felph stood in his robes, grinning. All around them were signs of a massacre. Gallen stood, a dozen dead sfuz sprawled at his feet. In the fray, Athena had taken his vibro-blade. Now she crouched, at his feet, poised, the silver-blue blade shimmering in the darkness, humming like some living thing.

Yet it was not the others who held Orick’s attention. It was Gallen. Orick had never seen the boy look so pale, so panicked.

“They came out of thin air!” Gallen said, shuddering. “Just out of the air. I’ve never seen anything move so fast!”

“Let’s get back to the ship,” Athena said. “This isn’t over. Some got away. They’ll be back with reinforcements.”

“There were no scouts …” Gallen said. “None came looking for us. My mantle would have seen them.”

Orick’s hair stood on end. He hadn’t seen the sfuz till they dropped from above. He looked up. The air above them stood open for at least sixty meters.

“Well, Gallen, you reacted admirably,” Felph said, grunting in satisfaction.

Gallen still crouched, trying to look all directions at once. “You said they trained other animals. Could they have used one against us?

“How do you mean?” Tallea asked.

“The sfuz must have had help setting the ambush,” Gallen said. He looked all about. “Insects?” he asked, shaking his head. “Something larger-like a crow-flew overhead an hour ago, but I thought it was just hunting insects.”

“Maybe,” Athena agreed. “They train such creatures to hunt, the way our ancestors trained dogs.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Gallen said.

Athena grabbed the darkfriends, stuffed them into the net on her hip.

Orick stared at the corpse of a sfuz. Its face, he saw now was more purplish than gray; its teeth were unnaturally long and sharp. He’d thought it had large eyes before, but now he saw that each large dark eye was actually two eyeballs, separated by a thin membrane. One eye aimed up, while the other aimed down. It made sense that such a creature would always seek to attack from above or below.

Its fur, which started just behind the ears, was shorter and thicker than a bear’s, bristling. He saw now that each sfuz had four legs and two arms. The creature’s legs had four or five claws, or hooks on them, all in a row along the length of the leg, so the sfuz could crawl upside down or sideways among the trees simply by hugging the limbs. The foreclaws were more like hands, each with a thumb and two fingers, all or which had saberlike claws.

Orick moved his shoulder experimentally. He’d been clawed on the back, and he could smell blood. Yet he felt little pain. Months before, in order to save Orick’s life Gallen had fed the bear some nanodocs, tiny machines that went about repairing injuries to Orick’s body. They worked so quickly that even now, Orick could feel some heat in his back where the machines had hurriedly mended his torn shoulder.

“Are you alright Tallea?” Orick asked. He smelled blood on her.

“A scratch,” the she-bear said. Orick looked into the wound on the back of her neck, saw dark blood pooling. He licked the wound, then licked her muzzle affectionately.

Gallen and Felph had readied their packs. They hurried ahead. Orick did not want to be left behind.

The journey back up was arduous. Orick hadn’t realized how rapidly they’d descended-walking down limbs, climbing from one drop to the next. It had seemed a fairly level journey as they came down, but where possible, when the path had taken a downward turn, Athena had led them lower.

They ran for an hour, then Gallen suddenly raised his pulp gun and fired into the air.

Something large and black dropped. Gallen went to the thing. It was a bird, a hairy red bird, with a ratlike face filled with rows of sharp teeth. Gallen’s weapon had ripped away most of its innards.

Gallen bent to study the creature. “It’s the same one that flew over us earlier. My mantle says it has the same infrared register. It came flying ahead of us, and was just turning back.”

“It’s called a blood rat,” Athena said. She turned the creature on its side. Just behind its head, she found a thinning in its hair. “This one has been wearing a collar.”

Lord Felph grunted.

“They didn’t just train this one,” Gallen said. “They had to have communicated to it, somehow.”

Athena shook her head. “I can’t see how. It’s just a dumb animal.” Indeed, it looked like a rat with wings. Its head was no larger than a cat’s; Orick thought it odd that such a creature could communicate with the sfuz. The sfuz were as large as humans, though not as massive.

The group began hiking, almost running up the trail. Orick watched Tallea. The she-bear had been more sorely wounded than she wanted to tell, and she lagged behind, dragging her right front paw. Orick kept urging her to hurry, to keep up.

They were still a good hour’s march from the ship when Orick detected a distant whistling. In the deep foliage of the tangle, with a thousand branches crowding around, it was impossible to tell where the sound came from. That it was the whistle of a sfuz, Orick had no doubt. Once having heard that high, keening, almost hysterical pitch, he would never forget it. The sound reminded him of laughter, of whistling laughter, yet more frantic, more intense.

Gallen stopped. “They’re behind us,” he said with certainty. He leapt away.

Orick and the others followed with renewed, strength, though Orick was sweating from exertion.

A moment later, Gallen stopped. Ahead, perhaps not a hundred meters, they heard whistling. Yet at this moment, they were running along the track of a worm vine that wound a precarious way among the immense boles of dew trees, each many meters in diameter. Orick could not see around that path, but the sfuz announced itself.

The ululating noise stopped. Almost simultaneously, another whistling seemed to come far above and behind them.

“That’s the same sfuz,” Gallen whispered in awe. “My mantle says it has the exact same voiceprint.”

“It’s teasing us,” Felph guessed. “It must know where we are, so it’s running along limbs above us, whistling. Because it went into a different chamber, it sounds as if it is moving around us.”

“No,” Athena whispered, “that is a hunter’s whistle. That sfuz is hunting us. I think … I’ve heard that sound when a pair of sfuz attack, and I manage to kill one’s mate. That sfuz is furious.”

The fur at the base of Orick’s neck rose again.

“Quietly then.” Gallen whispered. They ran. They climbed a wide tree, up through some thick spongy fungus, till they found the trail they’d come down, then they hurried through a narrow defile where ancient withered roots, like long gray fingers, hung from above.

As they passed this, Orick heard heavy whistling behind him. He brought up the rear of the group, so he pivoted instantly, lashed with one claw.

The sfuz was charging, but as quickly as it had appeared, it turned aside, scurried around the trunk of a tree. Orick’s claw raked empty air. He stood befuddled, unable to find his quarry.

“They’ve found us!” Tallea shouted. “Run.”

Gallen burst ahead at full speed.

They ran for twenty minutes, Orick expecting an attack at any second. The sfuz went for reinforcements, Orick realized. Or it hoped to organize an ambush ahead.

Lord Felph kept lagging behind, stumbling from exertion. Orick heard whistling again, far below it seemed, so far he thought he might be imagining it. Yet it was not one voice that resounded through the tangle now, it was a thousand voices, united.

Felph fell to the ground, panting for breath, forcing everyone to stop. Gallen reached to pull him to his feet. “Hurry!”

Felph shook his head. “It’s no use. We’re too far from the ship. We’ll never make it!”

“You can’t know that!” Gallen said. “You have to try.” Felph laughed. “No, no I don’t. You have to try!”

Orick understood. Felph was giving up. He didn’t need to make a grand dash for escape. He would be reborn. Felph was right. He merely slowed the others down. Leaving him was their only hope for escape.

“I can do you a small service,” Felph grunted. “Give me the darkfriends. Gallen, give me a weapon. When the sfuz attack, I’ll hold them off a few moments, buy you some time.”

“You certain?” Gallen asked.

Felph chuckled. “Really, boy, one way or another, this body will get eaten today. I might as well.”

“Fine,” Gallen said, unceremoniously. He tossed a pulp gun on the ground beside Felph. Athena unsnapped the webbing that held the darkfriends. The grubs tumbled out.

As one, Athena and Gallen turned and ran, with Tallea close behind, but Orick could not leave Felph so easily. “Are you sure you won’t come with us?”

“I’ll follow as I can,” Felph said, then laughed. “ ‘No greater love hath a man than this: that he lay down his life for his friends!’ You see Orick, I’m just like your Christ. I’ll be your messiah today.”

Orick did not laugh. It seemed sacrilegious to do so. Still Felph continued. “I lay my life down, but I shall take it-up again!” He staggered to his feet, grabbed a darkfriend in one hand to use as a light, and said, “Hide not your light under a bushel, Orick. Let your light so shine, that others will see your good works and glorify your father in heaven!”

Four thousand years old, Orick realized, and in all that time, all Felph had learned from the Scriptures was to mock them.

Orick turned and ran, following the fading light that Athena carried. Felph cackled and shouted epithets as he ran. Once he looked back, saw Felph struggling up the trail. Orick was a fast bear, and strong. He caught up to his friends shortly. In a moment, the sound of Felph’s cackling died away. A moment later, he heard a dull thud that might have been a distant explosion.

Had Felph fired his weapon?

Orick held his breath, but did not stop. His blood so pounded in his veins he could not be certain, but he fancied that another shot followed, then a wailing scream.

Perhaps. Perhaps he imagined it. Orick ran for his life.