Lords of the Seventh Swarm

Chapter 46

Orick raced desperately down the tunnel beside Tallea, fleeing the dronon Vanquishers. He needed to find the Waters of Strength, and soon, yet found himself running away from Teeawah, dashing through the smoky corridors, leaping over the bodies of dead dronon and sfuz.

They had run perhaps six hundred meters, when Orick realized he had missed his turnoff. With the smoke so thick, his sense of smell was going, and he hadn’t smelled his own scent.

Here, in these dark corridors, where the shadows lay so thick on the irregular walls, he hadn’t noticed the narrow hole in the tunnel wall.

He only knew that he’d reached unfamiliar territory, that they’d run for a moment without his recognizing any landmarks.

Tallea came to a halt, dropped her glow globe on the ground. “Where to now?” she asked.

“I don’t know!” Orick said. He glanced back. The dronon were not far behind. Their light reflected direly from around the bend. They were marching fast, and Orick dared not keep running ahead blindly. What if they met another dronon patrol? Who knew, how far it might be till this tunnel intersected another.

“Orick, over here!” Tallea hissed. She lifted her glow globe in her teeth, bounded toward several dead sfuz, over near one wall.

When she reached them, she dived behind the nearest corpse, and Orick stared in surprise. The sfuz had fur of dark, dark, purplish hue, but Tallea, with her black fur, looked like Just another dead sfuz. If the dronon didn’t study the corpses closely, they might just pass her by.

Orick rushed to a pair of dead sfuz near her, then nosed under one of the hairy bodies. Orick didn’t have the six long legs to make the disguise complete, but he stuck his rear paws in the air, hoping it might fool the dronon.

He did not have to wait long. In only a couple of minutes, the dronon Vanquishers came surging through the tunnels.

The point guards consisted of six Vanquishers, side by side, each carrying a pulp gun and a light, so that as they came marching down the hall, the Vanquishers filled the tunnel with light. Behind them, the others marched in files of three.

Orick watched them from squinted eyes. The dronon moved swiftly, in an eerie silence. Unlike humans or bears, who would swing their heads from side to side as they listened for enemies or sniffed the air, the dronon marched with heads fully erect, facing perfectly forward. With their numerous eye clusters, the dronon could see everywhere ahead and behind.

The dronon marched over him, and one of the guards near the far wall actually stepped on Orick’s belly, never paying attention to the bear.

Then he was gone, and the others marched past.

Hundreds of them marched together, but most scurried in darkness, and would not have been able to discern Orick’s form.

Somehow, Orick felt terrified that they would recognize him as a bear, but after the first hundred dronon had passed, he began to wonder. Did the dronon even know what a bear was?

Only the Lords of the Sixth Swarm had ever been to the human-occupied worlds. These other dronon might never have even laid eyes on a human, much less a bear. If they noticed that Orick wasn’t a sfuz, perhaps they imagined he was just some other local varmint.

So it came as no surprise when the last dronon scrambled past.

The dronon had not checked the corpses. They’ve probably all heard that Maggie has been caught, Orick realized.

They’re just retreating to their ship, glad to be quit of this place.

When the last dronon footsteps had echoed away, Tallea got up. “Let’s go “ she said.

She picked up her light. Once she put it in her mouth, it began glowing softly. Orick rose, and together they ran, galloping at full speed, fearing time was of the essence.

In five minutes they reached golden cliffs of carved sandstone, and the tunnel that ran along beside the cliffs, climbing uphill. Here, a tremendous battle had raged. Sfuz and dronon lay dead by the thousands and tens of thousands; ifres still burned dimly among the humus.

Oval holes along the cliff face showed where Qualeewoohs had nested once, ages ago. Orick’s heart leapt.

This is it, he thought. This is Teeawah.

Tallea climbed into one of the first holes, bounding through, and Orick followed her into a room full of bones and a few dead sfuz, looking for all the world like dried spiders. This room led them into a wider corridor, and the air here felt clogged and unhealthy, almost unbreathable, as if someone had just cleaned a chimney.

Yet, here Orick made a remarkable discovery. Rushing down a wide corridor he caught familiar scents: the florid essence of Lord Felph’s bath perfumes, along with Zeus’s distinctive lotions, accompanied by … someone Orick recalled-the aroma of pipe tobacco, and a wool coat. And … that old blackguard Thomas Flynn!

Just as Orick began to recuperate from the surprise, up ahead, along a stone corridor, he heard the pop, pop, pop, of a dronon pulp pistol.

Orick halted, wondering what strange news this portended. Zeus he had anticipated might be here-but Felph and Thomas Flynn? He’d left Thomas months ago, back in the Milky Way. Thomas could only have gotten here by a world gate in company with the dronon.

Tallea dropped her glow globe, whispered, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure,” Orick said. “Plenty, I think.”

Orick stood, wondering. He’d never been a hero. That was Gallen’s job, standing in the midst of the battle. But though Orick had the heart for battle, he lacked Gallen’s appendages.

Normally, such minor things wouldn’t bother him, but he was on the path of three men, all of them probably armed, none of whom he trusted. One of them was blasting away, at something.

“Let’s take care,” Orick said.

He and Tallea stalked slowly, sniffing, eyes forward. Orick could smell Zeus most strongly. The young man had come in just moments ago, not far behind the others.

The path led down, past the bodies of several sfuz who lay, still bleeding, in their death throes. The smell of explosives was heavy in the air.

Tallea dimmed her light, and Orick hurried forward.

Somehow, he felt odd-as if every side passage contained sfuz, as if something watched him.

The corridor turned twice, Leaded down, past a pile of corpses-both sfuz and dronon, until at last a pile of sfuz corpses nearly blocked the passage, hundreds upon hundreds of them, all lying in a great heap, their legs twisted horribly, bright black eyes shining in the darkness, white fangs gleaming in Tallea’s dull light.

Felph and the others had merely crawled over the corpses, crawled up and over through a narrow passage, where a faint green light shimmered dimly.

Tallea stopped and studied the dead sfuz, somehow as unnerved by them as Orick was. Orick couldn’t help but remember that Felph had said that these things would reanimate a few hours after death. All of them looked so alive.

How long had it been, anyway, since the dronon had fought here? Orick estimated that it had been six or seven hours since the dronon first made it into the tangle, and a dark line of thought occurred to him.

These sfuz might waken soon. Not just some of them, all of them. This whole place would be crawling with them, and if Orick didn’t hurry and get to the Waters now, he’d never make it out alive.

“Come on,” he told Tallea, as he charged toward the pile of sfuz, bounded up, climbing over the bodies. He had to be careful. Even in death the sfuz were dangerous-fangs gleamed everywhere, and each leg had sharp climbing spurs on it, dangerous things as sharp as any knife. And Lord Felph had warned that these creatures used poisonous weapons. Orick feared that those climbing spurs might be deadly.

Just as he reached the narrow opening at the top of the pile, and glimpsed the green curtain of light farther down the tunnel, something came alive beneath his feet. A warm black body twisted, long spidery legs slashing out with their spurs, trying to disembowel him.

Instinctively Orick tore with his paws, bit down. A sfuz that had lain in the pile squealed in pain, stabbed as it tried to free itself. The monster was impossibly quick, striking three blows to Orick’s chest for each one of his to the monster.

Orick grunted in pain at the blows, trying too frantically to counterattack to make any display of anger.

Just as he began to realize he was in more trouble than he could handle, Tallea darted in, grabbed one of the sfuz’s long legs in her teeth, and pulled. The distraction gave Orick enough time to bat the thing in the head, and the sfuz fell still.

Orick stood panting, his chest heaving. He felt blood oozing out his chest, winced in pain. The wounds were deeper than he would have liked, closer to vital areas. He only hoped that his nanodocs would keep him together.

Yet more frightening than this attack was the fact that one of the sfuz had apparently come alive.

If this one revived, why not others? It might be only a matter of minutes before they all arose.

Orick squirmed over the dead sfuz, down the far side of the pile, and did not slow as he rushed through an icy veil of green light, sniffed something strange: a great dew tree filled this room, its twisted roots splaying in all directions.

The lights all about them, the green curtains of light that felt so cold to the touch, let him see well enough for a bear.

Up near the base of the great tree, a white light shone among the roots. Someone was climbing down from the tree, and the light dipped behind aroot like a star falling beyond the horizon.

Tallea had dropped her own light on the ground, let it dwindle completely. Orick could smell Zeus now, his scent strong. He’d been here only moments before.

“That way!” Tallea said, nodding toward the distant light of the glow globe.

Orick didn’t feel so confident. “Tread quietly,” he whispered.

For the next several moments they ran, surefooted over the twisting roots, moving faster than any human could in the same circumstances. Ahead, the light continued to dwindle and descend, so that now it lit the roots as if it were a campfire in a grotto.

When he neared this circle of light, Orick slowed. Up ahead, on the root they trod, Zeus stood in the darkness, sneaking toward the light, gun drawn.

He shouted some command into the darkness, gazing down toward the light. His face was a pale mask of anger. Orick and Tallea scampered into the shadows to watch.

Lord Felph squatted down near the water, a glow globe in one hand, a canteen in the other. Zeus waved his gun at his father. “I said, put it down. Now!”

Felph looked up, startled, and smiled nervously. “Zeus, so glad to see you made it,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Is the Lord Protector with you?”

He peered about, trying to find Gallen. “Throw me the canteen,” Zeus demanded.

“There is plenty for both of us,” Felph chided, waving expansively to the Waters before him. “Plenty for this whole world.”

“Throw me the canteen!” Zeus shouted, firing a quick burst that whipped past Felph’s brow and exploded into the roots, behind him, down at water level.

Orick breathed deeply, found his heart pounding. So that scoundrel Zeus was trying to steal the Waters.

Lord Felph tossed the canteen up. Zeus grabbed it, while his gun pointed steadily at Felph. Zeus shook the canteen.

Felph said, “See, I was bringing some back for you. Plenty for us all.”

Zeus smiled wickedly, waved his weapon at Felph. “Drop your gun, now, into the water. Slowly.”

Felph did as commanded. When he finished, Zeus nodded toward the shadows. “Tell the slave to drop his weapon.”

Lord Felph glanced back into the shadows. “Do as he says.”

In the shadows, Orick could discern only the smallest of movement. Thomas Flynn stood there, frozen, unable to move. Orick could see the gleam of silver on his graying hair-a Guide.

“Throw down your weapon, slave, or you might both die,” Zeus repeated.

Thomas tossed his gun. It clattered over the roots, dropped into a crevice.

Zeus said, “Thank you,” nodded at Thomas. Then addressed Felph. “Really now, Father, you don’t think I’d let you drink from this, too? You don’t think I’d let any of you have this.”

“Why not?” Felph asked.

“Because I don’t have to,” Zeus said. “You’re here in the tangle, so far from home, your Controller can’t transmit a signal back home. If I killed you now, you’d awaken in a few days, knowing you’d gone into the tangle and never returned. You’d never discover what had happened down here.”

“Come now, after six hundred years of searching, you wouldn’t deny me this?” Felph said. “There is plenty for both of us.”

Zeus chuckled, laughing easily. “You made me to be the ruler,” Zeus said. “You made me to hold the power. I … I don’t need any equals.”

“It is true, I made you to crave power,” Felph said.

“Perhaps I was mistaken in that.”

“So, my life is a mistake?” Zeus asked. “That’s what Arachne told me.”

“When?” Felph asked, his face suddenly clouding with doubt.

In answer, Zeus fired his gun. The blast caught Felph in the belly, and the charge from the pulp gun exploded, carving a ragged hole in his gut. Felph sat down backward, then let the glow globe in his left fist roll from his hand.

It bounced once on the root, dropped into the water, and dimmed as it began to slowly, oh so slowly, sink from sight.

Lord Felph fell backward, lifeless.

“Just before I killed her,” Zeus answered. He gazed over at Thomas, a frown on his face.

“You want to kill me, don’t you?” Zeus asked. Thomas did not answer.

Zeus glanced down at his father, waved his gun. “He’s not dead, you know. In a few hours, he’ll be strutting around the palace. I haven’t really hurt him, have I?”

Thomas said nothing.

Zeus chuckled. Apparently killing his father’s clone was not a major crime. He waved his pulp gun at Thomas, and Orick knew that the young man pondered whether he should murder Thomas.

“You could kill me,” Zeus said. “I see it in your eyes, You want to, but you’re a slave. I know what it is to wear a Guide. I know what it’s like to want to kill someone, and not be able.”

Zeus stared at Thomas. “I give you a present: you shall be my audience.”

Zeus uncorked the canteen, brought it to his lips, and sipped. Orick found himself holding his breath, watching Zeus, watching to see what the water bought with so many lives would do.

Zeus blinked a moment, as if in surprise, then he pulled back the hood of his cloak and stood, looking into the sky above as if staring at something far away. “Ahhhhh!” he sighed in wonder.

Zeus raised his hands upward, placatingly, almost as if trying to pull himself into the sky.

Orick could not see well in the gloom. Zeus stood, arms wide, as if in greeting, and Orick saw something strange: a purple light in Zeus’s eyes, as if reflected while he focused on something high above.

“I see, now!” Zeus breathed in wonder, in rising excitement. He shouted, “We are gods! It is finished. I can lay down my life, and take it up again. I see how!”

Zeus began shaking with excitement, and to Orick, his face seemed unnaturally pale and bright. His dark hair was combed straight back. Orick could see all of Zeus’s face, the strong lines of his mouth drawn back, the skin so pale he looked bloodless.

Orick realized Zeus’s face wasn’t just pale, it glowed with a dim violet light. The green stars dancing in his eyes burned like flames, and Zeus trembled, gazing upward.

“I go now to my fathers.” Zeus closed his eyes, exhaling in a ragged shudder. Orick thought Zeus would die, thought by the way he totally relaxed, the man would simply collapse.

His knees wobbled drunkenly, but he remained standing, and the glow globe below him had almost extinguished. The glow globe, drifting down in the water, had become so dim it looked like a pearl sinking into the sea.

Zeus leaned back his head and opened his mouth, as if to emit a silent scream, and Orick could hardly credit his eyes: for a shadowy form began to break free, struggling from Zeus’s mouth, oozing out like a jellyfish-a shape of shining darkness, a horrible black form shot through with purple lightning, a creature that wriggled on dark wings.

Orick’s heart pounded, for he thought some strange beast was ripping free from Zeus’s body. But as the hideous form surged out, Orick realized he was witnessing a birth, a child struggling from its womb.

The black form put two hands on Zeus’s head-one on his forehead, one on his chin, and twisted as it brought its hips through the narrow cavity of Zeus’s throat, tussling, then suddenly it broke free. For a moment, it sat experimentally on Zeus’s upturned face and spread its dark wings, watching them flap.

Zeus’s body dropped with a sigh, a skin sloughed off, and the dark creature took to the air, wheeled overhead in a tight circle.

The creature leaned its head back, opened its mouth wide, and in Orick’s mind, he imagined that he heard a great cry of triumph. But the beast made no sound. It remained utterly silent.

Yet its body language spoke volumes. It wheeled and whipped through the air in dizzying circles. It flapped joyously and soared upward with abandon, then dived as quickly.

Orick imagined that Zeus would leave, that he would take flight and never return, but suddenly, a green spark erupted in the sky overhead-a spark or a sheet of flame.

In seconds, another blazed, then a third.

Orick gazed up, and saw an emerald form-pale emerald light in the shape of a great bird. For one second, it dived through solid stone, and then it soared upward again.

Half a moment later, six or seven birds of light dived back into view, stooped toward Zeus’s black wriggling form, threatening.

The creature that was Zeus darted and weaved, studying the birds above, dived toward a great root and sat, cowering.

One green bird dived toward him, and Zeus emitted a keen wail and raised his hands to cover his face, folding great black wings behind protectively.

Orick gaped in astonishment. He recognized those birds, had thought only hours ago that one of them was the Holy Spirit, descending in the form of a dove. And he recalled the green pool he’d drunk from when he licked the water from Tallea’s lips. And he remembered the feeling of something stirring within him, and the terrifying sense of doom he’d felt as the birds of light swooped over him, the sense that he was being judged.

And the truth of what had happened struck him to the core.

The pale birds now drew into a tight circle and wheeled above Zeus, flying faster and faster, like the lip of a whirlwind. Zeus could not take to the air, could not hope to escape them.

One bird dived like a hawk, raked Zeus’s head with its claws, then rose again soundlessly, blazing fiercely bright.

Renewed. The bird was renewed. Orick could only imagine that the bird of light had somehow fed upon Zeus, taken energy from him.

More birds came, here and there, up near the ceiling, appearing to fly through the stone, dropping like some fiery and magnificent fruit from the great dew tree.

Zeus huddled in fear, scurrying back from the bright beings above, and only now did Orick see that this dark being was but a shadow, as incorporeal as the birds that flew above.

Zeus flew a short ways, tried to reach his own corpse, the body he had sloughed off a moment before.

The mouth was wide-open, as if in a silent scream, and the black form sought to struggle back into it, as a hermit crab will take up an old shell.

I can lay down my life, and take it up again, Orick thought. Zeus had laid his life aside, now he wanted it back. Yet it was not an easy fit. He writhed and twisted, struggling to reenter his body.

But as Zeus worked to take up his life, a bright bolt of green shot down, raked its claws over his head, gouging deeply.

Worms of purple light bled from Zeus, and a ragged wound formed.

The emerald birds seemed to take courage from this attack.

A second form swept down on flaming wings.

It grasped Zeus with its talons and pulled at his dark soul, opening more wounds, so that the black skin of the creature seemed torn wide, spilling light.

The bird clung to him, bit deeply.

In pain and terror, the creature that was Zeus raised its hands, protecting its shadowy face, and tried to beat its attacker back.

A third bird of light descended, blazing like a green furnace, grabbed Zeus’s wing in its beak, and tore.

Purple flames of light erupted from the joint at Zeus’s back.

He turned and pummeled vainly at his attackers, striking with all his might. The birds of light flapped their wings, retreated to the air.

Zeus’s black form bled purple light that erupted from a dozen major wounds, yet Zeus struggled on. For half a moment, the black thing drooped, as if weary, as if it would simply die.

Yet in that moment, the shadowy form surged back into Zeus’s body, flowing like something molten, sliding into Zeus’s throat.

Zeus lay on his back, his mouth gaping wide, purple light shining from it as if he’d swallowed a glow globe. His eyes, too, glowed purple.

He breathed raggedly, struggling, and gave a choking sob.

The birds of light dived now, redoubling the attack, as if furious with Zeus.

Zeus raised one hand, as if to hold them at bay, and a bolt of lightning cracked the air, splitting the sky.

For half a second, the bird of light glowed brilliantly, caught in its arc, and then veered away. The others also swerved in their fight, suddenly wary.

“Damn you!” Zeus shouted. And he began laughing, a throaty croak. He struggled up to one elbow. The green birds of light became frantic, one swooped near.

Zeus threw another lightning bolt, cracking the sky, and for half a second, Orick was blinded.

Then Zeus began to shriek. Orick blinked, struggled to see what was happening.

Zeus was shrieking, rolling on the ground. All around him was a confusion of green light, emerald brilliance that baffled the eyes. Zeus held up his hand, as if to shoot off another lightning bolt, but none came. He was out of energy. The flock of birds seemed to be ripping him, dipping their beaks into his body, tearing away flesh. Yet Orick could see no physical damage, no bloody wounds, no gaping rents. Instead, the birds were dipping their faces down deep, below the level of flesh, tearing away something more essential.

For nearly a minute the birds took him, ripping at him, and Zeus’s cries diminished. He stopped rolling, stopped trying to fight them at all.

Until one by one, the birds of light rose, ascended back up through the stone roof, back up past the odd stone pipes and hoary machinery.

Orick ran to Zeus, more from curiosity than from any desire to help the man.

Zeus took labored breaths. The light in his mouth and eyes was dimming, fading so that Orick almost wondered if he imagined that he saw the purples. Tears slid down his cheeks. Orick knew he would die, that he could not last much longer.

Nearby, Thomas was climbing down a root to see if Lord Felph, by some miracle, remained alive.

Zeus gasped. “Help me! Help!” Orick could not help him.

Zeus looked up, imploringly. “They … stopped me. Almost, almost I was one of them, but they fought me.”

Zeus acted as if he wanted Orick to pity him.

But Orick felt no pity. Zeus had taken the Waters of Strength, and would have withheld them from Gallen. Having entered the gates of heaven, he would bar the way from all who would follow.

“Water!” Zeus begged, desperate. “Give … more.”

Orick dared not. Perhaps the Water would heal Zeus. To let such a monster live just didn’t seem right.

Orick backed away, as Zeus sagged, his last breath coming out with a rattle.

Down by the water’s edge, Thomas checked Fetph’s corpse, found it dead.

“Go and protect Lord Felph,” Thomas said aloud, “then return.”

He got up woodenly, and began climbing through the tangled roots of the great tree, heading out of Teeawah.

Orick would have argued with Thomas, told him to stay. It would be dangerous for one old man to wander off alone, with the sfuz waking.

But Thomas wore a Guide, and right now, there was nothing Orick could do to stop the old fellow from leaving, short of biting his pants and hanging on.

Tallea whispered urgently in Orick’s ear, “Orick, we have to get the Waters for Gallen and go-if you still want it. If you think it will do any good.” The hour was growing late.

Orick didn’t know how long ago Gallen and Maggie had reached Felph’s palace, did not know if they had battled.

Yet, somehow, he imagined that the hour was past. He was too late.

Orick wondered. The Qualeewoohs claimed to have conquered time, space, nature, self. What would that entail?

Do I have such powers? Can I reach Gallen?

More importantly, what good would the Waters be, if Gallen met a fate like that of Zeus?

And yet, and yet-not everyone met Zeus’s fate, Orick knew. The Qualeewoohs had judged Zeus, found him lacking.

Orick looked down at the pool, shimmering velvet in the darkness. His heart pounded. From distant reaches of the caverns came a frantic whistling.