David Farland - Lords of the Seventh Swarm

“No,” Maggie said as Zeus advanced, reaching for her. “No!”

“Maggie-” he began to say, and suddenly a change seemed to come over him. He seemed angry with her. He straightened his back, clenched his jaw. He towered menacingly, and Maggie feared he would strike. He stopped, hands shaking.

“Zeus? Maggie? Is that you?” a woman’s voice came from uphill. A woman rounded a corner of the road between two towering walls of roses. She bore a candle in her hand.

“Ah, it is you,” Hera called. “In the garden I found your candle burning. I hoped you wouldn’t be far.”

“You were walking?” Zeus asked, incredulous. “Here in the North Garden?”

“As I’ve often wanted to at night,” Hera said with a slight nod, “before our lord freed us.”

Zeus held his tongue, subdued for the moment. Maggie felt sure Hera had followed them, had perhaps been watching them all along.

“Oh,” Hera said in surprise, looking at their faces, at the way they stood too near one another. “I’m not disturbing anything?”

Zeus touched Maggie’s elbow from behind, a gentle warning, though she needed none. “No,” Maggie said. “We were just about to come in.”

“Indeed, my pet,” Zeus told Hera, “I’m glad you found us. I’d enjoy your company on the walk home. I fear it is getting cold out here.”

“Cold? I don’t think so,” Hera said.

“Believe me, it has been cooler than I like,” Zeus answered, gently putting his hand on Maggie’s shoulder. He squeezed it as if to say, “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

As Zeus left with Hera, Maggie nearly collapsed. A sudden release of adrenaline accompanied Zeus’s departure. Maggie’s hands and legs shook so badly she could hardly walk:

She dropped to the grass and sat, taking great wracking breaths, almost sobbing. Gallen, Gallen forgive me for what I almost did, she told herself. On Cyannesse Gallen had made love to a Tharrin, had given himself to a child who was forced too soon to become a woman. He’d done it because the girl was sweet, because she needed comfort. Mostly, Maggie now realized, he’d done it because of pheromones. If the Tharrin’s release of amorous chemicals had been anything like Zeus’s, it would have required the steadfastness of a saint to walk away.

Gallen was no saint. Neither am I , Maggie realized.

Tomorrow. Zeus wanted to meet her tomorrow. Maggie felt dizzy with desire. It so frightened her, she ran back to her room, leaving her shoes in the garden.

As Zeus went to Hera, he took her arm in his, and decided to leave his dirty plates and picnic basket by the fountains till morning. They strolled along up through the flowers, until they’d left Maggie far behind, and Hera said, “I hope I spoiled your evening.”

“Never fear, my dove,” Zeus answered. “I had the quarry cornered, but was about to let her go anyway. Some women appreciate a man who struggles for self-control in the face of her overwhelming charms. I want her to think well of me.”

Hera laughed lightly. “I rather doubt she’ll think of anything but you, tonight.”

Zeus chuckled. He’d halfway-seduced Maggie. He imagined she would sleep uneasy; fantasizing about him. Let her suffer the night, and let Hera think she’s scored some minor victory. The night had turned out better than Zeus had hoped. Even if he did not get Maggie to lift her skirt, he suspected he had gone his siblings one better.

He hoped he could trick Maggie into helping him murder Lord Felph.

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.”