David Farland - Lords of the Seventh Swarm

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.