David Farland - Lords of the Seventh Swarm

“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!”