David Farland - Lords of the Seventh Swarm

“I’ll try to find a way into Teeawah-sneak in if I can. Or if I can’t, I’ll come back for you. If I’m not back in six hours-”

“-Three hours, just let me rest for three hours,” Maggie said.

“Four hours, then,” Gallen said. “If I’m not back in four hours, I probably won’t be back at all. Do you understand?”

Maggie’s heart pounded. The stress was making her chest and arms ache. She nodded dumbly. “I love you.”

Gallen brushed some fallen hair from her eyes. “I love you, too. Don’t take my robe off. Maybe it can hide your scent. I’m going to cover your tracks up ahead, where the trails cross. But keep your eyes open. Don’t take the safety off your weapon.”

Maggie licked her dry lips. Gallen kissed her, long and slow. She savored the taste of his lips, the smell of his hair. She held him for a moment. When he pulled back, it felt as if he’d been wrenched from her. She had an odd feeling. I’ll never see him again , she thought. It was a fear she’d never faced before, one she’d never conceived. Not when Karthenor took her prisoner on Fale, not when the Inhuman took his mind on Tremonthin. She’d never believed she would lose him.

Yet now the fear came, as if the future held a black certainty.

When Gallen pulled away, she almost grabbed him and held. When he turned his back and hurried into the darkness, she almost followed. He carried no light, just jogged into the shadows, relying on his mantle to help him place his next step.

Maggie sat with her weapon across her knees and ate her bread, no longer noticing its taste. Everyone remained awake.

Zeus came up beside Maggie, stood watching her for a moment. “Will he come back if he finds a way into the city?”

Maggie shook her head, staring at the ground. The soil here was so thick, so rich, she imagined. She wished she’d found such soil elsewhere, in a place where she could have planted a garden. “I don’t know. No, he won’t come back. Not unless he has to.”

“He’ll go searching for the Waters alone?” Zeus asked.

“He will, if he thinks it’s safest for us,” Maggie answered.

Zeus said nothing, but after a moment she realized he was breathing hard, just staring off into the darkness, as if he could peer through the dirt and darkness of the tangle.

“He’ll come back,” Maggie said.

Zeus nodded, then asked, “Do you have an extra glow globe?”

“Check your pack,” Maggie said. “I’m sure Gallen left each of us one.”

Zeus went off, a little nearer toward the entrance to the tunnel and sat. It was a good place to take guard duty. He laid his pistol over his knee. then opened his pack, pulled out his light, some grenades, and a bit of food, began munching something that Maggie couldn’t make out.

Nervously, he watched the opening to the tunnel.

Maggie felt the ground shake from time to time, evidence that fighting still continued above.

She measured time by the beating of her heart. No one spoke for many, many minutes. No one dared disturb the silence.

Orick and Tallea began whispering softly, Orick telling her of the saving ordinances of the gospel, and after a few moments, they headed farther back into the tunnel, back into the wider chamber, where the tunnel met the cliffs. Maggie imagined that they wanted to be alone.

Zeus held his light, letting it grow dimmer and dimmer, until it gave no light whatsoever.

Maggie busied herself by recalling songs she’d sung as a child, songs about green trees and young girls in love.

And death. Songs about death. Really, there seemed to be no theme to the songs that came to mind, just one senseless tune after another.

After a long time, her eyes grew gritty and tired. She closed them, and might have slept.

Orick whispered to Tallea, “Then one night a leader of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, came to Jesus’ room, and Jesus told him, ‘Verily, verily, I say unto you, except. a man be born of the water and of the spirit, he cannot enter into the Kingdom of God.’”

Tallea frowned. “Why not?”

Orick hesitated to discuss such dangerous things. If he spoke of her need for baptism before she was ready, he feared she would balk. So he wanted to lead her to the idea gradually, let her get used to it. But he had no idea how to proceed. “Well, it’s a ritual … that shows our willingness to submit to God, keep His commandments. And in return, He forgives us our weaknesses and prepares us so we can live in His kingdom.”

Tallea began to tremble slightly, as if afraid, and she raised her ears. “Are you baptized?”

Och, of course,” Orick said. “Everyone gets baptized-mean, even Jesus got baptized.”

“He did?” Tallea asked. “But you said he was sinless. Why would he need to be forgiven?”

“Och, I don’t know!’’ Orick said, for he’d never considered the matter. On inspiration, he nosed into his pack, opened his Bible to the tale of Jesus’ baptism. Orick put his paw on a glow globe, causing it to glow fiercely, so that he could read:

“Then comets Jesus from Galilee to Jordan unto John, to be baptized of him,

“And John forbade him, saying, I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me?

“And Jesus answering said unto him, Suffer it to be so for now: for thus it becometh us to fulfill all righteousness.”

Orick suddenly realized that John had asked Jesus the same question that Tallea was asking him now. “In here, Jesus had John baptize him, but notice he said, ‘Suffer it to be so for now.’ I think it means that in the future, Jesus planned to baptize John-or more accurately, he would redeem him from his sins, which is what baptism is all about.”

“But what about the passage, ‘for thus it becometh us to fulfill all righteousness’?” Tallea said.

Orick considered the words “fulfill all righteousness.”

“Jesus was sinless, in both thought and deed,” Orick said. “So even though he didn’t need to be redeemed from his sins, he did need to keep his own commandment. He was setting an example, showing us that baptism is important.” Orick began to recall that somewhere in the dim past, one of the monks at Obhiann Abbey had mentioned this concept.

“If baptism was necessary for Jesus, isn’t it necessary for me?” Tallea asked.

Orick hedged, “Well, it’s a symbol of willingness to keep God’s commandments, and, uh-”

“But I need it, right?”

“Well … uh, officially-”

“Will you baptize me?” Tallea asked.

Orick hadn’t considered. He wasn’t a priest. He had no proper authority, didn’t even know where to go to get it. He’d found Christian religions on some worlds. On Abbo, he went to the Orange Catholic Church for a service, but they had such a jumble of odd notions, all tied to the worship of some Saint Aesopland, he couldn’t make hide nor hair of it.

“What’s wrong, don’t you want to baptize me?” Tallea asked.

“Well, like I said, it’s a sign of willingness to keep God’s commandments-”

“Which ones?” Tallea asked. “To love one another, even as we love ourselves? Or the Ten Commandments? I remember all ten. I don’t lie or steal. I’ve killed a few folks, but I can give that up-”

“Well, uh-” Orick scrambled for an answer.

“Won’t you baptize me?” Tallea asked. “Please? I’ll do it-I’ll do whatever you ask!”

Orick hadn’t anticipated this. He’d sort of thought that he’d have to beg and wheedle and convince Tallea of her need for baptism. Then they’d maybe go back to Tihrglas and find a priest to do it proper. He’d imagined it would take weeks and months-maybe years-before Tallea would develop enough faith to concede to the need for baptism. He hadn’t thought she’d convert in a matter of two days, then come demanding it from him like this. “It’s not so easy. Only some folks have authority to baptize-priests and whatnot.”