David Farland - Lords of the Seventh Swarm

The hollow chamber here was shaped, something like an egg. Thomas had imagined there would be furnishings inside, as if it were a home back on Tihrglas with a butter churn in one corner and a sofa near the fireplace.

What he saw repulsed him. The floors lay bare of furnishings, but in every corner bones and dung lay in fetid heaps. All along the wall were odd trophies-dozens of flesh-covered heads from some large creatures, like ogres, each with a huge horn on its forehead; a collection of animal tails were tacked in another line; an assortment of dried turds and testicles were pinned into the stone with wooden thorns. It wasn’t until Thomas whiffed the ungodly odor from these items that he realized they weren’t to look at-these items were here to smell.

Maybe the sfuz relished these bouquets as humans would the scent of flowers. Or more likely, this room seemed to form a library of scents, where young hunters could learn to track prey.

“Here’s what we’re looking for,” Felph said, holding his light to a large passage that opened near the wall. “A common area. The Quaieewoohs connect these from various points. They twist a lot, and can be tricky.”

With that, he held his glow globe aloft, began searching along a wide passage with a low ceiling that Ied deep into the city. Everywhere, side passages led to small rooms.

Felph ignored these as he clambered over asphyxiated sfuz.

“Let me tell you something,” Felph huffed. “We have perhaps two hours before these dead sfuz begin to reanimate. By then, we’d best be well away.” It was such an odd thing to say, and the young lord said it with such sincerity, the, notion took Thomas’s breath. Did he really believe these dead would rise again?

In the past weeks, Thomas had seen so many wonders, he couldn’t question this. If you told me they’d all transform into hummingbirds, Thomas thought, it wouldn’t faze me .

They found another large passage that merged with the one they were in, like streams meeting to form a river, becoming one enormous tunnel, heading downward.

Here, in the depths of the city, the numbers of dead diminished. It was as if all the sfuz had gone to do battle. Yet ahead, Thomas heard an odd whistling, and Felph immediately fell into a crouch, waving his weapon.

“Well,” Felph whispered. “It seems we have company. The sfuz must be guarding their waters. Get your weapon ready to fire.”

Thomas did as ordered, though he’d never fired a pulp pistol. It was similar enough to Gallen’s incendiary rifle, he thought he knew, how to handle it.

He held it stiffly, at arm’s length, afraid of its explosive power. Felph frowned at his stance.

They descended down the wide corridor to meet the sfuz.

Orick smelled the dead dronon before he saw them, but he smelled Gallen, too, and bounded forward, calling Gallen’s name.

Gallen raised up, like a heap of bloody rags coming to life, and Orick froze in horror.

“Or-Or-Go back!” Gallen choked.

From the far end of the chamber, as lights suddenly blazed, a Vanquisher stepped forward, a shadow among shadows, and knelt low, crossing its battle arms before it, pointing its head to the floor. Its mouthfingers pounded over its voicedrum and a translator said, “Welcome, Maggie Flynn, O great and honored Golden Queen. We bring you greetings and a challenge from Cintkin and Kintiniklintit, Lords of the Seventh Swarm.”

“No!” Maggie screamed.

“This land is ours,” the Vanquisher continued his ritual greeting. “All land is ours! A great Golden Queen comes among you. She is worthy! Prepare for battle!

Behind Orick, Maggie screamed again, “No! No!” The sound of it nearly broke his heart. A dozen times in the last months he’d heard her wake in the night, screaming those words.

Now it comes , he realized, the sum of all her nightmares .

Above him, dozens of dronon flapped their wings. By instinct Orick reared on his hind legs, prepared to battle. He sniffed the air, and immediately dropped to all fours. He was a bear, alone against dronon with heavy weapons. He couldn’t fight. To Tailea’s credit. she too had reared on her hind legs, and now stood, roaring her rage, so the sound reverberated through the chamber. The nearest dronon shrank back reflexively.

Give ’em hell , Orick thought. He ran to Gallen, found Gallen nearly unconscious.

“Gallen, Gallen?” Orick grumbled, and he licked Gallen’s face, trying to shock his friend awake. He tasted blood and dirt.

Gallen struggled to look up. He seemed unaware of what was going on. He choked out the words. “Get out of here. The dronon were here. Don’t let them get Maggie!”

Orick tried to survey all the damage at once. Gallen’s face was a swollen mass. Blood stained the robes of his arms and legs. His mantle was gone, lying in the dirt a dozen paces out of his reach. His right leg twisted at an unnatural angle, broken in more than one place, chained to a stake in the ground.

“Are you all right?” Orick asked in shock, knowing Gallen was an inch from death, not knowing what else to say.

Gallen just dropped his head and began to sob, his shoulders shuddering under the impact. “Found … city. Ahead. Beat me. They beat me … so bad.”

Orick looked at the dead dronon lying about, hacked with a vibro-blade, carapaces smashed from kicks. Gallen must have put up a terrible fight, an unholy fight. At least two dozen of the creatures lay dead. He’d never imagined anything like it.

Orick suddenly became aware that Maggie had rushed up beside him and had fallen to her knees. He’d been so focused on Gallen, hadn’t registered her presence still standing behind him. She just knelt, hovering above Gallen, her hands out, wanting to touch him, afraid to touch him, lest she hurt him further.

“Gallen, lad, what can I do for you? What can I do?” I’ll fight in his place, Orick thought. That’s what I’ll do. He can’t fight, so I’ll take his place.

Gallen shook his head. Nothing. You can do nothing, he was saying.

“I know, I know,” Orick said. “I’ll cut myself, let the nanodocs in my blood heal you. the way we did for Everynne that time.”

Gallen’s head wobbled back and forth, and Orick reached with one claw, pricked his right paw, then began smearing blood over Gallen’s head on the top. He felt as if he were a bishop, anointing a priest with holy oil. He dared not smear the blood elsewhere, for Gallen’s body was so battered and torn, he didn’t want to hurt his friend. By hurting I heal him, Orick thought, and he dabbed the blood over a deep gash on Gallen’s temple.

Maggie put a restraining hand on Orick’s paw. Though she’d been sobbing uncontrollably, her voice when she spoke sounded calm. “Don’t Orick. You’re only hurting him. Don’t hurt him more. There’s no time. Even with nanodocs, it will take weeks for him to heal.”

Orick looked up at her. She’s reconciled to her own death, he realized. “But, but-I’ll fight for you, Maggie. I”ll be your Lord Protector!”

Maggie held a glow globe lightly in her left hand. Its piercing light shone full on her face. She was pale as death, the freckles she’d had as a child standing out unnaturally clear. Maggie took several breaths. Gallen fainted, and she put one hand on his shoulder, then looked at Orick, as if he were far away.

“Orick, my friend, my dearest friend. There’s nothing you can do for me now. If you fight in Gallen’s stead, you’ll die. You can’t beat the dronon. I won’t have the weight of that on my conscience. Gallen wouldn’t want it either.”

Orick stared. She was right, yet he could not accept defeat. “No!” Orick cried.