I should have known, Gallen thought. He's a gallant one. Kintiniklintit plans to kill us. I shouldn't have told Maggie to fail right. He'll come straight through us!
There was no time to warn her now. He could only hope she'd see the danger.
Suddenly he felt her shift, spin away as if to dodge left. Gallen feinted right, and Lord Kintiniklintit spit, his stomach acids exploding out, frothing white, hurtling over Gallen's right shoulder.
But instead of dodging, Gallen hurled his stone with all his might, catching the Dronon Lord in the right front eye cluster. In surprise Kintiniklintit turned his head defensively. Gallen dropped and rolled right.
Kintiniklintit's battle arms swatted the ground as the great Lord passed, hitting the precise spot where Gallen had stood. Fortunately, Maggie had ignored Gallen's advice and dived left. The maneuver saved her life.
The Dronon hosts suddenly quieted, surprised.
And yet Gallen did not feel relief to see Maggie alive and unharmed. Instead he felt only dismay, for as the Lord Escort had passed him, Gallen had seen Kintiniklintit's left sensor whip sail by, within easy grasp.
Gallen had bulldogged a Dronon that way, jerking the sensor whip down so hard that the Dronon flew headfirst into the ground. It might not be enough to kill Lord Kintiniklintit, but Gallen realized, to his dismay, he could have struck a blow against the Lord.
As Gallen struggled to rise on his broken leg, he heard Maggie grumble. "If I'm going to be in this fight, I'm in all the way. I'll not be just a lamppost for you to lean on!"
Maggie fumbled on the ground, pulled up a rock as Gallen had done before. Then she came to Gallen.
Kintiniklintit hurtled through the air, redoubling his speed. Maggie helped Gallen to stand. He groaned in pain as he tried to put weight on his leg. He had retrieved a rock.
"I don't think it's legal to use these," Maggie said.
"I don't care about the rules anymore," Gallen said.
Lord Kintiniklintit had reached the apex of his climb. He veered and streaked toward them. The thunderheads behind him were moving fast, so that even as the sun rose, the darkness deepened. He flew now not in sunlight, but in shadow.
"Same tactic as before," Gallen whispered.
Maggie glanced at him fretfully. "Are you sure?"
"I never used exactly the same tactic twice in my other fights,'' Gallen said. "He'll know that. He won't expect this."
Gallen considered dropping his stone. If this was to be a replay, he knew what he had to do. He had to grab that sensor whip and yank down with all his might, though the force of it would rip his arms from their sockets.
But this would not be a replay. Lord Kintiniklintit came in lower, and from the left. The
front edge of a Dronon's hard wing could slice a man like a saber, and by aiming his attack at Maggie, Lord Kintiniklintit showed that his gallant overtures had reached an
end.
If Maggie could not dodge him, Gallen would have to leap between the two. The Dronon expected him to do so.
Maggie remained steadfast as Kintiniklintit attacked.
"Go right," she shouted, and at that moment she threw her rock.
Perhaps she'd imagined Kintiniklintit had enough eyes left in his right eye cluster that he would see the rock coming, try to dodge. She'd imagined wrong.
The Vanquisher flew straight on, taking a hit to the head, the rock bouncing harmlessly off his exoskeleton. Maggie tried to drop beneath his wings, too slow.
Gallen threw himself in front of her, blocking the attack with a fierce blow to Lord Kintinikiintit's wing. The sturdy wing cracked under the impact, but the edge of the wing caught Gallen in the temple on its upstroke, slamming his forehead.
Gallen felt himself falling, saw nothing but bright flashes of light in the darkness.
The next Gallen knew, he lay on his back, not knowing how long he'd been down. He opened his eyes, felt blood in them, saw red. Blood gushed from his brow, had pooled in his eye sockets.
"Gallen, get up! Save me!" Maggie screamed. She slapped his face, tried to rouse him.
Gallen vainly tried to recall where he was, could not remember. But he rolled to his knees, in tremendous pain.
Only Maggie's screams seemed to penetrate the fog in his mind.
He stared at the ground for a moment, tried to focus. All around a great din arose-the clacking cries of Dronon. He stared dumbly at his gloved hands, saw hot blood spattering on the ground, his blood. Maggie screamed and grabbed his shoulder, tried to pull him up.
He grasped her arm, tried to struggle to his feet.
"Where-what's happening?" he asked. "Where's Orick?" He didn't know why that question came to mind. He had a sense that if Orick were here, Orick would fix everything. But as Gallen glanced around, he could see no bear--only the red pavilions, only the millions of dark bodies.
The air around him smelled acrid-the scent of Dronon stomach acids. "Oh, Gallen!" Maggie cried, and she was holding his face up, trying to look into his face, but blood spilled down onto her hands. The shock on her face, the fear in her brown eyes, told him he did not look well.
“What? What?" Gallen asked.
And suddenly amid the clamor and the tumult, the million voices crying out in a furor for blood, suddenly in the slow wind, Gallen looked out toward the sun, saw Kintiniklintit winging toward him, flying out of the sun, low to the ground, battle arms raised.
"Got to go," Gallen said thickly, tried to push Maggie away. The Dronon Lord was flying toward her unprotected back. But Gallen's muscles had all gone rubbery, his movements felt disjointed.
He tried to push her away, and felt as feeble as a child. She held him, tried to hold him upright. She glanced over her shoulder at the Vanquisher.
Gallen tried to push her, tried to get.in front of her, but realized numbly that she held him tight, that she shielded him with her body.
"I love you, Gallen," she said.
The Vanquisher was coming, and Gallen struggled with Maggie in a clumsy dance. With one great heave, he shoved her back, just as Kintiniklintit struck.
Gallen only had time to half turn to the monster thundering toward him when he heard battle arms whistle downward. One of them struck him on the right shoulder, cleaving through the collarbone, ripping down through his right lung and the rib bones, exiting from his belly.
The blow totally undid Gallen, ripping him nearly in half. He dropped backward to a sitting position from the force of the blow, was thrown sideways so that his face hit the dirt.
He lay there, unmoving, unable to move-yet still strangely conscious. He felt no pain, sound was but a dim rushing in his ears, the delighted cries of Dronon Vanquishers sounding like nothing so much as the sea.
Maggie got up from the ground, stared at him in dismay. Her lip was bleeding, and though Gallen struggled to breathe, he found himself choking and knew that in seconds his life would bleed from him. He felt no sorrow for himself, only for her. He so wanted to reach out, to comfort her.
Gallen saw Kintiniklintit turn sharply, double back, and the roaring of the sea grew, filled his ears. When a Lord Escort came to kill a queen, it did not move so swiftly as when it killed her protector. The Dronon considered the combat to be over. Golden Queens, with their bloated bellies and feeble arms, could not protect themselves.
Maggie touched Gallen's cheek, stroked it, and glanced over her shoulder as Kintiniklintit made his final assault.
To her credit, Maggie raised her fists and assumed a combat stance. The mantle she wore must have shown her this stance.
But Maggie was no Lord Protector.
Kintiniklintit dived toward her, and by now, Gallen's hearing had gone dim. He coughed uncontrollably, his life hacking from him as he struggled for breath. Distantly, he saw the Dronon Vanquisher stoop, battle arms raised high overhead, mouth opened so that its terrible teeth, like the yellow teeth of a horse, gaped at her.
Orick, where are you? Gallen wondered. He remembered now that Orick was seeking
the Waters of, Strength, that Orick would drink from them, was supposed to come save him. If the Qualeewoohs had conquered time, then Orick should have been here by now. But Orick was nowhere to be seen.
As Kintiniklintit neared, Maggie leapt in the air and kicked.
But Maggie was no Lord Protector. She did not leap high or fast enough. While carrying a child in her womb, she could have done neither.
Kintiniklintit's battle arms swung down with alarming speed, slashing Maggie at the midriff, slicing her nearly in two.
Blood sprayed in the air-dark droplets that seemed to fall in slow motion, and Maggie's head and torso dropped backward, thudded next to Gallen.
Her head was toward him, face upraised, as if in her last moment she'd tried to turn to him. Her eyes, her deep brown eyes with their flecks of gold, stared at him vacantly, unmoving.
Gallen's mantle lay in a pile beside her red hair, the gems in it shining. It had slipped off.
She did not breathe, did not cry out. Gallen felt--nothing. So empty. Why did I bring her to this? he wondered. He could feel nothing, no pain or despair, no love or hope.
Instead, he simply stared out over the crowds of Dronon in their millions, saw them raising their arms, crying out in triumph. In the distance, across the field, Hera and Athena rushed toward him.
Go back, he wanted to say. They could do nothing now.
The ground felt cold on his face, and he imagined that the smell of blood came from the soil, that blood was somehow rising from the earth.
The earth bleeds, he thought in wonder, just as we do.
He stared off at a line of clouds rushing toward him, lightning flashing at their crown.
Thunderheads.
Everything nearby had gone out of focus. Before the line of clouds, two dark forms winged toward him-hazy, indistinct.
Angels, he realized. Black angels coming for me.
Chapter Forty Six
Orick raced desperately down the tunnel beside Tallea, fleeing the Dronon Vanquishers. He needed to find the Waters of Strength, and soon, yet found himself running away from Teeawah, dashing through the smoky corridors, leaping over the bodies of dead Dronon and sfuz.
They had run perhaps six hundred meters, when Orick realized he had missed his turnoff. With the smoke so thick, his sense of smell was going, and he hadn’t smelled his own scent.
Here, in these dark corridors, where the shadows lay so thick on the irregular walls, he hadn’t noticed the narrow hole in the tunnel wall.
He only knew that he’d reached unfamiliar territory, that they’d run for a moment without his recognizing any landmarks.
Tallea came to a halt, dropped her glow globe on the ground. “Where to now?” she asked.
“I don’t know!” Orick said. He glanced back. The Dronon were not far behind. Their light reflected direly from around the bend. They were marching fast, and Orick dared not keep running ahead blindly. What if they met another Dronon patrol? Who knew, how far it might be till this tunnel intersected another.
"Orick, over here!" Tallea hissed. She lifted her glow globe in her teeth, bounded toward several dead sfuz, over near one wall.
When she reached them, she dived behind the nearest corpse, and Orick stared in surprise. The sfuz had fur of dark, dark, purplish hue, but Tallea, with her black fur, looked like Just another dead sfuz. If the Dronon didn't study the corpses closely, they might just pass her by.
Orick rushed to a pair of dead sfuz near her, then nosed under one of the hairy bodies. Orick didn't have the six long legs to make the disguise complete, but he stuck his rear paws in the air, hoping it might fool the Dronon.
He did not have to wait long. In only a couple of minutes, the Dronon Vanquishers came surging through the tunnels.
The point guards consisted of six Vanquishers, side by side, each carrying a pulp gun and a light, so that as they came marching down the hall, the Vanquishers filled the tunnel with light. Behind them, the others marched in files of three.
Orick watched them from squinted eyes. The Dronon moved swiftly, in an eerie silence. Unlike humans or bears, who would swing their heads from side to side as they listened for enemies or sniffed the air, the Dronon marched with heads fully erect, facing perfectly forward. With their numerous eye clusters, the Dronon could see everywhere ahead and behind.
The Dronon marched over him, and one of the guards near the far wall actually stepped on Orick's belly, never paying attention to the bear.
Then he was gone, and the others marched past.
Hundreds of them marched together, but most scurried in darkness, and would not have been able to discern Orick's form.
Somehow, Orick felt terrified that they would recognize him as a bear, but after the first hundred Dronon had passed, he began to wonder. Did the Dronon even know what a bear was?
Only the Lords of the Sixth Swarm had ever been to the human-occupied worlds. These other Dronon might never have even laid eyes on a human, much less a bear. If they noticed that Orick wasn't a sfuz, perhaps they imagined he was just some other local varmint.
So it came as no surprise when the last Dronon scrambled past.
The Dronon had not checked the corpses. They've probably all heard that Maggie has been caught, Orick realized.
They're just retreating to their ship, glad to be quit of this place.
When the last Dronon footsteps had echoed away, Tallea got up. "Let's go " she said.
She picked up her light. Once she put it in her mouth, it began glowing softly. Orick rose, and together they ran, galloping at full speed, fearing time was of the essence.
In five minutes they reached golden cliffs of carved sandstone, and the tunnel that ran along beside the cliffs, climbing uphill. Here, a tremendous battle had raged. Sfuz and Dronon lay dead by the thousands and tens of thousands; ifres still burned dimly among the humus.
Oval holes along the cliff face showed where Qualeewoohs had nested once, ages ago. Orick's heart leapt.
This is it, he thought. This is Teeawah.
Tallea climbed into one of the first holes, bounding through, and Orick followed her into a room full of bones and a few dead sfuz, looking for all the world like dried spiders. This room led them into a wider corridor, and the air here felt clogged and unhealthy, almost unbreathable, as if someone had just cleaned a chimney.
Yet, here Orick made a remarkable discovery. Rushing down a wide corridor he caught familiar scents: the florid essence of Lord Felph's bath perfumes, along with Zeus's distinctive lotions, accompanied by ... someone Orick recalled-the aroma of pipe tobacco, and a wool coat. And ... that old black-guard Thomas Flynn!
Just as Orick began to recuperate from the surprise, up ahead, along a stone corridor, he heard the pop, pop, pop, of a Dronon pulp pistol.
Orick halted, wondering what strange news this portended. Zeus he had anticipated might be here-but Felph and Thomas Flynn? He'd left Thomas months ago, back in the Milky Way. Thomas could only have gotten here by a world gate-in company with the Dronon.
Tallea dropped her glow globe, whispered, "What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure," Orick said. "Plenty, I think."
Orick stood, wondering. He'd never been a hero. That was Gallen's job, standing in the midst of the battle. But though Orick had the heart for battle, he lacked Gallen's appendages.
Normally, such minor things wouldn't bother him, but he was on the path of three men, all of them probably armed, none of whom he trusted. One of them was blasting away, at something.
"Let's take care," Orick said.
He and Tallea stalked slowly, sniffing, eyes forward. Orick could smell Zeus most strongly. The young man had come in just moments ago, not far behind the others.
The path led down, past the bodies of several sfuz who lay, still bleeding, in their death throes. The smell of explosives was heavy in the air.
Tallea dimmed her light, and Orick hurried forward.
Somehow, he felt odd-as if every side passage contained sfuz, as if
something watched him.
The corridor turned twice, Leaded down, past a pile of corpses-both sfuz and Dronon, until at last a pile of sfuz corpses nearly blocked the passage, hundreds upon hundreds of them, all lying in a great heap, their legs twisted horribly, bright black eyes shining in the darkness, white fangs gleaming in Tallea's dull light.
Felph and the others had merely crawled over the corpses, crawled up and over through a narrow passage, where a faint green light shimmered dimly.
Tallea stopped and studied the dead sfuz, somehow as unnerved by them as Orick was. Orick couldn't help but remember that Felph had said that these things would reanimate a few hours after death. All of them looked-so alive.
How long had it been, anyway, since the Dronon had fought here? Orick estimated that it had been six or seven hours since the Dronon first made it into the tangle, and a dark line of thought occurred to him.
These sfuz might waken soon. Not just some of them, all of them. This whole place would be crawling with them, and if Orick didn't hurry and get to the Waters now, he'd never make it out alive.
"Come on," he told Tallea, as he charged toward the pile of sfuz, bounded up, climbing over the bodies. He had to be careful. Even in death the sfuz were dangerous--fangs gleamed everywhere, and each leg had sharp climbing spurs on it, dangerous things as sharp as any knife. And Lord Felph had warned that these creatures used poisonous weapons. Orick feared that those climbing spurs might be deadly.
Just as he reached the narrow opening at the top of the pile, and glimpsed the green curtain of light farther down the tunnel, something came alive beneath his feet.-A warm black body twisted, long spidery legs slashing out with their spurs, trying to disembowel him.
Instinctively Orick tore with his paws, bit down. A sfuz that had lain in the pile squealed in pain, stabbed as it tried to free itself. The monster was impossibly quick, striking three blows to Orick's chest for each one of his to the monster.
Orick grunted in pain at the blows, trying too frantically to counterattack to make any display of anger.
Just as he began to realize he was in more trouble than he could handle, Tallea darted in, grabbed one of the sfuz's long legs in her teeth, and pulled. The distraction gave Orick enough time to bat the thing in the head, and the sfuz fell still.
Lords of the Seventh Swarm, Book 3 of the Golden Queen Series Page 36
