The Gates of Creation by Philip Jose Farmer. Chapter 5, 6, 7, 8

Then the canyon opened out, and the river broadened. He was sliding and bumping over rapids. Fortunately, the rocks were smooth and slick, vitreous also. He escaped cuts but did suffer some bruises. Once past the rapids, he found that the current had slowed. He swam to the shore, which led up gently from the water. But he could not keep a handhold on the land and slid back into the river.

There was nothing to do but swim along the shoreline and hope that eventually he would find a place which would enable him to scramble onto the land. His clothes and the bow and arrows and knife and beamer weighed him down. As long as he could, he resisted the need to abandon them. When he began to tire, he slipped off the bow and quiver. Later, he unstrapped his belt and holster and scabbard. These he dropped into the water, but slipped the beamer and his knife inside his pants. After a while, he rid himself of the knife.

Now and then, he looked back. Eight heads were bobbing up and down. All had survived so far, but if the banks continued to resist grasping, they would all soon be drowned. All except Theotormon. He could outswim and outfloat them all, even with one flipper only half-grown out.

It was then that Wolff got an idea. He swam against the current, al­though the effort took more strength than he could afford. He swam until Luvah and Vala and Tharmas were close to him. Then he yelled at them to also swim against the current, if they wished to be saved.

Presently Theotormon’s huge, oily, blue-black bulk was beside him. Behind him came Ariston, Enion, and Rintrah. Last of all, the most boastful but the most fearful to enter the gate, was Palamabron. His face was white, and he was breathing even more heavily than the rest.

“Save me, brother!” he cried. “I can’t go on much longer. I will die.”

“Save your breath,” Wolff said. To Theotormon, he said, “We have need of you, brother. Now you, the once-despised, can help us. Without you, we shall all drown.”

Theotormon, swimming easily against the current, chuckled. He said, “Why should I? You all spit on me; you say I make you sick.”

“I have never spit upon you,” Wolff said. “Nor have I said you sicken me. And it was I who insisted that you come with us. I did so because I knew that we would need you. There are things you can do with that body that we cannot. It is ironic that Urizen, who set this trap, and who also transformed you into a sea-thing, prepared you to survive in his trap. He unwittingly gave you the means to escape and so to help us escape.”

It was a long speech under the circumstances and left him winded. Nevertheless, he had to praise Theotormon; otherwise, he would leave them to die and laugh while doing so.

Theotormon said, “You mean Urizen outwitted himself?”

Wolff nodded.

“And how can I escape from this?” Theotormon said.

“You are swift and strong as a seal in the water. You can propel yourself so swiftly that you can shoot through the water and on up onto the bank. You can also shove us, one by one, onto the bank. I know that you can do this.”

Theotormon grinned slyly. “And why should I push you to safety?”

“If you don’t, you’ll be left alone on this strange world,” Wolff said. “You can live for a while. But you’ll be lonely. I doubt that there’s anyone here you can talk to. Moreover, if we’re to get off this world, we have to find the gates which will lead us off. Can you do this alone? Once on land, you’ll need us.”

“To hell with you!” Theotormon screamed. He upended and dis­appeared beneath the surface.

“Theotormon!” Wolff called.

The others echoed his call. They treaded water and looked de­spairingly at each other. There was nothing of the haughty Lord in their faces now.

Suddenly, Vala screamed. She threw her hands up into the air and went under. So swiftly she went, she must have been pulled under.

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