Sundrinker

by Zach Hughes

  "I am surprised," Farnee said. "For that bit of superstition is as old as the race, and long since discredited. It is said that you eat of the the green, growing things. If you, as this female hints, subscribe to that ancient, dark, barbaric belief, why then, as it is reported to me, do you eat of the so-called green brothers?"

  "I, too, eat of them," Jai said, "for they are made clean by his magic." A sign came from the gathered elders.

  "Do you have powers unknown to us?" Tambol asked. Duwan again thought carefully before answering. "Unknown to you, yes, but not peculiar to myself, for all Drinkers have the same powers. All of you can grow fat on the green plenty of this land. All of you can draw sustenance from the blessed rays of Du. You can become one with the earth, with filaments that will grow from the pores in your feet. You can be healed by the good earth, and you can even regenerate a missing limb, as I did, when this female watched me as I was a part of the earth." There was a general gasp of shock and disbelief.

  "This, too, is true," Jai said, "for when I first saw the master his left arm was the size of the arm of a newly sprouted young one. It grew and became strong, as you see."

  "Superstitious nonsense," Farnee said. He rose. "I have decided. This strange one, this who calls himself Drinker, and Duwan, has been affected by the harmful rays of the sun to which he exposed himself. And so it is with the female, for you see, yourselves, how she is colored by the harmful rays. That he knows some of the secrets of the elders is his only claim, and I know not how he came into such secrets. Perhaps by contact with other free runners, for it is said that there are other groups, farther to the west. At any rate, I reject his claims."

  Duwan nodded. "Then I will go as I came, in peace," he said.

  "Wait," Tambol protested. "The Council of Elders has not voted."

  "You are not yet a member of this council," Farnee told Tambol. "It is not your place to call for a vote."

  "We will have a vote," one of the elders said.

  "So be it," Farnee said. "All who vote with me, Eldest of the free runners, will stand."

  All but two of the elders stood.

  "So be it," Farnee said. "Go in peace, strange one. You are doomed to die, doomed to be peeled by the Devourers, and I warn you, on pain of action, not to remain in our land, lest, in your delusion, you lead the Devourers to us. Is that understood?"

  "May peace be with you," Duwan said, although he was bristling at the threat. He took Jai's arm and she looked up at him wide-eyed. He turned, stepped over the legs of a seated elder, and made his way into the sunlight. Before him the males of the runners were gathered, some with bows in hand. With a snarl, he drew his weapons.

  "I came in peace, to give you hope," he said. "I am cast out. It is up to you whether or not I go in peace."

  He thrust Jai behind him and holding his two swords at the ready, moved forward at a swift walk. The males of the runners melted from his path in silence. As he exited the valley through the narrow, rocky cleft, walking on stones protruding from the streambed, a volley of crooked, ineffectual arrows fell to his rear, causing Jai to scream in fear. Duwan, who had seen the runner males creeping among the tall brothers, did not even glance back.

  Chapter Eight

  Duwan sat moodily on a carpet of fallen needles. A storm was brewing, and its advance winds sighed through the upper branches of the tall brothers. The fire flickered and eddied in the gusts. A dead limb fell quite near the fire and, although she had seen before how certain trees seemed to give to Duwan of their deadwood, Jai started. They had halted only with the coming of darkness, having by then put several ridges and valleys between them and the valley of the free runners.

  "Master, are you angry with me?" Jai asked.

  Duwan shook his head without looking at her.

  "You have not spoken to me, have not called my name since we left those weak ones."

  "Forgive me," Duwan said. "I have much to ponder." Jai broke up the fallen limb and placed some of it on the fire. From a distance came the warm, sweet smell of rain. "We will have a wet camp tonight," she said.

  Duwan had not spread his sleep covering. Jai lifted his pack and began to unfold the material. Duwan remained silent, staring into the flickering flames, as she used dead sticks to form the covering into a canopy.

  "There," she said, "you will sleep dry." A patter of large drops made a soft murmur on the trees. It was a whispering grove, and the distant, sighing communications of ancient Drinkers mixed in Duwan's mind with the sound of the wind, the patter of raindrops. Then the storm was upon them. Jai cringed with the flash and rumble of it, and the rain penetrated the overhead foliage and began to wet them. Duwan, aroused from his thoughts, crawled underneath the canopy. Jai sat huddled by the hissing fire as it fought to survive in the increasing rainfall.

  "Come," Duwan said, motioning to her to join him. She came gladly, curled herself, being careful not to touch him.

  "You will have a wet backside," Duwan said, with a chuckle, as he observed that her rear protruded into the rain. She moved closer to him and they touched.

  "Forgive me," she whispered, drawing back.

  "Come," he said, putting his hand on her waist to pull her into cover. She edged closer, felt his body heat on her flank.

  She was shivering. He could feel it as his arm lay loosely across her waist. "You're cold," he said.

  "Yes, Master," she whispered, although her shivering was not from cold.

  "We must think about getting some proper clothing," he said.

  "Yes, Master," she whispered.

  "Give me your back," he said, pushing her into turning onto her side. "I will warm you." He pulled her to him, spoon fashion, and held her tightly with his arm. "Better?"

  "Thank you, Master," she said.

  "It is time we made something clear," he said. "You are no longer a slave. No one is your master. It does not please me to be called master."

  "Yes," she said, still shivering. Then, to distract her mind from his closeness, "If you will kill animals I can make us garments from their fur. I have never done it, but I noted that the women of the runners wore such garments and perhaps I can learn to make them."

  "We will not take life," he said.

  "As you will it," she said.

  "You're still cold?"

  "Yes." Then, after a pause, "No."

  "No?"

  "Your touch—the feel of your body—"

  Duwan felt his face grow warm. He started to push her away, but did not. "These things affect you?"

  "You are very beautiful, Mas—" She paused. "Do you feel it?"

  "I feel the warmth of you," he said.

  "Shall I make you feel more?"

  "This is a newness to me," he said. "I cannot will the heat of ripeness."

  "Ah," she said.

  "And you, is the feeling of ripeness with you always?"

  "Not always."

  "But you can graft without the ripeness?"

  "With the ripeness, there is fruiting. Without the ripeness only pleasure."

  "Very strange," Duwan said.

  She turned in his arms, lay facing him. Her soft arms went around him.

  "You saved me," she whispered, "and I have nothing to give you in return except myself. If I can give you pleasure—"

  He felt her bud point swelling, opening, a ripe, warm, soft pressing against his stomach. He felt his body stir and his blood sing in excitement. He told himself that it was the custom among these strange Drinkers in the Land of Many Brothers. He was alone, far from home. He was discouraged. He was warmed by her, and he felt himself begin to open and then, as if by signal, the whisperings came to him from the ancient brothers, a mixed, incomprehensible murmuring that grew and grew until, not in words but in pictures, he saw a flowering land of virgin green, saw Drinkers, strong, active, happy, and he knew that he was looking into the distant past.

  Then, as his body burned, as Jai pressed herself closer, as her face touched his and her lips were warm and moist on his,
he saw a vision of the endless tall brothers of the far north, and, as if he were a bird, he was soaring over the land of the snows, the land of the big waters, into the barrens and in the distance he saw the smokes of the land of fires and soared past them, high, to look down into the valley in the time of the long light. There were his father, his mother, his grandmother, all the Drinkers. And there, sitting alone, was Alning.

  He clung to the vision and communicated with his mind. "Brothers," he said, "who among you has seen this? How can you show me this?" And from the whisperings in his mind there emerged a clear voice.

  "None have seen save you, brother."

  And then the whisperings were incomprehensible again and he was gently pushing Jai away. "You have offered me something of great value. Do not be insulted."

  She, trembling, tried to touch him at the bud point and he caught her wrist and held her hand away. "Sister," he said, "I do not reject you, for you are sweet and precious. I reject an act that is against my code, my teachings."

  "I understand, Master," she said, trying to pull away.

  "No," he said, "stay. Give me your back so that we can share warmth, for after the rain the night will be chill."

  He awoke with the light of Du strong, with birds singing in the tall brothers overhead, but it had been a noise not in keeping with the grove that had awakened him. Jai lay by his side, facing him, one of her legs thrown across his thighs. He pushed her away gently so as not to awaken her, rose silently, reached for his weapons. Again there came the sound, and he flowed in smooth, silent motions toward it. Someone was coming toward him, not being too careful about being quiet. He hid himself behind a large tall brother and waited. The intruder was walking swiftly and as he neared Duwan sprang out, longsword raised. He halted the downstroke in time to avoid splitting the head of Tambol the Hunter.

  "Master," Tambol gasped.

  "You have narrowly escaped death," Duwan said. "In future, should such a need arise, it would be best to announce your coming."

  "Forgive me, Master," Tambol said. "I have traveled hard, and throughout most of the night to overtake you."

  "For what purpose?"

  "I will go with you," Tambol said. "I will hunt for you, prepare your food for you."

  Duwan laughed. "Would you have me become as skinny as you?" Tambol lowered his head. "I can but do my best, Master."

  "So you will go with me," Duwan said. "And yet you know not where I go."

  "No matter. I am sick to death of hiding. I will fight by your side. I will die as a Drinker, for after you left I questioned the elders and now I am convinced that you speak the truth, and that this land was once ours."

  "Perhaps it will not be necessary to die," Duwan said. He motioned Tambol forward, and they joined Jai, who was just awakening. "Sit, and we will eat," Duwan said. He gathered food, came to sit facing Tambol and Jai, placed the good, green life organs in Jai's outstretched hands, then gave a portion to Tambol. "To be with me," he said, "it will be necessary to open your eyes and your mind, to cast off the misinformation that the Enemy has used to poison your thinking."

  Tambol's face went slack. He lifted a bit of food and sniffed it, saw Jai eating eagerly, watched as Duwan munched. He lifted his face and was, obviously, praying to some du. Then, eyes closed, he ate. Surviving, he obeyed Duwan's orders, as the day's march got underway, to expose portions of his body gradually to the rays of the sun. This death, he thought, would be slow, but he had decided to put himself into the hands of the Master.

  Still alive, and sampling tidbits of green as he marched, Tambol saw that the way led toward the east. He remarked on this in the middle of the afternoon. Duwan nodded. "My mission is to assess the strength of the enemy, to learn his habits and his methods of warfare. To do this I must go among him."

  "We will be in the area of settlements soon," Tambol said. "Instruct me, Master, so that I may kill the enemy at your side."

  Duwan took Tambol's bow and flexed it. "This would prick a warrior just enough to make him angry," he said.

  Tambol's face fell.

  "Soon we will obtain proper weapons for you," Duwan said. "And clothing."

  It was two more days' march before they saw signs of settlement. Now Duwan marched carefully. When he heard the distant sound of axes he instructed Jai and Tambol to move silently behind him. As they neared the sounds of activity Duwan heard a moan, a cry of despair and pain, and his skin crawled.

  "Did you hear that?" Jai whispered from behind his shoulder. He turned to look at her in surprise, for the moaning cry was the death sound of an ancient Drinker who had gone back to the earth. "You heard?"

  "I think I heard," Jai said. "It was not a sound as a sound is usually made—"

  He smiled. "You are Drinker," he said.

  "I heard nothing," Tambol whispered.

  Duwan led the way forward. He saw a typical Devourer settlement, a hut made of the living boles of tall brothers, a clearing, fields growing the tall grass with the small, brown nut, a single Devourer overseer, lash in hand, standing by as two pongs began to trim the fallen tall brother. He strode boldly into the clearing and was seen, first, by one of the slaves. Then the Enemy turned and gazed at Duwan in puzzlement. The Enemy hailed him in his own language. Duwan walked with long strides toward him. The Enemy spoke again.

  "I know not your barbaric tongue," Duwan said.

  "Halt where you are," the Enemy said, in words that Duwan understood. The overseer's sword seemed to leap into his hand. Duwan drew his weapons. With a snarl, the Enemy charged forward, sending what was intended to be a decapitating blow toward Duwan. Iron clashed and Duwan's shortsword drew blood. The two pongs fell to the ground, moaning, prostrating themselves before Duwan. Tambol emerged from the trees.

  "Watch these," Duwan said, turning to walk toward the hut. The door was open. Odd smells came from within. Duwan peered inside and almost lost his nose as a blade hissed down just in front of his face. He swung backhanded with his longsword and the blade split the belly of a female who had been hiding beside the door. Duwan saw her fall, saw the spurting of blood, and, although he was saddened, turned away to examine the interior of the hut. There were a crude table and chairs, a bed, an open fireplace in which hung a black, iron kettle. The odd smell seemed to be coming from the kettle. He walked across the small room and tilted the pot with his sword and his stomach rebelled, pouring bitterness upward into his throat. Stewing in the white sauce were the arms and legs of an infant. He turned and ran from the room. Jai was there in the front yard. Tambol waited with the two pongs.

  "What ails you?" Jai asked.

  Duwan was unable to speak. Jai pushed past him and went into the room. She came back quickly, the shortsword that the enemy female had wielded in her hand. "I now have a weapon," she said. Duwan stood, stunned. "Is it that you have killed a female?" He was silent.

  "You need not be concerned," Jai said. "When I was among them, I dreaded working for the females, for they are worse than the males. Her sword was in her hand. You did right in killing her, for she would have gladly killed you."

  "In the pot—" Duwan said.

  Jai looked thoughtful, disappeared back into the hut, came back gnawing on a tiny forearm. Duwan screamed in rage and the back of his hand sent the forearm flying, and sent Jai spinning to the ground. He stepped toward her, his outrage causing him to see the light of Du as seething crimson. He raised his sword, for it was his intention to end this abomination, this creature who would eat the flesh of her own kind. He did not see that Tambol had hurried across the yard and as his sword fell Tambol clung to his arm and deflected it so that it sank into the ground with the force of the blow.

  "Master, Master," Tambol cried, as Duwan tossed him aside with a sweep of his arm and jerked the sword from the earth. Jai was crawling away, screaming silently.

  Sanity returned to Duwan. He lifted his face to the sun and an anguished roar came from his throat. Jai froze. Tambol picked himself up and looked fearfully at Duwan.

/>   "Animals." Duwan hissed, looking first at Jai and then at Tambol. "You are animals."

  "Master," Jai sobbed, "what did I do to offend you?" Duwan slumped. "The fault is mine," he said.

  "Master," Jai said, "is it that I do not eat enough of the green? Is it that I am not to taste the savory flesh of a Devourer sacrifice?"

  "Tell me this new horror," Duwan said, still tasting bitterness in his mouth.

  "The sacrifice dinner is eaten at the change of the season," Jai said, her sobs lessening as she saw Duwan grow calmer. "It is in praise of the du of plenty, and if the sacrifice is not made, and the meal not eaten, untimely rains will rot the crops, or the sun will burn them, or the snows will come late and kill the tender shoots."

  Duwan looked in revulsion at the small forearm, now covered with dirt and small twigs after its roll along the ground.

  "I had never had the opportunity to sample this sacred food, being pong," Jai said. "Did I do wrong?"

  "The young one, pong or Devourer?" Duwan asked.

  "Pong," Jai said.

  Duwan sighed, voiced an urgent prayer to Du in his mind, looked around as if he were just awakening. "We need clothing," he said. "Jai, go into the hut and find something for yourself. Tambol, we will wear the garments of the enemy. You, female, bring me garments, for I will not reenter that place."

  Jai came back quickly and watched with approval as Duwan donned the blouse and kilt of the Enemy. She, herself, was reveling in luxury, as she tried the garments of the dead female. Tambol was standing by, waiting a chance to speak. When Duwan was fully dressed he saw that Tambol had done nothing. "Why are you waiting?" Duwan asked.

  "Master, if I may speak. We are in the area of settlement, and it is your stated intention to study the Devourer close at hand. You can pass for Devourer, but we—" He waved his hand at Jai, who was wrapping herself in a fur mantle. "This one would not pass for Devourer. Her looks, her speech. Nor would I. If we are to go among the enemy we must go as pongs and master."

  Duwan nodded. "You speak with wisdom, Tambol."

  "No, please," Jai wailed.