Sundrinker

by Zach Hughes

  "Only a handful of the Enemy, the royal guards, could make a contest of arms with even the youngest of our warriors," he said. "The time has come for us to reclaim our land. Under the wise guidance of our Leaders, such as my father and Belran, we can sweep down from the north and invest the northern cities and the settlements, capturing weapons that will then be distributed to the Drinkers, the slaves, of that land. As we use our training methods to teach our southern brothers the art of warfare, we will move southward and when the capital city falls, the land will be ours, and there will be only a matter of mopping up scattered points of resistance in the other Devourer cities."

  A shout of excitement came from the younger warriors. So intent was Duwan on telling his tale that he did not see the shaking heads of some of the elders. During the feasting that followed Duwan was occupied in exchanging greetings with friends and then the visitors began to drift away. Still he had not seen Alning. He was about to sneak away when his mother came to him and took his left arm, feeling it, smiling, and weeping at the same time. "Now I claim your time," she said, pulling him toward the house. Inside, she guided him into the sleep room that she shared with his father. Jai and his grandmother were sitting in front of the fireplace, heads close together, the old one's ear close to Jai's mouth.

  "While you were in your rightful place with the warriors," his mother said, "I have learned much from this female you have brought."

  "There is much to learn about the Land of Many Brothers," he said. "It is a sweet and wonderful land, mother. It is our rightful land." His mother waved one hand. "Oh, I am interested enough in this land to the south," she said, "but I am more interested, at the moment, in the glow that comes into the eyes of this female when she speaks of you." Duwan felt his face grow hot.

  "She has not spoken secrets to me, Duwan." Duwan swallowed hard, fearing that he had caught her meaning.

  "She is a strong, young female," his mother said. "I would not object to calling her my own."

  Alarm jerked Duwan's head up so that his eyes met hers.

  "You are my son," she said, "but you are not the same person who left here almost two cycles of the long light past. You have changed, and now you are warrior, mature, a son to give me pride, and to put the light in your father's eyes. But, Duwan, you are not the only one who has changed."

  "What are you telling me, mother?" He leaned back, forced himself to give the impression of relaxation. "I think you're speaking indirectly of Alning."

  "I take it that you have not seen her."

  "No."

  The look of feminine condemnation on his mother's face told him, but he chose not to believe.

  "I don't doubt that she'd be reluctant to appear before you," his mother said. "You will find her in the new house, last on the northern side of the square before the yellow spring."

  He rose. His heart seemed about to burst out of his chest. "I will see for myself," he said.

  He walked slowly at first, lifting his hands in greeting. A group of small, young males surrounded him, clamored questions at him, and he told them that he'd repeat his story for them later. Then he found himself walking faster and faster until the bulk of the village was behind him and a new house, think vines showing an interesting design, appeared to him amid the mists of the yellow spring. He halted at the entrance and announced himself.

  Her face sent a shiver of appreciation through him.

  "Alning," he said.

  No smile greeted him. Her face was as if frozen by the cold of the land of tall brothers.

  "Not quite two times of the long light have passed," he said. "I have returned, and I am whole." He showed her his left arm.

  "They said you would never return," she whispered.

  "You listened to bad counsel."

  "It is true."

  "But now I am back," he said, wondering why she showed him only her face and did not ask him to enter.

  "I am very happy for you," she said.

  It was time to face facts. He knew, but he just wasn't ready to admit that it was true. He bent, entered the house. She moved away, her back to him. In the light of the fire and the light vents left by the think vines she seemed different, more mature, but that was natural, for she would have filled out, especially during the time of long light when food was plentiful.

  "Two cycles is a long time, Duwan," she said.

  "True."

  She turned slowly. In profile her stomach protruded mightily, suggesting that, perhaps, she carried twins. She had not even waited until the beginning of the second time of long light, much less the end, which had not yet come. Duwan felt a knife stab from the inside, and almost bent with the pain.

  "Who?" he asked, his voice a croak.

  "Noo," she said.

  "A good match. Son of Manoo the Predictor."

  "Oh, Duwan—" She took one step toward him, her legs wide to balance the front-heavy bulk of her body. She halted when there was movement behind them and a well built young male entered.

  "Greetings, Duwan," said Noo, son of the Predictor. "I was moved by the recitation of your adventures."

  "I have given my greeting to an old friend, a female that I tended in the young house," Duwan said. "I ask your understanding and forgiveness for entering your house in your absence."

  Noo made a gesture of negation. "You are welcome as a friend of the family, and as our most famous warrior."

  "May they be twins," Duwan said, nodding at Alning.

  "The midwife thinks so," Noo said. He smiled. "A good way to start a family, is it not?"

  Duwan walked north, skirted springs, found himself under the cliffs where, at a time that seemed both far distant and most recent, he had climbed into the rays of Du to thrust his left arm into the concealed maw of the rock sucker. He started climbing, soon felt the weak light as he clambered recklessly to the very top of the cliffs. At the top, with a cold wind sweeping across the barrens, he looked down on the steam and green of the valley and wept.

  "Du," he said, "if this is punishment for my errant ways when I was among the enemy, then it is deserved." But, ah, it hurt. It hurt more than he had hurt when he'd lopped off his left arm to save his own life. It hurt so much that he remembered the story his grandmother had told him about the son who had leaped, or fallen, from the cliffs. It was tempting, for a moment. Then he looked again at the valley, saw the villages, the movement of Drinkers in the squares, remembered the intoxicating heat of Du in the far south. He had his duty.

  He found Belran at the forge of a metal worker, stripped to the waist, wielding a hammer himself, forming a sweetly designed blade. He watched. That blade would taste enemy blood and help to return the stolen heritage of his people. Why, then, did he not exult?

  "The fires of the forges will burn all winter," Belran said, as he dipped the glowing blade to the accompaniment of a hissing and metallic smelling steam. "There, that is all for today. We will let the spirit of the metal rest for a time." He wiped his hands on his garment and buckled on his weapons. "This royal guardsman you fought," he said. "Did you note well his technique?"

  "Quite well," Duwan said. "He was the best I'd seen."

  "Show me."

  There was no audience. Longswords were padded. Duwan played the part of Captain Hata. His sword hissed and thudded against Belran's padded weapon. He felt the sweat begin to form, and the closest thing he would ever know to joy—or so, at least, did he think at the time—filled him as he faced a sword as skilled, possibly more skilled, than his own and demonstrated Hata's offensive techniques. Then he stepped back.

  "I shifted to the left hand," he said, "after studying all his techniques. He was susceptible to a low, rising sweep, but he managed to counter it." Belran came at him, and he found it more difficult to counter the left-handed blows. It ended, oddly enough, as his duel with Hata had ended. He felt the impact of Belran's sword on his head, was dazed, but felt the solid impact of his padded blade on Belran's toughened stomach at the same instant. He rose, shaking his h
ead, and helped Belran to his feet. The older warrior was panting.

  "Of course, the killing blow to the stomach would have been countered with the shortsword," Belran said.

  "When we go south we will not fight by the Enemy's rules," Duwan agreed. "He is an abomination to the light of Du, Belran. It is given to us Drinkers to rid the land of him, to end the eating of Drinker young and the sacrifice of living entities of all brotherhoods, to bring freedom to the enslaved."

  Belran clasped right arms with him, showed his teeth in a fierce grin.

  "It makes my flesh crawl to think of the Enemy's evil," he said. "We will fight side by side, warrior."

  Why did being accepted by the great Belran as an equal not give him joy?

  He ate with his family, hiding his heartbreak. Jai wanted to serve, but his mother insisted that she sit with the family and eat. His grandmother sat by his side.

  "Thanks to you, my son," the old female said, as she toyed with her food, "I will become one with the earth when you lead us to our homeland."

  "So be it, Grandmother," he said.

  "To have eternal peace and warmth and to feed and grow on the goodness of the earth," she said.

  "It is good," he said.

  "You have heard the whispering?"

  "Yes. Most of the time it is muddled, confused by many voices, Grandmother."

  "This female, your Jai, says that she, in the end, could also hear the whisperings," his grandmother said.

  He glanced at Jai almost guiltily. He had not given her one thought, much less a look, or a smile, since returning from the house of Alning and Noo. "She is, after all, Drinker," he said.

  "Duwan, help me to survive the coming darkness," the old woman asked, pleading in her voice. "Promise me that you will not let me harden. Promise me that you will plant me yourself in some warm, rich spot blessed by the full rays of Du."

  "I promise," Duwan said, taking her hand only to be surprised by the rigid, hard feel of her.

  "There is much to be done," his father said. "I have called a gathering of elders. We must make our plans and our preparations. I have advised that all fertile grafting be discontinued during the coming darkness, so that we will have no new young to impede our journey."

  "An excellent idea," Duwan said.

  "I have spoken with Belran and the other village elders," his father said.

  "You will command the people of our village during the trek." Duwan nodded, taking the responsibility not with joy but with a sense of duty settling upon his shoulders.

  "Now you should rest, my son," his mother said. "You've been long on the march, and long awake."

  When he awoke, the elders of all the villages were already gathering in the square. He was summoned by his father and went forth to see them, all the wise men of the Drinkers, seated on the good earth, looking up at him as he strode to the speaker's mound.

  "My son knows the way to the south," his father said. "I and my village elders have put him in command for the duration of the trip. I ask that all other villages follow suit."

  There were no objections.

  "Now here is our chief warrior, Belran the Leader," Duwan's father said, "to make suggestions as to our preparations." Belran took the speaker's mound. "I do not underestimate the difficulty of the journey. Duwan will tell us more, again and again, so that it can be implanted in our minds, as we prepare during the long darkness. When we leave, we must travel light. We will not be able, for example, to take our forges and anvils. Our loads must be weapons, food, water, clothing. When we have reached the lands of the south we must have spare weapons, the extra ones we will carry. We must, during the winter, have our metal workers convert all surplus iron into weapons. We will put emphasis on arrowheads, for our bows will be of great advantage to us. Duwan has told us that the bow is well known by the Enemy, but that it has fallen into disfavor. Since our supply of good wood for bows and arrows is limited here, we must carry only the pre-made heads, to be fitted to arrows made from the plentiful wood to the south."

  An elder from a neighboring village stood and Belran politely stopped talking. "You are a respected warrior, Belran, but I think you presume too much," the elder said. "Our village has not yet voted." Before the astounded Belran could speak, Duwan leaped to the speaker's mound. "Vote?" he howled. "This is not a matter of village politics. This is the destiny of our people."

  He felt his father's hand on his arm and allowed himself to be pulled off the mound. His father spoke.

  "Duwan is young, and he has seen the horrors done to living things by the Enemy." He nodded. "Yes, it is proper that we all vote." The standing elder spoke. "The fires burn brightly in the young," he said. "Duwan fought well and slew the Enemy—a very few Enemy. Our questions are about the Enemy's vast numbers, his stone-walled cities that will be easily defended. We are few. They are many."

  "And yet the population of enslaved Drinkers outnumbers their masters," Belran said.

  Another elder stood. "We feel, in my village, that Drinkers who would allow themselves to be enslaved would make poor allies." Duwan was at first amazed, then angered, then saddened, as objection after objection was voiced by the elders. It was pointed out that Duwan was the only living Drinker who had actually seen the land of the south, and that he was young, and, perhaps, incapable of accurate observation, that he based his case on having killed a few unskilled Enemy and one padded sword bout with a royal guard.

  Alone with his father and Belran, Duwan was speechless.

  "Duwan," Belran said. "You must take it upon yourself to visit each village, to speak personally to the elders and to anyone who will listen. Take the female with you. Let her exhibit the lash marks on her back. Let her tell of the sufferings not only of Drinkers, but of animal and fixed brothers."

  Jai, although she was growing fond of Duwan's mother and

  grandmother, was more than eager to get away. She wore the neat winter garb of the valley, for Du had passed below the southern cliffs to be seen no more for long, cold, dark months. By firelight in village squares Duwan stated his case and then Jai told of life in the slave pens, causing gasps of fear and anger among those who listened. Making the round of the villages took time, and, meanwhile, nothing was being done in preparation for leaving the valley at the dawn of Du in the new beginning. Properly, when spending sleep periods in the villages, Duwan bedded down with young warriors and Jai with unmated females. While walking from village to village, Duwan could not bring himself to be easy with Jai, for his heart still ached. While he was away Alning gave her mate, Noo, a pair of twin males, who were, with great ceremony (twins being quite rare) given to the earth in the village young house.

  A dark period gathering was unusual. The call went out from Duwan the Elder, and from Belran the Leader, and the elders of the valley made their way through the darkness to the well lighted square of Duwan's village.

  "If we are to move south with the new coming of Du," Duwan the Elder told the gathered wise ones, "we must begin our preparations. I have been told that many of you have voted. If it is your pleasure, we would know the results."

  An elder from the village nearest the southern end of the valley rose.

  "First, know our reasons," he said. "We have heard Duwan, and we have heard the female, Jai. We listened closely to Duwan's plans which, we feel, rely too heavily on recruiting an army from the enslaved ones in the south. And yet, according to Duwan himself, and to the female, no slave rises against his masters, making us doubt their fighting ability." Duwan, although his father tried to stop him, took the speaker's mound. "Before we proceed further, let me demonstrate that slaves can be taught to fight."

  "If this can be demonstrated—although I see not how—we will be interested," the standing elder said.

  "Jai, come," Duwan yelled and Jai, who'd been listening from the shadows outside the fires, came striding into the circle of light, weapons buckled at her waist.

  "This is a female," someone cried.

  "Yes," Duwan sai
d, "and a slave, until she escaped." He drew his weapons and stepped into an open area. "At me, Jai," he said. "Show them how you have learned the swords."

  "Hold," a voice cried. "Bare blades and the one who, obviously, taught her, and thus knows her every move will not be a test, but an exhibition."

  "Do you call for a test?" Belran the Leader asked, and was answered by affirmative calls.

  "We need an opponent," Belran said.

  "You," someone cried.

  "We will be fair," Belran said. "A young warrior newly trained." A young male stepped into the light of the fires. "I," he said, "although I feel shamed to duel a female."

  "Forget that I am female," Jai said, and she did not speak in the cringing tones of a slave. "Look on me as the Enemy." Swords were padded and checked. Belran was to officiate. He stood between the male and Jai and, as was the custom for a test, stated the rules. As he stepped back, the young warrior spanked Jai across the backside with his longsword, chuckling, showing his contempt for a female opponent, and Belran started to bellow that he had broken the rules, making contact with the opponent before the proper signal, but the words were punctuated with a solid thud as Jai's longsword whistled, even with its padding, and landed against the young warrior's head.