Sundrinker

by Zach Hughes

  "Rally round the Master!"

  Fleeing warriors halted, turned, struck down their pursuers or were struck down. A mass of Drinkers converged on the left and this movement was seen dimly by Duwan the Elder. He saw a knot of enemy surrounding just two Drinker warriors and was astounded to see that the two were more than holding their own.

  "The Master! The Master!" The word was shouted, whispered, screamed, and the Drinker line wheeled and converged on the battle that had formed on the Drinker left.

  "No, no," Duwan the Elder shouted, knowing that to stand in the open would be fatal. The odds against them were too great, but he, too, kept hearing that word, "Master," and he, too, seeing that it was impossible to restore order and continue the withdrawal, began to fight his way to the left.

  Without orders, the archers in the trees bolted toward the battle. The enemy, trying to engage the Drinkers, who were congregating at the left, was milling in confusion, only a few of them in actual contact with Drinker swordsmen. Their rear was riddled by the arrows from the archers. Stone arrowheads were not as effective as iron. Some shattered without wounding deeply, but they took their toll.

  In the valley, Captain Hata saw the surprising turn of events and shouted. "Reserves, to the right, come on them from the right, from up the slope." And his two hundred reserve swordsmen began to run up the hill, skirting the battle to gain the advantage of higher ground. By all logic, being outnumbered, the Drinkers should have formed a defensive square, limiting their exposure to the more numerous enemy. Instead, they charged. They charged in the direction of the thickest fighting, where blades caught the rays of the sun, flashed, and dripped blood. All formation was lost on both sides, and it became a confused, dusty, screaming mass where it was often difficult to distinguish friend from foe.

  Gradually, out of the chaos, a wedge-shaped formation grew, with two at the head, fighting side by side, swords meeting the best that the enemy had to offer and leaving carnage behind them. Twice this wedge carved its way through the milling, sweating, dying masses of warriors, taking a toll of the enemy. And now all the surviving Drinkers were a part of it, and the split enemy flowed along the sides of the wedge with clashing swords. Enemy captains bellowed, trying to bring order, to get their warriors back into formation. And from the valley, Captain Hata saw that his numbers were thinning much more quickly than those of the pongs.

  "Formation," he screamed, "form a double line." But his voice went unheard. In desperation he led his two staff officers running up the slope to join the fighting and for a moment it seemed that his presence would turn the tide as guardsmen began to rally to him and seek a disciplined line. Just as it seemed that he had control, the pong wedge turned toward him and came rolling down the slope, leaving dead, blue-clad warriors in its wake and those who had rallied to him turned and ran, some of them falling and tumbling down the slope. Hata found himself almost alone, with only two of his officers and three guards at his side. He moved to avoid the rush as the wedge broke, pongs yelling, "After them. No prisoners. For the Master." The battle rolled past and Hata stood, panting, looking on the carnage. Much more blue than the colorless garments of the slaves was on the ground. And below there were footraces as pongs ran down guardsmen and killed them from the rear.

  Still he stood and now, below, there was only silence. A wounded man moaned. A light breeze cooled his brow. He saw the pongs turn and start slowly up the slope. And at their head was—

  "You!" he said, his voice breaking, as Duwan the Drinker halted a few paces in front of him, swords dangling, blades bloody, face smeared with blood, his body nearly naked, and that, too, smeared with blood that was not his own. "But you're dead," he said.

  " They are dead," Duwan said, pointing with his shortsword to the litter of bodies.

  Hata's sword jerked into readiness. "I killed you once," he said. "Now, apparently, I must do it again, or have you the courage to face my sword alone?"

  "At your pleasure," Duwan said.

  Hata had noticed that the one who had fought so well by Duwan's side was a female, but now he had eyes only for Duwan as he moved cautiously down the slope.

  "Two swords against one?" he asked. "When we dueled in the square at Arutan you put aside your shortsword."

  "That was sport," Duwan said. "I will show you as much mercy as you and your ancestors have always shown to Drinkers."

  He moved swiftly up the slope, met a thunderous downswing of Hata's longsword and, without regret, with no desire to prolong the fight, plunged his shortsword to the hilt in Hata's breast.

  Duwan the Elder had pushed through the crowd of drinkers to see the last encounter. He didn't wince as the remaining Devourers were put to the sword, but then he was blinking as he stared into a pair of fiery, orange eyes.

  "Duwan?"

  "Father."

  "Du is great," Duwan the Elder said.

  "Greater than you could have ever imagined, father," Duwan said, clasping his elder's bloody right arm with his own.

  "I, too, am here," Jai said.

  Duwan the Elder looked into her face, embraced her. Pushed her back to look at her again. "I never thought to see either of you—how—"

  "There will be time for that, for there is much to tell," Duwan said. "Are there other enemy units in the west?"

  "Not within scouting distance," Duwan the Elder said.

  "How many more warriors do you have?" Duwan asked. His father smiled grimly. "You are looking at our entire force, alive and dead."

  Females and young had begun to search the battlefield, coming away with swords carried like firewood in their arms.

  "Your mother will be happy to see you, my son," Duwan the Elder said.

  "And I her," Duwan said. He was watching as the wounded were being treated. Here and there a Drinker or two knelt beside a warrior too severely injured to be moved, waiting for the end.

  Duwan the Elder turned to his leaders, who had formed behind him and were gazing at Duwan in wonder. "Form them up." he ordered, "and we will move toward home."

  But the march was delayed by the arrival of a panting scout. "Leader," he shouted from a distance, "there come ones with whom you will wish to speak."

  There were five of them, escorted by another scout. Their bellies were bloated and distended in the manner of those who were eating their fill for the first time in their lives.

  "And who are these?" Duwan asked, as the ragged group came toward the leaders, looking to the left and right in some fear at the sight of so many dead.

  "We are from Kooh, Master," said a male, bowing.

  "Good," Duwan the Elder said. "I will detail some to march with you and show you the way, since you will have difficulty keeping our pace."

  "Master," the male said, bowing ever lower. "There are others behind us."

  "Excellent," Duwan the Elder said. "I will leave some to guide them, too." He turned to pick out a warrior or two to leave behind. As an afterthought he asked, "How many are coming?"

  The swollen-bellied male bowed again. "There are too many to count, master, as many as the leaves of the trees."

  Duwan, who had been staring moodily at the Drinker dead, jerked his head around. "What did you say?"

  "Master, they were killing us by the dozens, by the hundreds. Every day they were killing us, and when we finally began to believe the words of the wise priest of Tseeb, we rose. We slew our masters, or at least many of them, and we left behind us a burning city."

  "Du!" Duwan breathed. Tambol had once estimated for him that there were over twenty thousand slaves in the city of Kooh. He turned his burning orange eyes on his father. "There is our army," he said. "Now if they will only give us time."

  "We will make the time," Duwan the Elder said.

  The momentous news filled Duwan's head, almost making him forget something that had been on his mind. He did not hear his father, at first, when Duwan the Elder made a suggestion. When it was repeated:

  "Duwan, I will stay with the rest to escort the horde
s to our valley. Go ahead, with your mate, to greet your mother."

  "Yes," Duwan said. Then he remembered. "It has been said that the Devourers have a method of recording on lasting material the spoken word. Is that true?"

  A former pong nodded. "That is true, Master. It is the priestly writing. They use a colored fluid to make marks on material pressed into thin sheets from the pulp of a certain plant. I have seen this writing."

  "Do you practice it?" Duwan asked.

  "No, Master. That is for priests and certain temple pongs who are trained in this magic."

  "Find me, among those who are coming from Kooh, one who can both record words and recite them back," Duwan said. "Bring him to me as quickly as possible."

  "It will be done," the pong said.

  Chapter Nine

  This is the word of Duwan the Drinker, who was dead but now lives, son of Duwan and Sema, Drinkers of the Valley, led into the homeland of my fathers by the wisdom and grace of Du there to be captured and peeled by the enemy and to be returned to the earth in a spirit of irony by the High Mistress of Devourers, Elnice of Arutan.

  As I died, Du lifted my spirit from my body and I looked down upon our earth from the blackness, where the lights of the night sky sang with mighty voices of crackings and whistlings and odd growlings. And Du said, "Look on my works."

  And there was, near at hand, a huge ball of molten fire that shot out from its cauldron streamers of light, and below me was a ball showing the colors of blue and green and I could see whiteness covering the land and the waters and gleams of reflected light from the snowy wastes of the northland.

  And Du said, "There I created you."

  For we and our earth are not the center of the universe. The ball that is our earth spins and travels far through blackness and is warmed only by that molten fire.

  "Du!" I said.

  And Du said, "None have seen my face, much less those who in the past ignored my teaching and flaunted my word, for that which you see is nothing more than one of my lesser creations, set there in the emptiness to give life to you."

  "Teach me, Master," I said, "for I am in Du's paradise." And Du said, "When I saw a need to fill the emptiness I made the sun and the earth and those other suns and earths that you, in your ignorance, call the lights in the sky. I gave you the earth, and its goodness, I gave you the succulent green, growing things and the fresh waters and there was none to come against you. I taught you a reverence for life, and I put upon that earth the small, furred animals and the farls of the forests and others that you know not. And I made you the greatest of all living things, keepers and eaters of the green grass and the fruits and the myriad of other growing things, the vines and the small flowers, the towering trees and the growing shrubs, and of the animals I gave you custody, to see, and to admire, and enjoy." And I came to know that all is a oneness, that all life is kindred, whether it be mobile, fixed, or animal. And I said, "Master, how did we err?"

  And Du said, "One tasted flesh and ignored the warnings of my spokesmen. Others tasted flesh and then I brought against you the Enemy, the Devourers, and for generations I have punished you." And I asked, "How, Master, can we atone for the sins of our ancestors?"

  And Du said, "A few were faithful to my word, and I led them out of the land of death."

  And I asked, "Do you speak of the Drinkers of the Valley?" And Du said, "But they, too, were weak, and began to see my face in the disc of the sun, forgetting the teachings of my spokesmen. Yet there was a certain devoutness that remained, and I relent." And I said, "Du is great. What have I to do, Master, now that I am dead?"

  And Du said, "My son, you sleep only, for you are my instrument. I have regretted my own creation, and you will be my instrument of punishment for those who have for so long oppressed my people." And I asked, "When I awaken, Master, how will I know the proper course?"

  And Du said, "I will be with you. I will form your words as you teach my people, and I will provide helpers for you. Those you will instruct as I instruct you."

  And I said, "Teach me, Master."

  And Du said, "You will not take the all of any living entity, except in doing my work against the Devourers. Even then you will be merciful, for there is room for all. You will respect the rights of all brothers, neither taking nor desiring that which is theirs. You will obey me in all things, for I live, and I am unique. You will honor your old ones, and see that they have choice earth where they will await my call to paradise. You will honor the family unit, and cleave to your chosen mate, and teach your offspring the word of the one Du. You will heal the scars made upon my earth by the devourers, for their building is not my wish. You will spread my word to the far corners of the earth, and release others who are in bondage."

  And I felt myself falling and saw no more. "Master," I cried, "I am but one Drinker."

  And Du said, although I heard not, but only sensed it, "One can change a world when he believes."

  And I cried, "Master, there are questions. Have I sinned in loving my mate, in being with her for pleasure only?"

  And Du said, "Have I not made you as you are?" Then I heard no more, save for the whispers of those who await Du's call to paradise, and I awoke. Now all living things combine in a oneness. Now I know that the sun, whom we have called Du, is but one small creation of the one Du and his gift to us. Now these words will be copied and recopied and those who copy and read will teach others to copy and read and if we learn, and obey, and keep the laws of Du this land shall be ours once more in oneness.

  Thus it was told to me. Thus it will be.

  — The testament of Duwan the Drinker, Chosen of Du.

  Chapter Ten

  Duwan watched from a hill as Kooh burned again. He had come to a half-dead city to find only a few Devourers. Below him, moving south, there was a large group of females and young, for he had been merciful, giving orders to spare those who did not fight against Drinkers. He had had to be firm with that order until a Drinker leader, from the ranks of those who had led the last uprising in Kooh, smiled and said, "I see your plan, Master. Dead, the females, the young, the weak and the ill are a burden to no one. Alive, they will strain the resources of the city of Tshou, where they will surely go."

  Duwan was content to let them believe that he had motives other than mercy. But Tambol understood, for he had studied the writings that Duwan had dictated to a former temple slave. And there were others, too, for Duwan spent much time in teaching, and those he taught multiplied his efforts.

  Even as he watched the Devourers move to the south he saw them passed by a smaller group of Drinkers, and to his sadness there was killing and maltreatment until a unit of his army arrived and stopped the violence. He did not know how they found him, the ex-slaves who flocked to his army with each passing day. The horde that he had led out of the western hills had almost doubled, with ex-slaves from almost all of the Devourer cities, and they reported hardship among the former masters, and resistance to the order by Elnice of Arutan for total mobilization. Nevertheless, there was a Devourer army before the coastal city of Tshou. The climactic battle was fought on the beaches, and the receding waves carried with them severed limbs and white foam turned green with blood.

  Now, behind him, lay Tshou, walls dismantled stone by stone, buildings laid waste. Already the creeping green things were climbing, growing, covering the mound that had been a city.

  "Where will we live, Master, when we destroy all the buildings, all the huts, all the homes?" it was asked.

  He set the few remaining valley Drinkers to searching out the think vines that grew wild all over the Land of Many Brothers, then to teaching their cultivation and their control. Some learned quickly, and began to teach others. All along the route from Tshou to the south Duwan left growing villages, peopled largely by females, young, and the old. Before Arutan, Duwan said farewell to Dagner, whose hardening was so severe that he had to be carried. He was returned to earth with ceremony, with noble words spoken by Tambol, and there was gladness
, for now it was known that Dagner joined those who lived on, waiting for Du's call to paradise.

  Arutan fell only after long siege, and it was discovered that the High Mistress, Elnice of Arutan, had fled to the south upon the approach of Duwan's army.

  To the credit of the Devourers, few males survived, choosing to fight to the death. And from the growing horde of Devourer females Drinkers took mates. This disturbed Duwan, at first, until he reread his own testament to find the words, "All life is a oneness." Could that not be applied to Devourer females, so long as they choose to abide by the teachings? To his relief, all offspring of Drinker-Devourer matings had the pores of the Drinkers on their feet.

  Now, one by one, the remaining Devourer cities fell, and were returned to the earth. Survivors marched to the south and were escorted into the heated, jungly lands from whence they had come, although many chose to stay, to adopt Drinker ways, once they were given the choice at Duwan's orders. Nor was there any slavery, although many clamored for it as a revenge for their generations of oppression.

  Five years from the time that Duwan lived after being dead, he marched toward the north, accompanied only by one, a sleekly beautiful Jai. From the great mountains of the west to the sea, and south to the sodden, fever-ridden jungles the Land of Many Brothers was Drinker, and he was tired.

  Although it had been a long time, he found the canyon without problem. Once they had made bough beds and built a fire in the cave he fell asleep immediately and slept through the night and into the next day until the sun had already sunk below the rim of the canyon. He roused himself, washed in the stream that had long since purified itself of the carnage of battle, and with Jai at his side sat in the center of the grove of his grandmother. The trees had grown impressively in the years since the plantings. As darkness fell he mused and listened to the whisperers. No word was distinguishable.

  "I have returned, Grandmother," he said, aloud. The whisperings did not change.

  "Does she hear?" Jai asked.

  "I believe she does, but she is nearer to Du than we, and not concerned with the things of our lives now."