by Zach Hughes
"Oh, they die. I once saw a Devourer crushed by a falling tree."
"And was he not as dead as the animal I killed on the slope above?"
"Yes, but—"
"The pongs are many, the Devourers of lesser numbers and yet pongs do not fight."
"We have no weapons. They have the seed from which we grow our food. They control the animal pens from which we get our meat. We work only under supervision. We are alone only in the pongpen, at night."
"But you escaped."
She nodded.
"Have others done the same?"
"So it is said. I know of no one in my lifetime who has. One tried. He was caught and peeled and left to die slowly tied to a post in the central compound of the pen."
Gradually, Duwan began to piece together a picture of life in the Land of Many Brothers. The Enemy, called Devourer by Jai's people, lived mainly in cities built of stone, lived on the hard work of those called pongs who were, if they were like Jai, with pores in their feet, Drinker. It has been thus forever, according to Jai. It was the will of the dus— and this concept amused him, for there was only One Du, great, kind, life-giving Du—that it be thus, that the dus-favored Devourers enjoy the fruits of pong labor, living well off the bounty of the rich land.
Of the great truths of life Jai knew nothing. She did not even know that she drank life from Du, although it became obvious, after long questioning, that she had eaten nothing more than some rather tasteless and relatively unnourishing moss for many days. She knew that she felt good basking in the rays of Du, but she had no concept of why. Pongs, at work, covered themselves with poor garments woven from the poorest of material, under orders from their overlords that the rays of the sun, being harmful, were to he avoided. The main food, aside from flesh, that was consumed by pongs came from, if Jai's description could be believed, a grass-like brother that seeded hard, bland-tasting kernels that were then ground, mixed with water, and baked over fires. The plenty that existed around them, everywhere, in the fixed brothers, was forbidden to them, poisonous. Such teachings were drummed into all pong young at the hands of lash-wielding Devourers, and to taste of the good fruits of the brothers, except for certain berries and nuts, was punishable by death, if, indeed, the poisonous, forbidden things did not kill the unfortunate pong first.
Jai had seen pongs die of the poison. It occurred, she said, usually at the time of the new growth, when the land greened, and the sun warmed.
"They die badly," she said. "Just at this time, when there was still a hint of cold, and the green things were beginning to break through the earth, one was tossed into the pongpen, after having eaten green. He writhed and screamed and died with noxious discharges coming from his body openings."
"Did you see him eat the green brothers?"
"No, he did it in secrecy," she said, "for had anyone seen him he would have been reported."
"Yet you have eaten green and you are well."
"It is because of you, Master."
Having been at his frustrating questioning for most of a day, Duwan was restless. His thoughts kept going north, past the land of the waters, across the great barrens, past the land of the fires. "Tomorrow," he said,
"you will take me to this city of the Devourers, so that I may see for myself."
Great tears sprang to her eyes.
"Du," he exploded, "why do you weep?"
"If you say that I am to die, it is well," she said.
"You will not die."
"I will die if we go to the city."
"I will see that you live."
"You are great, Master, but one against so many?" She sobbed. "I will be peeled. My skin will be tossed into the animal pens, and I will be suspended on a pole, and when I am dead I, too, will become slop for the animals."
"I must find someone who can talk sense," Duwan said to himself. He watched her weep until she subsided. She had heard his muttered comment, and it had given her hope.
"It is said, whispered in the pens at night, that those who have escaped in the past traveled far to the west, and that they live there, how I do not know, but that there are no overlords there. They would talk sense." Duwan considered. Perhaps it would be too dangerous to visit a city. The Devourers he'd seen in the land of tall brothers to the north had appeared to be strong, capable, well armed. Yet, he had to know more than he could learn from this empty-headed female.
"Sleep," he ordered. "We will travel with the First light of Du." Truly, the Land of Many Brothers was a land of promise, a land of plenty. He gorged himself on a variety of food that pleased him, and, as the days passed, he saw that Jai's frail, thin limbs were filling out, for she ate more constantly than he. She refused to accept the fact that the good, green, growing brothers were not poisonous, but continued to express her conviction that the magical powers of Duwan kept her alive after doing the forbidden. Duwan gave up trying to convince her.
She had no conception of brotherhood with living things. She knew nothing of the legends of immortality for Drinkers, of a life, different but full, of fixed contentment after a return to the earth. She listened respectfully when he spoke of such things, and once, in a whispering grove, he tried to get her to hear the unspoken, almost alien thoughts of old ones who had grown tall with endless years of sun, and wind, and rain.
"Almost I hear them," she said, but the look on her face told him that she was lying.
Jai's favorite topic of conversation was how she had guarded him while he slept, at one with the earth, how she'd climbed the tree to escape the great beast, and then how she'd fought it with Duwan's sword—all to protect him. It was as if she needed constant reassurance that, since she'd served him well, he would protect her. Almost every time she started to eat she would look at him, her purple eyes imploring, and say, "You have made it good?"
After several attempts to explain, once again, he gave up and merely nodded, or said, "Yes, it is good."
Although a variety of growth was the rule, the overall aspect of that good land was of many tall brothers, rushing streams, small hills. Twice they skirted isolated settlements, Jai trembling in fear when they came close enough to see Devourers driving their pongs. As they traveled toward the setting sun, day after day, Jai began to glow with health. She halfway believed Duwan's explanation that her body drank energy from the sun, and took to traveling without even so much as the tattered garment that scarcely covered her now. Time and again Duwan found his eyes going to her marked bud point, but he became accustomed to her lack of modesty. Ahead, the low mountains began to rise into heavily covered mounds, each ridge reaching higher toward the sky. There, in a little valley, Duwan killed his first Enemy. As they followed a stream, now walking on mossy banks, now in the shallow, cool waters, he heard the telltale sounds of cutting tools and led Jai into the tall brothers to skirt another settlement. They crossed a well-traveled path after Duwan had looked carefully both ways and had listened, and they were into the cover of the forest again when he detected the sound of running footsteps. He told Jai to hide, and remain motionless, made his way silently back to the trail in time to see a young female, not many years past mobility, running toward him along the trail. She had large, green eyes that were widened in panic. Duwan's first impulse was to stop the female and find out what had frightened her, but he held back, for, just behind her, there ran a male, broad of shoulder and sturdy of body, a great longsword clanking at his thigh as he ran. The trail opened into a small clearing on the bank of the stream and, as the running female entered it she tripped on a stone and fell heavily, could not get to her feet before the running male was on her, fell beside her, grasping her arms and holding her to the ground. Duwan growled in his throat and his right hand was on the hilt of his longsword.
"Don't be frightened, little one," the male said, and the words stopped Duwan.
The young female said, "But I do fear it, master," she said.
"It will hurt only for a little while," the male said, as he ripped the female's scanty garment
away to reveal a closed, young bud point that was scarcely visible.
Duwan relaxed. He did not approve of what was happening, but it was not unheard of for a male to indulge in play with an unripened female. Some couples, who had spoken for each other while very young, did, indeed, occupy the same dwelling in the valley, reveling in touching without grafting until they both ripened. He had, he felt, stumbled into such a play, and although the young female seemed to be frightened, he was sure that no harm would come to her.
He chilled when the male exposed himself and, with a grunt of effort, threw himself atop the small, young female. A piercing scream caused him to shiver in rage. From between the naked bodies he saw a quick, rich flow of blood, and, with a roar of outrage, he launched himself into the clearing. His roar brought the powerful, large male to his feet, and sent him lunging for his sword. Duwan took one look at the female and sick revulsion came. To force an unripe bud point was a crime that had never even occurred to him in his imagination.
"Ho, brother," the male said, sword in hand. "You startled me. Are you from—" Duwan did not catch the last word.
"Animal," Duwan said. "What have you done?" The male looked puzzled. "This pong wench?"
"This female."
The male's sword came up. Duwan leaped. There was a clash of iron that caused sparks and then it was over, for the skill of the male was no match for Duwan's long training. His blade smashed bone, exposed the spongy brain and then he turned. The young female was bleeding badly, rich, vital blood gushing. But even as he ran to kneel beside her, to try to staunch the flow, the rush became an ooze and she was still.
"I mourn for you," he whispered.
He found Jai cringing in her hiding place.
"I heard the fighting," she said. "I feared for you." Duwan, still feeling revulsion and pity, said nothing, started walking. She ran to catch him, saw the grimness of his face. "I heard a female scream."
"You do not want to hear," he said.
"The scream of pain that comes with bud opening," she said. "Am I not right?"
He looked at her in astonishment. "That animal forced her bud."
"Yes," she said.
He couldn't speak.
"How else?" she asked. "Otherwise, they would have to wait until nature opened the bud, sometimes many years."
Duwan swallowed. "You?"
"I was fortunate. The master who opened me was kind. And he was not large. When a master is large the female sometimes dies."
"I will go home," Duwan told himself. "I will tell them that we want nothing from this land of barbarism. I will tell them that we are best off where we are, even if Du visits only for a short period. I will tell them that immortality is not an end to seek, that returning to the earth is, indeed, a splendid wish, but not as vital as being civilized, not as important as loving one's fellows, as working together, as honoring Du, and as loving one's spoken choice."
"Did you kill a master?" Jai asked, later.
He nodded.
"They will follow."
"Let them," he said, thinking that it would be pleasant for his sword to drink the blood of creatures who beat and killed their brothers.
"They will have smellers to follow our trail, and they will be many and well armed."
"What is a smeller?"
"They are small, but have sharp teeth."
"Du, female, speak, straight. Answer my question," he roared. She cringed away. "They live in the houses of the Devourer masters and eat scraps and sometimes, when a pong is difficult, they allow them to chew upon the pong's feet and legs—"
"Animals that can smell our trace?"
"Yes, yes," she said eagerly. "We must find water, and walk in it for a long way."
Duwan mused. The settlements had been small. He estimated that no more than four or five could be mustered for the chase, and if they were no more skilled in weaponry than the one he'd killed—"We will leave a trace to be followed easily," he said.
He saw his pursuers from the top of a ridge early the next morning. They were moving fast, following a scrambling pack of small, lightly furred animals restrained on leashes. He spent the next few hours selecting his spot, and chose a pass between two sheer slopes, where no more than two of them could face him at one time. He rested there, after drinking his fill at a stream, and positioned Jai among rocks high on the side of the hill.
"The sniffers will find me and bite me," she wailed. He gathered stones the size of his fist and piled them in front of her.
"Should an animal try to come to you hit him with a stone." She seized a stone and held it with both hands. "We can still run. We can follow the stream. The sniffers cannot follow us if we walk in the water, for the water washes away our trace."
"Peace," he said. "You have a view of the approach. When you see them coming, make this bird sound." He demonstrated the cooing sigh of a bird of the far north and, after a few attempts, she made an acceptable imitation. Then he went below, sat on a large boulder, and examined the cutting edges of his swords.
It was growing late when he heard Jai's first attempt, and then heard her succeed in making a cooing sound that would not have fooled the youngest Drinker in the valley. He rose, stood with his feet spread, his weapons hanging at his side. He heard the careless, scrambling approach from below, and as the pursuers neared, he counted four males and six of the small, snarling animals. He wished for a bow and a quiver of arrows, but when he'd left the valley he'd had only one hand and no need of a bow. He had been spotted. The four below were surprised. They halted and stared up at him and consulted among themselves. Duwan stood motionless, his swords in their sheaths. One of the males below bent and, one by one, released the sniffers, pointed, barked an order, and the six animals began to slink up the hill, following the trace left by Duwan and Jai. When the leading sniffer spotted Duwan the fur raised into a crest on its back and it leaped forward with a whining snarl. The others followed. Duwan's swords flashed as he drew them, and he met the first sniffer's leap toward his stomach with flashing blade, caught the next in midair with the backswing, stabbed deeply into the barrel chest of a third. The fourth managed to sink sharp teeth painfully into his lower leg as he dispatched five and six with both hands working in perfect coordination, and then the chewer whined for only a moment as iron bit into its spine. Startled shouts from below. The four Devourers rushed toward him together, and then, as they reached the narrow pass, the two larger took the lead, swords at the ready. Duwan gave ground until he had reached the pre-chosen position which gave him some advantage. The two enemy had to come at him face on, unable to split up and get him between them. He parried an angry lunge with his shortsword and measured the skill of the second man with a feint of his longsword. The clash of metal echoed off the hillsides. Behind the two fighting Devourers the other two yelled encouragement. Duwan buried his longsword a hand's width into the heart of one, opened the throat of the other. Two dead lay at his feet and he retreated a few steps so that there would be no danger of stumbling over the dead as the other two fighters moved forward, their dark eyes shifting, a new caution upon them.
One showed himself, immediately, to be more skilled. Duwan concentrated on that one, while holding off the other with his parrying shortsword. This one had a dangerous straight lunge that followed a feint with the shortsword, and Duwan was forced backward as metal clashed on metal. He gained a new respect for the Enemy. He knew that he was going to be hard pressed, for the pass was opening, and soon the last two could pin him between them. He had to make a move. He lunged and parried and spun away from the more skilled swordsman and in his spinning sent his longsword hissing horizontally to decapitate the lesser of his two enemies, continued the whirling spin just in time to parry a lunge with his shortsword. Then he gained ground, looked upon his foe with his orange eyes full of fire.
"Come," he said, "come to me, Enemy."
"Who are you?" the other gasped.
"Your death," Duwan said, leaping, feeling a great shock in his righ
t hand as his mighty blow was parried, but with quick, instinctive movement, half falling, thrusting his shortsword to its hilt into his opponent's stomach. He narrowly avoided a downswing of the fighter's dying, last stroke, and then all was quiet.
"Duwan, behind you," he heard Jai scream, and he spun, bringing up both swords to the ready, to see so many others that, at first, his heart quailed, then rallied as he lifted both his swords high.
"Du," he roared, using his full voice. The sound echoed and reechoed from the hillsides. "Du, be with me."
"Peace, warrior," a male cried, holding up both of his hands, empty.
"Peace."
Duwan's chest was heaving. His orange eyes lanced fire.
"We are not the Enemy, warrior," the man said, his hands still exposed in a plea for friendship. "Who kills the Devourer is not our enemy." Duwan panted, his eyes took in the ragged, scarecrow ranks of the males who faced him, more than twenty of them, crude bows on their shoulders and, in some cases, in hand, but no arrows pointed toward him.
"Who are you, warrior?" the spokesman asked.
He was full of elation, his heart still pounding with the heady joy of the fight. They had called him warrior, and warrior he was. In the back of his mind he called out to his trainer, to Belran the Leader, a great, unspoken shout of thanks, and then, because he, at last, had discovered the reason for all those long, long hours of drudgery in training, he lifted his face to catch the last red rays of a sinking Du and roared, "Duwan! Duwan! I am Duwan the Drinker."
His roar echoed, became a loud, slowly diminishing growl of sound that reverberated, then sank into a murmur and then silence.
A small, emaciated male stepped forth from the ranks of the newcomers, fell to his knees.
"Lord," he said. "Master."
And then, one by one, the others followed suit.
Chapter Seven
The ragged, emaciated group of males shifted uneasily in the face of Duwan's triumphant roar. Only one stood, a bit taller than the others, thin but with stringy, powerful muscles in his arms and legs. When the others fell to their knees he was the last to kneel, and even then his face was up, his dull gray eyes wide.