"Greetings, Belran," the apparition said, "I have come to have a rematch of the test."
"Duwan?" The Leader peered into the darkness under the stranger's hood, saw the gleam of orange eyes, let his eyes fall to the newcomer's left side to see, to his disappointment, only emptiness.
Duwan pushed back his hood, smiling broadly. "Well, Leader, may I have my test?"
Belran felt like weeping. So the legend of renewal was false. If that part of the old tales was false, how could any of it be true?
"The longsword is no match for two," Belran said.
"Then we will make the odds even," Duwan said, sweeping his shortsword out from behind his back.
Belran's eyes went wide and he whooped. He dropped his own sword heedlessly—and this action told Duwan more than anything else that Belran was pleased to see him—and slipped between Duwan's swords to embrace him. Duwan was laughing.
"Did you meet the Enemy?" Belran asked, pushing himself out of the twining of arms.
"I have met him," Duwan said. "The challenge is great, but the opportunities are greater."
"And does Du shine all year long? Are there many brothers? Is the Enemy strong? How does he fight?"
"Hold," Duwan laughed. "I have much to tell, and I don't want to have to tell it many times."
"You are right," Belran said, his hands feeling the hard muscles in Duwan's left arm. "Come, we must spread this news rapidly. We will have a gathering before Du slips below the horizon to the south."
"My father and mother?" Duwan asked.
"Well," Belran said. "Your grandmother hardens, but is also well."
"And the young one called Alning?"
Belran turned his face away. "She blossoms, and is well," he said. It was at that moment that Jai chose to emerge from behind boulders and Belran's hand went to his sword.
"This is Jai, Drinker, once a slave to the enemy," Duwan said. "She, too, has much information to impart."
They spread the news through the villages as they walked the length of the valley. A growing entourage shouted, laughed, sang behind them. Minstrels flanked the moving mass of people, adding new verses of triumph to the Song of Duwan, for it had become a popular story since Duwan's leaving.
Duwan had known pain, the fear of death, wonder, sadness, the joy of grafting, but the emotions that came to him when he entwined arms with his father and then clasped his mother and the hard, old shell of his grandmother were the most powerful emotions of his young life. He was weeping shamelessly. Even his father's eyes were moist, and tears appeared, clear as dew, on his father's age-coloring cheeks. His mother and his grandmother swept Jai away, leaving Duwan to accept the admiration and the questions of the growing number of warriors. The village square was soon filled, and still they came, from all parts of the valley. Now and then Duwan had a chance to look around, and he had not yet caught sight of the face that he wanted most to see. When the last of the elders from neighboring villages were seated, forming a circle around Duwan and his father, with warriors massed behind the elders, Duwan rose and began his story. He told it quickly and simply, neither emphasizing nor playing down the dangers of the long trek to the south. He presented the Enemy as he had seen him, a potentially dangerous force grown weak with overconfidence and wealth. He spoke of the Enemy's evil, of death and murder and the eating of young, and hardened warriors shuddered and muttered. When he was finished with his story he paused, looked around, caught the eye of Belran the Leader.
"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.