Now he heard the battle chant of the enemy from his front. A few of his warriors were running to meet the enemy scrambling down the canyon walls. He lifted both his swords and shouted, "To me. Form on me." Except for isolated individuals already engaged with an enemy who had come down the steep walls, they came to him and he stood among them, so few of them now, and he said, "It is not Du's will that we escape this time, my friends. We make our stand here."
"It is better to die fighting than fall into the hands of the enemy," someone shouted, and Duwan nodded.
"Let us show them how Drinkers can fight," Duwan shouted, as the enemy began to reach the floor of the narrow canyon and advance and he heard the sound of the chant and the poundings of many feet. The guardsmen who had come down the walls fared rather badly, for they were winded by their march and their efforts. They found that pongs could fight well and they died, their bodies littering the ground. Then, from the west, Hata burst into the field at the head of fresh forces. Each one of the enemy came toward the concentrated melee with the words of their High Mistress ringing in their ears.
"Remember this well," she had told them, time and again, "I want their leader, this Duwan, alive. If he is killed not only will the one who killed him be peeled, but each surviving one in his unit."
Thus it was that Duwan had to seek engagements, and was surprised at the ease of his victories. Many, seeing him coming toward them, ran, often straight onto the sword of another Drinker. But one by one the Drinkers fell. Surrounded, in the open, the outcome was inevitable. At last he stood with the only other surviving defender, an ex-slave whose back was to Duwan's as a ring of enemy closed in them.
"Master," the one who was soon to die said, "we will meet again in Du's paradise."
A surge of guilt swept through Duwan. "Du," he prayed silently, as the enemy closed, swords extended, "if I have used your name in vain, forgive me." For he knew that he had been presented by Tambol and Tambol's followers as, at the least, favored by Du, and, at best, as Du's own representative on the earth. It was true that he had often denied divine origin, but he had not been firm, had even, he guessed, as death closed on him, been willing to let the ex-slaves believe in him in order to make them fight better.
"Forgive me, Du," he said aloud, as he lashed out and his sword swept aside a blade and brought blood from an enemy who fell back, screaming. At his back he heard the clash of metal and felt his last companion lean suddenly against him, then slide to the ground.
"Come then," he shouted, "let me take a few of you with me." Surprisingly, the enemy backed away. He rushed toward them and they slipped out of his path, but always he was surrounded by a wall of uniformed, armed Devourers.
"Fight," he hissed, making a lunge that was avoided by an enemy officer who actually turned and ran into three soldiers, sending them sprawling.
"Fight, cowards," Duwan roared, as he stood, swords hanging down, panting with his efforts.
"It is over," he heard, and he spun around to see Captain Hata standing, sword in hand.
"We fought once, Hata, with padded weapons," Duwan said. "There is no pad on my blade now."
"Nothing would please me more," Hata said.
Duwan crouched and began to advance toward the captain, but he halted when Elnice pushed forward and stood by Hata's side.
"You will not find an easy death in battle, traitor," she said. She turned to Hata. "Take him."
"I have never killed a female," Duwan said, stalking toward Elnice and Hata, "but when she represents evil—"
"Will you take him, or will you let him walk forward and kill me?" Elnice asked, her voice calm.
"Take him," Hata thundered. "Take him alive, or, by the dus, you will all be peeled."
Hopelessly, the front ranks of the soldiers began to close on Duwan and his blades flashed and enemy died and then, lest they all die under his iron, they screamed and pushed forward without their weapons and in blood and screamings bore him down by sheer weight until his swords could flash no more, until his breath was forced out of his chest by their weight and he was helplessly screaming his rage and anger.
"Bring him, and any living wounded, to the camp," Elnice ordered. He was carried, tied well, by four of the enemy. He fought against his bonds until he was exhausted, and then he closed his eyes, prayed to his Du, and tried to commune with the tall brothers, but all was silence from them. They tied him to the bole of a tall brother in an area where all green had been ruthlessly cut away. From where he stood he could see the grove of his grandmother, and he prayed that the enemy would do what he was going to do and leave the canyon before harm came to those new immortals, who had grown rather impressively since the plantings and were no longer recognizable as Drinkers.
Elnice stood before him. She had changed into something more comfortable than her uniform, a loose, short gown that showed her bud point and the shape of her legs clearly.
"Not that it matters, traitor," she said, "for all your deluded followers are now dead, but I will know your thinking, your methods, your lies that you told to the those doomed pongs. Talk."
"I am Duwan the Drinker," he said. "Since I am not of you, how can I be a traitor?"
"You told me you were a wanderer," Elnice said. "But you were more. A Drinker? That is a word that means nothing. You are either pong or master. Which is it?"
"I drink of the sun, just as I have taught many to drink," Duwan said.
"He has exposed his head to the sun and it has addled him," someone said.
"Silence," Elnice said. She whirled to Hata. "Clear this area." Within moments only Duwan, the High Mistress, and Hata were in the clearing.
"How did you know that you could drink energy from the sun?" Elnice asked.
"By the grace of Du," Duwan said.
"And you eat of the green, growing things. How did you first know they were not, as you were taught, poisonous?"
Duwan started to answer, but he closed his mouth. He had led an army, had slain many foes, and the enemy was now alert and, perhaps, in spite of the victory, a bit frightened. He would not give this female enough information to alert her to a population of Drinkers in the far north. He doubted that Devourers could survive the journey, and find the way through the land of the fires, but he would say nothing to put his own people in the valley at risk.
"I asked you a question," Elnice said.
"I am tired of talking," Duwan said, with a little smile.
"They, the pongs we have peeled to get information, say that you came from the earth," Elnice said, "that you are a god, a new master. Did you come from the earth?"
It was safe to say, "We are all, we Drinkers, of the earth and for the earth."
"Don't prate superstition at me," Elnice snarled. "I can give you a quick death. That much I will do if you will tell me how you managed to convince pongs to bare themselves to the sun, to eat green."
"Death, fast or slow, produces the same end result," Duwan said. "I will say that you will have ample opportunity to study the problem, for something has started in this land that you will not be able to stop, Elnice. All pongs know the truth, now, and if some are still fearful, they will come to believe. They will drink of the sun and they will eat and grow strong and then they will drive you and all Devourers back to the southern jungles from whence you came."