'So it was said of old?' Duwan asked.
'So it was passed on, for your father's father, five times removed, planned to return once the Drinkers had rested, and had reinforced themselves by sprout with many warriors. He did not know the enervating effect of life without the full strength of Du, and that the dims and darks would limit sprouting, so that five generations have not replaced the losses in one.'
'The ancient ones planned to return to the Land of Many Brothers?'
'So it was told, so it is prophesied, even now, among those who remember.'
'I have not heard this prophecy,' Duwan said.
'No, because it is safe here,' his grandmother said. 'Because there is no war. Females hold the tales of old. Females prophesy. And it is females who weep when their sons die in war. We choose to forget.'
'And when I am through the land of the fires?'
'The time of the long light has just begun. You are strong. You will be in the land of snows while Du is long, but you must hasten until the small, scattered brothers become a great congregation, and even then you must not pause for rest, for the cold will be on your heels, chasing you from the north to bury you in snow. You will pass through a land of many waters, and if your pace has been swift, you will swim the iceless waters of the smaller waters, skirt the larger. Through dims and darks you will pass the congregated brothers, and there will be days shorter than the nights in the land of many waters. There you will first encounter the Enemy, but, perhaps, he has forgotten. You must remember that it is our difference that he hates and fears, and you must hide your abilities. When Du is just to the south of the zenith, and his rays are stronger than you have ever felt before, in a safe place, concealed from the Enemy, become one with the soil and let Du's power restore your limb.'
'I will consider,' Duwan said.
'Yes,' the old one said. 'Now I faint, I tire.'
'I will help you to your house.'
'Thank you, my son, but I am not yet helpless,' she said stoutly, as she tottered toward the door.
'Mother, is it true?' Duwan asked, when the old one was gone.
'So it is said.'
'Counsel me, Mother. You have always been wise.' There were tears in her eyes when she spoke. 'I can offer only mixed counsel. My heart says stay, my son. My love for you, and my best wishes for you say go, and return to us whole with news of what has happened in the Land of Many Brothers during our exile.'
He had never heard their condition called exile. He looked at her, wanting to ask questions. He was still, however, trying to digest the information he'd received from his grandmother. He knew that the old one and his mother were direct descendants of Alon, who had led the Drinkers to the valley, a man of renown, a leader of leaders.
'Exile?' he was forced to ask.
'A term,' she said, waving it away.
'Exile, mother?'
Her eyes hardened. 'Once we were a great and populous people, living in prosperity and peace. The Land of Many Brothers was ours, and we became lax, became soft in our life of plenty. The Enemy from the south struck us a mighty blow before we could prepare, before we even suspected his existence. It was too late. Our warriors regained their old skills in defeat after defeat as we were gradually pushed to the north. For generations we fought, and grew weaker, and less numerous, until only a few thousand remained, pushed into the lands north of the waters into seasons of deep snows and bitter cold, and even then the Enemy was to be satisfied only by our total extermination, for he had found that we were different, that we could drink of Du, and communicate with our fixed brothers. It was your ancestor, the Great Alon, who explored to the east and the west and the north to find a great sea and the Enemy spread from coast to mountains and to find a hope, a small hope, here in the valley. The Enemy had not the secret of the way through the land of eternal fire, and presumed that we had been consumed.'
'I will see this Enemy,' Duwan said.
'I fear so,' his mother said, with resignation.
'Perhaps, now, he has grown fat and weak.'
'There is much preparation to be done,' she said, 'and each moment counts if you are to be south of the killing cold and impassable snows before the end of the long light.'
