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This is my current story in progress. It takes place on the distant planet of Wannoshay, and it's a prequel of sorts to the events that occur in my novel The Wannoshay Cycle. The narrator is the alien known as "Johndo," although he won't be known by that name for quite some time (not 'til the novel).
I had a particulary hard time with this one, because I wanted to be true to the novel's character, while still doing something new with the material. Luckily, I had some great input from first readers, and I was able to learn some nifty stuff about my aliens in the process of writing. And rewriting. And rewriting...!
"Drinker" was published in September 2007 in the DAW anthology Heroes in Training, edited by Jim C. Hines (thanks for the invite, Jim!) and Martin H. Greenberg, coming soon. The story is also available for download at the Sony eBook Reader store.
| Drinker The path itself remained the same, a trampled indentation of ice and snow wending its way first through black rocks and stubborn tufts of purpling vegetation, then over featureless blue ice until it reached the melted edge of the ocean. Its span, however, was always lengthening over time, like a hair-tentacle attached to the head of an always-eating foundling. At one end, our encampment of huts ringed with caves remained static, while the vital salt water at the other end of our march grew more distant with each frozen cycle. Before we went belowground countless cycles ago, I, Iyannoloway, walked that long, frozen corridor with my brethren. I journeyed to the edge of the iced-over ocean, at first light-footed and brisk, returning trudging and achingly full. That was my role, the lowest of all, determined for me by my unique, humiliating physiology: wide shoulders, thick legs, strong finger-toes. And an expansive belly. I was born to be a Drinker for my People. (But, I remind myself now, as we cut through space and time, that role only existed back on our dying world. A world my People and I have just departed, forever. The ball of white, blue, and black slips farther from us with each shallow breath I exhale here on this resurrected ship of our Ancestors. I limp on old feet and bent finger-toes, passing cask after cask of my People, none of whom I can smell any longer. Many cycles have passed since I was a Drinker, but as degrading and demanding as that role was, it was fitting training for the role I have now.) On my icy marches, I would lessen the drudgery and agony by singing songs of Uolloaway. I relived the songs inside my closed third eye, stories about how Uolloaway the young built the machines that allowed him to fly to distant lands and become the first to meet the other races on our world. How he braved the unknown to share his knowledge. How he came back a changed man -- an Elder. I sang Uolloaway's songs in silence as I walked. I sang them as I pulled deeply on the salty water of the ocean, my stomach and skin stretching, becoming taut with the lifeblood of my People. I sang as I drank and drank, as my throat burned with salt and my vision blurred from the growing pressure the water placed on my blood and in my gut. I drank until I was full, then I drank more for those waiting for us back home. I could smell the courage and determination of my fellow Drinkers. It was a bittersweet odor.
To be continued...
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