“The Iranha inhabit our world. You know that, Yaryar.”
“I know of these creatures only because of what you yourself have told me,” he hissed. “Sometimes I wish that day trod Yaryar had never found you.”
Horhon sniffed. “My wish as well. Since you are so stubborn I doubt that the truth will ever satisfy you, and that will be your undoing. But those who you command might die unnecessarily.”
“Don’t be so arrogant. If you find fault with my leadership, then vote with your feet, and leave.”
In this case Yaryar’s popularity made it difficult for her to challenge him for the trod’s support. To do that she would have to be careful not to alienate herself any further than she had, so she chose her next words to offset any negative feelings the other hunters might be harboring toward her.
“The old ways no longer work. The Iranha are a new problem, and this requires a new solution. You are an old hunter Yaryar, you know many things, but I think you know nothing about these Iranha.”
He scoffed at this. “So far I have seen none of these Iranha. But if as you say, they are really here, then it must be somewhere where they are far from us. So we are safe.”
“Are we?” Horhon shook her head no. “So long as we stay we are in danger. And the Iranha will certainly come to the plains. I tell you all, we must leave this territory. Now. I see no other solution.”
“Well I do!” Yaryar clacked his jaw shut; it was all he could do to keep himself from losing his temper. “We are proud hunters. We do not turn tail and flee at the first sight of an enemy. You say the Iranha has destroyed other trods. You say they might attack us too. But we will not be hunted down like scared animals. So if they come here then we will fight them, kill them, chase them back to the hole they crawled out of.”
Evidently his rousing speech seemed to satisfy the listeners, for they were growling with approval, though Gangahar raked his claws in the dirt and thrashed his tail for all to be silent.
“We are simple hunters. We stalk our prey and kill only to eat, to survive. Not these Iranha. They are unnatural hunters who seem to have no teeth or claws for killing, but instead use strange weapons we do not understand. Now this we must consider before we stay and fight them. Like you I have no wish to leave this territory, and yet perhaps this is something that we should all think about while we still can.”
However, Karkakass fervently disagreed. Obviously she was thinking and worrying about her unborn child, its grim and uncertain future. “Our world is a big place. There is enough for everyone, even the Iranha.”
“No,” Horhon protested. “What the Iranha already have is not enough. It will never be enough for them. They want our world for themselves, and to see us dead, destroyed.”
Many, but not all, sided against her. What followed then was a heated exchange of opinions and personal beliefs; two hunters were licking bloody wounds so great had been the argument. In the end it was Yaryar who settled their bickering.
“We go nowhere!” he shouted angrily, expressing himself in the loudest and most commanding way. “If you cannot agree that trod Yaryar remains here, then I want nothing more to do with you!”
Although the discussion was ended for now, by no means was it over for good. Crouching on his huge drumstick legs, Yaryar propelled himself high into the air and jumped away among the trees, quickly gone.
One by one the others followed after him, his trail of dust was their way back. Ahead was the uncertainty of the open field. Yaryar had chosen for them, had ultimately made the final decision to return. But what if the Iranha were waiting? They might be. Nonetheless, the hunters were heading for home.
Chapter Two
The demarcation line between the forest and the field wasn’t so clearly defined that one ended and the other started. Rather, there was a gradual progression as the great trees thinned, then opened up in places where some of the stars could be viewed overhead. Eventually, the terrain became interspersed with grass and other small plants before withering under the tree cover’s choking darkness. Finally, where the last tree stood out like a sentinel, was a vast grass filled field that seemed to stretch all the way to the end of the world.
The open ground was directly ahead. Above, some of the first stars were breaking through the once impenetrable cover, yet even they were dimming down as the light of dawn pushed through. On the field, tussocks of coarse grass rustled under the brightening sky.
From high overhead a flock of soros flew into sight, darkening the sky with their number. These were long-winged creatures of death. Carrion eaters with rows of curved teeth for tearing apart flesh. Flying low, they beat their thundering wings and went swishing past with a tail breeze blowing strongly behind them. Eventually the deafening sound died down, though the breeze kept up well after the flock departed.
When they were a dark patch on the brightening horizon a distant rumbling sound came out of the woods. Several tarsers, grazing close by, stared head-on toward this new disturbance, their huge ears twitching nervously. Alarmed, these small and agile creatures instantly broke from their torpor and bounded soundlessly into the grassy field. Behind these fleeing beasts, dark shapes were moving out from underneath the trees; something familiar was coming closer and closer.
Magamengon was the first to appear. Yaryar had led for most of their trek home, though Magamengon still enjoyed his youth and soared past him on the open field. The others were keeping up, but with their stomachs full no one seemed to be in a hurry to get there. Yaryar had a humorous saying, that anyone who had to jump faster after a meal, was still hungry. Following closely behind him was Gangahar, surging high up into the air in a long, graceful arc. Horhon was next, followed by the others who were taking great leaps behind her. Karkakass however, was in last place, and trailed further behind with every bound, though she was in the final stages of her pregnancy and so this was a comfortable pace for her.
It had rained earlier during the night and the runoff had collected in deep muddy pools in spots where the hunters splashed. Thick splotches of mud now streaked their hides. Nevertheless they were making good time; the sun was yet to be seen above the field, and they were almost home.
Suddenly, without any warning, Magamengon landed to a stop and this quick moving procession piled up behind him.
“What is it?” Yaryar asked quizzically.
“Something here,” he motioned.
The urgency of his words was such that Yaryar came over immediately to see what was the matter. As soon as he reached the spot where Magamengon was standing he looked at the ground and gaped with puzzlement at this new and strange thing.
“What do you make of this?” the less experienced hunter asked him.
But Yaryar was equally perplexed. Shaking his head he answered, “I do not know. It appears to be a track of some kind. Gangahar, you are my best tracker. What do you think?”
Strange. That was his opinion. His huge snout hovered over the ground as he tasted the air that was rapidly moving in and out through his nostrils. If these were made by an animal then he did not know which one. Whatever this was had plowed two equally spaced trenches that had flattened the grass and left a visible trail that could be easily followed. And there was something else too. Imprinted in the sand was a bizarre honeycomb pattern of depressions and ridges. Although Gangahar had never seen a track like this before he could tell that it had been freshly made. Yet if this creature was still around then it was too far distant to spot it from here.
“Since it is here we can say that something made it,” was all that he could conclude.
“But what?”
He had little confidence that this mystery would be solved today, but he now remembered something else that seemed to be too much of a coincidence to ignore. “See where it goes into the forest?” He then moved his arm slightly. “We hunted over there, and there. Could this be the same thing you heard last night?”
Horhon’s eyes widened. “Then—I did hear something.”
&n
bsp; “It would seem so,” Gangahar concurred.
“You can’t be certain,” Yaryar said brusquely. Undoubtedly Horhon was planning to use this as her proof so he was more determined than ever for an explanation that didn’t involve the Iranha. “Does anyone recognize these?”
Those who crowded around him tried to answer, could not, for exactly what animal had tread here no one could say. Again it was Yaryar who finally broke the deadlock of disagreement.
“Then these are of a kind of animal no one has ever tracked before. Obviously this is a new creature we have not yet encountered.”
“And what if this new creature is the Iranha?” Horhon argued. “These tracks go south where we go.”
Karkakass, one of Yaryar’s most fervent supporters, now was having second thoughts about leaving. “Should we go on? Do you think it is safe?”
Even Gangahar was concerned. “Horhon is right. We must find out why this animal is here. Perhaps we should send out a scouting party. Two or three hunters. No more.”
Yaryar started to speak, but instead he made a crude expression that bordered on impatience and stomped off in the direction of the tracks. Only Gangahar followed him. Since he was the only volunteer the rest of the pack moved back under a copse of trees and awaited their return.
The daytime sun rose higher in the sky; still the two hunters had not yet returned. At first no one seemed overly concerned, though as the day progressed a few began to wonder where they might be.
Karkakass especially, was worrying about the missing hunters. Her bulbous blue eyes stared across the empty field. An invisible wind rustled through the grass. Nothing else moved. “Shouldn’t we go and search for them?”
“No,” Horhon warned her. “If they found the Iranha why then should we give them any more of us to kill?”
Of those who were listening none were eager to leave here. Until they were more inclined to act, Karkakass would have to wait and hope that Yaryar’s obstinance hadn’t gotten him killed. She slumped back onto her tail.
In the mid-afternoon, when the hot sun was blazing down and an arid wind was whipping up the dust, Karkakass noticed two dark shapes on the field, coming closer
“Here they come!” she screamed.
Sure enough, they spotted the dark shapes lifting off the ground, bounding closer. The returning hunters’ skins were dusty and splotched where the saliva had dripped down their gaped open mouths; they were panting in the fierce heat of the day.
“This accursed heat,” Gangahar complained. Thick strings of saliva dangled from his long black tongue. “Is there water to drink?”
Karkakass led them over to one of the trees where she had clawed a deep gash in the enormous trunk. Cool clear water trickled down into the natural bowl of the tree. Lowering his head Gangahar lapped up thirsty mouthfuls, gasping, drinking some more. He sighed deeply; it was good to finally be out of the blistering sun.
“What did you see out there?” Horhon was quick to ask him.
“Did you find what made the tracks?” Dhorsal asked almost as quickly. Gangahar started to speak, stopped when he saw Yaryar’s stern expression.
“We saw something,” Yaryar told them carefully. Then slowly he recounted the day’s events, telling them all, “What we saw is not easy to describe, nor easy to tell, but I will speak of it as best I can. We followed the trail. Up ahead everything appeared perfectly normal and there was nothing to see. We just kept going and I thought we would never reach the end. Now we both knew that it was time to come back, but Gangahar went on a little further and so I searched on my own, waiting for his return.”
A lump came to Gangahar’s throat now that it was his turn to speak. “I suppose I should have returned. I now wish that I did, for my head hurts whenever I try to think about what I saw.”
“Was it animal?” Horhon asked fearfully. “Or something else?”
Gangahar thought for a moment about what he would call this new thing, saying, “I am not entirely certain.” To him there was no simple way of describing it. He knew that he must and so he went on. “Something very big was stopped up ahead on the trail. First I believed this was an animal of some kind, but after I stalked it from behind to get a closer look I thought it was a very strange thing. The risk was too great to be seen so instead I crept away to watch it from atop the hill.”
“Then I found the others,” Yaryar told his shocked listeners.
Dhorsal gasped. “There was more than one?”
“A whole herd.” Like Gangahar, he too had come across these same things on a different part of the field. “I was very close, close enough to see them clearly. I counted eight. They were moving, making strange noises. Their smell made me cough and close my eyes. Only when they were safely out of sight did we return here to tell you.” Yaryar felt a stab of anxiety because he was not the sort of hunter to admit his fears. “I was afraid. We both were.”
“That is not all,” Gangahar told them uneasily. “They did not walk, but crawled overtop of the ground. Propelled themselves forward, making tracks. A double track that the others followed in, flattening everything beneath them.”
“An animal that crawls? On land?” Karkakass tried to picture this in her mind, not seeing how this could be done. “I understand little of what you say. Only the simplest land creatures need no legs to move.”
“That is what I saw. But how such big things were able to accomplish this . . .” He shook his head to show his audience that he had no satisfactory answer. “. . . I do not know.”
“I have hunted in many places where there are all sorts of strange beasts,” Negoragil, a hunter of great experience told his listeners. “But where on this wide world are there animals like this?”
Horhon was so convinced what these were that she found herself shivering in the sweltering heat. “The creatures from the sky that brought the Iranha had no wings for flying. Could these strange things belong to the Iranha too?”
Her question posed serious consideration. For once, even Yaryar had to reluctantly admit that this was at least a possibility. Long before he had ever heard of the Iranha there were stories of unstoppable giant creatures roaming in the deep and distant desert. It could not be a coincidence that these might be the same things that were now crawling to within reach of their forest. Still, he quickly pointed out that the trod was out of immediate danger.
“They were well south of here, even further since we left them. I don’t see any danger.”
Of those hunters who were originally indifferent to Horhon’s ideas, now some of them were beginning to take up her cause. Magamengon snorted disagreement. “Suppose they come back. What if there are more of them the next time?”
What could he say? Did he ever want to see them again? “I am sure they are gone for good.”
“You can be sure of nothing,” Horhon said coarsely. “If you were, you would certainly give this matter more serious attention. What if they saw you? They could be returning right now.”
“I can’t believe that,” Yaryar growled, his lips peeled back to show the full intensity of his temper. “The Iranha—if they were the Iranha, were traveling away from here, and we were careful to avoid them. They are gone. Now we can safely return to our burrow.”
Her eyes widened. “That is your plan, just go home?”
In answer Yaryar pounded his big tail across the broadside of the tree. She was a poisonous creature who saw dark shadows behind everything, and for all the good it did her to spread fear about things that might never happen again. He wanted very much to put a stop to their bickering, and never speak the accursed name of the Iranha ever again.
“Since there is a gulf between us that can never be crossed, I see no reason to speak of this any further. You have your beliefs. I have mine. Our place is here, this is our home. Why should we leave just because these Iranha are nearby? They can come and go whenever they wish. I don’t care, so long as they stay away from us.”
It was a controversial decision. Even Yaryar’s
loyal followers seemed dismayed with his lack of resolve. Today’s events had enlarged their fears. There was no telling if the Iranha might or might not return. But now the hunters had a new worry. Up until today no one had ever doubted Yaryar’s ability to lead. He was a natural leader. And yet his rash actions were of uppermost concern in their minds because only Yaryar himself seemed to know what he was doing. Could they afford to risk their lives on a bad decision? They were not ready to abandon him, not yet, though all were watching him closely to see what he would do next.
“What I have said, I said because this battle of wills must end,” he told his listeners. “Tomorrow I leave for the great plains. I want hunters—not cowards who hide in the shadows and let these Iranha things shape your fears. So either you come with me, or turn your tails and leave trod Yaryar forever. Now choose.”
Grudgingly, a straight line started forming, growing longer. Yaryar was ready to issue the order to leave when Gangahar came to his side and the two of them walked together to the back of the line. Karkakass was lying on her side; she appeared to be in pain.
“I stay. My baby’s time has come so I will dig out a lair and birth it here.”
Yaryar nodded. “Understood. Shall one of us remain to aid you?” She stared at him, only him. That was his answer. “Then we will look for you tomorrow.”
He broke off and strode away. Karkakass sensed the conflicting emotions. He wanted to stay with her, she knew, but his first duty was the trod, always. Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched his departure. He was the last one to vanish from her sight.
As the field opened up ahead of them they bent their drumstick legs and shot back into the air, taking long, graceful bounds that sent them sailing across the open plain. Out in the sunlight the color of their hides began to change dramatically. Within moments they now blended perfectly into the brown and green landscape, almost invisible. Their chameleon-like ability made them the ideal stalkers—and yet, unknown to the hunters, this natural advantage also doomed them to extinction, for the Iranha skin hunters were well familiar and eager to supply a burgeoning population with these decorative and fashionable Egris hides.
The Battle for Tomorrow (Ilon the Hunter) Page 2
