The Battle for Tomorrow (Ilon the Hunter)

by Frederick Bell

  Nevertheless their early attempts at navigation proved unsuccessful, mostly because Krugjon was unaccustomed to taking orders. Twice he sent Ilon sailing through the air. The first time Ilon was lucky because the soft sand broke his fall, but the second time he landed hard on solid ground and they did not go out again for three days. After that incident Krugjon promised to listen to him and was his willing student.

  Their training continued for many more days. Originally they both started out together as raw and undisciplined. They made many mistakes too, but they were slowly improving. Each day they rehearsed the same exercises, turning, stopping and starting, practicing until it was perfect. After the field they tried the forest and managed to negotiate all of the trees without a single accident. For Ilon it was a tremendous feeling of accomplishment. No longer was he just an unwilling acolyte riding on the back of his companion. Now he was part of an organized team, an active participant who planned and aided in hunting. Theirs had become a kind of symbiotic relationship, each of them depending on the other. Krugjon was in his thoughts as Ilon was in his.

  Daylight soon became dusk and this was now the time to hunt. Climbing up onto Krugjon’s back Ilon strapped himself in. The trod was to accompany them on their first hunt, for this is what they most desired.

  “Are you ready hunters?”

  Despite himself, Ilon was more excited than usual. Krugjon was a little nervous too, and had to pay close attention to Ilon’s shouted commands once they were underway.

  The pack traveled north together, out onto the open plains with only the stars showing in the dark sky. After a while they swung west and headed back into the forest. It was there they discovered the fresh tracks and stopped to get their bearings.

  “Goud,” Gangahar said, licking his chops. “I count seven, going that way.”

  Just as soon as they started they heard the distant sound of running footsteps; something was coming closer, and closer. Dark forms soon emerged from the darkness.

  “There they are!” Ilon shouted. He tugged on the leather reins and steered Krugjon in their direction. “Go!”

  They had to hurry because once the herd made it to the trees they would never catch them. As they closed in on the fleeing animals the hunters split apart into three groups and thus began the attack.

  Although Katakana was in the lead, Ilon and Krugjon were closing the gap behind her. Ahead of them the herd was beginning to scatter.

  “Go faster!” Ilon shouted. Steering Krugjon closer they were now jumping alongside one of the goud. “Ready . . . Ready . . . Now!” he cried out.

  With a final thrust of his mighty tail Krugjon propelled himself high up onto the goud’s broad back. Sinking his teeth into its hide he felt the hot blood gushing into his mouth. He bit deeper into the wound, wanting to taste more.

  Moments later the rest of the pack converged on the goud, closing in on both sides so that it had no chance to get away. The animal came crashing down into the grass as it died.

  “Meat, meat, meat,” Krugjon said happily after he leaned over the animal’s dead mass and tore away a bolt of flesh.

  Nearby, Ilon watched and waited. These Egris take their hunting skills very much for granted, he thought jealously. Their teeth and claws were the only weapons they had, yet they were natural killing machines who seldom ever worried about going hungry. But to him hunting was much more than killing and eating, for the dead goud symbolized his ability to kill as they killed. He was one of them now. As for Krugjon, being here with his trod, this day, this moment, was the single greatest feeling he had ever felt in his entire life.

  He was a hunter again.

  Chapter Twenty One

  It had been a long summer and no one noticed it was over. But much further north, beyond the desert to the end of the great forest, in a remote region of their world that no Egris had ever seen, snow was falling. Here it never changed; the day after seemed no different than the day before. Sometimes it was difficult to tell one season from the other, yet seeing tens of thousands of goud rumbling off the plains and into the forest to ascend to their tree top world, was a sure sign that spring was coming.

  The first thing Ilon did after killing the crested mullatod was to go back and search for his spear. He cursed himself. It was a bad throw. The fleeing animal had dislodged his spear before he and Krugjon were able to chase it down and finish it off. Not that his spear hadn’t gone missing before, yet this time he was less certain about where it might have fallen.

  After pleading with Krugjon to stay until he had made a thorough search of the area, at daybreak his crotchety companion talked of giving up and returning to the burrow to sleep. But Ilon refused to abandon his search.

  “It is lost,” Krugjon said confidently.

  “No,” he answered, pulling on the reins so that his reluctant companion would keep going forward.

  “Why do you search for something that can be easily found? Are there not plenty of other sticks you can pick off the ground?”

  Ilon did not want to speak about its importance because he feared Krugjon might laugh at his foolish beliefs. Yet he steadfastly believed that losing his spear was a loss infinitely worse than any kind of death. When a hunter died their spear was the most important thing that be buried with them. If he died without his spear he would not be welcomed into the spirit world; he would be rejected and lost forever. Egris beliefs were more mundane. They simply died, and whatever life-force they possessed became part of their world. A living world to which their souls mingled and joined. Agorgagoran, they called it. The return. The reunion of all things in the life force.

  Antayak and Norgolash came in at dawn, both of their faces red with the blood of a fresh kill. Those who had gone out to hunt were now returning for the day, and all activity soon quieted as everyone went to sleep. This was life, simple yet satisfying, for if anyone had ever complained of it then no hunter could remember their name.

  By early dusk Ilon was outside, sitting pensively by himself. Actually he had slept little during the day. Not having found his spear deeply disturbed him. That, and the meat-eater who had managed to crawl to within an arm’s length of him before Krugjon killed it from behind. Too many times he had been close to death, and he now was frightfully aware that this fragile life of his could end at any time.

  Krugjon was a heavy sleeper and would not be awake for some time yet, so he built up a small fire and fanned it until the wood crackled and burned. Yahu soon appeared, followed by Norgolash, then Katakana, who left the others to come over and join him at the fire.

  “You have eaten already?”

  “No,” he acknowledged. “I still wait for Krugjon.”

  “You will wait a long time,” she muttered to herself. Obviously there was something on her mind, so she stated her thoughts without any formality or delay. “I wish to talk to you of a matter important to the both of us. For the moment I will say only that this is more important than hunting.”

  There were things being planned, and whatever was forming in her mind Ilon suspected it would not be good for him. “What is it that you want?”

  “Not what, but who. I speak of Krugjon.”

  Perhaps it was just a coincidence because he saw his friend coming out of the tunnel right now.

  “Greetings, Katakana.” Even without his eyes Krugjon knew she was in his presence, unseen, yet visible to him, and he now shifted his weight so he was facing towards her and away from Ilon.

  “I was thinking about chasing after nentenens tonight,” Ilon told him.

  Instead the hunter answered with silence.

  What is going on? he wondered. Katakana was here, Krugjon was here. Yet it felt like he was not here at all. Even in the silence Ilon could hear their thoughts telling him to leave. He rose to his feet, determined to break apart whatever was between them. “We should go hunting.”

  “Not tonight.” Oddly it was Katakana who answered for him. When she touched Krugjon’s face the harshness was gone from her voice. �
��I wish a child, Krugjon. And I choose you as my burrow mate. Do you accept this responsibility and promise to stay with me until our baby has fully grown?”

  “I do.” They went off together.

  Had Ilon not stopped them outside of Katakana’s burrow he would have never retrieved his riding harness. Nevertheless she gave him a look that he was sure meant death and he should certainly not return again.

  “I’m going hunting,” Ilon huffed as he passed his mother in the tunnel.

  “So where is Krugjon?”

  He scowled. “With Katakana.”

  Obviously she was aware of this arrangement. “Do not be jealous of them. He is a hunter. She is a hunter. It is their wish to be together. There will be other nights to go hunting.”

  “Krugjon can stay here forever if he wishes it. I go.”

  “Name the hunter who goes with you.”

  “Not to worry,” he assured her. “Antayak joins me this night. We hunt for nentenens.”

  While she approved of his plan outright she had one additional request. “Take Sanbat with you.”

  “Sanbat?” He shielded his face so that she wouldn’t see his unhappy expression, yet still she heard it in his voice

  Horhon crossed her arms. “And what is wrong with your sister?”

  “Wrong?” Though at first he pretended ignorance she saw through this ploy easily enough and now waited expectantly for his real answer. Frantically he searched out his thoughts for the one right word which she might accept and relinquish him of his charge, although none were forthcoming.

  While Ilon was thinking, dark memories of his younger sibling flooded in. Sanbat was still very much a youngster, having yet to speak her first few words of intelligence. Although Egris newborns had never been a cause for concern in the trod before, Sanbat’s sudden presence opened their eyes to a new and unforeseen problem. Just born she was a creature of pure instinct, who attacked and ate anything that moved. Unfortunately for Ilon, she welcomed her new brother with open mouth. He grimaced when he recalled the hunters who had wrestled with her, who had pried her jaws open and pulled him free. And he had her teeth marks across his back and chest to prove it! However he objected to having her along because she was a clumsy and undisciplined hunter. Yet despite all of his excuses, in the end Ilon had no recourse but to obey the wishes of his mother.

  “There is nothing wrong with her,” he answered sullenly.

  “Good. Then you will take her hunting with you.”

  “Yes.” Ilon sighed. The excitement of trying out his newly made spear diminished since he expected their quarry would flee from her noicy presence.

  After his riding harness was lashed to Antayak, Ilon mounted him and clung on tightly as they made off for the open country; Sanbat was leaping along beside them. They made good time. Behind them the red sun was setting beneath a nigrescent sky as the first stars appeared and the forest dimmed to a dark line. As their journey lengthened, Sanbat was trailing farther and farther behind. When she was lost behind a dune Antayak slowed to a walking pace.

  “We should stop and wait for her to catch up,” he said.

  Ilon shook his head. “No. Do that and we could be chasing after her all night. As long as we lead she will keep following us.”

  “If you say so.” Slapping down his tail Antayak took off into the air; the swirling dust cloud was all that remained.

  Under the two moons’ light they halted upon seeing a well-marked trail in the grass. Eagerly, they followed the scent west, only to find it eventually dead-ended on the muddy banks of a river. Sanbat was still well out of sight, but Ilon was angry that she was slowing them down and let some of this show through when Antayak spoke to him.

  “Should we not go back to find her?”

  “I’m staying right here,” he said firmly. “I know her. She has more stomach than brains. She’s probably eating.”

  “She could be lost.”

  His mood shifted a little when Antayak said this. But it was still not enough to cause him to change his mind. “Will you hunt, or waste the rest of our time looking for her? Decide now.”

  “I want to hunt.”

  “This is what I want too.” Yet there was unhappiness in his decision. In a way he felt responsible for her and this was ever present in his mind so now he must choose. “We go back.” He sighed deeply. “We go back.”

  Sure enough, within a short while Antayak picked up her scent and was quickly on her trail.

  Where could she be going? Ilon wondered. They had already passed the point where they expected to see her. Still Sanbat was nowhere in sight. Nor could she have returned to the burrow because she was heading in the opposite direction. As they crested the hill Ilon saw that he was staring down into a shallow valley. Beyond was some thin cloud covering the horizon, wide enough where he could see it reflecting the lights of some nearby Iranha city. With both hands pulling back on the reins he dug in his heels as Antayak came to sudden halt.

  “What is the matter?” As soon as Ilon pointed east did Antayak shake his head. “I see the problem. Her tracks lead down that hill, straight to the Iranha. Should we follow?”

  “I think we must.”

  Their search ended very quickly in the valley, for it was here that they found her, bent over, tearing the flesh off of some creature she had chased down and killed.

  Ilon was still too angry to think about eating, seeing the bright lights of the city and wanting to be as far away from here as possible. The moment Sanbat lifted her head to see him coming over he slapped her soundly across the snout.

  “Well that was really stupid to run away,” he scolded her. Again his hand was raised but he lowered it down when she started to whimper. “Do you know where we are? Do you know the Iranha are close by? Of course you don’t. Because your brains are made of dead meat.”

  “Iranha,” Sanbat growled, speaking that name more out of recognition than understanding.

  “That is correct. Look over there.” Ilon pointed to the glowing lights. “Iranha. City of death. Do you see it now?” He shook his head no just as Sanbat did.

  “She doesn’t understand you,” Antayak said.

  “You are right,” he sighed. “I might as well be speaking to a rock.”

  “Make no sound!” Antayak whispered severely. Suddenly he threw himself down flat on the ground and lay completely motionless. Ilon crouched beside him while he sniffed the air and looked head on into the forest.

  “What is it?”

  There was a long space of time before Antayak answered. “I don’t know. A strange noise.” He lifted his clawed finger ever so slightly. “Over there.”

  In absolute silence they crawled through the undergrowth, moving out of the woods as they made their way across an open field under the cover of darkness.

  Antayak was the first to see it, hissing a warning through his clenched teeth. “Iranha!” Sanbat started to growl but Ilon slapped her into mute silence.

  What they were approaching was a compound of some kind, a large four-walled building with an adjacent fenced in enclosure, perhaps a holding pen. When Ilon crawled closer he saw that this was indeed its purpose. There was a large animal lying on its side in the corner.

  It was an Egris hunter.

  “What should we do?” Antayak whispered beside him. “Return to the burrow and tell the others?”

  “And what will they be able to do that we cannot? This one is a prisoner and must be freed.”

  “It is too dangerous. The Iranha are here.”

  While they debated, it was Sanbat who made the critical decision. “Stop! Come back here!”

  Ilon dropped back down, wild-eyed with panic. No time to think rationally. “Stay under cover and do not move from here,” he ordered Antayak.

  Except for Sanbat and the imprisoned hunter the surrounding yard appeared to be completely deserted. Ilon cautiously climbed to his feet and ran toward them.

  All this commotion brought the hunter to her feet. Of course she was v
ery much surprised to see Sanbat staring in at her, but then alarmed to see this other creature, whatever it was, come running over.

  “Go back to Antayak.” Ilon pointed to the bushes then spoke to his sister with great intensity. “Go now!”

  When she disappeared back into the undergrowth the hunter crooked her head and stared at Ilon through the thick bars of her cell. “What are you, creature?”

  “A hunter like you. I am Ilon of trod Horhon.”

  Her mouth gaped open. “You—You are Egris? How is that possible?”

  “Silence. I will ask the questions,” he said forcefully. “Tell me quickly, what is this place?”

  “A slaughtering ground. A killing place where hunters are taken to be butchered and skinned. We were attacked three days ago, some killed, the rest of us brought here.”

  “There are others?”

  “Were. I am the last, soon to die.”

  “Then these Iranha are here?” He tested the fence with both hands.

  “They do their killing inside. You should get away from here, Ilon, before they find you and kill you too.”

  “Not before I set you free. My friends are hiding over there. I promise I’ll be back soon.”

  He bent down into the grass and crawled back to his hiding place, finding Antayak just where he had left him. Sanbat growled but quieted the instant he raised his hand. “This is what we must do,” Ilon explained, and then quickly shaped his thoughts into a plan.

  Once they were in position he picked up the rock and threw it as hard as he could, watching with great satisfaction as it thudded loudly against the door of the building. On his fourth attempt a lone Iranha appeared in the doorway, then pushed the door wider as it stepped outside.

  In a single bound Antayak hurtled out of the darkness, mouth gaping wide, claws extended, eager to rip it apart. Scrambling to his feet Ilon ran over to him as he tossed the creature’s limp corpse into the bushes.

  “Come on.”

  Inside was a lighted corridor which they followed to the end, through a second doorway, then into a large room filled with noisy machinery and huge vats full of foul smelling yellow liquid. There they parted. On his whispered orders Sanbat and Antayak slipped silently down the aisles.