The Battle for Tomorrow (Ilon the Hunter)

by Frederick Bell

  “And this is your plan for us?” Saskakel roared with anger as he smashed his tail against the floor. “To unite our trods just to be wiped out that much sooner!” He leaned over Ilon, his mouth agape, his deadly rows of teeth glinting in the firelight. “Better for all of us if today you had been eaten! May that day come soon.” He spun about and left. Norgolash, his burrow mate, started getting up to go after him.

  “Leave him,” Horhon ordered. “We could all stand a little less hot air.”

  The evening passed by quickly and very soon it was dawn. Behind him, Ilon’s deleterious companions were still huddled together. But rather than discuss anything of relevant importance they preferred instead to complain, mostly because it gave them something to talk about, though after last night’s melee they avoided the thorny issue of the Iranha altogether and lowered their voices whenever he was nearby.

  Ilon was tired of listening; he knew what they were saying about him. Still, he was unhappy because he had forced them all to think about their eventual fate together. Regrettably he realized little of what he said had influenced them. Like him the Egris lived their lives from one day to the next, hunting and eating. However, where they differed was their outlook on the future. What really mattered most to them was today, only today, for that was as far into the future as any of these wild hunters ever bothered to think about. Maybe he was just wasting his time, yet he had to convince them, force them to see his way, somehow.

  “Time to sleep,” Horhon said as she uncoiled her tail and stretched.

  As she was walking past Gangahar the tip of her tail brushed up against his leg. Understood. After she was gone he rose from his place and disappeared into the tunnel behind her. Katakana grinned toothily, as did Norgolash. However Ilon was unsure about what had just transpired, although he was sure that if he asked no one would tell him.

  By early dawn the next day Antayak returned to the burrow to tell everyone how he had spotted the Iranha on the field. Something was going on, so during the night while the Iranha were gone, the hunters slipped out of the forest to see what they were doing. To those who saw these big machines for the first time it was a very disturbing thing to look upon because now the Iranha were really here. Ilon was not at all surprised to see them, for this was exactly what he had warned everyone about.

  Over the next several days more of these machines appeared. As each day progressed the hunters could see that something was taking shape on the field. Apparently the Iranha were erecting some sort of barrier. To Horhon what they were doing was appallingly clear.

  “They are building a city. A place where their kind congregates and lives.”

  “Not here!” Katakana screamed. She had heard that there were Iranha cities in the north, but now they were coming here. “What will we do? Leave again?”

  “I think we must.”

  Leaving was the best thing to do. After all, staying here meant certain death, for their close proximity to this new city made them a sure target. And though the thought of leaving their hunting grounds was an unhappy one, fortunately Saskakel was the only real dissenter.

  “I am staying.”

  Horhon was dumbfounded. “How can you think about staying when the Iranha are this close?”

  “If we leave them alone, stay away from their cities, then why should they continue hunting us?”

  “Why should they stop?”

  “I’m not afraid of them,” he growled. “Are you?”

  “Your over-confidence will get you killed,” she answered, irritated. “Again I ask you—will you come with us?”

  He was looking in Ilon’s direction. “No.”

  It was his own personal decision to remain. Even as one who commanded, for all her powers of persuasion Horhon could not prevent him from staying. In the trod everyone was equal. Members cooperated jointly together for each others mutual survival. Disputes were normally settled by consensus. Though she herself was leader and issued orders, Saskakel could do whatever he wished. So that was the end of it.

  “Then—be well hunter.”

  They departed at once. Gangahar took the lead, and soon he and the others disappeared into the black depths of the forest. Just before Horhon joined them she glanced back one last time to see Saskakel standing alone. Raising her hand she waved goodbye.

  He would not be alive for long.

  Chapter Twenty

  Trod Horhon had trekked for many days through the deep woods before coming out of permanent darkness into blue sky and sunshine. It was a welcome change to be jumping on the grassy fields again.

  Happy to finally reach the end of their journey, Horhon ordered her hunters to scout this new territory. Later Norgolash reported seeing nentenens crossing the river. And when Gangahar returned to tell them of a giant herd of goud everyone was convinced that this was indeed a good place to be. But the best news of all came with Katakana, who now jumped in from the field and spoke as the dust settled around her.

  “Game is plentiful. Meat animals are to be found everywhere. All that we need is here. Except Iranha. Perhaps we shall never see them again.”

  This too was Horhon’s desire, though what Katakana had said was not even close to reality. “Never is a very long time, and I fear we shall see these Iranha much sooner than that.”

  Nevertheless, now was not the time to be thinking of them. Other details needed her close attention. And first among them to be done was to dig out their new burrow.

  “Dig here.” Horhon scratched her clawed foot across the ground. Norgolash was only too eager to start digging. Thick clouds of dust swirled upward out of this deepening hole, and very soon only the tip of her tail was visible.

  By early next morning their task was completed and everyone admired their new sand burrow. Scraping the dirt from his claws, Antayak came through the tunnel into the central chamber. A small fire burned in its center, which by now seemed so ever-present that most in the trod walked past it without even noticing.

  It was daylight and those who had labored all night now retired to their burrows to sleep. Even with so much to do Horhon felt herself being unconsciously pulled to her own burrow. The others were already curled up inside fast asleep, though she noticed that Ilon’s hollowed out hole was empty.

  “And where do you sneak off to so early this morning?” He had left a strong scent that was easy to track. Her big eyes narrowed when she noticed his spear. “Hunting? Do not even think about it.”

  “I do as I wish,” Ilon said, the firmness of his words telling her that this would be his decision alone. “I am a hunter, not a baby.”

  “There must be another way,” she told him firmly, implying that he was the one who would have to change. Horhon knew she was being overprotective but it was for his own good. “There are too many dangers, too many opportunities for something to go wrong. You must promise me not to hunt alone again.”

  Although he did try to argue she was resolute in her determination to make him do this for her. And so when he went out hunting the next day Gangahar was close behind him. Ilon did not like this new arrangement at all. How was he ever going to kill anything on his own with Gangahar’s hulking presence scaring off the animals that saw him coming? In his other life he had gotten used to fending for himself. However he could not rationalize his beliefs completely because he was no longer there—but here. If he did something stupid and died then all this would be for nothing, so he grudgingly accepted his hunting companion, but only for now.

  “Time to go back,” Gangahar said.

  “It is still early,” Ilon complained. “I want to keep hunting.”

  But he disagreed, saying, “You have speared your first tarser already. Is one not enough?”

  “It is no good for eating.” He spat on the carcass to show him how strongly he felt about having to taste its foul flesh. “I want to find a nentenen and kill it myself.”

  “Only a nentenen? Why not a big goud instead, great hunter?”

  “Yes, why not?”

>   Gangahar knew very clearly what Ilon was thinking, and so he must quickly deflate his overblown ego lest he start believing this fantasy of his and get himself killed. “You misunderstand the meaning of my words. You will never get close to the goud with your pointy little stick. One tail swipe and you would be flattened, or perhaps fall under its feet to be trampled. Either way you would die just as quickly. So why foolishly risk your life to kill something that can easily kill you?”

  “I have told you that I must hunt.”

  “I know that you must—but you are going to get yourself killed.” His ears twitched slightly as he stared in Ilon’s direction. “Come over here,” he said, his voice low. “There is something hiding in the grass close behind you.” As soon as Ilon was out of the way Gangahar leapt forward and roared violently. The dark shape of a karafin suddenly appeared upright in the grass. As expected his menacing presence sent it hurtling away into the field.

  What he had just done made Ilon feel all the more bitter. Walking over to where Gangahar was now standing he threw down his spear. “You are right. I am no hunter. Not on this world.”

  “I do not understand. The danger is gone.”

  “Yes, but if not for you I would have been its next meal.”

  “They are noisy things. I heard it coming before I ever saw it in the grass. You should not worry because my ears are bigger than yours.”

  “I don’t. I only want to hunt the bigger animals like you do.”

  “Those are for big hunters. You are a small hunter, Ilon.”

  He sighed in unhappy agreement. “Then for me it is this tarser, and there will always be plenty to kill because no one else will eat them. Now we go home, before I change my mind.”

  The day was bright, the sun hot, the sand sparkling through the shimmering waves of heat. Something appeared out of a dark hole and skittered across the dune. There was a high pitched scream, and whatever it had been chasing after, it now loped away with this same creature writhing in its closed mouth. In this crushing heat there was little else to be seen moving upon the field, except now as two solitary figures appeared at the crest of the hill, plodding slowly, steadily forward.

  “Look, they are coming now,” Katakana said.

  His arms caked in sand, his face dripping with sweat, Ilon glanced up occasionally as he hauled the tarser closer and closer to home. Only when he was off the field, when he crossed into the shadow of the first trees and the scorching sun was gone, did he recognize the hunter Katakana and his mother looming closer.

  Seeing him with yet another tarser was not very encouraging, though Horhon was able to conceal her real feelings and tried her best to praise him nonetheless. “Your tarser looks very meaty,” she remarked as she bent over and sniffed the hot carcass.

  “Have some,” he told them both, doubting their teeth would ever touch it..

  Horhon looked away from Katakana who was shaking her head no. “We go hunting tonight.” For better tasting meat, yet she dare not speak this thought aloud.

  Frowning, Ilon tried to think of something good to say, could not, so instead he dropped the animal’s dead bulk in front of them, groaning as he rubbed his bruised shoulders where the leather thongs had bitten into his flesh.

  “Gangahar could have carried this dead weight for you,” Horhon told him.

  “Next you will have him do all of the hunting for me as well,” he told her scornfully. He was unrepentant and would not be deprived of the one last thing he was capable of doing himself.

  Horhon was very close to losing her temper. He was getting more and more rebellious all of the time. Antayak and Yahu were now his only companions, as he often criticized the others and referred to them as his baby-sitters. Even if she had put a stop to his going outside by himself, whenever she tried to regiment his other activities he disobeyed her orders and undoubtedly he would do the same in the future. What could she do? There had to be a solution.

  “We must talk,” she said firmly, indicating the space in front of her. “But first you must promise me that you will not get angry at what I have to tell you.”

  “I promise nothing.” He stabbed the point of his spear into the ground and squatted down beside it.

  Without thinking she bent over him and bellowed, the forcefulness of her breath blowing the hair off his shoulders. She did not care for his kind of backtalk. However, after her anger abated she realized he was not a child and could say whatever he wished. That would still take some getting used to.

  “There is a baby coming soon,” she quietly told him.

  Somehow Ilon wasn’t too surprised with this news, although he now felt a little jealous because very soon there would be another sibling to compete with for her attention. “A new brother or sister. This is good,” he smiled thinly.

  “Then you are not upset with me?”

  “Maybe a little,” he admitted. “Then I am no longer your baby?” All along this was his hope, that she would let go of him and start letting him make his own decisions.

  “You are a hunter. But that does not mean I approve of you going off by yourself,” she repeated. “Whether you agree or disagree I am still your mother, and that is a bond that can never be broken.”

  Her decision was made and he had no choice. Ilon rose to his feet, trembling with pent-up frustration. He would not be restrained by her fears, but before he was able to express these feelings Katakana came in between them.

  “Wait. I see two problems—and the solution to both is simple. Ilon wishes to be free to hunt. Krugjon is blind and needs a guide. If one cannot hunt and the other cannot see, then why cannot one help the other?”

  “Why of course,” Horhon said, suddenly excited. This was exactly the solution she had been seeking. Ilon, however, was still warming up to the idea and needed convincing. “You are his eyes, he is your teeth. Think about what the two of you might accomplish together.”

  He scowled. It sounded like another way of controlling him, and yet despite his suspicions he slowly shook his head yes. “I will do as you ask. I will go to Krugjon and explain exactly what you told me.”

  “No,” Katakana said. “He has his pride. Instead tell him you desire his help. He will like that.”

  Ilon wondered if it was the other way around. In any case, with Krugjon as his weapon he could now hunt the larger, faster animals, and still have no one but himself to decide when and where he would go. It might just work.

  Later, while he was hacking up his tarser to eat, Yahu and Antayak came over to see what he was doing. Of course when he offered them some they shook their heads and politely declined. As soon as the smell of the roasting flesh reached their nostrils the two of them escaped outside, happy to be away from the stinking meat.

  “What have you caught today?” Krugjon, the last to wake, appeared from out of the tunnel and stopped just short of the fire. He sniffed the polluted air, then made a face. “Smells terrible. It must be another one of your tarsers.”

  Ilon’s laughter was automatic. If Krugjon had anything still left inside of him it was his brutal sense of humor. “Will you eat some?”

  “Of your burnt meat? No,” he gasped, holding up his one good arm in front of him. “But some raw meat. Is there any left?”

  “Plenty.”

  For an Egris the size of Krugjon this was no more than a snack. Sniffing the tarser’s remains he bit into it with his great teeth and swallowed it whole.

  “Tastes worse than it smells,” he complained.

  “There are tastier animals out there,” Ilon agreed. “You should try to catch one.”

  Then Krugjon fell silent and remained at bay. At times Ilon felt like him, desperately alone, and so deep inside himself that no words could describe his real feelings. Krugjon was alive, yet he was not living.

  “Can this dark cloud of yours ever be lifted, for each passing day I watch you and wonder if there is any hope still inside you?”

  “None,” Krugjon assured him. “None at all. But do not despair for
me. I am lost in this accursed darkness, a prisoner by my own choice, for had I the courage to bring about my death this pitiful existence need not be.”

  “You have the courage to live, that is what I firmly believe, for I know of no other with your strength of will.”

  “Don’t say that. It is because I am too afraid to die, and were this fear of mine not so great I know I would happily embrace death.”

  “So you are blind, but does this mean you cannot see the world in other ways?”

  “I see it only as a dark place, and my fervent wish is to see the end of it soon.”

  “Then unhappiness is your joy. You know that I am right because you stay here when you could be out hunting with the others.”

  Now the same bitter unhappiness was back in his voice. “No one would hunt with a cripple.”

  “I would.” They were alone. He saw the moment was right and explained what he wanted.

  It sounded very complicated, what Ilon was suggesting. And there were certain parts of his explanation which Krugjon outright rejected, though the more he listened the more he believed it could be done.

  “I will help you,” Krugjon said when Ilon was through. Ilon excused himself from Krugjon’s presence anddisappeared into the tunnel. When he returned he was holding out his riding harness.

  “Here, let me help you put this on.”

  At first it was a very clumsy operation. Krugjon immediately became entangled and broke one of the straps.

  “This is not going to work,” Ilon decided. Being on the front was fine when his mother could see where she was going. “I need to be on your back so I can be your eyes.”

  Later, after making some changes to the harness they set out for the open field.

  “Right! Go right!” Ilon screamed, pulling tight on the reins to bring him back on course. But Krugjon was going left when instead he should have veered right. Fortunately they barely missed the tree, and Ilon sincerely hoped they would never come that close again.