The Battle for Tomorrow (Ilon the Hunter)

by Frederick Bell

  “Shut up!” Inelefar snapped, quickly glancing back to see where the remaining guard was situated. “You. Go and get the guard.” Boa Loam hurried out of sight.

  “May you die a thousand deaths for your villainy,” Borobos hissed in hatred. “Your bones ground up to dust, and scattered to the ends of the world. Why, Inelefar? Why did you do it?”

  “You foolishly believe just as Poxiciti does, that our return to Epiphiline will force the polluters to change. He will kill us all! Why return to a dead world when we can have this one for the taking?”

  “And wreck it just as we did ours?”

  “We are what we are. If that happens here then we will find another world.”

  “No. I choose to return.”

  Inelefar regarded her with scorn. “Soon you’ll be thankfully dead and forgotten. Your death will serve as a reminder to others what we do with criminals.”

  “If you wish to kill me—then do so now.”

  “You will not die that easily. First I must know where Poxiciti is hiding. Dead or alive, Pulima Cos will certainly reward me for bringing him to her.”

  “Your only reward will be to see your own death, traitor.”

  There was arrogance in his voice as he straightened his killing stance. “What are you talking about?” he sneered. “I am the one who has the gun.”

  “Wrong,” Borobos smiled coldly. “To think I once trusted you. It is a good thing I stopped.”

  “I’m warning you. Move and die quickly.”

  Ignoring his threat she lowered her hands and reached for her belt. That was when Inelefar took aim and squeezed the trigger. Twice, but nothing happened. And the next thing he knew Borobos was standing over him as he died. Hearing the approaching footsteps she hid herself until they were close and surprised the both of them. They died too.

  The alarm sounded as the second set of doors hissed open. Borobos swallowed as she stepped shakily into the segathar pen. She was taking an incredible risk. Nevertheless she had fully committed herself to this insane plan, and in doing so her fate now depended entirely on these blood-thirsty animals. Unpacking the lag gun which she had carefully hidden in one of the instrument containers, she now aimed it at the opposite wall and fired. A blue arc of light screamed toward its target. The ground shook violently beneath her as a tremendous explosion tore open the building to show a gaping, ugly hole. Now she set the gun down in front of her. And waited.

  None of this had gone unnoticed. Ilon had watched the goings on from within the glass walls of his prison. Naturally his first thought was to kill this intruder, seeing it here now, standing this close. He took his first step forward.

  “Go. Leave here. Escape.” Again Borobos motioned towards the opening. “Outside. Go now.”

  Ilon looked straight at her,puzzled. Why was this Iranha trying to help them? His eyes lowered to the ground as he watched its foot push the weapon towards him. Why was it doing this? In the end he didn’t care. All he knew was that the prison which had once kept him from the outside world was blown wide open.

  Once Nagris realized that only this one unarmed Iranha stood between them and freedom she lunged forward, mouth agape, teeth shining, ready to strike death.

  “Halt!”

  The strength of Ilon’s shouted order froze Nagris in her tracks. Her angry expression hardened, that even while she was smiling he could tell there was a darkness behind her teeth. Teeth that wanted to kill.

  “Why stop now?” she demanded. “We can escape.”

  “I believe that is what this ugly thing wants.”

  “Then let us kill it and be gone,” Krunod said.

  Borobos was petrified with fear as the big segathars stalked around her. They were growling together, communicating what she believed was her death, but when the small creature answered them its meaning was abundantly clear.

  “No,” Ilon said firmly. “No killing. Let us be done and go home.”

  They parted enemies. Seizing the lag gun by the haft Ilon strode toward the opening, never looking back. However Nagris glared at Borobos as she passed by. Her fervent wish was to kill her—she still could—but obeyed Ilon only because there would be plenty of other Iranha to kill.

  Borobos watched the last segathar drag its tail outside and vanish from sight. They were gone, but the fear of death was still with her. Her legs were wobbling so badly she collapsed under her own weight. Struggling to her feet she walked back through the double doors and stopped suddenly. Now seeing the corpses the full impact of what she had done started to sink in. She had killed everyone, had freed dangerous animals. She was a murderess, a criminal, who would be pursued, hunted down, punished.

  Perhaps the segathars should have killed her, yet even as she heard the running footsteps, saw the armed guards coming closer, she knew that she would be dead very soon.

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Ilon was running, trying his best to keep up with them. The weight of this gun was slowing him down, and so he cast it aside and kept on going. All he could see was the tumult of broken branches and crushed vegetation where his overanxious companions had crashed through the undergrowth. He jumped over the trunk of a decaying tree, almost stumbling into them as he came to a fast halt at the outermost wall of the complex. Strange looking animals were crowding nearby, now mewling feverishly at the sight of them.

  “The final barrier,” Nagris said. “Use your weapon, quickly, and we shall all be free of this place at last.”

  “I threw it away. It was a burden that would only bring the Iranha to us that much faster.” Instead he was looking up at the wall. “Can you jump that high?”

  “Easy for me,” she said. “What about you?”

  “Come down here,” he motioned.

  Clasping both hands around her neck Ilon clung on tightly as she in turn closed her arms around him. Her big legs tensed. “Hold on.”

  They were the first ones over, with Sekak and Krunod quickly joining them on the other side. “That was easy,” Sekak said.

  “We’re not out of the Iranha city yet.”

  Overhead a gusty breeze pushed rain clouds across the sky. It had just recently stormed and the running water collected in the muddy tracks where an Iranha machine had just recently driven through. Bright lights suddenly appeared from behind. The hunters instinctively stood motionless and silent. However, Ilon took advantage of their natural camouflage and stayed hidden behind them until the machine rumbled past. Once the danger was over they were quickly on the move again.

  The edge of the city loomed closer than ever. Under the darkness of night three shadowy figures darted across a roadway, so suddenly and stealthily that they were gone in an instant. Up ahead, Ilon heard the muffled screams of the Iranha, saw the near invisible forms of the hunters standing beside the corpses. Here he could see that the gates of the city were wide open.

  “Straight ahead to the field.” Nagris’s teeth cracked solidly together, so great was the emotion. “To freedom.”

  This much anticipated moment had come, and everyone hurried outside, happy to see the city growing ever more distant. However, Ilon couldn’t run any further, and collapsed into the grass, gasping for air before Nagris ordered the others to halt.

  “You call that running? Why a newborn still fresh from its mother’s womb could run faster than you. You are slowing us down. Now come on.” She prodded him with her clawed foot. “We can’t stay here.”

  “Can’t go any farther,” Ilon puffed. “Go on, leave me.”

  “Never. You are coming with us,” she said forcefully. Leaning over, she picked him up in her arms.

  Krunod was looking toward the city. “Will the Iranha come after us, Ilon?”

  While no one was in pursuit, he knew they would be coming very soon. “Yes, certainly. I think we better leave.”

  To be able to jump again was a huge improvement over their slow-footed escape. It was near daybreak when the great forest slipped under the sky and very soon they were jumping beneath the tr
ees. No one wanted to stop now, though it was not until midday when they finally reached the encampment.

  The shock of seeing it deserted quickly replaced his eagerness to be home. All over there were signs that the Iranha had been here, evidenced by the scored tread marks and the deep craters where their weapons had blasted. But what had been the fate of his hunters? The absence of any recent tracks indicated that no one had come back, yet it was too soon to tell if any had escaped. A search of the burrow only worsened his fears. Finally it was Krunod who spoke aloud what the others were undoubtedly thinking in silence.

  “Could they be dead?”

  “No,” Ilon said ill-temperedly.

  “It is very possible that they are,” Nagris grimly agreed only because the Iranha were accomplished killers. “But we are still alive.”

  “Better had I been here with them.”

  “Then you might be dead too,” she disagreed. “We should be thinking about leaving this place.”

  Ilon had already made the outward decision to go, but inwardly his thoughts were in turmoil. Were the trods all destroyed, or had everyone managed to escape? Even more importantly, were his mother and sister still alive? Somehow he had to know for sure. This single concern usurped all other concerns, though he had to be pragmatic about his chances of finding them alive. Telling Nagris to wait for him he slipped back inside the burrow and found his riding harness.

  “Here, put this on,” he told her.

  Under the shadow of the trees they slipped back onto the field and headed north-west, making a wide swing of the Iranha city before steering toward the desert. Digging in just after sunrise the next morning they slept through the heat of the day, then awoke and pressed on forward.

  The barren landscape did not begin to change until they saw a dark line swelling on the horizon and knew the forest was ahead of them. Here they jumped through a grass filled plain and killed their first nentenen. No one had hunted in a long time, so perhaps this was the best one they had ever eaten. Sekak sank his teeth into the nentenen’s thick shank and swallowed juicy mouthfuls of the sweet, bloody meat. Untying his bundle of wood, Ilon built a small fire and roasted his portion of meat before kicking sand over the coals and packing up the largest pieces.

  Night soon became morning and the day passed quickly by. It was well after dark the next evening when they discovered a hunter’s gnawed remains laying under the cold glow of the full moon’s light. A gruesome trail of bodies led them back to the sand burrow, there making yet another grisly discovery.

  “Just as I feared,” Nagris growled. “All dead. Trod Skulgol is no more.”

  Seeing all of these skeletons laying about caused Sekak to wail in anguish. Most of his existence had been spent living in a cage. There he had known only the comforts of his prison cell. Now he was very quickly discovering that life outside was even grimmer than the one he had left behind.

  “Where can we go where the Iranha have not already struck?” Krunod asked.

  “Trod Karipace is a single day from here. Yet I fear the worst,” Nagris admitted gloomily.

  “Then do not forget today,” Ilon told them. “Because there is only the darkness of tomorrow.” He bent and picked up the first bone. “Now we bury these dead and sing their death song.”

  The hunters had great fear about the trek. To Ilon there was no mystery at all about what lay ahead. Either the same butchery had befallen trod Karipace, or they were still alive. Those were the only sure possibilities, and so at dawn when they reached the rim of trod Karipace’s hunting territory they roared with happiness as seven hunters bounded forward to greet them.

  No one had ever seen anyone like Ilon before. The onlookers debated loudly in his presence, and still they were not even sure what he was. Indeed he had captured their interest. They poked his soft flesh with their fingers, touched his dark fur, although they thought better of doing this when one of them received a rough slap on the snout.

  The strangers were escorted back to the sand burrow and introduced to Karipace, an old female with few teeth and a bad arm that hung limply at her side.

  “What is it that you seek, hunters?”

  “Why the same as you.” Ilon pushed his way past the others and faced the old hunter. “To see our world free of the Iranha.”

  Karipace was shocked more by his appearance than his speaking ability. “And what are you, creature?”

  Before he could answer Nagris spoke in his place. “Our liberator. The one who is to tear down our enemy and bring us peace.”

  “So the stories are true after all,” Karipace said. “I did not think to believe them, and yet here you are.” She studied him momentarily. If she was pleased to see him then she hid it behind her voice of disappointment. “You do not look like the savior I expected.”

  “How I look is unimportant. Rather the future that I bring you and all Egris—is important.” When Ilon told her of the future he spoke with an enthusiasm that intensified. Those who listened were forced backwards by the strength of his words. “We can attack them, defeat them, send them back home. We can win!”

  Nonetheless Karipace did not share his excitement, or his future. “Had I known the future as I know it now, I would have altered nothing. There is only one sure course, and that is the one we are on. We are simple hunters who understand simple things. However this is not a simple thing. You ask us to risk our lives following you, attacking an enemy who we know cannot be defeated. It is better to stay away from them. We want to cause no more trouble, only to live our lives in peace.”

  “Peace,” Ilon hissed. “Peace. That word is as alien to them as I am to you. There will never be peace, only killing, for that is what they have chosen for us.”

  Shaking her big head she said, “Then I am sorry. Perhaps you ask too much of us.”

  In part Ilon agreed with her arguments, but not her assumptions. “You have no choice. Understand that they are killers. The only life that exists for them is killing us. So do not think they will stop killing just because you wish to live apart from them. Wherever you hide they will hunt you down and kill you. I offer you the only choice. To choose anything else is to choose death.”

  “How will you do what no other Egris has been able to do?” Karipace asked skeptically.

  She was certainly not easy to convince. Ilon laid out in detail what he had already accomplished and what he was still planning to do. He even explained exactly how the Iranha could be defeated. His listeners were polite, nodding appreciatively whenever he spoke of his past successes. He had earned their encouragement, but none of their support. In the end he was disappointed with their reluctance to fight. To them it was simply better to flee than fight. How could he make them understand that they were really running away from survival, and instead heading straight for extinction?

  Most in the trod decided that night Ilon’s plan was too dangerous. No one wanted to die unnecessarily, especially defending a cause that they had no possible chance of winning. Karipace’s mind was set and her orders were firm. They were staying here.

  Even Nagris, known to many of these hunters, could not influence their decision to remain. In spite of her great efforts she finally gave up. “It is just as you said. No one will fight them.”

  As Ilon climbed up onto Nagris’s back and strapped himself in he could only shake his head. His dire warning had accomplished nothing. He had encountered such resistance before, though never this strong. Karipace was too stubborn, too unwilling to risk change, and that would bring about her end. Worse, he knew as he turned his back and headed for the field, trod Karipace would soon be no more.

  They followed the track of the second moon until moonset, then dug into a dune and slept for the day. In his dreams Ilon dreamed of his mother and sister, was reunited with them once again. By the time he awoke the days of dread that had oppressed him were gone for good. He was now sure that they were still alive.

  It was the following evening when the hunters reached a small hill that looked d
own into a shallow valley filled with clear water from some faraway mountain. Here they had to stop and make a decision.

  “Where will we go now?” Krunod asked. “Back the way we came? To the empty forest?”

  “No,” Ilon answered. “Instead we head north, cross over the Un desert to the Olahn territory.”

  “The Olahn?” Nagris said with wide eyes. “That is a long journey. Many days and every one full of danger. Why do we trek there?”

  “Trod Horhon must be there...”

  “Might be there. Your gut feelings could get us all killed. Why should we risk traveling on the open desert in pursuit of a trod that might not even exist?”

  “I can think of no other alternative. Can you?”

  She couldn’t. Every direction she turned was as uncertain as the next. Behind there was nothing for them. Ahead was something, so on they went.

  Eventually the rock strewn hills spread apart; the grass started to thin out. High drifts of sand soon began to appear and after only a half day’s travel they were already deep in the desert. With the worst yet to come, Krunod and Sekak already wanted to turn back. If Nagris felt the same way then she at least never said it aloud. Just before sunrise they came upon a natural spring where the water welled up through the ground. Animal tracks scarred the muddy banks. Dark forms, too wary to be eaten, were seen running away to safety.

  “Drink your fill,” Nagris ordered. “This may be the last we see for a long time.”

  An arid wind was blowing breezily, bringing up a light dust that Ilon brushed from his eyes. “We have gone far enough for today,” he said. “Rest here, then we hunt tonight.”

  Fresh water. Fresh meat. It was a good idea and there were no dissenting voices. They choose a shady spot on the eastern slope of the dune and dug into its side to wait out the day’s scorching heat.

  At dusk the hunters were on the prowl again, their bodies melding into the evening shadows as they crept in absolute silence toward the watering hole. There they surprised a small herd of crested mullatods by the water’s edge, killing one before sending the others off in a flurry of dust and panic. Unwrapping his dwindling supply of wood Ilon built up a fire. After he was through he put out the fire and repacked the burnt bits of wood for later use. He was used to this life on the move and learned to take advantage of every situation because the next day was never the same as the last.