The Hunter

by Rose Estes

  Braldt and Keri were stunned by Carn’s words and Braldt’s hand crept toward his dagger, wondering if Uba Mintch would attack him or summon help. But the old man did nothing but sink farther into the depths of his chair and sigh deeply. Noting Braldt’s reaction, he smiled ruefully and nodded his head. “His words have merit and even though I might not have worded them so baldly, I do not take offense. Sit you down, Carn the Outspoken. Allow me to tell you the story of the Madrelli, and perhaps when all is done, you will understand.”

  13

  “We have not always been as we are now,” began Uba Mintch, his eyes taking on a distant look as though he were remembering other times, other vistas. “Once we were no more than the animals you describe, somewhat intelligent, yet given to fits of violence, we were without words, and we may well have lived in trees or slept in nests on the ground, I cannot say for no records exist from that time, at least no records of our keeping.

  “Then, others discovered that we could be trained to do clever things, things that were too difficult or too dangerous for other beings. But our violence and our unwillingness to perform for others made us unsatisfactory for projects of any but those of a short duration.

  “But the others had need of our services and being stronger, more intelligent, and more highly advanced, they enslaved us and performed many tests upon those of our tribe. After a time, during which many of our people were sacrificed in the name of their desires and greater knowledge, they devised a way to bring us under control, under their control, a way that would heighten our intelligence as well as make us subservient to their wishes. We were now the ideal subjects, willing and able to carry out orders of the greatest complexity for long periods of time under less than beneficent conditions. All of this was made possible by means of a simple injection given on a regular basis.

  “As you might imagine, this was a very difficult time for the Madrelli. On the one hand, we had made huge leaps in intelligence, come further in a short period of time than we would have in several millennium of a more natural order. We were now fully thinking, sentient beings, enjoying the same emotions that you yourselves experience.

  “But in gaining this intelligence, this gamut of emotion, we had lost our freedom, the right to govern ourselves; we had become little more than the slaves of others. Should we offend them, refuse to do their bidding, they had but to withhold the miracle of the serum and we would become as we had been, mere animals with one foot on the lowest rung of the ladder of life.

  “We served our masters well for many long generations, dying in their stead in many instances, where the deeds were too dangerous to support even our poor, expendable lives. We served them faithfully on many planets, on many worlds, some sterile and barren and hostile to all life, others that were mere machines rotating in the cold darkness of empty space, but nowhere did we find a world like this one, a world perhaps like that of our own, wherever in the universe that that might have been.

  “And then some six generations ago, we were sent here, as always, to do the bidding of our masters, still dependent on them as we always had been for the serum. And then one day, we made a miraculous discovery, here on this planet, this world of great beauty, we found a bush that produced a berry, a small red berry that duplicated in nature the properties of the serum, and in it we found the promise of freedom.”

  “Now wait a minute, let me understand you. You’re saying that there are other worlds, other people somewhere else?” Carn was sitting on the edge of his chair, his face screwed up in an expression of total disbelief. “What kind of story is this? You expect us to believe that you come from another world? Do you think we’re stupid?”

  “Carn, please, let him tell the story,” said Keri, her eyes fixed on Uba Mintch. “Listen at least, until he is done.”

  Braldt’s mind was in a turmoil. Other worlds? Who and what were their masters? How could this be, and yet a part of his mind stood back and wondered how it could be anything other than the truth, for there was too much here that he could not explain. “These masters,” he asked slowly. “Tell us about them. Who are they? Where are they? Are they here?”

  “I am sorry if our story upsets you, it is upsetting to us as well for it is we who have lived and died to make it so. I will do my best to answer all your questions, but allow me to finish, so that you may know the whole story.”

  The three of them exchanged uneasy glances and sat back silent, prepared to hear the old man out.

  “We had asked for our freedom many times and had been punished for our efforts. We knew that there was no sense in asking again so we bided our time, waiting for the proper moment in which to seize control of our lives.

  “As with any people there are different factions within our tribe. Many cautioned that we do nothing, that our masters were not overly harsh and it would be better to leave well enough alone. Others wished to seize their freedom immediately. There were many thoughts between the one extreme and the other and nobody agreed with anyone else.

  “I do not know what we might have done, had we been given the time to decide, but we were not allowed that choice. Recently, we learned that the reason for our presence on this planet, a substance known as rhodium, precious and rare and impossible to duplicate outside of nature, had been depleted. We were to be removed from this world that we have come to love and taken who knows where. The planet was to be destroyed, blown to bits so that our masters might extract whatever amounts of rhodium that are contained in its heart. This would be done by machines, and our services would no longer be required.”

  “Destroy our world? This world!” Carn leaped to his feet, fists clenched. “Are you mad, the gods would not allow such a thing to happen. We’re crazy to even listen to you! This can’t be true, it’s some kind of a trick, isn’t it, old man. Some kind of trick you’re playing to get us to do something!”

  “It’s no trick, I’m afraid. No, Keri, it’s all right, I quite understand your brother’s anger. We have felt it many times ourselves. It is not pleasant to find out that you and your world are but another’s plaything.”

  “The gods would not let anything happen to us!” shouted Carn, his face a dangerous shade of red. “Mother Moon…”

  “There are no gods,” Uba Mintch said quietly, “and your Mother Moon is but a dead, lifeless bit of rock that shines only on this world, reflecting the image of your own small sun. The moon cannot help you, no one can help you other than you, yourselves. You would be better served to believe in your own abilities than in some amorphous being that cannot be seen or touched.”

  “Father, it is too much, do not take everything from them at once,” Sytha Trubal whispered in the shocked silence that followed. “You forget how hard it was for us in the beginning when we learned the truth.”

  “No, daughter, I do not forget,” replied Uba Mintch, “but there is no kindness in half truths, they must learn the truth sometime and it is better that they learn it now.”

  Braldt’s mind reeled under Uba Mintch’s words even though he himself had had doubts and questions that he had not dared to ask of the priests, questions that appeared in the darkness of night and disappeared with the coming of the dawn. “What happened then?” he asked, more to keep the old man talking and to distract Carn from foolish action, than from any desire to learn more of the story.

  “We talked long into the night, trying to decide what to do, but even though all of us knew that we did not wish to leave this world and wanted to be free to lead our own lives, we could not decide upon the means.

  “In the end, it was decided that we would speak to the masters once more and plead with them for our freedom. We would promise them that we would search the world over, find other deposits of the mineral that they sought, and deliver it to them as payment for our freedom. My son was part of that delegation, even though he did not believe that there could be a peaceful solution. He was right.” The old man fell silent then, the brilliant stripes on his muzzle fading, becoming muddy and drab as h
e sat, lost in thought and painful memory.

  “They went to speak to the masters on a day when they had come to supervise the collection. But the masters laughed at our offer, laughed at us, told us to be ready to leave within six dawnings or we could stay behind and die along with the planet.

  “The delegation returned and told us of our masters’ words, and while the others were wasting their time arguing, talking as always, Arba Mintch gathered a small band of friends and returned under darkness of night. The masters had gone, leaving only the hard ones behind, the hard ones who have no thoughts of their own but carry out the masters’ wishes in total obedience.

  “Arba Mintch and the others destroyed the hard ones and threw the great switch that allowed the masters to come and go, masking their presence from you and others who might take exception to their presence on this world. They severed the bond that held us in their thrall; we were free at last.” The old man fell silent, his muzzle resting on his chest, eyes shut tightly, gripped in some terrible emotion, unable to continue.

  “Arba Mintch was killed in the doing,” said Sytha Trubal, her voice no more than a whisper. “He and two others were killed when they threw the switch and brought down destruction on the great chamber. Only now has the river brought us their bodies. Batta Flor was among those who made the journey and he alone survived to tell what happened.”

  There was silence then in the great room as each of them in turn thought over the words that had been said and dealt with their own painful private thoughts.

  “The God Lights, the colors in the night sky…” Keri asked softly. “They are not God Lights at all?”

  “If you refer to the shimmering borealis in the eastern sky, no, that is no light of the gods,” replied Sytha Trubal. “It is an electromagnetic masking device that the masters created to hide their comings and goings. Otherwise you would have seen the crafts landing and taking off. This machine was also destroyed by Arba Mintch.”

  “Why must these masters hide their comings and goings?” asked Braldt, his lips feeling numb and strange even as they formed the words.

  “I do not know,” said Sytha Trubal, “but it has always been so and they were most anxious to conceal their presence. We were forbidden to reveal our true selves to you as well, under pain of death. Some of us thought that we might form an alliance between our two peoples, but all of our attempts were met with violence and our ambassadors killed and stripped of their pelts. Some of our people responded with violence of their own; it is wrong, I know, but understandable.”

  “We saw many armed Madrelli on our journey,” said Braldt. “Are they going to attack the Duroni?”

  “No, it is yet another attempt to establish an alliance, but this time they go in force so that they are not slain before they are heard.” The old man raised his head and spoke directly to Braldt.

  “Once your people are heard to speak, they will come to no harm.”

  “Are you so certain that this is true?” asked Uba Mintch.

  And considering the ordered nature of his adopted people, knowing their intense dislike for anything that was out of the norm, Braldt wavered, less than certain of his answer.

  “Why did the priests give us the vision then?” Carn cried angrily. “Why did they give us the vision and send us to this place to fix that which is broken? If there are no gods, then how do you answer that?”

  Uba Mintch turned to Braldt in puzzlement. “What is this vision he speaks of? What is your purpose here? Why indeed have you come?”

  Braldt paused, wondering how much he dared to tell the old man. Sytha Trubal had saved their lives. They had been welcomed into their home and learned the darkest of their secrets, surely they had earned the right to be told of their mission.

  But from the sound of it, Arba Mintch and his companions had been responsible for the destruction of the very thing that they were charged with repairing! Could it be that these mysterious masters were in communion with the priests? Could it be that they too were but pawns manipulated in the game larger than the world itself? It was a staggering and deeply disturbing thought.

  “Don’t tell him anything, Braldt! They’re nothing but dirty karks! It’s some kind of trick, don’t tell them anything! C’mon, let’s get out of here! Keri! Now!”

  Keri stared at her brother in shock, horror and shame in her eyes. She buried her face in the infant’s soft belly and said nothing, her silence an answer in itself.

  “Sit down, Carn,” Braldt said quietly. “This is no trick, at least I do not think so. What would the motive be, they cannot know anything of our mission.”

  “If you tell them they will know,” argued Carn. “Have you forgotten Auslic? He could be dying while we sit here doing nothing!”

  “You know that I have not forgotten Auslic, but even he would wish that we learn all that there is to know about this matter. Can you not see that it affects the Duroni as well as the Madrelli?”

  “Are you saying that you believe them?”

  “I don’t know, but, yes, I think I do believe that it is so, or at least that they believe it is true. What reason would they have to tell us this story?”

  “To keep us from pulling the lever and getting the box!”

  “But, Carn, they don’t know our mission, as you yourself have said. How could they have known?”

  “What is this mission you speak of?” Uba Mintch looked from one man to the other and so noble did he seem in his grief that he brought Auslic strongly to mind. The two men, so different and yet so alike, Braldt knew that given the opportunity, they would be able to span the differences and find only that which they held in common. In that moment, he made his decision. Before Carn could object, he told Sytha Trubal and Uba Mintch of their mission and of the medicine box they sought.

  For a moment there was silence and then Uba Mintch spoke. “Do you realize what this means? It means that your priests have knowledge of this place, knowledge of the destruction, of the lever, and of this box as well. It can only mean one thing, that they are in league with the hard ones and the masters as well.”

  “It doesn’t have to mean that,” Keri said, her face pale and drawn. “Couldn’t it just mean that they have visions, visions that tell them things? After all, they are priests.”

  “I think not, child,” Uba Mintch said kindly. “If it were just a vision it would have directed them to the medicine box and no more. But in directing Carn and Braldt to throw the switch, they have revealed themselves as minions of the masters. Why else would they want the lever thrown, it benefits no one but the masters.”

  “And us,” Carn said defiantly, rising to his feet and standing before the old man. “The box will save our leader’s life and nothing you can say will stop us.”

  “It is possible that the contents of the box might contain something that will aid his recovery, but I find it doubtful,” Uba Mintch mused. “More than likely it is but a ruse to have you do their bidding. But the entire matter is out of our hands, there is no way that you can reach the lever or the box, for the chamber has been flooded and cannot be reached at all.”

  Even Carn was silenced by this bit of news, for they had never considered the possibility that their mission could not be carried out.

  “You are certain of this?” Braldt asked in a whisper.

  Uba Mintch bowed his head, his grief resting heavily on him. “Batta Flor has told us of the destruction of the chamber. He was the only one to escape with his life. The great river now flows through the chamber and only yesterday did it deliver up my son’s body. There is no way that the chamber can be entered.”

  “But in the vision, there was no water. Perhaps…” But whatever Carn had been about to suggest remained unknown, for at that moment the door burst open and crashed against the walls. The high, shrill voice of the serving maid was heard protesting. Then, even as Uba Mintch and Braldt rose to their feet and turned toward the door, Batta Flor entered the room with the serving maid following close behind.

 
; Batta Flor was no longer the somber, controlled figure he had been at the edge of the bluff. The wild-eyed creature who stood before them with his pelt rough and ungroomed, reeking of liquor, bore no resemblance to that proud leader. He started toward Braldt with hatred brimming in his red-streaked eyes, the stripes of his muzzle vivid red and angry purple. Braldt eyed the creature with alarm, his hand creeping toward his sword, but he made no overt move and did his best to conceal his concern.

  Batta for stumbled then and might have fallen had Sytha Trubal not caught him and stood between his swaying form and that of Braldt.

  “G’out of my way, Sytha… won’t hurt him, yet. Can’t take him to mate…‘s wrong… Arba Mintch my best frien’… can’t let you do this. Not right. Love you. Always loved you… even ‘fore Arba Mintch. Never told you, ‘s all. Arba Mintch would unnerstan’… he would want me to take care of you an’ the little one. Sytha…” He put out a trembling hand and touched her cheek gently. “Don’ do this thing.”

  “Batta Flor…” Braldt began, thinking that he could make his feelings known, allow the man to see that Sytha had only claimed him as mate to prevent their deaths. Thinking perhaps that this was the proper moment to straighten things out. But he was not given that opportunity.

  Batta Flor straightened and thrust Sytha Trubal aside at the sound of Braldt’s voice and closed the distance between them. His small, dark eyes glittered like chips of the shining, black stone and the air between them fairly vibrated with hostile emanations.

  Without taking his eyes off Braldt, Batta Flor reached behind him and drew a blade that had hung unseen between his shoulder blades. Carn shouted a warning, but before Braldt could react, Batta Flor flung the long knife between them where it stood quivering, its blade buried deep in the joint between two stones. Braldt heard Sytha Trubal’s cry of dismay but dared not take his eyes from the man who stood before him.