The Land of Painted Caves (59 page)

Jondalar sighted a bull with a high humped back covered with shaggy wool, and long sharp black horns. His first spear brought it down and a second kept it there. He quickly rearmed his spear-thrower and aimed for a cow but just wounded it.

Ayla’s first spear found a young bull, not quite full grown. She watched it drop, then saw Jondalar’s spear hit the cow. It staggered but didn’t fall. She flung another spear at the wounded one, and saw it stumble. The first of the herd were breaking through the firewall. The rest were following, leaving behind their fallen brethren.

It was over.

It had happened so quickly, it was hard to believe. The hunters went to check the kills; nine bleeding bison littered the streambed. When they examined their spears, Willamar, Palidar, Tivonan, Jonokol, Kimeran, and Jondecam had each killed one animal. Jondalar and Ayla together had killed three.

“I didn’t expect us to be quite so successful,” Jonokol said, checking the marks on the spear to make sure the animal was his. “Maybe we should have coordinated our hunt beforehand. This is too much of a good thing.”

“It’s true, we didn’t need so many,” Willamar said, “but it means we have more to share. It won’t go to waste.” He always liked to bring something when he arrived at a new Cave.

“But how are we going to haul them all? Three horses can’t pull nine huge bison on pole-drags,” Palidar said. The young man’s spear had hit a huge bull and he wasn’t even sure how to begin to move the beast, much less the rest of them.

“I think someone is going to have to go ahead to the next Cave and bring some people back to help. I don’t think they’ll mind. They won’t even have to hunt them,” Jondalar said. He had been thinking along the same lines as Palidar, but he had more experience with such enormous beasts and knew that many hands made it easier.

“You’re right,” Jondecam said, “but I think we are going to have to move our camp here to butcher them.” He wasn’t really looking forward to moving.

“That might upset Beladora. She is working on several weaving projects that she won’t want to relocate,” Kimeran said. “Although she could come here to help with the skinning and butchering, I suppose.”

“I think we can skin them here,” Ayla said, “then cut them into large pieces, and make several trips to get them back to our camp, and start drying some of the meat. Then we can take some of the fresh meat to the next Cave and ask for help to move the rest of it.”

“That would work,” Willamar said. “I am going to use the horns to make a couple of drinking cups.”

“I wouldn’t mind keeping some of the hooves to boil into glue to attach spear points to shafts,” Jondalar said. “Pitch is all right, but hooves and bones make a better glue.”

“And we can make new waterbags out of the stomachs, and use the intestines to save the fat,” Ayla added.

“Levela sometimes keeps chopped-up meat in cleaned-out intestines, too,” Jondecam said, “and waterproof coverings for hats and footwear can be made from them.”

Suddenly, Ayla realized how near they were to their destination. They would soon deliver Amelana to her Cave. Then they would go to see the very ancient Sacred Site that the First especially wanted Ayla to see; it wasn’t far away. After that, it was only a couple of days farther to Beladora’s people, according to Willamar. Then they would retrace their steps and return home.

It would be just as long a trek back as it was to get here, but as Ayla looked around, it seemed as though the Mother had provided them with the means to resupply all their needs for the return Journey. They had the materials they needed to replace their worn equipment, weapons, and clothing. There was more than enough meat to dry, and to make traveling cakes, which were essential for covering long distances in a hurry, by grinding up the dehydrated meat and adding fat and the dried berries. They had also dried roots and stems of certain vegetation, and common varieties of mushrooms that everyone knew.

   “I’ve been here! I know this place!” Amelana said. She was so excited to see one familiar place, and then another, she couldn’t erase her excited smile. There was no stopping to rest now; pregnant or not, she could hardly wait to get home.

The small group of travelers approached a well-marked trail that wound around a sharp U-shaped bend in the river. An old floodplain had left a broad, level grassy field somewhat above the swiftly flowing water that ended abruptly at the base of a steep cliff. A nice place for horses to graze, Ayla thought.

The wide trail gradually traversed up the side of the cliff around brush and small trees, some of whose roots were used as steps. It was not easy going for the horses, especially pulling the pole-drags, but Ayla remembered how sure-footed Whinney was when she had climbed up to her cave in the valley where Ayla had found her.

The trail leveled out, perhaps assisted by people, Ayla thought, as the travelers came to a sheltering overhanging shelf in an area that was obviously well inhabited. Many people, who had been engaged in various activities, all stopped and stared at the strange procession that was advancing toward them, which included people and surprisingly docile horses. Whinney was wearing the halter that Jondalar had made for her. Ayla liked to use it when they were heading into unknown and possibly unsettling situations, but she was leading both Whinney and Gray, who were both hauling pole-drags. Whinney was pulling the First; Gray’s travois had a large load of bison meat. Willamar, his two assistants, and Amelana also accompanied them.

When the young woman among them who was obviously pregnant broke away from the visitors, it aroused attention. “Mother! Mother! It’s me!” she called out as she ran toward a woman of substantial proportions.

“Amelana? Amelana, is that you? What are you doing here?” the woman said.

“I came home, mother, and I’m so glad to see you,” Amelana cried.

She threw her arms around the woman, but her pregnant stomach made it difficult to stand close. The woman returned the embrace, then, holding her shoulders, pushed her back to look at the daughter she thought she would never see again.

“You’re pregnant! Where’s your mate? Why are you back? Did you do something wrong?” her mother said. She couldn’t imagine why a woman would travel what she knew was a long distance—though she didn’t know how long—when she was pregnant. She knew how impetuous her daughter could be and hoped she hadn’t broken any social custom or taboo seriously enough that they would send her home.

“No, of course I didn’t do anything wrong. If I had, the First Among Those Who Serve The Great Mother would not have brought me home. My mate walks the next world now, and I was pregnant and wanted to come home and have my baby near you,” Amelana said.

“The First is here? The First brought you home?” the woman said.

She turned to look at the visitors. A woman was stepping down from some kind of contrivance that was pulled by a horse. She was a large woman, of a size greater than herself, and from the tattoo on the left side of her forehead, she knew the woman was a Zelandoni. The woman walked toward her with great dignity and a certain presence that conveyed authority. A closer look at her tattoo, plus the designs on her outfit and the chest plaque and other necklaces that she wore, made Amelana’s mother understand that the woman was indeed the First.

“Why don’t you introduce me to your mother, Amelana?” the First said.

“Mother, please greet the One Who Is First Among Those Who Serve The Great Earth Mother,” Amelana began. “Zelandoni, this is Syralana of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii That Watches Over the Most Ancient Sacred Site, mated to Demoryn, leader of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii That Watches Over the Most Ancient Sacred Site, mother of Amelana and Alyshana.” It gave her a certain sense of satisfaction to show her mother and those who were watching how well she knew the acknowledged leader of the zelandonia.

“I welcome you, First Among Those Who Serve The Great Mother,” Syralana said, holding out both hands and walking toward her. “We are greatly honored that you have come.”

The First grasped both hands and replied, “In the name of the Great Earth Mother, I greet you, Syralana of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii That Watches Over the Most Ancient Sacred Site.”

“Did you travel this far just to bring my daughter home?” Syralana couldn’t resist asking.

“I am taking my acolyte on her Donier Tour. She is the one with the horses. We have come to see your Most Ancient Sacred Site. It is known even to us, though we live far to the north.”

25

S
yralana looked at the tall woman, who was holding ropes that were attached to the two horses, with a bit of apprehension, which the First noticed.

“We can introduce you later, if you don’t mind,” she said. “You did say your mate is the leader of this Cave?”

“Yes, that is true,” Syralana said. “Demoryn is the leader here.”

“We have also come to ask your assistance, though it may also be a boon for you,” the One Who Was First said.

A man stepped to the woman’s side. “Here is my mate,” Syralana said. “Demoryn, leader of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii That Watches Over the Most Ancient Sacred Site, please welcome the First Among Those Who Serve The Great Mother.”

“Zelandoni the First, our Cave is pleased to welcome you and your friends,” he said.

“Allow me to introduce our Trade Master. Willamar, please greet Demoryn, leader of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii That Watches Over the Most Ancient Sacred Site.”

“I greet you, Demoryn,” Willamar began, holding out both his hands, and continued with the formal greetings. Then he explained, “We stopped for a while just before we came here to hunt and replenish supplies, and to bring you a gift of some meat.” He watched the leader and some others nod knowingly. It was the kind of thing they would have done. “We seem to have acquired an embarrassment of riches. We found a herd of bison and our hunters were exceptionally lucky. We counted nine bison killed when we were done, and our entire group only numbers sixteen, which includes four children. That is too much for us and in any case, even with the help of the horses, we cannot transport so much, but we don’t want to waste the Gifts of the Mother. If you can send some people to help transport the meat here, we would like to share it with you. We brought some with us, but left some people behind to guard the rest.”

“Yes, of course we’ll help you, and will be pleased to share your good fortune,” Demoryn said, then looked closely at Willamar and saw the tattoo in the middle of his forehead. “Master Trader, you have been here before, I think.”

Willamar smiled. “Not to your particular Cave, but I have been in this region before. The First is taking her acolyte, the woman who controls the horses, on a Donier Tour. She is mated to the son of my mate. He is back at our campsite guarding the meat, along with my assistants, two young traders who will be following in my footsteps, and some others. I think Amelana was fortunate that we had planned this trek before she asked to come with us. She was eager to return to her home and have her baby here, near her mother.”

“We are pleased to have her back with us. Her mother was very sad when she left, but she was so determined to go with the young man who came to visit, we couldn’t refuse her. I am sorry that her mate now walks the next world. It must have been hard for his mother and family, but I’m not sorry to see Amelana. I didn’t think I would ever see her again after she left,” Demoryn said, “and she may not be so eager to leave home next time.”

“I think you are right,” Willamar said, with a knowing smile.

“I presume you will be going on to the First Cave to the meeting with all the other Zelandonia,” the leader said.

“I haven’t heard about any meeting,” Willamar said.

“I thought that’s why the First was here,” Demoryn said.

“I don’t know anything about it, but I don’t know everything that the First knows.” They both turned to look at the large woman. “Did you know there was a meeting of the zelandonia?” Willamar said.

“I certainly look forward to attending it,” she said with an enigmatic smile.

Willamar just shook his head. Who could really know a Zelandoni? “Well, Demoryn, if you can get some people to help us unload the meat we brought, and go back with us to get what’s left, then the rest of our travelers can come and visit, too.”

As she helped Zelandoni unload her personal travel things, Ayla asked, “Did you know there was going to be a gathering of the zelandonia near here?”

“I wasn’t certain, but meetings do tend to take place in a sequence of a certain number of years, and I thought this might be the right year for one in this region. I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want to create any expectations in case I was mistaken, or missed the timing.”

“It looks like you were right,” Ayla said.

“Amelana’s mother seemed nervous about the horses, so I didn’t rush to introduce you yet,” the First said.

“If she’s nervous about the horses, what is she going to think about Wolf?” Ayla said. “We can deal with formal introductions later. I’ll take your pole-drag off Whinney and go back with her and Gray. We can make a new pole-drag for her to help bring the meat here. There’s still so much left. I’d forgotten how big a bison was. Maybe we can bring some of it to the zelandonia gathering.”

“That would be a good idea. I can ride in behind Whinney on my pole-drag, and Jondalar and Jonayla can bring in some meat on theirs,” Zelandoni said.

Ayla thought a smile to herself. Arriving on the special travois with a horse pulling her always seemed to cause a commotion, and the First did like making an entrance. Everyone seemed to think it was some kind of magic. Why was it so amazing? Why couldn’t people realize that they could make friends with a horse? Especially after seeing not only Jondalar and herself, but Jonayla riding? There was nothing magic about it. It took determination and effort and patience, but not magic.

When Ayla jumped up on Whinney’s back, it brought even more expressions of surprise. She had been leading the horses, not riding, when they arrived. Since the rest of the visitors were walking, Ayla decided she would too. Tivonan and Palidar would walk back and lead the helpers from the Cave, but Ayla could get there faster and start making a new travois.

“Where is everyone else?” Jondalar said when she got to the campsite.

“They’re coming. I came ahead to make another pole-drag for Whinney to help get the meat moved. We’re going to bring some to another Cave. They call themselves the Zelandonii That Watches Over the Most Ancient Sacred Site. Amelana is from the Third Cave, but we’re going to the First Cave. There is a gathering of the zelandonia, and the First knew it! Or at least she guessed there might be. It’s hard to believe how much she knows. Where’s Jonayla?”

“Beladora and Levela are watching her along with their children. That meat has drawn every meat-eater in the region, on legs and wings, and we thought it would be a good idea to keep the little ones in a tent, out of sight. It’s been keeping all of us busy protecting that ‘lucky’ hunt,” Jondalar said.

“Have you killed anything?” Ayla asked.

“Mostly we’ve just been trying to scare them off, shouting and throwing stones.”

Just then a pack of hyenas appeared and, drawn by the scent of meat, went straight for the pile of bison. Without even giving it a second thought, Ayla pulled her sling off her head, reached for a couple of stones from her pouch, and in a smooth motion had a stone in the air aimed at the animal in the lead. A second stone quickly followed it. The leader was down when the second hyena gave a yelp that ended in the sound of a cackling laugh. The leaders of hyena packs were female, but all females had pseudo male organs and tended to be larger than the males. The hyena pack stopped advancing and were running back and forth thrashing about, grunting and howling their peculiar laughing sound, at a loss without their leader. The woman armed her spear-thrower and started for the indecisive pack.

Jondalar jumped in ahead of her. “What are you doing?” he said.

“Chasing off that dirty pack of hyenas,” she said, her face screwed up in an expression of disgust and the sound of loathing in her voice.

“I know you hate hyenas, but you don’t have to kill every one you see. They’re just animals like any other, and have their place among the Mother’s children. If we drag the leader off, the rest will likely follow,” Jondalar said.

Ayla stopped and looked at him, then felt her tension leave. “You are right, Jondalar. They are just animals.”

With spear-throwers armed, Jondalar picked up one hind foot and Ayla the other and started dragging. She noticed the hyena was still nursing, but she knew that hyenas often nursed for a year until the young were nearly full grown and the only way to tell the difference was in coat color. Young ones were darker. The snuffling, snorting, laughing pack followed; the other one she had hit was limping badly. They dumped the animal far away from the camp and as they walked back, they noticed that some of the other carnivores had followed them.

“Good!” Ayla said. “Maybe that will keep some of them away. I’m going to wash my hands. Those animals smell bad.”

Most of the time Ayla’s Zelandonii friends and relatives thought of her as an ordinary woman and mother, and didn’t even notice her accent, but when she did something like walking into a pack of hungry hyenas and killing their leader with a stone from her sling without seeming to give it a second thought, then they suddenly became aware of her differences. She was not born to the Zelandonii, her upbringing had been totally unlike any of theirs, and her unusual way of speaking became noticeable.

“We need to cut down some small trees for a new pole-drag. It was Zelandoni’s suggestion. I don’t think she wants blood on hers. She does consider it hers, you know,” Ayla said.

“It is hers. No one else would think of using it,” Jondalar said.

   It took two trips to haul all the meat from the auspicious hunt away, most of it dragged by the horns and pushed by the neighboring people. By the time the travelers had packed up their campsite, the sun was working its way down to meet the horizon, with shades of orange and red blazoned across the sky. They took the meat they were keeping for themselves and headed for the Cave. Ayla and Jondalar lingered for a while—with the horses they could catch up easily enough. They were making a final tour of the abandoned camp to see if anyone had left anything important behind.

It was obvious that people had been there. Trails between tents had worn paths that now led to flattened and yellow patches of grass; fireplaces were black circles of charcoal; some trees had raw scars of light-colored wood where branches had been torn off and pointed stumps that looked as though they had been chewed down by a beaver showed where trees had once grown. There was some trash around, a shredded and torn basket near one of the fireplaces, and a small and well-used sleeping roll that Jonlevar had outgrown was open and discarded in the middle of a flattened patch where a tent had been. Scattered chips of flint and broken points, and some piles of bone and vegetable peelings were lying around, but they would soon degrade back into the soil. Yet the vast stretches of cattails and reeds, though well harvested, showed little change, the yellowed grass and the black lenses of firepits would soon be covered with new green, and the trees that were removed made room for new ones to sprout. The people lived lightly on the land.

Ayla and Jondalar checked their waterbags and took a drink; then Ayla felt the urge to pass her water before they started back, and walked around the perimeter of the trees. If they were snowbound in the middle of winter, Ayla wouldn’t hesitate to relieve herself in a night basket no matter who was there watching, but if it was possible, she preferred privacy, especially since she had to take down her leggings and not just move aside a loose dress.

She untied the waist thong and squatted down, but when she stood up to pull her leggings back on, she was surprised to see four strange men staring at her. She was more offended than anything. Even if they had come upon her accidentally, they should not have stood there and stared at her. It was very rude. Then she noticed details: a certain griminess in their clothing, rather unkempt beards, stringy long hair, and mostly, lewd expressions. The last made her angry, though they expected her to be frightened.

Perhaps she should have been.

“Don’t you have the courtesy to look away when a woman needs to pass her water?” Ayla said, giving them a look of disdain as she retied her waist thong.

Her disparaging remarks surprised the men. First because they expected fear, then because they heard her accent. They drew their own conclusions.

One looked at the others with a deriding grin. “She’s a stranger. Probably visiting. Won’t be many of her kind around.”

“Even if there are, I don’t see any around here,” another man said, then turned to leer at her, as he started toward her.

Ayla suddenly remembered the time they stopped to visit the Losadunai on their Journey here; there had been a band of hoodlums who had been harassing women. She slipped her sling off her head and reached in her pouch for a stone, then whistled loud for Wolf, and followed it by the whistles for both horses.

The whistles startled the men, but the stones did more than startle. The man who was moving toward her yelped with pain as a stone landed soundly on his thigh; another stone hit the upper arm of a second man with a similar response. Both men grabbed their bodies at the points of impact.

“How in Mother’s Underworld did she do that?” the first man said angrily. Then looking at the men he said, “Don’t let her get away. I want to give her something back for that.”