Mammoth Hunters (111 page)
“Ranec, I’m so sorry,” she said. “If I hadn’t loved Jondalar first, I would have loved you. I could have been happy with you. You were so good to me, and you always made me laugh. I do love you, you know. Not the way you want, but I will always love you.”
His black eyes were full of anguish. “I’ll never stop loving you, Ayla. I’ll never forget you. I’ll take this love to my grave,” Ranec said.
“Don’t say that! You deserve more happiness than that.”
He laughed, a bitter, hard laugh. “Don’t worry, Ayla. I’m not ready for that grave, yet. At least not enough to make it happen. And someday, I may join with a woman, make a hearth, and she will have children. I may even love her. But no other woman will ever be you, and I will never feel about another woman the way I feel about you. You can only happen once in any man’s lifetime.” They started walking back.
“Will it be Tricie?” Ayla asked. “She loves you.”
Ranec nodded. “Perhaps. If she’ll have me. Now that she has a son, she will be in even greater demand, and she had plenty of offers before.”
Ayla stopped, and looked at Ranec. “I think Tricie will have you. She’s hurt now, but that’s because she loves you so much. But there is something else you should know. Her son, Ralev, he’s your son, Ranec.”
“You mean he’s the son of my spirit?” Ranec frowned. “You are probably right.”
“No, I don’t mean he’s the son of your spirit. I mean Ralev is your son, Ranec. He is the son of your body, your essence. Ralev is your son just as much as he is Tricie’s son. You started him growing inside her, when you shared Pleasures with her.”
“How do you know I shared Pleasures with her?” Ranec said, looking a little uncomfortable. “She was a red-foot last year, and very dedicated.”
“I know because Ralev was born, and he is your son. That’s how all life is started. That’s why Pleasures honor the Mother. It is the beginning of life. I know this, Ranec. I promise you, it is true, and this promise cannot be broken,” Ayla said.
Ranec frowned with concentration. It was a strange new idea. Women were mothers. They gave birth to children, daughters and sons. But could a man have a son? Could Ralev be his son? Yet Ayla said it. It had to be. She carried the essence of Mut. She was the Spirit Woman. She might even be the Great Earth Mother incarnate.
Jondalar checked the packs again, then led Racer to the head of the path, where Ayla was saying goodbye. Whinney was packed, and waiting patiently, but Wolf was running excitedly between them, knowing something was happening.
It had been difficult for Ayla to leave behind the people she loved when she was expelled from the Clan, but she’d
had no choice. Saying goodbye, voluntarily, to the people she loved in the Lion Camp, knowing she would never see them again, was even harder. She had cried so many tears already this day, she wondered how she had any more to shed, yet her eyes watered anew each time she hugged another friend.
“Talut,” she sobbed, hugging the big, red-haired headman. “Did I ever tell you it was your laughter that made me decide to visit? I was so scared of the Others, I was ready to ride right back to the valley, until I saw you laughing.”
“You are going to have me crying in a moment, Ayla. I don’t want you to go.”
“I already am crying,” Latie said. “I don’t want you to go, either. Remember the first time you let me touch Racer?”
“I remember when she let Rydag ride Whinney,” Nezzie said. “I think that was the happiest day of his life.”
“I’m going to miss the horses, too,” Latie wailed, as she clung to Ayla.
“Maybe you can get a little horse of your own someday, Latie,” Ayla said.
“I will miss the horses, too,” Rugie said.
Ayla picked her up and gave her a squeeze. “Then maybe you’ll have to get a little horse, too.
“Oh, Nezzie,” Ayla cried. “How can I thank you? For everything? You know, I lost my mother when I was little, but I’m very lucky. I’ve had two mothers to replace her. Iza took care of me when I was a little girl, but you are the mother I needed to become a woman.”
“Here,” Nezzie said, handing her a package, and trying not to give way to tears entirely. “It’s your Matrimonial tunic. I want you to have it for your joining with Jondalar. He is like a son to me, too. And you are my daughter.”
Ayla hugged Nezzie again, then looked up at her big, strapping son. When she hugged Danug, he hugged her back with no reservations. She felt the maleness of his strength, and the warmth of his body, and a momentary spark of his attraction to her as he whispered in her ear, “I wish you had been my red-foot.”
She backed off, and smiled. “Danug! You are going to be such a man! I wish I were staying to see you grow into another Talut.”
“Maybe, when I’m older, I’ll make a long Journey and come to visit you!”
She hugged Wymez next, and she looked for Ranec, but he was not around. “I’m sorry, Wymez,” she said.
“I am sorry, too. I wanted you to stay with us. I would have liked to have seen the children you would have brought to his hearth. But Jondalar is a good man. May the Mother smile on your Journey.”
Ayla took Hartal from Tronie’s arms, and was delighted at his giggle. Then Manuv picked up Nuvie, for Ayla to kiss.
“She is here only because of you. I will not forget it, and neither will she,” Manuv said. Ayla embraced him, then Tronie and Tornec, too.
Frebec held Bectie, while Ayla made her last farewells to Fralie and the two boys. Then she embraced Crozie. She held back stiffly at first, though Ayla felt her shaking. Then the old woman clutched her, tight, and there was a tear glistening in her eye.
“Don’t forget how to make white leather,” she commanded.
“I won’t, and I have the tunic with me,” Ayla said, then with a sly smile, she added, “But, Crozie, from now on you should remember. Never play Knucklebones with a member of the Mammoth Hearth.”
Crozie looked at her in surprise, and then cackled a laugh, as Ayla turned to Frebec. Wolf had joined them, and Frebec rubbed behind his ears.
“I’m going to miss this animal,” he said.
“And this animal,” Ayla said as she gave him a hug, “is going to miss you!”
“I will miss you, too, Ayla,” he said.
Ayla found herself in the middle of a crush of people from the Aurochs Hearth, as all the children and Barzec crowded around her. Tarneg was there, too, with his woman. Deegie waited with Branag, and then the two young women collapsed in each other’s arms in a new freshet of wet eyes.
“In some ways, it’s harder to say goodbye to you than anyone, Deegie,” Ayla said. “I never had a friend like you, who was my age, and could understand me.”
“I know, Ayla. I can’t believe you’re leaving. Now, how are we going to know who has a baby first?”
Ayla backed away and looked at Deegie, critically, then smiled. “You will. You already have one started.”
“I wondered about it! Do you really think so?”
“Yes. I’m sure of it.”
Ayla noticed Vincavec was standing beside Tulie. She brushed his tattooed cheek lightly.
“You surprised me,” he said. “I didn’t know he would be the one. But then, everyone has weaknesses.” He gave Tulie a knowing glance.
Vincavec was displeased that his reading of the situation was so far off. He had totally discounted the tall blond man, and he was somewhat miffed at Tulie because she had accepted his matched pieces of amber knowing that it was not likely he would be getting what he was bargaining for, in spite of the fact that he had pushed them on her. He had been making pointed comments implying that she had accepted his amber because of her weakness for it, and that she didn’t give full value. Since they were ostensibly a gift, she couldn’t return them, and he was taking full value in his cutting remarks.
Tulie glanced at Vincavec before she approached Ayla, making sure he was watching, then she gave the young woman a warm and sincere embrace.
“I have something for you. I’m sure everyone will agree, these are perfect for you,” she said; then dropped two beautiful, matched pieces of amber in Ayla’s hand. “They will match your Matrimonial tunic. You might consider wearing them on your ears.”
“Oh, Tulie,” Ayla said. “This is too much. They are beautiful!”
“They are not too much, Ayla. They were meant for you,” Tulie said, looking back triumphantly at Vincavec.
Ayla noticed Barzec was smiling, too, and Nezzie was nodding her head in agreement.
It was hard for Jondalar to leave the Lion Camp, too. They had made him welcome, and he had grown to love them. Many of his goodbyes were tearful. The last person he spoke to was Mamut. They embraced and rubbed cheeks, then Ayla joined them. “I want to thank you,” Jondalar said. “I think you knew from the beginning that I had a hard lesson to learn.” The old shaman nodded. “But I have learned a great deal from you and the Mamutoi. I have learned what has meaning and what is superficial, and I know the depths of my love for Ayla. I have no more reservations. I will stand beside her against my worst enemies or best friends.”
“I will tell you now something else you must know, Jondalar,” Mamut said. “I knew her destiny was with you from the
beginning, and when the volcano erupted, I knew she would be leaving with you soon. But remember this. Ayla’s destiny is much greater than anyone knows. The Mother has chosen her, and her life will have many challenges, and so will yours. She will have need of your protection, and the strength your love has gained. That is why you had to learn that lesson. It is never easy to be chosen, but there are always great benefits, too. Take care of her, Jondalar. You know, when she worries about others, she forgets to take care of herself.”
Jondalar nodded. Then Ayla hugged the old man, smiling through dewy eyes.
“I wish Rydag were here. I miss him so much. I learned lessons, too. I wanted to go back for my son, but Rydag taught me that I must let Durc live his own life. How can I thank you for everything, Mamut?”
“No thanks are necessary, Ayla. Our paths were meant to cross. I have been waiting for you without knowing it, and you have given me much joy, my daughter. You were never meant to go back for Durc. He was your gift to the Clan. Children are always a joy, but pain, too. And they all must lead their own lives. Even Mut will let Her children go their own way, someday, but I fear for us if we ever neglect Her. If we forget to respect our Great Earth Mother, She will withhold Her blessings, and no longer provide for us.”
Ayla and Jondalar mounted the horses, waved, and said last goodbyes. Most of the encampment had come to wish them a good Journey. As they started out, Ayla kept looking for one last person. But Ranec had already said his goodbyes and he could not face a more public farewell.
Ayla finally saw him when they started down the path, standing alone, off by himself. With a great heaviness of spirit, she stopped and waved to him.
Ranec waved back, but in his other hand he held clutched to his breast a piece of ivory, carved into the shape of a transcendent bird-woman figure. Into every notch that was carved, every line that was etched, he had lovingly carved every hope of his aesthetic and sensitive soul. He had made it for Ayla, hoping it would charm her to his hearth, as he hoped his laughing eyes and sparkling wit would charm her to his heart. But as the artist of great talent and charm and laughter watched the woman he loved ride away, no smile graced his face, and his laughing black eyes were filled with tears.
Turn the page to read an exciting preview from Jean M. Auel’s latest novel—
The Land of Painted Caves
Available spring 2011 from Crown Publishers
1
The band of travelers walked along the path between the clear sparkling water of Grass River and the black-streaked white limestone cliff, following the trail that paralleled the right bank. They went single file around the bend where the stone wall jutted out closer to the water’s edge. Ahead a smaller path split off at an angle toward the crossing place where the flowing water spread out and became shallower, bubbling around exposed rocks.
Before they reached the fork in the trail, a young woman near the front suddenly stopped, her eyes opening wide as she stood perfectly still, staring ahead. She pointed with her chin, not wanting to move. “Look! Over there!” she said in a hissing whisper of fear. “Lions!”
Joharran, the leader, lifted his arm, signaling the band to a halt. Just beyond the place where the trail diverged, they now saw pale-tawny cave lions moving around in the grass. The grass was such effective camouflage, however, that they might not have noticed them until they were much closer, if it hadn’t been for the sharp eyes of Thefona. The young woman from the Third Cave had exceptionally good vision, and though she was quite young, she was noted for her ability to see far and well. Her innate talent had been recognized early and they had begun training her when she was a small girl; she was their best lookout.
Near the back of the group, walking in front of three horses, Ayla and Jondalar looked up to see what was causing the delay. “I wonder why we’ve stopped,” Jondalar said, a familiar frown of worry wrinkling his forehead.
Ayla observed the leader and the people around him closely, and instinctively moved her hand to shield the warm bundle that she carried in the soft leather blanket tied to her chest. Jonayla had recently nursed and was sleeping, but moved slightly at her mother’s touch. Ayla had an uncanny ability to interpret meaning from body language, learned young when she lived with the Clan. She knew Joharran was alarmed and Thefona was frightened.
Ayla, too, had extraordinarily sharp vision. She could also pick up sounds above the range of normal hearing and feel the deep tones of those that were below. Her sense of smell and taste were also keen, but she had never compared herself with anyone, and didn’t realize how extraordinary her perceptions were. She was born with heightened acuity in all her senses, which no doubt contributed to her survival after losing her parents and everything she knew at five years. Her only training had come from herself. She had developed her natural abilities during the years she studied animals, chiefly carnivores, when she was teaching herself to hunt.
In the stillness, she discerned the faint but familiar rumblings of lions, detected their distinctive scent on a slight breeze, and noticed that several people in front of the group were gazing ahead. When she looked, she saw something move. Suddenly the cats hidden by the grass seemed to jump into clear focus. She could make out two young and three or four adult cave lions. As she started moving forward, she reached with one hand for her spear-thrower, fastened to a carrying loop on her belt, and with the other for a spear from the holder hanging on her back.
“Where are you going?” Jondalar asked.
She stopped. “There are lions up ahead just beyond the split in the trail,” she said under her breath.
Jondalar turned to look, and noticed movement that he interpreted as lions now that he knew what to look for. He reached for his weapons as well. “You should stay here with Jonayla. I’ll go.”
Ayla glanced down at her sleeping baby, then looked up at him. “You’re good with the spear-thrower, Jondalar, but there are at least two cubs and three grown lions, probably more. If the lions think the cubs are in danger and decide to attack, you’ll need help, someone to back you up, and you know I’m better than anyone, except you.”
His brow furrowed again as he paused to think, looking at her. Then he nodded. “All right … but stay behind me.” He detected movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced back. “What about the horses?”
“They know lions are near. Look at them,” Ayla said.
Jondalar looked. All three horses, including the new young filly, were staring ahead, obviously aware of the huge felines. Jondalar frowned again. “Will they be all right? Especially little Gray?”
“They know to stay out of the way of those lions, but I don’t see Wolf,” Ayla said. “I’d better whistle for him.”
“You don’t have to,” Jondalar said, pointing in a different direction. “He must sense something, too. Look at him coming.”
Ayla turned and saw a wolf racing toward her. The canine was a magnificent animal, larger than most, but an injury from a fight with other wolves that left him with a bent ear gave him a rakish look. She made the special signal that she used when they hunted together. He knew it meant to stay near and pay close attention to her. They ducked around people as they hurried toward the front, trying not to cause any undo commotion, and to remain as inconspicuous as possible.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Joharran said softly when he saw his brother and Ayla with the wolf quietly appear with their spear-throwers in hand.
“Do you know how many there are?” Ayla asked.
“More than I thought,” Thefona said, trying to seem calm and not let her fear show. “When I first saw them, I thought there were maybe three or four, but they are moving around in the grass, and now I think there may be ten or more. It’s a big pride.”
“And they are feeling confident,” Joharran said.
“How do you know that?” Thefona asked.
“They’re ignoring us.”
Jondalar knew his mate was very familiar with the huge felines. “Ayla knows cave lions,” he said, “Perhaps we should ask her what she thinks.” Joharran nodded in her direction, asking the question silently.
“Joharran is right. They know we’re here. And they know how many they are and how many we are,” Ayla said, then added, “they may see us as something like a herd of horses or aurochs and think they may be able to single out a weak one. I think they are new to this region.”
“What makes you think so?” Joharran said. He was always surprised at Ayla’s wealth of knowledge of four-legged hunters, but for some reason it was also at times like this that he noticed her unusual accent more.
“They don’t know us, that’s why they’re so confident,” Ayla continued. “If they were a resident pride that lived around people and had been chased or hunted a few times, I don’t think they would be so unconcerned.”
“Well, maybe we should give them something to be concerned about,” Jondalar said.
Joharran’s brow wrinkled in a way that was so much like his taller though younger brother’s, it made Ayla want to smile, but it usually showed at a time when smiling would be inappropriate. “Perhaps it would be wiser just to avoid them,” the dark-haired leader said.
“I don’t think so,” Ayla said, bowing her head and looking down. It was still difficult for her to disagree with a man in public, especially a leader. Though she knew it was perfectly acceptable among the Zelandonii—after all, some leaders were women, including, at one time, Joharran’s and Jondalar’s mother—such behavior from a woman would not have been tolerated in the Clan, the ones who raised her.
“Why not?” Joharran asked, his frown turning into a scowl.
“Those lions are resting too close to the home of the Third Cave,” Ayla said quietly. “There will always be lions around, but if they are comfortable here, they might think of it as a place to return when they want to rest, and would see any people who come near as prey, especially children or elders. They could be a danger to the people who live at Two Rivers Rock, and the other nearby Caves, including the Ninth.”
Joharran took a deep breath, then looked at his fair-haired brother. “Your mate is right, and you as well, Jondalar. Perhaps now is the time to let those lions know they are not welcome to settle down so close to our homes.”
“This would be a good time to use spear-throwers so we can hunt from a safer distance. Several hunters here have been practicing,” Jondalar said. It was for just this sort of thing that he had wanted to come home and show everyone the weapon he had developed. “We may not even have to kill one, just injure a couple to teach them to stay away.”
“Jondalar,” Ayla said, softly. Now she was getting ready to differ with him, or at least to make a point that he should consider. She looked down again, then raised her eyes and looked directly at him. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind to him, but she wanted to be respectful. “It’s true that a spear-thrower is a very good weapon. With it, a spear can be thrown from a much greater distance than one thrown by hand, and that makes it safer. But safer is not safe. A wounded animal is unpredictable. And one with the strength and speed of a cave lion, hurt and wild with pain, could do anything. If you decide to use these weapons against those lions, they should not be used to injure, but to kill.”
“She’s right, Jondalar,” Joharran said.
Jondalar frowned at his brother, then grinned sheepishly. “Yes she is, but, as dangerous as they are, I always hate to kill a cave lion if I don’t have to. They are so beautiful, so lithe and graceful in the way they move. Cave lions don’t have much to be afraid of. Their strength gives them confidence.” He glanced at Ayla with a glint of pride and love. “I always thought Ayla’s Cave Lion totem was right for her.” Discomfited by showing his strong inner feelings for her, a hint of a flush colored his cheeks. “But I do think this is a time when spear-throwers could be very useful.”
Joharran noticed that most of the travelers had crowded closer. “How many are with us that can use one?” he asked his brother.
“Well, there’s you, and me, and Ayla, of course,” Jondalar said, looking at the group. “Rushemar has been practicing a lot and is getting pretty good. Solaban’s been busy making some ivory handles for tools for some of us and hasn’t been working at it as much, but he’s got the basics.”
“I’ve tried a spear-thrower a few times, Joharran. I don’t have one of my own, and I’m not very good at it,” Thefona said, “but I can throw a spear without one.”
“Thank you, Thefona, for reminding me,” Joharran said. “Nearly everyone can handle a spear without a spear-thrower, including women. We shouldn’t forget that.” Then he directed his comments to the group at large. “We need to let those lions know that this is not a good place for them. Whoever wants to go after them, using a spear by hand or with the thrower, come over here.”
Ayla started to loosen her baby’s carrying blanket. “Folara, would you watch Jonayla for me?” she said, approaching Jondalar’s younger sister, “unless you’d rather stay and hunt cave lions.”
“I’ve gone out on drives, but I never was very good with a spear, and I don’t seem to be much better with the thrower,” Folara said. “I’ll take Jonayla.” The infant was now thoroughly awake, and when the young woman held out her arms for the baby, she willingly went to her aunt.
“I’ll help her,” Proleva said to Ayla. Joharran’s mate also had a baby girl in a carrying blanket, just a few days older than Jonayla, and an active boy who could count six years to watch out for as well. “I think we should take all the children away from here, perhaps back behind the jutting rock, or up to the Third Cave.”
“That’s a very good idea,” Joharran said, “Hunters stay here. The rest of you go back, but go slowly. No sudden moves. We want those cave lions to think we are just milling around, like a herd of aurochs. And when we pair off, each group keep together. They will probably go after anyone alone.”
Ayla turned back toward the four-legged hunters and saw many lion faces looking in their direction, very alert. She watched the animals move around, and began to see some distinguishing characteristics, helping her to count them. She watched a big female casually turn around—no, a male, she realized when she saw his male parts from the backside. She’d forgotten for a moment that the males here didn’t have manes. The male cave lions near her valley to the east, including one that she knew quite well, did have some hair around the head and neck, but it was sparse. This is a big pride, she thought, more than two handsful of counting words, possibly as many as three, including the young ones.
While she watched, the big lion took a few more steps into the field, then disappeared into the grass. It was surprising how well the tall thin stalks could hide animals that were so huge.
Though the bones and teeth of cave lions—felines that liked to den in caves, which preserved the bones they left behind—were the same shape as their descendants that would someday roam the distant lands of the continent far to the south, they were more than half again, some nearly twice as large. In winter they grew a thick winter fur that was so pale, it was almost white, practical concealment in snow for predators who hunted all year long. Their summer coat, though still pale, was more tawny, and some of the cats were still shedding, giving them a rather tattered, mottled look.
Ayla watched the group of mostly women and children break off from the hunters and head back to the cliff they had passed, along with a few young men and women with spears held in readiness whom Joharran had assigned to guard them. Then she noticed that the horses seemed particularly nervous, and thought she should try to calm them. She signaled Wolf to come with her as she walked toward the horses.
Whinney seemed glad to see both her and Wolf when they approached. The horse had no fear of the big canine predator. She had watched Wolf grow up from a tiny little ball of fuzzy fur, had helped to raise him. Ayla had a concern, though. She wanted the horses to go back behind the stone wall with the women and children. She could give Whinney many commands with words and signals, but she wasn’t sure how to tell the mare to go with the others and not follow her.
Racer whinnied when she neared; he seemed especially agitated. She greeted the brown stallion affectionately and patted and scratched the young gray filly; then she hugged the sturdy neck of the dun-yellow mare that had been her only friend during the first lonely years after she left the Clan.
Whinney leaned against the young woman with her head over Ayla’s shoulder in a familiar position of mutual support. She talked to the mare with a combination of Clan hand signs and words, and animal sounds that she imitated—the special language she had developed with Whinney when she was a foal, before Jondalar taught her to speak his language. Ayla told the mare to go with Folara and Proleva. Whether the horse understood, or just knew that it would be safer for her and her foal, Ayla was glad to see her retreat to the cliff with the other mothers when she pointed her in that direction.
