The Land of Painted Caves (3 page)

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.

But Racer was nervous and edgy, more so after the mare started walking away. Even grown, the young stallion was accustomed to following his dam, especially when Ayla and Jondalar were riding together, but this time he did not immediately go with her. He pranced and tossed his head and neighed. Jondalar heard him, looked over at the stallion and the woman, then joined them. The young horse nickered at the man as he approached. With two females in his small “herd,” Jondalar wondered if Racer’s protective stallion instincts were beginning to make themselves felt. The man talked to him, stroked and scratched his favorite places to settle him, then told him to go with Whinney and slapped him on the rump. It was enough to get him started in the right direction.

Ayla and Jondalar walked back to the hunters. Joharran and his two closest friends and advisers, Solaban and Rushemar, were standing together in the middle of the group that was left. It seemed much smaller now.

“We’ve been discussing the best way to hunt them,” Joharran said when the couple returned. “I’m not sure what strategy to use. Should we try to surround them? Or drive them in a certain direction? I will tell you, I know how to hunt for meat: deer, or bison or aurochs, even mammoth. I’ve killed a lion or two that were too close to a camp, with the help of other hunters, but lions are not animals I usually hunt, especially not a whole pride.”

“Since Ayla knows lions,” Thefona said, “let’s ask her.”

Everyone turned to look at Ayla. Most of them had heard about the injured lion cub she had taken in and raised until he was full grown. When Jondalar told them the lion did what she told him the way the wolf did, they believed it.

“What do you think, Ayla?” Joharran asked.

“Do you see how the lions are watching us? It’s the same way we’re looking at them. They think of themselves as the hunters. It might surprise them to be prey for a change,” Ayla said, then paused. “I think we should stay together in a group and walk toward them, shouting and talking loudly, perhaps, and see if they back off. But keep our spears ready, in case one or more come after us before we decide to go after them.”

“Just approach them head-on?” Rushemar asked, with a frown.

“It might work,” Solaban said. “And if we stay together, we can watch out for each other.”

“It seems like a good plan, Joharran,” Jondalar said.

“I suppose it’s as good as any, and I like the idea of staying together and watching out for each other,” the leader said.

“I’ll go first,” Jondalar said. He held up his spear, already on his spear-thrower ready to launch. “I can get a spear off fast with this.”

“I’m sure you can, but let’s wait until we get closer so we can all feel comfortable with our aim,” Joharran said.

“Of course,” Jondalar said, “and Ayla is going to be a backup for me in case something unexpected happens.”

“That’s good,” Joharran said. “We all need a partner, someone to be a backup for the ones who throw first, in case they miss and those lions come at us instead of running away. The partners can decide who will cast first, but it will cause less confusion if everyone waits for a signal before anyone throws.”

“What kind of signal?” Rushemar asked.

Joharran paused, then said, “Watch Jondalar. Wait until he throws. That can be our signal.”

“I’ll be your partner, Joharran,” Rushemar volunteered.

The leader nodded.

“I need a backup,” Morizan said. He was the son of Manvelar’s mate, Ayla recalled. “I’m not sure how good I am, but I have been working at it.”

“I can be your partner. I’ve been practicing with the spear-thrower.”

Ayla turned at the sound of the feminine voice and saw that it was Folara’s red-haired friend, Galeya, who had spoken.

Jondalar turned to look, too. That’s one way to get close to the son of a leader’s mate, he thought, and glanced at Ayla, wondering if she had caught the implication.

“I can partner with Thefona, if she would like,” Solaban said, “since I’ll be using a spear like her, not a spear-thrower.”

The young woman smiled at him, glad to have a more mature and experienced hunter close by.

“I’ve been practicing with a spear-thrower,” Palidar said. He was a friend of Tivonan, the apprentice of Willamar, the Trade Master.

“We can be partners, Palidar,” Tivonan said, “but I can only use a spear.”

“I haven’t really practiced much with that thrower either,” Palidar said.

Ayla smiled at the young men. As Willamar’s apprentice trader, Tivonan would no doubt become the Ninth Cave’s next Trade Master. His friend, Palidar, had come back with Tivonan when he went to visit his Cave on a short trading mission, and Palidar was the one who had found the place where Wolf had gotten into the terrible fight with the other wolves, and took her to it. She thought of him as a good friend.

“I haven’t done much with that thrower, but I can handle a spear.”

It’s Mejera, the acolyte of Zelandoni of the Third, Ayla said to herself, remembering that the young woman was with them the first time Ayla went into the Deep of Fountain Rocks to look for the life force of Jondalar’s younger brother when they tried to help his elan find its way to the spirit world.

“Everyone has already picked a partner, so I guess we’re left. Not only have I not practiced with the spear-thrower, I have hardly ever seen it used,” said Jalodan, Morizan’s cousin, the son of Manvelar’s sister, who was visiting the Third Cave. He was planning to travel with them to the Summer Meeting to meet up with his Cave.

That was it. The twelve men and women who were going to hunt a similar number of lions—animals with greater speed, strength, and ferocity that lived by hunting weaker prey. Ayla began having feelings of doubt and a shiver of fear gave her a chill. She rubbed her arms and felt an eruption of bumps. How could twelve frail humans even think of attacking a pride of lions? She caught sight of the other carnivore, the one she knew, and signaled the animal to stay with her, thinking, twelve people—and Wolf.

“All right, let’s go,” Joharran said, “but keep together.”

The twelve hunters from the Third Cave and the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii started out together walking directly toward the pride of massive felines. They were armed with spears, tipped with sharpened flint, or bone or ivory sanded to a smooth, round sharp point. Some had spear-throwers that could propel a spear much farther and with more power and speed than one thrown by hand, but lions had been killed with just spears before. This might be a test of Jondalar’s weapon, but it would test the courage of the ones who were hunting even more.

“Go away!” Ayla shouted as they started out. “We don’t want you here!”

Several others picked up the refrain, with variations, shouting and yelling at the animals as they approached, telling them to go away.

At first the cats, young and old, just watched them come. Then some began to move around, back into the grass that hid them so well, and out again, as though they weren’t sure what to do. The ones who retreated with cubs returned without them.

“They don’t seem to know what to make of us,” Thefona said from the middle of the advancing hunters, feeling a little more secure than when they started, but when the big male suddenly snarled at them, everyone jumped with a start, and stopped in their tracks.

“This is not the time to stop,” Joharran said, forging ahead.

They started out again, their formation a little more ragged at first, but they pulled together again as they continued on. All the lions started moving around, some turning their backs and disappearing into the tall grass, but the big male snarled again, then rumbled the beginning of a roar as he stood his ground. Several of the other big cats were arrayed behind him. Ayla was picking up the scent of fear from the human hunters; she was sure the lions were, too. She was afraid herself, but fear was something that people could overcome.

“I think we’d better get ready,” Jondalar said. “That male doesn’t look happy, and he has reinforcements.”

“Can’t you get him from here?” Ayla asked. She heard the series of grunts that was usually a precursor to a lion’s roar.

“Probably,” Jondalar said, “but I’d rather be closer, so I can be more sure of my aim.”

“And I’m not sure how good my aim would be from this distance. We do need to be closer,” Joharran said, continuing to march forward.

The people bunched together and kept going, still shouting, though Ayla thought their sound was more tentative as they drew closer. The cave lions became still and seemed tense as they watched the approach of the strange herd that didn’t behave like prey animals.

Then, suddenly, everything happened at once.

The big male lion roared, a staggering, deafening sound, especially from such close range. He started toward them at a run. As he closed in, poised to spring, Jondalar hurled his spear at him.

Ayla had been watching the female on his right. About the time that Jondalar made his cast, the lioness bounded forward running, then vaulted to pounce.

Ayla pulled back and took aim. She felt the back of the spear-thrower with the spear mounted on it rise up almost without her knowing it as she hurled her spear. It was so natural for her, it didn’t feel like a deliberate move. She and Jondalar had used the weapon during their entire year-long Journey back to the Zelandonii and she was so skilled, it was second nature.

The lioness soared into her leap, but Ayla’s spear met her more than halfway. It found its mark from beneath the big cat, and lodged firmly in her throat in a sudden fatal slash. Blood spurted out as the lioness collapsed to the ground.

The woman quickly grabbed another spear from her holder, and slapped it down on her spear-thrower, looking around to see what else was happening. She saw Joharran’s spear fly, and a heartbeat later another spear followed. She noticed that Rushemar was in the stance of one who had just thrown a spear. She saw another large female lion fall. A second spear found the beast before she landed. Another lioness was still coming. Ayla cast a spear, and saw that someone else had, too, just a moment before her.

She reached for another spear, making sure it was seated right—that the point, which was affixed to a short length of tapering shaft made to detach from the main spear shaft, was firmly in place and the hole in the butt of the long spear shaft was engaging the hook at the back of the spear-thrower. Then she looked around again. The huge male was down, but moving, bleeding but not dead. Her female was also bleeding, but not moving.

The lions were disappearing into the grass as fast as they could, at least one leaving a trail of blood. The human hunters were gathering themselves together, looking around and beginning to smile at each other.

“I think we did it,” Palidar said, a huge grin starting.

He had barely gotten the words out when Wolf’s menacing growl caught Ayla’s attention. The wolf bounded away from the human hunters with Ayla on his heels. The heavily bleeding male lion was up and coming at them again. With a roar, he sprang toward them. Ayla could almost feel his anger, and she didn’t really blame him.

Just as Wolf reached the lion and leaped up to attack, keeping himself between Ayla and the big cat, she flung her spear as hard as she could. Her eye caught another one hurled at the same time. They landed almost simultaneously with an audible
thunk
, and
thunk
. Both the lion and the wolf crumpled in a heap. Ayla gasped when she saw them fall, swathed in blood, afraid that Wolf was hurt.

2

A
yla saw the heavy paw of the lion moving, and caught her breath, wondering if the big male could still be alive with all the spears in him. Then she recognized Wolf’s bloody head working its way out from under the huge limb, and rushed toward him, still not sure if he was injured. The wolf squirmed free of the forearm of the lion, then grabbed the paw with his teeth and shook it with such vigor, she knew it had to be the blood of the lion on him, not his own. Jondalar was at her side the next moment and they walked toward the lion together, smiling with relief at the wolf’s antics.

“I’m going to have to take Wolf to the river to get him cleaned up,” Ayla said. “That’s all lion’s blood.”

“I’m sorry we had to kill him,” Jondalar said quietly. “He was such a magnificent beast, and only defending his own.”

“I feel sorry, too. He reminded me of Baby, but we had to defend our own. Think how much worse we would feel if one of those lions had killed a child,” Ayla said, looking down at the huge predator.

After a pause, Jondalar said, “We can both lay claim to him; only our spears reached him, and only yours killed this female who stood by his side.”

“I think I may have hit another lioness, too, but I don’t need to claim any part of that one,” Ayla said. “You should take what you want of the male. I’ll take this female’s pelt and tail, and her claws and teeth as tokens of this hunt.”

They both stood silently for a while, then Jondalar said, “I am grateful that the hunt was a success and no one was hurt.”

“I would like to honor them in some way, Jondalar, to acknowledge my respect for the Cave Lion Spirit, and show gratitude to my totem.”

“Yes, I think we should. It is customary to thank the spirit when we make a kill, and to ask the spirit to thank the Great Earth Mother for the food she has allowed us to take. We can thank the Cave Lion Spirit and ask the spirit to thank the Mother for allowing us to take these lions to protect our families and our Caves.” Jondalar paused. “We can give this lion a drink of water so the spirit won’t arrive in the next world thirsty. Some people also bury the heart, give it back to the Mother. I think we should do both for this great lion who gave his life defending his pride.”

“I will do the same for the female who stood with him, fighting at his side,” Ayla said. “I think my Cave Lion Totem protected me, and maybe all the rest of us. The Mother could have chosen to let the Cave Lion Spirit take someone to compensate for the pride’s great loss. I am grateful She didn’t.”

“Ayla! You were right!”

She spun around at the sound of the voice and smiled at the Ninth Cave’s leader coming up behind them. “You said, ‘A wounded animal is unpredictable. And one with the strength and speed of a cave lion, hurt and wild with pain, could do anything.’ We shouldn’t have assumed that because that lion was down and bleeding, he wouldn’t try to attack again.” Joharran addressed the rest of the hunters who had come to see the lions they had killed. “We should have made sure he was dead.”

“What surprised me was that wolf,” Palidar said, looking at the animal, still covered with blood, nonchalantly sitting at Ayla’s feet, with his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. “He’s the one who warned us, but I never imagined a wolf would attack a cave lion, wounded or not.”

Jondalar smiled. “Wolf protects Ayla,” he said. “It doesn’t matter who or what it is, if it threatens her, he’ll attack it.”

“Even you, Jondalar?” he asked.

“Even me.”

There was an uncomfortable silence; then Joharran said, “How many lions did we get?” Several of the big cats were down, some with a number of spears in them.

“I count five,” Ayla said.

“The lions with spears from more than one person should be shared,” Joharran said. “Those hunters can decide what to do with them.”

“The only spears in the male and this female belong to Ayla and me, so we can claim them,” Jondalar said. “We did what was necessary, but they were defending their family and we want to honor their spirits. We don’t have a Zelandoni here, but we can give each a drink of water before we send them on their way to the spirit world, and we can bury their hearts, give them back to the Mother.”

The other hunters nodded in agreement.

Ayla walked to the lioness that she had killed and took out her waterbag. It was made of the carefully washed stomach of a deer, with the lower opening tied off. The upper opening was pulled up around a deer vertebra, with the projections cut away, and sinew wrapped tightly around it. The natural hole in the center of the section of spine made a more than serviceable pour spout. The stopper was a thin leather thong that had been knotted several times in the same place, and stuffed into the hole. She pulled out the knotted leather cord stopper, and took a mouthful. Then she kneeled over the head of the lioness, pulled it around and opened the jaws, and squirted the water from her mouth into the mouth of the big cat.

“We are thankful, Doni, Great Mother of All, and we are grateful to the Spirit of Cave Lion,” she said aloud. Then she began speaking with the silent hand signs of the formal language of the Clan, the one they used when addressing the spirit world, but in a quiet voice, she translated the meaning of the signs she was making. “This woman is grateful to the Spirit of the Great Cave Lion, the totem of this woman, for allowing a few of the Spirit’s living ones to fall to the spears of the people. This woman would express sorrow to the Great Spirit of the Cave Lion for the loss of the living ones. The Great Mother and the Cave Lion Spirit know it was necessary for the safety of the people, but this woman wants to express gratitude.”

She turned around to the group of hunters who were watching her. It wasn’t done in quite the manner they were used to, but it was fascinating to watch her, and felt utterly right to those hunters who had faced their fears to make their territory safer for themselves and for others. It also made them understand why their Zelandoni Who Was First had made this foreign woman her acolyte.

“I will not make a claim to any other lions that may have been pierced by one of my spears, but I would like the spear back,” Ayla said. “This lion has only my spear in it, so I will claim it. I will keep the skin and tail, the claws and the teeth.”

“What about the meat?” Palidar said. “Are you going to eat some?”

“No. The hyenas can have it as far as I’m concerned,” Ayla said. “I don’t like the taste of the meat of meat-eaters, especially cave lions.”

“I’ve never tasted lion,” he said.

“Neither have I,” said Morizan of the Third Cave, who had paired up with Galeya.

“Did none of your spears reach a lion?” Ayla asked. She saw them shake their heads in a sadly negative response. “You’re welcome to this one’s meat, if you want it, after I bury the heart, but I wouldn’t eat the liver if I were you.”

“Why not?” Tivonan asked.

“The people I grew up with believed the liver of meat-eaters could kill you, like a poison,” she said. “They told stories about it, especially of a selfish woman who ate the liver of a cat, a lynx, I think, and died. Perhaps we should bury the liver, too, with the heart.”

“Is the liver of animals who eat any meat bad for you?” Galeya asked.

“I think bears are all right. They eat meat, but they eat everything else, as well. Cave bears don’t eat much meat at all, and they taste good. I knew some people who ate their liver and didn’t get sick,” Ayla said.

“I haven’t seen a cave bear in years,” Solaban said. He’d been standing close by, listening. “There aren’t many around here anymore. Have you really eaten cave bear?”

“Yes,” Ayla said. She considered mentioning that cave bear meat was sacred to the Clan, eaten only for certain ritual feasts, but decided it would just encourage more questions that would take too long to answer.

She looked at the lioness, and took a deep breath. It was big and would be a lot of work to skin. She could use some help, and observed the four young people who had been asking her questions. None of them had used spear-throwers, but she guessed that might change now, and though they hadn’t landed a spear, they had been a willing part of the hunt and exposed themselves to danger. She smiled at them. “I’ll give each of you a claw if you’ll help me skin this lioness,” she said, and watched them smile back.

“I’ll be glad to,” Palidar and Tivonan said almost simultaneously.

“Me too,” said Morizan.

“Good. I can use the help.” Then she said to Morizan, “I don’t think we have been formally introduced.”

She faced the young man and held out both her hands, palm up, in the formal gesture of openness and friendship. “I am Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, acolyte of Zelandoni, First Among Those Who Serve The Great Earth Mother, mated to Jondalar, Master Flint-Knapper and brother of Joharran, leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. Formerly I was Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, Chosen by the spirit of the Cave Lion, Protected by the Cave Bear, and friend of the horses, Whinney, Racer, and Gray, and the four-legged hunter, Wolf.”

It was enough of a formal introduction, she thought, watching his expression. She knew the first part of the formal recitation of her names and ties was probably somewhat overwhelming—her associations were among the highest ranked of all the Zelandonii, and the last part would be completely unfamiliar to him.

He reached for her hands and began his names and ties. “I am Morizan of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii,” he started nervously, then seemed to be trying to think what to say next. “I am the son of Manvelar, leader of the Third Cave, cousin of …”

Ayla realized he was young and not accustomed to meeting new people and making formal recitations. She decided to make it easy for him, and ended the formal meeting ritual. “In the name of Doni, the Great Earth Mother, I greet you, Morizan of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii,” she said, then added, “and I welcome your help.”

“I want to help, too,” Galeya said. “I’d like to have a claw as a memory of this hunt. Even if I didn’t get a spear into any of them, it was exciting. A little frightening, but exciting.”

Ayla nodded in understanding. “Let’s get started, but I should warn you to be careful when you cut out the claws, or the teeth; don’t let them scratch you. You have to cook them before they can be safely handled. If you get a scratch, it can turn into a foul wound, one that swells up and suppurates with a bad-smelling discharge.”

She looked up and noticed in the distance that some people were coming around the jutting wall. She recognized several from the Third Cave who had not been with the first group that joined them before. Manvelar, the strong and vigorous older man who was their leader, was among them.

“Here come Manvelar and some others,” Thefona said. She had obviously seen and recognized them too.

When they reached the hunters, Manvelar walked up to Joharran. “I greet you, Joharran, leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, in the name of Doni, the Great Earth Mother,” he said, holding both hands out.

Taking both hands in his, Joharran returned the short formal greeting to acknowledge the other leader. “In the name of Great Earth Mother, Doni, I greet you, Manvelar, leader of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii.” It was a customary courtesy between leaders.

“The people you sent back came up and told us what was going on,” Manvelar said. “We’ve seen the lions around here the past few days, so we came to help. They were returning regularly and we were wondering what we should do about them. It looks like you have taken care of the problem. I see four, no, five lions down, including the male. The females will have to find a new male, now; maybe they’ll separate and find more than one. It will change the entire structure of the pride. I don’t think they will be back bothering us soon. We need to thank you.”

“We didn’t think we could pass them safely, and didn’t want them threatening Caves in the vicinity, so we decided to chase them away, especially since we had several people with us who could use spear-throwers. It’s a good thing we had them. Even though he was badly wounded, that big male attacked again, after we thought he was down,” Joharran said.

“Hunting cave lions is dangerous. What are you going to do with them?”

“I think the hides, teeth, and claws have all been claimed, and some say they want to taste the meat,” Joharran said.

“It’s strong,” Manvelar said, wrinkling his nose. “We’ll help you with the skinning, but it will take some time. I think you should plan on spending the night with us. We can send a runner ahead and tell the Seventh that you’ve been delayed, and why.”

“Good. We will stay. Thank you, Manvelar,” Joharran said.

   The Third Cave served a meal to the visitors from the Ninth before they set out the next morning. Joharran, Proleva, Proleva’s son, Jaradal, and new baby daughter, Sethona, were seated together with Jondalar, Ayla, and her daughter, Jonayla, out on the sunny stone front porch, enjoying the view along with their food.

“It would seem that Morizan is taking quite an interest in Folara’s friend, Galeya,” Proleva said. They were watching the group of not-yet-mated young people with the indulgent eye of older siblings with families.