Jon’lan did not know what made him speak, but as the animal accepted his offering he could not stop himself from saying, “Great One, thank you.” His wife would be proud of him could she but hear his prayer. She had planted the idea in his mind of a Great One, a Great Spirit Being greater than all things which she called the Creator.
Jon’lan had always accepted that such a One existed but it wasn’t until his wife put it into words for him that the concept became centered in knowledge located somewhere deep within him. The mammoth snorted gently this time, blowing softly out of her nostril and the air swirled around Jon’lan’s face and he could smell the water that she had so recently partaken of on the Old One’s breath.
“I wish only to take enough water to quench the thirst of my family Old One.” Jon’lan spoke in a whisper and though the mammoth could not understand what he said, his words came out like a soft caress against her ears. Gently she tugged at the mound of leaves until more came free and Jon’lan watched as she began to eat her fill. They had determined that the leaves weighed almost as much as Giad and to prove his point Roark handed Giad to Jon’lan and bid him walk a few feet with the sturdy boy.
After setting the laughing boy on his feet Roark handed Jon’lan the bundle of leaves which he held low over his belly although it piled up so high he could barely see over top. It was as Roark had said and the leaves weighed about as much as the boy. Jon’lan marveled at the amount of work that it had taken for the women to tear and chew the leaves until they were soft. He watched now as the Old One devoured the leaves in great gulps, barely chewing as she swallowed.
When she was all finished she stepped closer to Jon’lan and he carefully withheld himself from flinching as she examined him with the snout of her trunk, touching none to gently upon his neck and hair and breathing curiously as she explored his arms and torso. He cupped his hands over his breechcloth when she gave a push there and quickly lost interest only to examine his legs and sniff at his feet.
The Matriarch was not offended by this creature’s scents and smells, he had brought her that which she had been craving for many days and still as she touched and prodded him he did not attack or strike out at her at all. In fact she saw no claws or talons, no sharp teeth or tusks with which the creature might hope to put up a defense.
Finally she pushed him with her trunk until he stumbled backwards and only then did Jon’lan lift his hands to push back against her trunk and even this he did gently but firmly. He was surprised by the soft hairs that met his hands and the sturdy feel of her trunk as he pushed her away.
The audacity of such a move did not elude him, but even he knew that animals needed to respect each other. With her massive size she was obviously used to having her way but Jon’lan wished to have her respect. She backed off when he pushed against her but he stood still when once again she sniffed and gathered his scent from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head. Only Jon’lan’s association with Rhea had prepared him for this meeting.
Rhea sniffed every inch of the people in their band upon first meeting them. Everyone had learned to stand still for her inspection unless they wanted to be forcibly pinned down while she explored them. Only Roark had refused to be pinned by Rhea and she had not challenged him. Finally the Old One looked at him with soft brown eyes that seemed to communicate with some other part of him, the part that spoke no words, but lived as one with all things and then she turned and walked with a smooth gait back to her pack.
Jon’lan felt deflated, but he was not without a sense that something had been accomplished. Even as he returned to the hilltop and looked at the astonished faces of his loved ones he felt a sense of triumph.
“More leaves.” Jon’lan said stoically, before sitting heavily upon a rock, suddenly exhausted.
Chapter Thirty
Roark took the lead in having the boys gather more leaves and this time all helped with mashing and stomping and twisting until once again they had gathered even more than before and the bundle was ready to be taken back to the mammoth. This time Jon’lan knew that he must go farther into the group to get closer to the water. And his legs trembled with the thought but he knew it was the greatest mark of a man if he could overcome his fear and do what was needed for the protection of his people.
Gathering his reserve he took one last look at the faces that he had come to love and cherish before walking once more down the hill. He did not look back, but he held fast in his mind the image of his wife standing as if ready for battle, with her walking staff held out before her. Jon’lan knew that if he had only asked her, she would have gladly taken his place. He put one foot in front of the other and told himself that he had no fear, he kept repeating this to himself and in his mind’s eye he pictured walking up to the mammoth and filling his waterskins to the brim.
The Matriarch did not charge towards him as he approached. She hushed the trumpeting cries that the others let loose with a stomp of her hairy legs against the ground. The youngest bull was not dissuaded from his rummaging for milk although he stopped for a moment to stare at the curious creature that approached them.
The Matriarch feared that her milk would dry up too soon and though she knew one of her daughters or cousins would feed her young one, she wished to hold the place of mother to him for as long as possible. This strange creature that approached her without fear could help her do this. Once again she scented upon the air and she knew even before he came into sight range that he carried with him another bundle of leaves.
Knowing that she angered her pack she snorted at them and stomped until they backed away allowing the creature to walk directly up to her. Jon’lan had never in his life before today seen such magnificent animals and he knew that in all his days he would never forget the wondrous sight. As he approached the Old One he saw that she had a young calf with her and the difference in the two animals gave him pause.
This young mammoth calf was startlingly white where all his pack was a dark muddy brown. Jon’lan didn’t know how he could have missed the sight of such a one, but realized the others had carefully guarded their young. Remembering what Roark said about the mammoths being very much like their own band, Jon’lan did not approach further, even though his tongue swelled at the smell of the water which was only a few feet to his left.
The Matriarch noticed the creature had regarded her young calf and then turned his head away. She gently disentangled her sons seeking mouth from her body knowing that only another meal would allow him to seek his fill. She pushed the young calf none to gently away from her and when he tried to return she snorted at him in warning and he seemed not to notice her upset as he looked at her with twinkling eyes the color of the sky above. Still another calf snorted in play close to the water’s edge and her son lost interest in her for now and went gamboling off to play. Jon’lan sighed with relief and slowly began to walk forward until his feet were touching the water.
He was a man dying of thirst and it took everything in him not to fall face forward into the water and drink until his belly was full. Instead he lowered the bundle to the ground and rolled it gently towards the old one and as she sniffed it and then began to eat lustily he took first one water skin and then the others and began to fill them until they were ready to burst. He looped each water skin by its strap over any appendage that would hold it, using first his neck and then his arms as the water filled each skin. Finally with all the skins filled and with more weight from the water than he had imagined he got to his feet again.
The Matriarch watched the creature somehow put water into his appendages and she did not mind sharing her water hole with the one that brought her food. Still she sniffed him over before she allowed him to leave her and she butted him gently with her trunk in growing affection. Jon’lan stood still as the mammoth attended to sniffing him and pushing him around with her trunk but this time she did not test him by butting him to hard. Finally she tired of him and his lips finally cracked on a smile when her breath tickled his ear.
As Jon’lan made his way over the hill the Old One could not see the tears that flowed as the youngest member of the band was given water and finally each adult was able to drink their fill. Roark and Jon’lan choked, laughed and snorted as each man tried to drink their water and slap each other on the back in joy. Both mothers made sure their children were drinking first before filling their own mouths with the cool clear water.
Anaay, always a loner, sat in the midst of his band and drank his fill. While Kii danced with Mar-ee and Yaa while raising their arms to the sky in joy. All the girls circled their band following Kii’s lead as they began to twirl and dance. Taikiuu and Star Feather stood smiling as they watched their young daughters and nieces rejoice. It was their first celebration and it would be well remembered and spoken of over many a nights fire with storytelling and appreciation. Each person clapped their hands in rhythm as the girls laughed and whirled circling their parents and loved ones as they danced to a song that was not sung but felt.
Sirion studied the group that approached her people. They were covered in mud from the valley river and she could feel the sense of malice that came from the foreign warriors. Her son, Marad stood ready to fight and she cursed him for a fool as she saw him posturing in front of his men. She wondered if he would ever learn how to use his role as Warrior Leader to benefit his people and his mother. Sirion called for quiet with the loud rap of her staff against the ground. Her serving women flinched and she smiled a brittle smile of secret mirth. Already they heeded her every word.
There had been a time during their journey where she feared that her people would rebel against her, turning back and fleeing for their lives. The cave that birthed them into this new world had collapsed killing a handful of her people, those that were not worthy of taking the lead position. Sirion assured her people that the mountain had taken its wrath out on those that were not worthy to be birthed into this new land. Already she felt at home in the lush Valley that was protected from harsh weather and was ripe with game and food to be foraged from its depths. Her people had set up Haik’s near the river and were starting to settle into a daily routine which included service to her.
Now these foreigners had come into their midst threatening death to any that stood against them. Sirion watched the leader of the foreign warriors stalk to the front of his group of men. He raised his spear high in an effort to invoke fear in all who watched him. Marad challenged the man with a yell and made to step forward to meet him but a word of caution from his mother held the man in check. Sirion rose from her prone position on the dais and she allowed her serving women to remove a few of the furs that cloaked her lush form.
When she stood all eyes turned to her as she gracefully made her way down to the river where to two men faced each other. Marad waited for his mother to attend at his side, he knew that she wished to see him meet this new challenge with strength. Sirion approached slowly gloating inside at the feel of all the eyes of her band turned towards her, awaiting her decision.
I’naram looked hungrily at the woman that approached him, she was older in years than he preferred, but her bearing was imperial and her eyes held the wisdom of one who had seen many things in her lifetime and triumphed over them all. He liked what he saw immediately and he waved to his men to stand down. The men grumbled slightly but they too were captivated by the striking figure of the woman that approached. Sirion smiled knowingly as the foreigners caught their first sight of her beauty.
Her hair hung long, longer than it had ever been allowed to grow when there was an Ada’na for the people of Hetmos. Her tawny colored skin sparkled with good health and her hips swayed suggestively as she approached. Let them look their fill, she thought knowingly, they have never seen such glory before. When Sirion faced the leader she stared at him openly, taking in the raw strength of his arms, chest and legs. He spoke first as she looked into his eyes and she silenced him with a gesture of the hand which he heeded.
“Bring me someone who can understand their guttural tongue.” Sirion spoke softly, so that only her closest serving woman would hear her. The woman immediately departed searching for anyone who could make sense of their tongue. When the leader heard her speak his eyes widened almost imperceptibly and she wondered if he had heard their language before. That would be one of the first questions she asked him. An old woman was brought forward, she was crippled with old age and Sirion would never allow such a woman to touch even the fringe of her garment, but for now she found her useful.
“Can you understand him?” Sirion asked with nothing more than an inclination of her head.
“Yes, I can make out some of his words, I remember the language from times long past.” The old woman replied as she looked closely at the foreigners and then studied Sirion. No one was allowed this close to the woman who had taken over as leader of the People. The old woman wandered what she might gain from translating for her people.
“Ask him what he wants with the people of Hetmos.” Sirion instructed and the old woman eagerly complied.
“He says that we are not welcome here and he withholds only a small number of his men, from striking us down where we stand.” The old woman responded with trembling lips. Her eyes took in every expression that passed between Sirion and the foreign leader of the warriors. Marad bristled with pent up rage, he wanted to decimate the man where he stood and his hand twitched on his spear as he held himself ready.
“Ask him if he has heard our tongue before?” Sirion waited patiently with absolutely no show of fear, even though the people gathered around gasped in dismay at the foreign leader’s words.
The old woman asked her leader’s question and waited for a response, when the man simply smiled at her, she shuddered. His teeth were shaped like arrowheads and his smile was chilling in its intensity. The man responded with a shake of his spear and his words were filled with rage. Sirion did not need a translator to tell her that he held much against the person that had passed this way before them.
“He says that yes, he seeks a trader that has stolen his son’s woman and many of their possessions. He will kill this trader, but first he will take the man’s wife and make him watch her death.”
Sirion smiled with malice, perhaps things could be worked out between them, since they both sought the same goal. Marad relaxed his muscles at his mother’s gentle touch and he fixed his gaze upon her glittering eyes.
“We will not harm our friends.” Sirion tapped the old woman on the back with her walking stick and the woman stumbled forward before translating without being told. “Perhaps we can both get what we want, you seek the trader and we seek his wife. Come, join me and we will talk of our mutual interest.” Sirion raised her hand and pointed in the direction of her Haik. It was a large structure built out of mud and dried grasses. It stood out larger than any of the other Haik’s nearby and it boasted three adjoining rooms as well as a rooftop, where a person could sleep on warm nights.
I’naram looked at the woman as her words were explained to him and he nodded knowingly. His thoughts settled upon his crippled son, Chogan, who rested with the remainder of their band farther down the river. If Chogan were here now, he would protest this meeting, but Chogan was worth nothing without the use of his leg. The young man was a cripple that clung to life only by the grace of his father who ordered others to feed and clothe him. Chogan was not here to voice his protest. I’naram would hear what the woman had to say and then perhaps they w
ould join together in their hunt for the trader and his small band.
The dawn rose softly, pushing tendrils of light across the surface of the ground. Jon’lan was not caught unaware. He sat on the top of the hill overlooking the mammoth that had stayed silent until the first rays of light touched their hairy flanks. Only then did the Matriarch trumpet loudly and her cry was noted and returned by her band.
Jon’lan knew that these animals were communicating with each other and as his wife sat next to him, curled into the warmth of his side he watched, with wonder filled eyes. Taikiuu had never imagined such creatures, not in all of her dreams or wonderings. But here they stood, magnificent in their majesty.
She felt kinship with them in a way she could never explain. There was also the firm belief that they kindness in the Old One had truly saved the lives of her band. They needed more water before they could continue their journey and it was imperative that they continue. Even now with the warmth of her husband nearby and the first touches of morning sun on her face she felt a chill as she thought of Marad and then lastly of I’naram.
She shuddered and then as Jon’lan noticed her tension she forced herself to relax. She could not bear the world on her shoulders nor did she have the need to carry the burden alone. She could entrust her fears to the Creator of all things and her prayers had already been answered with the gift of a strong, brave husband to share the burden. Surely this sharing of burdens was what the Giver of Breath had envisioned when he first gave woman to man.
“What bothers you?” Jon’lan asked his wife as she nestled into his side.
“I do not say the name of our enemies” Taikiuu spoke softly, her voice a melody on the gentle wind.
Keeper of the People (Book One) Page 33