by Jean M. Auel
Stately willows, which graced nearly every river, stream, or brook that sustained even a trace of moisture, grew as low shrubs, and tall sturdy birches and pines became prostrate woody growths that crawled along the ground. Blueberries and bilberries spread out as thick carpets, only four inches high. She wondered if, like the berries that grew near the northern glacier, they bore full-size but sweeter and wilder fruits. Though the bare skeletons of withered branches gave evidence of many plants, she didn't always know what variety they were, or how familiar plants might be different, and she wondered how the high meadows would look in warmer seasons.
Traveling in the dead of winter, Ayla and Jondalar did not see the spring and summer beauty of the highlands. No wild roses or rhododendrons colored the landscape with blooms of pink; no crocuses or anemones, or beautiful blue gentians, or yellow narcissus were tempted to brave the harsh wind; and no primroses or violets would burst with polychrome splendor until the first warmth of spring. There were no bellflowers, rampions, worts, groundsels, daisies, lilies, saxifrages, pinks, monkshoods, or beautiful little edelweiss to ease the bitter cold monotony of the freezing fields of winter.
But another, more awesome sight filled their view. A dazzling fortress of gleaming ice lay athwart their path. It blazed in the sun like a magnificent, many-faceted diamond. Its sheer crystalline white glowed with luminous blue shadows that hid its flaws: the crevasses, tunnels, caves, and pockets that riddled the gigantic gem.
They had reached the glacier.
As the travelers neared the crest of the worn stump of the primordial mountain that bore the flat-topped crown of ice, they weren't even sure if the narrow mountain stream beside them was still the same river that had been their companion for so long. The diminutive trail of ice was indistinguishable from the many frozen little waterways waiting for spring to release their cascading flows to race down the crystalline rocks of the high plateau.
The Great Mother River they had followed all the way from her broad delta where she had emptied into the inland sea, the great waterway that had guided their steps over so much of their arduous Journey, was gone. Even the ice-locked hint of a wild little stream would soon be left behind. The travelers would no longer have the comforting security of the river to show them the way. They would have to continue their Journey west by dead reckoning, with only the sun and stars to act as guides, and landmarks that Jondalar hoped he would remember.
Above the high meadow, the vegetation was more intermittent. Only algae, lichens, and mosses that were typical of rocks and scree could derive a struggling existence beyond the cushion plants and a few other rare species. Ayla had begun to feed the horses some of the grass they carried for them. Without their heavy, shaggy coats and thick undercoat, neither horses nor wolf would have survived, but nature had adapted them to the cold. Lacking fur of their own, the humans had made their own adaptations. They took the furs of the animals they hunted; without them they would not have survived. But then, without the protection of furs and fire, their ancestors would never have come north in the first place.
Ibex, chamois, and mouflon were at home in mountain meadows, including those in more precipitous rugged regions, and frequented higher ground, though usually not so late in the season, but horses were an anomaly at this high elevation. Even the gentler slopes of the massif did not usually encourage their kind to climb so high, but Whinney and Racer were sure-footed.
The horses, with their heads bent low, plodded up the incline at the base of the ice hauling supplies and brownish-black burning stones that would mean the difference between life and death for all of them. The humans, who led the horses to places they would not ordinarily go, were looking for a level spot to set up a tent and make camp.
They were all weary of fighting the intense cold and sharp wind, of climbing the steep terrain. It was exhausting work. Even the wolf was content to stay close rather than to run off and explore.
"I'm so tired," Ayla said as they were trying to set up camp with gusty winds blowing. "Tired of the wind, and tired of the cold. I don't think it'll ever get warm again. I didn't know it could be so cold."
Jondalar nodded, acknowledging the cold, but he knew the cold they had yet to face would be worse. He saw her glance at the great mass of ice, then look away as though she didn't want to see it, and he suspected she was concerned with more than cold.
"Are we really going to go across all that ice?" she asked, finally acknowledging her fears. "Is it possible? I don't even know how we're going to get up to the top."
"It's not easy, but it's possible," Jondalar said. "Thonolan and I did it. While there is still light, I'd like to look for the best way to get the horses up there."
"It feels like we've been traveling forever. How much farther do we have to go, Jondalar?"
"It's still a ways to the Ninth Cave, but not too far, not near as far as we have come, and once we get across the ice, it's only a short distance to Dalanar's Cave. We'll stop there for a while; it will give you a chance to meet him, and Jerika and everyone – I can hardly wait to show Dalanar and Joplaya some of the flint-knapping techniques I learned from Wymez – but even if we stay and visit, we should be home before summer."
Ayla felt distressed. Summer! But this is winter, she thought. If she had really understood how long the Journey would be, she wondered if she would have been so eager to go with Jondalar all the way back to his home. She might have tried harder to persuade him to stay with the Mamutoi.
"Let's go take a closer look at that glacier," Jondalar said, "and plan the best way to get up on it. Then we should make sure we have everything and are ready to cross the ice."
"We'll have to use some of the burning stones to make a fire tonight,"
Ayla said. "There's nothing to burn around here. And we'll have to melt ice for water… we shouldn't have any trouble finding enough of that."
Except for a few shaded pockets of negligible accumulation, there was no snow in the area where they camped, and there had been very little for most of their trek up the slope. Jondalar had only been that way once before, but the whole area seemed much drier than he remembered. He was right. They were in the rain shadow of the highland, the back side; the sparse snows that did fall in the region usually arrived a little later, after the season had begun to turn. He and Thonolan had run into a snowstorm on their way down.
During the winter, the warmer, water-laden air, riding the prevailing winds coming from the western ocean, rose up the slopes until it reached the large level area of cold ice with high pressure centered over it. Having the effect of a giant funnel that was aimed at the high massif, the moist air cooled, condensed, and turned to snow, which fell only on the ice below, feeding the hungry maw of the demanding glacier.
The ice covering the entire worn and rounded top of the ancient massif spread the precipitation over the whole area, creating a nearly level surface, except at the periphery. The cooled air, milked dry of liquid, dropped low and raced down the sides, bringing no snow beyond the edges of the ice.
As Jondalar and Ayla hiked around the base of the ice looking for the easiest way up, they noticed areas that seemed newly disturbed, with dirt and rocks gouged up by prongs of advancing ice. The glacier was growing.
In many areas, the ancient rock of the highland was exposed at the foot of the glacier. The massif, folded and uplifted by the immense pressures that had created the mountains to the south, had once been a solid block of crystalline granite that incorporated a similar highland to the west. The forces that pushed against the immovable old mountain, the most ancient rock on earth, left evidence in the form of a great rift, a fault that had cleaved the block asunder.
Directly across toward the west, on the opposite side of the glacier, the massif's western slope was steep, and matched by an east-facing parallel edge across the rift valley. A river flowed along the middle of the broad valley floor of the fault trough protected by the high parallel sides of the cracked massif. But Jondalar planned to head sou
thwest, to cross the glacier diagonally and come down a more gradual grade. He wanted to cross the river nearer its source high in the southern mountains, before it flowed around the glaciered massif and through the rift valley.
"Where did this come from?" Ayla asked, holding up the object in question. It consisted of two oval wooden disks mounted in a frame that held them rigid and fastened fairly close together, with leather thongs attached to the outside edges. A thin slit was cut the long way down the middle of the wooden ovals for almost the full length, nearly dividing them in half.
"I made it before we left. I have one for you, too. It's for your eyes. Sometimes the glare of the ice on the glacier is so bright that you can't see anything but white – people call it snow-blind. The blindness usually goes away after a while, but your eyes can get awfully red and sore. This will protect your eyes. Go ahead, put it on," Jondalar said. Then, seeing her fumble with them, he added, "Here, I'll show you." He put the unusual sunshields on and tied the thongs behind his head.
"How can you see?" Ayla asked. She could just barely make out his eyes behind the long horizontal slits, but she put on the pair he gave her. "You can see almost everything! You just have to turn your head to see to the side." She was surprised; then she smiled. "You look so funny with your big blank eyes, like some kind of strange spirit… or a bug. Maybe the spirit of a bug."
"You look funny, too," he said, smiling back, "but those bug eyes could save your life. You need to see where you are going up on the ice."
"These mouflon-wool boot liners from Madenia's mother have been so nice to have," Ayla commented as she put them in a handy place to get at them easily. "Even when they're wet, they keep your feet warm."
"We may be grateful to have the extra pair when we're on the ice, too," Jondalar said.
"I used to stuff my foot-coverings with sedge grass, when I lived with the Clan."
"Sedge grass?"
"Yes. It keeps your feet warm and dries fast."
"That's useful to know," Jondalar said, then picked up a boot. "Wear the boots with the mammoth-hide soles. They're almost waterproof and they're tough. Sometimes ice can be sharp, and they're rough enough so you won't slip, especially on the way up. Let's see, we'll need the adze to chop up ice." He put the tool on top of a pile he was making. "And rope. Good strong cord, too. We'll need the tent, sleeping furs, food, of course. Can we leave some of the cooking equipment? We won't need much on the ice, and we can get more from the Lanzadonii."
"We'll be using traveling food. I won't be cooking, and I decided to use the big skin pot attached to the frame that we got from Solandia to melt the ice for water, and put it directly over the fire. It's faster that way, and we don't have to boil the water. Just melt it," Ayla said.
"Be sure to keep a spear with you."
"Why? There are no animals on the ice, are there?"
"No, but you can use it to prod ahead of you to make sure the ice is solid. What about this mammoth hide?" Jondalar asked. "We've carried this with us ever since we started out, but do we need it? It's heavy."
"It's a good hide, nice and pliable now, and a good waterproof cover for the bowl boat. You said it snows on the ice." She really hated to throw it away.
"But we can use the tent as a cover."
"That's true… but," Ayla said, pursing her lips, considering… Then she noticed something else. "Where did you get those torches?"
"From Laduni. We'll be up before sunrise and will need light to pack. I want to reach the top of the plateau before the sun is very high, while everything is still frozen solid," Jondalar said. "Even when it's this cold, the sun can melt the ice a little and it will be difficult enough to reach the top."
They went to bed early, but Ayla couldn't fall asleep. She was nervous and excited. This was the glacier that Jondalar had talked about from the beginning.
"Wha… What's wrong?" Ayla said, startled wide awake.
"Nothing's wrong. It's time to get up," Jondalar said, holding up the torch. He pushed the handle into the gravel to support it, then handed her a cup of steaming tea. "I started a fire. Here's some tea."
She smiled, and he looked pleased. She had made his morning tea nearly every single day of their Journey, and he was delighted that he'd gotten up first, for once, and made tea for her. Actually, he'd never gone to sleep. He hadn't been able to. He'd been too nervous, too excited, and too worried.
Wolf watched his humans, his eyes reflecting the light. Sensing something unusual, he capered and pranced back and forth. The horses were frisky, too, full of snorting, nickering, and vibrato blowing with clouds of steam. Using the burning stones, Ayla melted ice for water and fed them grain. She gave Wolf a cake of Losadunai traveling food along with one for her and Jondalar. By the light of the torch, they packed the tent, the sleeping furs, and a few implements. They left a few odds and ends behind, an empty container of grain, a few stone tools, but at the last moment Ayla threw the mammoth hide over the brown coal in the bowl boat.
Jondalar picked up the torch to light the way. Taking Racer's lead rope, he started out, but the firelight was distracting. He could see a small lighted circle in the immediate vicinity, but not much beyond, even when he held it up high. The moon was nearly full, and he began to feel he could find their way better without the fire. The man finally threw it down and walked ahead in the dark. Ayla followed, and in a few moments their eyes adjusted. Behind them the torch still burned on the graveled ground as they moved away.
In the light of a moon that lacked only a sliver from being full, the monstrous bastion of ice glowed with an eerie, evanescent light. The black sky was hazy with stars, the air brittle and crackling with cold; an amorphous ether charged with a life of its own.
As cold as it was, the freezing air had a deeper intensity as they neared the great wall of ice, but Ayla's shiver was caused by the thrill of awe and anticipation. Jondalar watched her glowing eyes, her slightly open mouth as she took deeper, faster breaths. He was always aroused by her excitement, and he felt a stirring in his loins. But he shook his head. There was no time now. The glacier was waiting.
Jondalar took a long rope out of his pack. "We need to tie ourselves together," he said.
"The horses, too?"
"No. We might be able to support each other, but if the horses slip, they'll take us with them." As much as he would hate to lose either Racer or Whinney, it was Ayla he was most concerned about.
Ayla frowned, but she nodded her agreement.
They spoke in hushed whispers, the silent brooding ice quieting their voices. They didn't want to disturb its hulking splendor or warn it of their impending assault.
Jondalar tied one end of the rope around his waist and the other end around Ayla, coiling up the slack and putting his arm through to carry it on his shoulder. Then each of them picked up the lead rope of a horse. Wolf would have to make his own way.
Jondalar felt a moment of panic before he started. What could he have been thinking of? What ever made him think he could bring Ayla and the horses across the glacier? They should have gone the long way around. Even if it took longer, it was safer. At least they would have made it. Then he stepped on the ice.
At the foot of a glacier there was often a separation between the ice and the land, which created a cavelike space beneath the ice, or an overhanging ice shelf that extended out over the accumulated gravels of glacial till. At the place Jondalar chose to start, the overhang had collapsed, providing a gradual ascent. It was also mixed with gravel, giving them better footing. Starting from the collapsed edge a heavy accumulation of gravel – a moraine – led up the side of the ice like a well-defined trail and, except near the top, it did not appear too steep for them or the sure-footed horses. Getting over the top edge could be a problem, but he wouldn't know how much of one until he got there.
With Jondalar leading the way, they started up the slope. Racer balked for a moment. Although they had trimmed it down, his large load was still unwieldy and the shift in elevation
from a moderate to a steeper grade unsettled him. A hoof slipped, then caught hold, and with some hesitation the young stallion started up. Then it was Ayla's turn, and Whinney dragging the travois. But the mare had hauled the pole drag for so long, across such varied terrain, that she was accustomed to it, and, unlike the large load Racer carried on his back, the wide-spaced poles helped to steady the mare.
Wolf brought up the rear. It was easier for him. He was lower to the ground and his callused paws provided friction against slipping. But he sensed the danger to his companions and followed behind as though guarding the rear, watchful for some unseen menace.
In the bright moonlight, reflections from jagged outcrops of bare ice shimmered, and the mirrorlike surfaces of sheer planes had a deep liquid quality, like still black pools. It was not difficult to see the moraine that was spilling down, like a river of sand and stones in slow motion, but the night lighting obscured the size and perspective of objects and hid small details.
Jondalar set a slow and cautious pace, carefully leading his horse around obstructions. Ayla was more concerned with finding the best path for the horse she was leading than she was for her own safety. As the slope became steeper, the horses, unbalanced by the sharper incline and their heavy loads, struggled for footing. When a hoof slipped as Jondalar tried to lead Racer up a precipitous rise near the top, the horse neighed and tried to rear.
"Come on, Racer," Jondalar urged, pulling his lead rope taut, as if he could pull him up by sheer brute strength. "We're almost there, you can do it."
The stallion made an effort, but his hooves slipped on treacherous ice below a thin layer of snow, and Jondalar felt himself pulled back by the lead rope. He eased up on the rope, giving Racer his head, and finally let go altogether. There were things in the pack he would hate to lose, and even more, it would pain him to lose the animal, but he feared the stallion could not make it.
But when his hooves found gravel. Racer's slide stopped, and with no restraint on him, he lifted his head and plunged forward. Suddenly the stallion was over the edge, adroitly stepping over a narrow crack at the end of a crevasse as the way leveled out. Jondalar noticed that the color of the sky had shifted from black to deep indigo blue, with a faint lightening of the shade on the eastern horizon, as he stroked the horse and praised him warmly.