THE SHELTERS OF STONE ec-5

by Jean M. Auel

  He tried to remember what he knew about Kareja. She'd never had many men interested in her, he recalled. Not because she wasn't attractive, but she hadn't seemed particularly interested in men and didn't encourage them. But he didn't recall her being interested in women, either. She had always lived with her mother, Dorova. Jondalar wondered if she still did.

  Her mother had never chosen to live with a man, he knew. He couldn't remember who the man of her hearth was, or if anyone ever knew which man's spirit the Great Mother had chosen to make Dorova pregnant. People had wondered about the name she had chosen for her daughter, mostly because it resembled the sound of the wordcourageous. Did she think Kareja would need courage? It did take courage to be the leader of a Cave.

  Ayla knew the wolf would draw attention and bent down to reassure him with strokes and words of comfort. She drew comfort from him as well. It was hard to be the focus of so much constant scrutiny, and it was not likely to diminish soon. She was not exactly looking forward to the Summer Meeting for just that reason, even though she was anticipating the Matrimonial that would make her Jondalar's mate. She took a deep breath and let out a surreptitious sigh, then straightened up. Giving Wolf a signal to stay close, she joined Kareja and walked toward the first of the living shelters.

  It was similar to all the other shelters of stone in the region. Relative differences in the hardness of the limestone had caused the cliffs to erode at dissimilar rates, creating spaces in between terraces and overhanging ledges that were protected from precipitation above yet open to daylight. With the addition of structures built to block wind and fire to provide warmth, the spaces in the limestone cliffs provided very advantageous living conditions even during Ice Age winters in periglacial regions.

  After meeting several people and introducing Wolf to a few, Ayla was led to the other stone shelter, the one in which Kareja lived. She met the leader's mother, Dorova, but no other relatives. Kareja did not appear to have a mate or siblings, and she made it clear that she wanted no children, saying that taking care of her Cave was responsibility enough.

  Kareja paused and seemed to be studying Ayla, then she said, "Since you are so knowledgeable about horses, I want to show you something."

  Jondalar was a little surprised when the leader headed toward a small cave. He knew where they were going, and people didn't usually bring unknown visitors to their sacred places on their first visit. Near the entrance of the cave's single gallery was a series of cryptic lines, and inside were several crude engravings that were rather difficult to see. On the ceiling, however, was a large, finely engraved horse, and more markings at the end.

  "That is a remarkable horse," Ayla said. "Whoever made it must know horses well. Does that person live here?"

  "I don't think so, though her spirit may still linger," Kareja said. "It has been here a long time. Some ancestor made it, we don't know who."

  The last thing Ayla was shown was the dock with two rafts tied to it, and a working area where another raft was being built. She would have liked to stay longer and learn more, but Joharran was in a hurry and Jondalar had said he had to make some preparations as well. Ayla didn't want to stay by herself, especially on her first visit, but she did promise to return.

  The party continued north upstream along The River to the foot of a small rocky escarpment where there was a small rock shelter.

  Ayla noticed that rock debris tended to accumulate along the edge of the cliff overhang. The accumulation of talus created a wall of loose, sharp-edged gravel below the lip of the abri.

  There was some evidence of use. Several panel screens stood behind the talus, and one that had fallen down. An old sleeping roll, so worn that most of the fur was gone, had been tossed against the back wall. The black circular remains of a few fireplaces were evident, two of them encircled by stones and one with two forked sticks planted in the ground across from each other, used, Ayla was sure, to support meat spitted for roasting.

  Ayla thought she saw a few wisps of smoke coming from one hearth, and she was surprised. The place seemed to be abandoned, yet it looked as though it had been used recently.

  "What Cave lives here?" she asked.

  "No Cave lives here," Joharran said.

  "But all of them use it," Jondalar added.

  "Everyone uses this place occasionally," Willamar said. "It's a place to get out of the rain, or for a group of youngsters to gather, or for a couple to be alone at night, but no one lives here permanently. People just call it 'The Shelter.'"

  After stopping at The Shelter, they continued up the valley of The River to the Crossing. Looking ahead, Ayla again saw the cliffs and distinctive overhanging shelter of the Ninth Cave on the right bank at the outside of the sharp bend. After crossing, they followed a well-worn path beside The River along the base of a slope with thinning trees and brush.

  They again walked single file as the trail narrowed between The River and a sheer vertical cliff. "This is the one called 'High Rock,' isn't it?" Ayla said, slowing down to let Jondalar catch up.

  "Yes," he said as they approached a fork in the path just beyond the sheer wall. The fork headed back the way they had come but angled up.

  "Where does that path go?" she asked.

  "To some caves that are high up in that steep wall we just passed," he said. She nodded.

  After a few yards, the trail going north led to a valley oriented in an east-west direction that was enclosed by cliffs. A small stream ran down the middle of the valley into The River, which at that point was flowing almost exactly north to south. So narrow that it was very nearly a gorge, the valley nestled between two steep embankments: High Rock, the vertical cliff just passed on the south, and a second mass of rock of even more grand proportions on the north.

  "Does that have a name?" Ayla asked.

  "Everybody just calls it Big Rock," Jondalar said, "and the little stream is called Fish Creek."

  As they looked up the path that ran beside a stream, they saw several people walking down. Brameval was leading the way, approaching them with a big smile. "Come and visit, Joharran," he said when he reached them. "We'd like to show Ayla around and introduce her to a few people."

  Jondalar could tell from his expression that his brother really didn't want to stop again, though he knew it would be very impolite to refuse. Marthona, too, could read his expression and jumped in, not willing to let her son make a blunder that might antagonize a good neighbor just because he thought he had to hurry back. Whatever his plans, they weren't that important.

  "Of course," she said. "We'd love to stop for a while. We can't stay long this time. We have to get ready for the hunt, and Joharran has some things he must do."

  "How did he know we were passing by just now?" Ayla asked Jondalar as they walked up the path that ran beside Fish Creek and approached their settlement.

  "Remember that fork in the path that headed up to caves in High Rock?" he said. "Brameval must have had a watcher up there, and when he saw us coming, he just ran down and told him."

  Ayla saw a crowd of people waiting for them and noticed that the sections of the huge blocks of limestone that faced the creek held several small caves and abris and one immense rock shelter. When they reached it, Brameval turned around and held out his arms in a gesture that encompassed the entire place.

  "Welcome to Little Valley, the home of the Fourteenth Cave of the Zelandonii," he said.

  The spacious abri was fronted by a large terrace that was accessible from either side by means of a gradual ramp into which a narrow path of shallow steps had been carved out along the wall. A small hole in the cliff wall above had been slightly enlarged and could be used as a lookout or a smoke hole. A portion of the front opening of the stone shelter was protected from the elements by a wall of piled limestone shards.

  The visitors from the Ninth Cave were invited into the primary living site of the small valley community and offered a cup of tea, which was already made. Chamomile, Ayla determined after taking a taste. Wolf wa
s obviously curious to explore this new stone shelter – probably no more so than Ayla – but she kept him at her side. Everyone knew of the wolf who obeyed the woman, of course, and many had already seen him, but from a distance. It was obvious to her that it was more unnerving to have him inside their home.

  She introduced Wolf to Brameval's sister and their Zelandoni while the others looked on. Even though the Ninth Cave were close friends with the Fourteenth, everyone knew it was the stranger, Ayla, who was the focus of attention. After the introductions, and a second round of tea, there was the uncomfortable silence of strangers not quite knowing what to do or say next. Joharran was looking with longing toward the path that led out, toward The River.

  "Would you like to see the rest of Little Valley, Ayla?" Brameval said when it became apparent that Joharran was getting anxious to go.

  "Yes, I would," she said.

  With some relief, the visitors from the Ninth Cave and several people from the Fourteenth filed down the steps carved along the wall, as children jumped off the front. While the large shelter was the main home of the Fourteenth Cave, two other small rock shelters next to each other at the foot of the south-facing cliff were also used.

  They stopped at a small shelter just a few feet away. "This is the Shelter of the Salmon," Brameval said, leading the way into a small, nearly circular enclosure about twenty feet across.

  He pointed up. Ayla looked and saw sculptured in low relief on the vaulted ceiling a life-size salmon almost four feet long, carved with the hooked jaws of a male swimming upstream to spawn. It was part of a more complex scene, containing in addition a rectangle divided by seven lines, the forelegs of a horse, and other enigmatic markings and engravings, along with a negative handprint picked out of a black background. The entire vault had substantial areas of solid red and black color used to accent the engravings.

  They made a rather quick tour of the rest of Little Valley. In the southwest, opposite the large rock shelter, was a rather spacious cave, and in the south a ledge opened in front of a small abri, which was extended into the cliff wall by a gallery cave some sixty-five feet long. To the right of the entrance of the cave, on a small natural terracette, two aurochs were carved with vigorous outlines, and the suggestion of a rhinoceros.

  Ayla was quite impressed with all the natural sites in Little Valley and was quite open about showing it. Brameval and the Fourteenth Cave were proud of their home and were delighted to show it off to someone who demonstrated her appreciation. They were also getting accustomed to the wolf, especially since Ayla was careful to keep him under control. Several people encouraged the visitors, or at least Ayla, to stay for a meal.

  "I would like to," Ayla said, "but not this time. I'd love to come back, though."

  "Well, before you go, I'll show you our weir," Brameval said. "It's on the way to The River."

  He led the rather large group that had gathered, including the visitors, to a permanent dammed fish trap that had been constructed in Fish Creek. The waterway that ran through the narrow valley was a salmon-spawning stream, where adult fish returned every year. By making various adaptations, the weir was an effective way to catch many of the other varieties of fish that also found the small stream tempting. But most prized were the huge salmon, up to five feet in length although four feet was more common for an adult male.

  "We also make fishing nets to catch fish, especially from The River," Brameval said.

  "The people I grew up with lived near an inland sea. Sometimes they went to the mouth of the river that flowed near their cave and used nets to catch sturgeon. They were happy when they caught females because they particularly liked the roe, the tiny black fish eggs," Ayla said.

  "I've tasted sturgeon roe," Brameval said, "when we visited the people who live near the Great Waters of the West. It's good, but sturgeon don't often come this far upstream. Salmon do, of course, and their eggs are good, too, they're bigger and bright-colored, almost red. I prefer the fish to the eggs, though. I think salmon like red. Did you know male salmon get red when they're swimming upstream? I'm not as familiar with sturgeon. I understand they can get quite big."

  "Jondalar caught one of the biggest sturgeon I've ever seen. I think it was longer than two of him," Ayla said, turning to smile at the tall man, and with a twinkle in her eye she added, "It gave him quite a ride."

  "Unless you are planning to stay here, I think Jondalar will have to tell that story later," Joharran interjected.

  "Yes, later," Jondalar said. The story was a little embarrassing, and he wasn't eager to tell it, anyway.

  They continued talking about fishing as they walked together back toward The River. "When people like to fish by themselves, they often use a gorge. You know how it works, don't you?" Brameval asked. "You take a small piece of wood, sharpen it at both ends, and tie a fine cord in the middle," he was eagerly explaining, using his hands as he talked. "I usually attach a float and tie the other end to a pole. Fasten an earthworm around the gorge and dangle it in the water, then watch it. When you see a nibble, with luck, a quick jerk will pull the gorge so that it's horizontal across the throat or mouth with the two points stuck in either side. Even youngsters can get quite good."

  Jondalar was smiling. "I know. You taught me when I was young," he said, then looked at Ayla. "Don't get Brameval started talking about fishing." The leader looked slightly embarrassed. "Ayla fishes, too, Brameval." The man smiled at the woman. "She can catch fish with her bare hands."

  "Yes, she told me," Brameval said. "It must be difficult."

  "It takes a lot of patience, but it's not hard," Ayla said. "I'll show you sometime."

  After leaving the narrow gorge of Little Valley, Ayla noticed that the huge mass of limestone called Big Rock, which formed the north side of the Fourteenth Cave's small vale, soared up steeply, but unlike High Rock, it did not crowd close to The River. After several yards the path widened out as the tall limestone walls that lined the right bank pulled back from the edge of the water until a large field separated the stone walls from the flowing river.

  "This is called the Gather Field," Jondalar said. "It's another place that's used by all the Caves around here. When we all want to get together for a gathering, like a feast or a meeting to let everyone know something, this place is big enough to hold us. We sometimes use it after a big hunt to dry the meat for winter. I suppose if there was a stone shelter here or a usable cave, it would have been claimed, but anyone can use it now. Mostly in summer, when a tent is a good enough shelter to stay in for a few days."

  Ayla looked across at the limestone wall. Though there were no usable abris or deep caves, the face of the cliff was split by ledges and crevices where birds nested.

  "I used to climb that wall a lot when I was young," Jondalar said. "There are all kinds of lookout perches and a spectacular view of The River Valley."

  "The youngsters still do," Willamar said.

  Beyond the Gather Field and just downstream from the Ninth Cave, another ridge of limestone cliffs crowded close to The River. Here, the forces that had eroded the stone of the cliff had created a rounded bulging appearance that rose to the top, and like all the limestone cliffs and overhangs, the warm yellowish natural color of the stone was streaked with shades of dark gray.

  The trail climbed up a rather steep slope from The River to a sizable level terrace that extended beyond a row of substantial rock shelters, separated in places by sheer rock walls that had no protective overhangs. From the south, several simple structures of hide and wood were seen under the bulging overhang of rock shelters. They were constructed in the pattern of a longhouse, with a row of hearths down the middle paralleling the cliff wall.

  Two fairly large stone shelters at the northern end of the terrace, about fifty yards apart, were almost contiguous with the enormous overhanging rock shelter of the Ninth Cave, but because of the way the cliff curved, the shelters did not face south, which Ayla felt made this place less desirable. She looked down at the southerly end
of the terrace of the Ninth Cave beyond a spring-fed stream that ran off the edge of the stone porch, and she realized that this ledge was somewhat higher in elevation.

  "Which Cave claims this place?" Ayla asked.

  "No Cave really claims it," Jondalar said. "It's called Down River, probably because it's just downriver from the Ninth Cave. The runoff of the spring that rises out of the back wall has worn through the stone porch that makes a natural division between the Ninth Cave and Down River. We made a bridge to connect the two places. The Ninth Cave probably uses it more than any other, but all of the Caves use it."

  "What do they use it for?" Ayla asked.

  "For making things. It's a place to work. People come here to work on their crafts, especially crafts that use hard materials."

  Ayla noticed then that the whole terrace of Down River, but especially within and around the area of the two northernmost abris, was littered with a refuse of ivory, bone, antler, wood, and stone from knapping flint and making tools, hunting weapons, and various implements.

  "Jondalar, I'm going on ahead," Joharran said. "We're almost home and I know you want to stay here and tell Ayla all about Down River."

  The rest of the people of the Ninth Cave went on with him. It was dusk, and would soon be dark.

  "The first of these stone shelters is used mostly by those who work flint," Jondalar said. "Flint leaves a lot of sharp pieces when you work it. It's best to keep them in one place." Then he looked around and saw that the debitage of chips and flakes, left behind in the process of making knives, spear points, scrapers, the chisel-like tools called burins, and other weapons and tools out of the hard siliceous stone, was all over. "Well," he smiled, "that was the original idea."