The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  “Iza! Iza! Come quick! It’s Durc!” Ayla grabbed the medicine woman’s arm and dragged her toward the entrance to the cave.

  “What’s wrong?” the woman motioned, hurrying to keep up. “Is he choking again? Is he hurt?”

  “No, he’s not hurt. Look!” Ayla gestured proudly when they reached Creb’s hearth. “He’s holding his head up!”

  The infant was lying on his stomach looking up at the two women with large solemn eyes that were losing the dark, indistinct color of newborns and becoming the deep brown shade of people of the Clan. His head bobbed with the effort, then dropped back down on the fur blanket. He shoved his fist in his mouth and began sucking noisily, oblivious of the stir his efforts had caused.

  “If he can do it this young, he’ll be able to support it when he grows up, won’t he?” Ayla pleaded.

  “Don’t build your hopes up yet,” Iza replied, “but it is a good sign.”

  Creb shuffled into the cave, staring into space with the unfocused, faraway look characteristic of him when lost in thought.

  “Creb!” Ayla called, running up to him. Jolted back to reality, he looked up. “Durc held his head up, didn’t he, Iza?” The medicine woman nodded in agreement.

  “Hhmmf,” he grunted. “If he’s getting that strong, I think it’s time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “I’ve been thinking I should have a totem ceremony for him. He’s a little young, but I’ve had some strong impressions. His totem has been making himself known to me. There’s no reason to wait. Later, everyone will be busy getting ready to leave, and I should do it before the Clan Gathering. It might be unlucky for him to travel if his totem doesn’t have a home.” Seeing the medicine woman reminded him of something else. “Iza, do you have enough roots for the ceremony? I don’t know how many clans will be there. Last time one of the clans that moved to a cave farther east was thinking of going to a Clan Gathering south of the mountains. It would be a little farther away for them but easier traveling. Their old mog-ur was against it, but his acolyte wanted to go. Make sure you bring plenty.”

  “I won’t be going to the Clan Gathering, Creb.” Her disappointment was obvious. “I can’t travel that far, I’ll have to stay behind.”

  Of course, what’s wrong with me, he thought, looking at the thin, nearly white-haired medicine woman. Iza can’t go. Why didn’t I think of that before? She’s too sick. I thought she was going to leave us last fall; I don’t know how Ayla pulled her through. But what about the ceremony? Only the women of Iza’s line know the secret of the special drink. Uba’s too young; it has to be a woman. Ayla! What about Ayla? Iza could teach her before we leave. It’s time she was made a medicine woman anyway.

  Creb watched the young woman as she stooped to pick up her son and suddenly saw her more critically than he had for years. But will they accept her? He tried to see her as the people of other clans would see her. Her golden hair hung loose around her flat face, tucked behind her ears and parted haphazardly at the center, exposing her bulging forehead. Her body was definitely a woman’s, but slender except for a slightly flaccid stomach. Her legs were long and straight, and when she stood up she towered over him.

  She does not look like a Clan woman, he thought. She’s going to get a lot of attention, and not much of it favorable, I’m afraid. We just might have to forget that ceremony. The other mog-urs might not accept the drink if Ayla makes it. But it would not hurt to try. If only Uba were a little older. Maybe Iza could train them both, though I don’t think they’ll be willing to accept a girl any more than a woman born to the Others. I think I’ll go talk to Brun. If I’m going to call the spirits for Durc’s totem ceremony, we might as well make Ayla a medicine woman at the same time.

  “I must see Brun,” Creb motioned abruptly, and started toward the leader’s hearth. He turned back to Iza. “I think you should teach both Ayla and Uba to make the drink, but I’m not sure it will do any good.”

  “Iza, I can’t find the bowl you gave me for the medicine woman of the host clan,” Ayla gestured frantically after pawing through piles of food, furs, and implements stacked on the ground near her sleeping place. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

  “You already packed it, Ayla. Settle down, child. There’s still time. Brun won’t be ready to leave until he’s through eating. You’d better sit down and eat, yourself, your mush is getting cold. Uba, you too.” Iza shook her head. “I’ve never seen such carryings-on. We went over everything last night, it’s all ready.”

  Creb was sitting on a mat, Durc in his lap, watching the last-minute commotion with amusement. “They’re not any different from you, Iza. Why don’t you sit down and eat?”

  “I’ll have plenty of time after you leave,” she replied. Creb propped the baby up against his shoulder. Durc looked around from his new vantage point. “Look how strong that baby’s neck is,” Iza remarked. “He doesn’t have any trouble holding his head up now. It’s hard to believe. Ever since his totem ceremony, it’s been getting stronger all the time. Let me take him, I won’t be able to hold him all summer.”

  “Perhaps that’s why the Gray Wolf wanted me to do it so soon,” Creb motioned. “He wanted to help the boy.”

  Creb sat back and watched the small brood over which he was patriarch. Though he kept it to himself, he had often longed for a family like the other men. Now, in his old age, he had two doting women who did everything they could to make him comfortable, a girl who was following in their footsteps, and a healthy baby boy to cuddle the way he had done with the two girls. He had talked to Brun about the boy’s training. The leader could not allow a male member of his clan to grow up without the necessary skills. Brun had accepted the child knowing he would be living at Creb’s hearth and felt responsible for him. Ayla was grateful when Brun announced at Durc’s totem ceremony that he would personally take charge of the baby’s training if he became strong enough to hunt. She could think of no better man to train her son.

  The Gray Wolf is a good totem for the boy, Creb mused, but it makes me wonder. Some wolves run with the pack and some are loners. Which one is Durc’s totem?

  When everything was packed and secured in bundles, and loaded on the backs of the young woman and the girl, they all trooped out of the cave together. Iza gave the baby a last hug while he nuzzled her neck, helped Ayla wrap him in the carrying cloak, and then took something from a fold of her wrap.

  “This is for you to carry now, Ayla. You are the medicine woman of the clan,” Iza said, giving her the red-dyed bag that held the special roots. “Do you remember every step? Nothing must be left out. I wish I could have shown you, but the magic can’t be made just for practice. It’s too sacred to be thrown away and it can’t be used for any ceremony, only very important ones. Remember, it’s not just the roots that make the magic; you must prepare yourselves as carefully as you prepare the drink.”

  Uba and Ayla both nodded as the young woman took the precious relic and put it in her medicine bag. Iza had given her the otter-skin pouch the day she was made medicine woman, and it still reminded her of the one Creb had burned. Ayla reached for her amulet and felt for the fifth object she carried in it now: a piece of black manganese dioxide nestled in the small pouch along with the three nodules of iron pyrite stuck together, a red-stained oval of mammoth ivory, the fossil cast of a gastropod, and a chunk of red ochre.

  Ayla’s body had been marked with the black ointment, made by crushing and heating the black stone and mixing it with fat, when she became the repository of a part of the spirits of every member of the clan, and, through Ursus, of the entire Clan. Only for the highest and holiest of rituals was a medicine woman’s body printed with black marks, and only medicine women were allowed to carry the black stone in their amulets.

  Ayla wished Iza was going with them, and she worried about leaving her behind. Deep coughing spasms shook the fragile woman often.

  “Iza, are you sure you’re going to be all right?” Ayla motioned, after giving her a qu
ick hug. “Your cough is worse.”

  “It’s always worse in winter. You know it gets better in summer. Besides, you and Uba collected so many elecampane roots, I don’t think there’s a single plant left around here, and we probably won’t have many black raspberries this season with all the roots you dug up to mix with wort flowers for my tea. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” Iza assured her. But Ayla noticed the relief from the medication was temporary at best. The old woman had been doctoring herself with the plants for years; her tuberculosis had progressed too far for them to be very effective anymore.

  “Make sure you go outside on sunny days, and rest a lot,” Ayla urged. “There won’t be much work to do around here, there’s plenty of food and wood. Zoug and Dorv can keep the fire going to keep animals and evil spirits away, and Aba can do the cooking.”

  “Yes, yes,” Iza agreed. “Hurry now, Brun’s ready to start.”

  Ayla fell into her customary place at the rear, while everyone looked at her and waited.

  “Ayla,” Iza motioned. “No one can start until you get in your right place.”

  Sheepishly, Ayla moved to the front of the group of women. She had forgotten her new status. Her face turned pink with embarrassment as she stepped in line ahead of Ebra. She was uncomfortable; it just didn’t seem right for her to be first. She waved an apologetic signal to the mate of the leader, but Ebra was accustomed to her second place. It seemed strange, though, to see Ayla in front of her instead of Iza; it made her wonder if she would be going to the next Clan Gathering.

  Iza and the three people too old to make the trip accompanied the clan as far as the ridge and stood watching after them until they were small dots on the plain below. Then they returned to the empty cave. Aba and Dorv had missed the last Clan Gathering and were almost surprised they were alive to miss another, but it was the first time for Zoug and Iza. Though Zoug still went out with his sling occasionally, he returned empty-handed more often now, and Dorv couldn’t see well enough to go out at all.

  The four of them huddled around the fire at the entrance to the cave even though the day was warm, but they made no attempt at conversation. Suddenly, Iza was overcome by a fit of coughing that brought up a large, bloody mass of phlegm. She went to her hearth to rest and soon the others wandered into the cave and sat idly within their respective hearths. They had not been infected with the excitement of the long journey or the anticipation of seeing friends and relatives from other clans. They knew their summer would be unbearably lonely.

  The freshness of early summer in the temperate zone near the cave changed character on the open plains of the continental steppes to the east. Gone was the rich green foliage that filled out brush and deciduous trees, and still betrayed the new season’s growth of conifers with needles a shade lighter at the tips of branches and spires. Instead, quick-rooting and sprouting herbs and grasses, already chest high, whose youthful verdancy was lost to the drab hue indeterminate between green and gold, stretched to the horizon. Thick, matted, old-season growth cushioned their steps as the clan wove their way across the illimitable prairie, leaving a temporary ripple behind showing the way they had come. Clouds rarely marred the boundless expanse above except for an occasional thunderstorm, more often seen from a distance. Surface water was scarce. They stopped to fill waterbags at every stream, unsure if they would find any conveniently close when they camped for the night.

  Brun set a pace to accommodate the slower-moving members of the traveling party, but one that pushed them. They had a long way to go to reach the cave of the host clan in the high mountains of the mainland to the east. It was difficult going for Creb in particular, but anticipation of the great Gathering and the solemn ceremonies he would lead buoyed his spirits. Though his body was crippled and atrophied, and further degenerated by arthritis, it did not impair the mental power of the great magician. The warm sun and Ayla’s painkilling plants eased his aching joints, and after a time the exercise toughened the muscles even in the leg of which he had only limited use.

  The travelers settled into a monotonous routine, one day blending into the next with weary regularity. The advancing season changed so gradually, they hardly noticed when the warm sun became a scorching ball of flame searing the steppes, turning the flat plain into a jaundiced monochrome of dun earth, buff grass, and beige rocks against a dust-laden, yellowish drab sky. For three days their eyes smarted with smoke and ashes carried by the prevailing winds from a sweeping prairie fire. They passed massive herds of bison, and giant deer with huge palmate antlers, horses, onagers, and asses; more rarely, saiga antelope with horns growing straight out of the tops of their heads slightly curved back at the tips; tens upon tens of thousands of grazing animals supported by the extensive grassland.

  Long before they neared the marshy isthmus, which both connected the peninsula to the main continent and served as the outlet for the shallow salty sea to the northeast, the massive mountain range, second highest on the earth, loomed into view. Even the lowest peaks were capped with glacial ice to halfway down their flanks, coldly unmoved by the searing heat of the plains. When the level prairie merged into low rolling hills, dotted with fescue and feather grass and red with the richness of iron ore—the red ochre making it hallowed ground—Brun knew the salt marsh was not far beyond. It was a secondary and more tenuous link. The primary connection of the peninsula to the mainland was the northern one that formed part of the western boundary of the smaller inland sea.

  For two days they struggled through putrid, mosquito-infested swamps of brackish water, broken through by occasional channels, before they reached the mainland. Scrub oak and hornbeam quickly led to the cool, welcome shade of parkland oak woods. They passed through an almost pure stand of beech, relieved by a few chestnut, and into a mixed forest dominated by oak, but including boxwood and yew, draped with clinging ivy and clematis. The lianas thinned out, but still climbed an occasional tree when they reached a belt of fir and spruce intermixed with beech, maple, and hornbeam. The western part was the wettest of the entire range and carried a dense cover of forests, and the lowest snowline.

  They caught glimpses of forest bison and the red deer, roe deer, and elk of wooded landscapes; they saw boar, fox, badger, wolf, lynx, leopard, wildcat, and many smaller animals, but not a single squirrel. Ayla sensed something was missing in the fauna of these mountains before she realized the absence of the familiar creature. It was more than made up for by their first sighting of a cave bear.

  Brun threw up his hand in a signal to stop, then pointed ahead at the monstrous shaggy bruin rubbing his back against a tree. Even the children sensed the awe with which the clan viewed the massive vegetarian. His physical presence was impressive enough. The brown bears of their own mountains, and of these too, averaged about three hundred and fifty pounds; the weight of a male cave bear, during the summer while he was still fairly lean, was closer to a thousand. In late fall, when he was fattened for winter, his bulk was much greater. He towered above the men of the clan by nearly three times their height, and with his huge head and shaggy coat, seemed even bigger. Lazily scratching his back on the rough bark of the old snag, he appeared unaware of the people frozen in their tracks so close by. But he had little to fear from any creature and was simply ignoring them. The smaller brown bears inhabiting the area near their own cave had been known to break the neck of a stag with one blow of a powerful foreleg; what couldn’t this huge bruin do? Only another male during rutting season, or the female of the species protecting her cubs, would dare to stand up to him. She was invariably successful.

  But it was more than the tremendous size of the animal that held the clan spellbound. This was Ursus, the personification of the Clan itself. He was their kin, and more, he embodied their very essence. His bones alone were so sacred they could ward off any evil. The kinship they felt was a spiritual tie, far more meaningful than any physical one. It was through his Spirit that all the clans were united into one and meaning was given to the Gathering they
had traveled so far to attend. It was his essence that made them Clan, the Clan of the Cave Bear.

  The bear tired of his activity—or his itch was satisfied—and he stretched to his full height, walked on hind legs a few paces, then dropped down on all four legs. Muzzle drooping close to the ground, he moved ponderously away with a lumbering gallop. For all his great size, the cave bear was basically a peaceful creature and rarely attacked unless he was annoyed.

  “Was that Ursus?” Uba motioned, agog with wonder.

  “That was Ursus,” Creb affirmed. “And you will see another cave bear when we get there.”

  “Does the host clan really have a living cave bear in their cave?” Ayla asked. “He’s so big.” She knew it was the custom for the clan that hosted the Clan Gathering to capture a cave bear cub and raise him in the cave.

  “He’s probably in a cage outside the cave now, but when he was young, he lived in the cave with them and was raised like a child, with every hearth feeding him whenever he wanted to eat. Most clans claim their cave bears even learn to talk a little, but I was young the time we hosted the Clan Gathering. I don’t remember very much about it, so I can’t say if that’s true. When the bear is about half grown, he is put in a cage so he can’t hurt anyone, but everyone still feeds him tidbits and pets him when they walk by so he will know he is loved. He will be honored at the Bear Ceremony and will carry our messages to the world of the spirits,” Creb explained.

  They’d been told about it before but, after seeing a cave bear, the story took on new meaning to those who were too young to remember or had never been to a Clan Gathering.

  “When can we host a Clan Gathering and get a cave bear to live with us?” Uba asked.

  “When it’s our turn, unless the clan whose turn it is can’t. Then we can offer. But clans seldom miss the opportunity to host the Clan Gathering, though hunters may have to travel a long way to find a cave bear cub, and the danger from the mother bear is very great. The clan that is hosting this time is fortunate. Cave bears still live near their cave. They have helped other clans to get cave bears, but now it’s their turn. There are none left around our cave, but there must have been once, since the bones of Ursus were in our cave when we found it,” Creb answered.