The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  Rydag was not nervous, though, he had been on the back of a horse before. He was just excited when the tall man picked him up and put him on Racer’s back. He had never ridden the stallion. He grinned at Latie, who was watching him, with a mixture of concern for his safety, delight at his new experience, and just a bit of envy. She had observed Jondalar training the horse, as much as she could from a distance, since it was hard to convince another woman to go with her just to stand around and watch—there were drawbacks to adulthood. She decided training a young horse wasn’t necessarily magical. It just took patience, and of course, a horse to train.

  A last check was made of the Camp, and then they started up the slope. Halfway up, Ayla stopped. Wolf did too, watching her expectantly. She looked back at the earthlodge where she had found a home and acceptance among her own kind. She missed its snug security already, but it would be there when they returned, ready to shelter them again through a long cold winter. Wind riffled the drape across the archway of mammoth tusks at the entrance, and she could see the skull of the cave lion above it. The Lion Camp seemed lonely without people. Ayla of the Mamutoi shivered with a sudden uneasy pang of sadness.

  30

  The great grasslands, bountiful source of life in that cold land, displayed yet another face of the renewing cycle as the Lion Camp traveled. The bluish-violet and yellow flowers of the last dwarf iris were fading but still colorful, and fernleaf peonies were in full bloom. A broad bed of the dark red blossoms filling the entire depression between two hills caused exclamations of wonder and appreciation from the travelers. But it was the young bluegrass and ripening fescue and feather grasses that predominated, turning the steppes into waves of softly billowing silver accented by shadows of blue sage. Not until later, after the young grass grew ripe and the feather grass lost its plumes, would the rich plains change from silver to golden.

  The young wolf took delight in discovering the multitude of small animals that lived and thrived on the vast prairie. He dashed after polecats and stoats—ermine in summer-brown coats—and backed off when the dauntless predators held their ground. When mice, voles, and velvety-furred shrews, who were used to evading foxes, scurried into holes burrowed just below the surface, Wolf chased gerbils, hamsters, and long-eared, prickly hedgehogs. Ayla laughed at his look of startled surprise when a thick-tailed jerboa, with short forelegs, and three toes on its long hind legs, bounded away in jumps and dived into the burrow in which it had hibernated all winter. Hares, giant hamsters, and great jerboas were large enough for a meal, and tasty when skinned and skewered over an evening fire. Ayla’s sling brought down several that Wolf flushed.

  The digging steppe rodents were beneficial, loosening and turning over the topsoil, but some changed the character of the land with their extensive burrowing. As the Lion Camp hiked overland, the ubiquitous holes of spotted susliks were too numerous to count, and in some areas they had to wend their way around hundreds of grass-covered mounds, two to three feet high, each a community of steppe marmots.

  Susliks were the preferred prey of black kites, though the long-winged hawks also fed on other rodents, and carrion and insects as well. The graceful birds usually detected the unsuspecting susliks while soaring in the air, but the kite could also hover like a kestrel, the native falcon, or fly very low to take its prey by surprise. Besides hawks and falcons, the tawny eagle favored the prolific little rodent. On one occasion, when Ayla noticed Wolf striking a pose that caused her to look closer, she saw one of the large dark brown predatory birds land near its nest on the ground, bringing a suslik to its young. She watched with interest, but neither she nor the wolf disturbed them.

  A host of other birds lived off the bounty of the open land. Larks and pipits were everywhere on the steppes, willow grouse, ptarmigan, and partridges, sand grouse and great bustards, and beautiful demoiselle cranes, bluish-gray with black heads and white tufts of feathers behind the eyes. They arrived to nest in spring, flourished on a diet of insects, lizards, and snakes, and left in fall in great V-shaped formations, trumpeting across the sky.

  Talut had started out by setting a pace that he was accustomed to using when traveling with the whole Camp, one that would not push the slower members of the band too hard. But he found they were moving much faster than usual. The horses were making a difference. By carrying gifts, trade goods, and hides for tents on the travois, and the people who had to be helped on their backs, they had lightened everyone’s load. The headman was pleased at their increased pace, especially since they were going out of their way, but it also presented a problem. He had planned the route they would take, and the stops, to take advantage of certain known watering places. Now, he was having to reconsider as he went.

  They had stopped near a small river, though it was still early in the day. The steppes sometimes gave way to woods near water, and they set up camp in a large field partially surrounded by trees. After Ayla removed the travois from Whinney, she decided to take Latie for a ride. The girl enjoyed helping with the horses, and the animals showed a strong attachment in return. As they rode double through a small grove of trees, a mixture of spruce, birch, hornbeam, and larch, they came to a flowering glade, a small luxuriant meadow that was a verdant piece of the steppes, enclosed by trees. Ayla stopped, and whispered quietly into the ear of the young woman sitting astride the horse in front of her.

  “Be very still, Latie, but look over there, near the water.”

  Latie looked where Ayla indicated, frowned at first when she couldn’t see anything, then smiled when she saw a saiga antelope hind with two small young ones raise her head, wary, but uncertain. Then Latie saw several others. The spiral horns grew straight out of the head of the small antelope, tipping back slightly at the end, and its large nose overhung, giving it a distinctive long face.

  Sitting quietly on the back of the horse, watching, the sound of birds became noticeable: the cooing of doves, the merry lilt of a warbler, the call of a woodpecker. Ayla heard the beautiful flutelike note of a golden oriole, and gave it back, mimicking so exactly it confused the bird. Latie wished she could whistle like that.

  Ayla gave Whinney a slight signal that edged her slowly toward the parklike opening in the woods. Latie almost shook with excitement when they drew near the antelope, and she saw another hind with two young ones. Suddenly there was a shift in wind, and all the saigas lifted their heads, and in an instant were bounding through the woods toward the open steppes. A streak of gray followed them, and Ayla knew who had caused them to run.

  By the time Wolf returned, panting, and plopped down, Whinney was grazing peacefully, and the two young women were sitting in the sunny meadow picking wild strawberries. A handful of colorful flowers was on the ground beside Ayla, bright red blooms with long thin petals that appeared to have been dipped in a bright red dye, and bunches of large golden-yellow flower heads, mixed in with white, downy spheres.

  “I wish there was enough to bring some back,” Ayla said, putting another tiny, but exceptionally sweet and flavorful berry in her mouth.

  “There would have to be a lot more. I wish there was more for me,” Latie said, with a big smile. “Besides, I want to think of this as a special place, just for us, Ayla.” She put a strawberry in her mouth and closed her eyes, savoring the taste. Her expression turned thoughtful. “Those baby antelope, they really were young, weren’t they? I never was that close to such young ones before.”

  “It’s Whinney, that’s why we can get so close. Antelopes aren’t afraid of horses. But Wolf there,” Ayla said, looking toward the animal. He looked up at the sound of his name. “He’s the one who chased them away.”

  “Ayla, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course. You can always ask something.

  “Do you think I could find a horse someday? I mean a little one, that I could take care of the way you took care of Whinney, so it would get used to me.”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t plan to find Whinney. It just happened. It would be hard to fi
nd a little one. All mothers protect their young.”

  “If you wanted to get another horse, a little horse, how would you do it?”

  “I never thought about it … I suppose if I wanted a young horse … let me think … you’d have to catch its mother. Remember the bison hunt last fall? If you were hunting horses, and drove a herd in a surround like that, you wouldn’t have to kill them all. You could keep a young one or two. Maybe you could even separate a young one from the rest, and then let the others go, if you didn’t need them.” Ayla smiled. “I find it harder to hunt horses, now.”

  When they returned, most people were sitting around a large fire, eating. The two young women helped themselves and sat down.

  “We saw some saigas,” Latie said. “Even little ones.”

  “I think you saw some strawberries, too,” Nezzie commented dryly, seeing her daughter’s red-stained hands. Latie blushed, remembering that she had wanted to keep them all for herself.

  “There weren’t enough to bring any back,” Ayla said.

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. I know Latie and strawberries. She would eat a whole field of them, without sharing any, if she had the chance.”

  Ayla noticed Latie’s embarrassment, and changed the subject. “I also picked some coltsfoot for coughs, for the sick Camp, and a red-flowered plant—I don’t know the name—whose root is very good for deep coughs and bringing up phlegm from the chest,” she said.

  “I didn’t know that was why you were picking those flowers,” Latie said. “How do you know they have that kind of sickness?”

  “I don’t know, but since I saw the plants, I thought I might as well get some, especially since we were so sick with that kind of sickness. How long before we get there, Talut?”

  “It’s hard to tell,” the headman said. “We’re traveling faster than usual. We should reach the Sungaea Camp in another day or so, I think. The map Ludeg made for me was very good, but I hope we’re not too late. Their sickness is worse than I thought.”

  Ayla frowned. “How do you know?”

  “I found signs that were left by someone.”

  “Signs?” Ayla said.

  “Come with me. I’ll show you,” Talut said, putting his cup down and getting up. He led her to a pile of bones near the water. Bones, particularly big ones such as skulls, could be found all over the plains, but as they drew near, it was obvious to Ayla that it was not a natural arrangement. Someone had purposefully stacked them up. A mammoth skull with broken tusks had been placed on top of the heap, upside down.

  “That is a sign of bad news,” Talut said, pointing to the skull. “Very bad. Do you see this lower jaw, with the two spine bones leaning against it? The point of the jaw shows which way to go, and the Camp is two days away.”

  “They must need help, Talut! Is that why they put this sign here?”

  Talut pointed to a piece of charred birchbark, held down by the broken end of the left tusk. “See this?” he said.

  “Yes. It’s burned black, like it was in a fire.”

  “It means sickness, killing sickness. Someone has died. People are afraid of that kind of sickness, and this is a place people often stop. That sign was not put here to ask for help, but to warn people away.”

  “Oh, Talut! I must go. The rest of you don’t have to, but I must go. I can leave now, on Whinney.”

  “And what will you tell them when you get there?” Talut said. “No, Ayla. They won’t let you help. No one knows you. They are not even Mamutoi, they are Sungaea. We have talked about it. We knew you would want to go. We started out this way, and we will go with you. I think, because of the horses, we can make it in one day instead of two.”

  The sun was skimming the edge of the earth when the band of travelers from the Lion Camp approached a large settlement situated on a broad natural terrace some thirty feet above a wide, swift river. They stopped when they were noticed by some people, who stared in amazement before running toward one of the shelters. A man and a woman emerged. Their faces were reddened with a salve of ochre, and their hair was covered with ashes.

  It’s too late, Talut thought, as he and Tulie approached the Sungaea Camp, followed by Nezzie and Ayla, who was leading Whinney with Mamut on her back. It was obvious they had interrupted something important. When the visitors were about ten feet away, the man with the red-colored face raised his arm and held up his hand, palm facing front. It was an obvious signal to stop. He spoke to Talut in a language that was different, yet there was something familiar about it to Ayla. She felt she should be able to understand it; a similarity to Mamutoi, perhaps. Talut answered, in his own language. Then the man spoke again.

  “Why has the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi come here at this time?” he said, speaking now in Mamutoi. “There is sickness, and great sadness at this Camp. Did you not see the signs?”

  “Yes, we saw the signs,” Talut said. “We have with us one who is a daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, a skilled Healer. The runner, Ludeg, who passed by here some days ago, told us of your troubles. We were preparing to travel to our Summer Meeting, but first, Ayla, our Healer, wished to come here to offer her skills. One of us was related to one of you; we are kin. We came.”

  The man looked at the woman standing beside him. It was obvious that she was grieving, and she gathered herself together with some effort.

  “It is too late,” she said. “They are dead.” Her voice trailed off in a wail, and she cried out in anguish. “They are dead. My children, my babies, my life, they are dead.” Two people stepped up on either side of the woman and led her away.

  “My sister has suffered a great sorrow,” the man said. “She has lost both a daughter and a son. The girl was nearly a woman, the boy a few years younger. We all grieve.”

  Talut shook his head in sympathy. “It is indeed a great sorrow. We share your grief, and offer whatever solace we may. If it is within your custom, we would like to stay to add our tears to yours as they are returned to the breast of the Mother.”

  “Your kindness is appreciated, and will always be remembered, but there are still those among us who are sick. It may be dangerous for you to stay. It may be dangerous for you to have come.”

  “Talut, ask him if I can look at the ones who are still sick. I may be able to help them,” Ayla said quietly.

  “Yes, Talut. Ask if Ayla may look at the sick ones,” Mamut added. “I think she will be able to say if it’s safe for us to stay.”

  The man with the red face looked hard at the old man sitting on the horse. He had been amazed when he first saw the horses, but he did not want to seem overwhelmed, and he was so numbed with grief he had put his curiosity aside for the moment, while he acted as spokesman for his sister, and his Camp. But when Mamut spoke, the strange sight of a man sitting on the back of a horse was suddenly brought to his awareness with new impact.

  “How does that man come to be sitting on a horse?” he finally blurted out. “Why does the horse stand still for it? And that other one, back there?”

  “It is a long story,” Talut said. “The man is our Mamut, and the horses answer to our Healer. When there is time, we will be happy to tell you about it, but first, Ayla would like to look at your sick ones. She may be able to help them. She will be able to tell us if the evil spirits still linger, and if she can contain them and make them harmless; whether it is safe for us to stay.”

  “You say she is skilled. I must believe you. If she can command the horse spirit, she must have powerful magic. Let me speak to those within.”

  “There is one other animal you should know about,” Talut said, then turned to the woman. “Call him, Ayla.”

  She whistled, and even before Rydag could let him go, Wolf had wriggled free. The Sungaea man and other bystanders were startled as the young wolf came racing toward them, but even more surprised when he stopped at Ayla’s feet, and looked up at her with expectation. At her signal, he dropped down to his stomach, but his alert attention focused on the strangers made them uneasy.

>   Tulie had been carefully observing the reactions of the Sungaea Camp and quickly realized what a powerful impression the tractable animals had made. They had enhanced the stature of the people they were associated with, and the Lion Camp as a whole. Mamut, by the simple act of sitting on the back of the horse, had garnered prestige. They watched him with wary glances, and his words had carried great authority, but the response to Ayla was even more revealing. They looked at her with awe, and a kind of fearful reverence.

  The headwoman realized that she had grown accustomed to the horses, but she recalled her own apprehension the first time she had seen Ayla with her horses, and it wasn’t hard to put herself in their place. She had been there when Ayla brought the tiny wolf pup to the lodge, and she had watched him grow up, but looking at Wolf as a stranger might see him, she realized he would not be seen as a puppyish young animal. He might be young but, to all appearances, he was nearly a full-grown wolf, and the horse was a mature mare. If Ayla could bend the will of high-strung horses and the spirit of independent wolves to her command, what other forces could she control? Especially when told she was the daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, and a Healer.

  Tulie wondered what kind of reception they would receive when they arrived at the Summer Meeting, but she wasn’t at all surprised when Ayla was invited in to examine the ailing members of the Camp. The Mamutoi settled down to wait. When Ayla came out, she went to Mamut, Talut, and Tulie.

  “I think they have what Nezzie calls spring sickness, fever, and tightness in the chest, and trouble breathing, except they got it later in the season, and harder,” Ayla explained. “Two older people died earlier, but it is most sad when children die. I’m not sure why they did. Young people are usually strong enough to recover from this kind of sickness. Everyone else seems to be over the worst of it. Some of them are coughing a lot, and I can help make them a little more comfortable, but no one seems seriously ill any more. I would like to fix something to help the mother. She is taking it very hard. I can’t blame her. I am not absolutely certain, but I don’t think it will endanger us to stay for the burial. I don’t think we should stay inside their lodges, though.”