The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  “I remember when she let Rydag ride Whinney,” Nezzie said. “I think that was the happiest day of his life.”

  “I’m going to miss the horses, too,” Latie wailed, as she clung to Ayla.

  “Maybe you can get a little horse of your own someday, Latie,” Ayla said.

  “I will miss the horses, too,” Rugie said.

  Ayla picked her up and gave her a squeeze. “Then maybe you’ll have to get a little horse, too.

  “Oh, Nezzie,” Ayla cried. “How can I thank you? For everything? You know, I lost my mother when I was little, but I’m very lucky. I’ve had two mothers to replace her. Iza took care of me when I was a little girl, but you are the mother I needed to become a woman.”

  “Here,” Nezzie said, handing her a package, and trying not to give way to tears entirely. “It’s your Matrimonial tunic. I want you to have it for your joining with Jondalar. He is like a son to me, too. And you are my daughter.”

  Ayla hugged Nezzie again, then looked up at her big, strapping son. When she hugged Danug, he hugged her back with no reservations. She felt the maleness of his strength, and the warmth of his body, and a momentary spark of his attraction to her as he whispered in her ear, “I wish you had been my red-foot.”

  She backed off, and smiled. “Danug! You are going to be such a man! I wish I were staying to see you grow into another Talut.”

  “Maybe, when I’m older, I’ll make a long Journey and come to visit you!”

  She hugged Wymez next, and she looked for Ranec, but he was not around. “I’m sorry, Wymez,” she said.

  “I am sorry, too. I wanted you to stay with us. I would have liked to have seen the children you would have brought to his hearth. But Jondalar is a good man. May the Mother smile on your Journey.”

  Ayla took Hartal from Tronie’s arms, and was delighted at his giggle. Then Manuv picked up Nuvie, for Ayla to kiss.

  “She is here only because of you. I will not forget it, and neither will she,” Manuv said. Ayla embraced him, then Tronie and Tornec, too.

  Frebec held Bectie, while Ayla made her last farewells to Fralie and the two boys. Then she embraced Crozie. She held back stiffly at first, though Ayla felt her shaking. Then the old woman clutched her, tight, and there was a tear glistening in her eye.

  “Don’t forget how to make white leather,” she commanded.

  “I won’t, and I have the tunic with me,” Ayla said, then with a sly smile, she added, “But, Crozie, from now on you should remember. Never play Knucklebones with a member of the Mammoth Hearth.”

  Crozie looked at her in surprise, and then cackled a laugh, as Ayla turned to Frebec. Wolf had joined them, and Frebec rubbed behind his ears.

  “I’m going to miss this animal,” he said.

  “And this animal,” Ayla said as she gave him a hug, “is going to miss you!”

  “I will miss you, too, Ayla,” he said.

  Ayla found herself in the middle of a crush of people from the Aurochs Hearth, as all the children and Barzec crowded around her. Tarneg was there, too, with his woman. Deegie waited with Branag, and then the two young women collapsed in each other’s arms in a new freshet of wet eyes.

  “In some ways, it’s harder to say goodbye to you than anyone, Deegie,” Ayla said. “I never had a friend like you, who was my age, and could understand me.”

  “I know, Ayla. I can’t believe you’re leaving. Now, how are we going to know who has a baby first?”

  Ayla backed away and looked at Deegie, critically, then smiled. “You will. You already have one started.”

  “I wondered about it! Do you really think so?”

  “Yes. I’m sure of it.”

  Ayla noticed Vincavec was standing beside Tulie. She brushed his tattooed cheek lightly.

  “You surprised me,” he said. “I didn’t know he would be the one. But then, everyone has weaknesses.” He gave Tulie a knowing glance.

  Vincavec was displeased that his reading of the situation was so far off. He had totally discounted the tall blond man, and he was somewhat miffed at Tulie because she had accepted his matched pieces of amber knowing that it was not likely he would be getting what he was bargaining for, in spite of the fact that he had pushed them on her. He had been making pointed comments implying that she had accepted his amber because of her weakness for it, and that she didn’t give full value. Since they were ostensibly a gift, she couldn’t return them, and he was taking full value in his cutting remarks.

  Tulie glanced at Vincavec before she approached Ayla, making sure he was watching, then she gave the young woman a warm and sincere embrace.

  “I have something for you. I’m sure everyone will agree, these are perfect for you,” she said; then dropped two beautiful, matched pieces of amber in Ayla’s hand. “They will match your Matrimonial tunic. You might consider wearing them on your ears.”

  “Oh, Tulie,” Ayla said. “This is too much. They are beautiful!”

  “They are not too much, Ayla. They were meant for you,” Tulie said, looking back triumphantly at Vincavec.

  Ayla noticed Barzec was smiling, too, and Nezzie was nodding her head in agreement.

  It was hard for Jondalar to leave the Lion Camp, too. They had made him welcome, and he had grown to love them. Many of his goodbyes were tearful. The last person he spoke to was Mamut. They embraced and rubbed cheeks, then Ayla joined them. “I want to thank you,” Jondalar said. “I think you knew from the beginning that I had a hard lesson to learn.” The old shaman nodded. “But I have learned a great deal from you and the Mamutoi. I have learned what has meaning and what is superficial, and I know the depths of my love for Ayla. I have no more reservations. I will stand beside her against my worst enemies or best friends.”

  “I will tell you now something else you must know, Jondalar,” Mamut said. “I knew her destiny was with you from the beginning, and when the volcano erupted, I knew she would be leaving with you soon. But remember this. Ayla’s destiny is much greater than anyone knows. The Mother has chosen her, and her life will have many challenges, and so will yours. She will have need of your protection, and the strength your love has gained. That is why you had to learn that lesson. It is never easy to be chosen, but there are always great benefits, too. Take care of her, Jondalar. You know, when she worries about others, she forgets to take care of herself.”

  Jondalar nodded. Then Ayla hugged the old man, smiling through dewy eyes.

  “I wish Rydag were here. I miss him so much. I learned lessons, too. I wanted to go back for my son, but Rydag taught me that I must let Durc live his own life. How can I thank you for everything, Mamut?”

  “No thanks are necessary, Ayla. Our paths were meant to cross. I have been waiting for you without knowing it, and you have given me much joy, my daughter. You were never meant to go back for Durc. He was your gift to the Clan. Children are always a joy, but pain, too. And they all must lead their own lives. Even Mut will let Her children go their own way, someday, but I fear for us if we ever neglect Her. If we forget to respect our Great Earth Mother, She will withhold Her blessings, and no longer provide for us.”

  Ayla and Jondalar mounted the horses, waved, and said last goodbyes. Most of the encampment had come to wish them a good Journey. As they started out, Ayla kept looking for one last person. But Ranec had already said his goodbyes and he could not face a more public farewell.

  Ayla finally saw him when they started down the path, standing alone, off by himself. With a great heaviness of spirit, she stopped and waved to him.

  Ranec waved back, but in his other hand he held clutched to his breast a piece of ivory, carved into the shape of a transcendent bird-woman figure. Into every notch that was carved, every line that was etched, he had lovingly carved every hope of his aesthetic and sensitive soul. He had made it for Ayla, hoping it would charm her to his hearth, as he hoped his laughing eyes and sparkling wit would charm her to his heart. But as the artist of great talent and charm and laughter watched the woman he love
d ride away, no smile graced his face, and his laughing black eyes were filled with tears.

  For MARSHALL,

  who has become a man to be proud of,

  and for BEVERLY,

  who helped,

  and for CHRISTOPHER, BRIAN, and MELLISSA,

  with Love.

  Acknowledgments

  I could never have told this story without the books and materials of the specialists who have worked at the sites and have collected the artifacts of our prehistoric ancestors, and they have my deepest gratitude. To several people, I owe special thanks. I have enjoyed the discussions, the correspondence, and the papers, full of not only facts but also ideas and theories. I must make it clear, however, that those who provided me with information and offered help are in no way responsible for the viewpoints or ideas expressed in this story. This is a work of fiction, a story of my imagination. The characters, concepts, and cultural descriptions are my own.

  Sincere thanks first to David Abrams, professor of anthropology and tour director extraordinaire, and to Diane Kelly, student of anthropology, and master of human relations, who planned, arranged, and accompanied us on the private research trip to sites and museums in France, Austria, Czechoslovakia, and the Soviet Union.

  My thanks and great appreciation to Dr. Jan Jelinek, Director, Anthropos Institute, Brno, Czechoslovakia, for taking the time to show me many of the actual artifacts from Eastern Europe that appear in his book, The Pictorial Encyclopedia of the Evolution of Man (The Hamlyn Publishing Group, Ltd., London).

  I am grateful to Dr. Lee Porter of Washington State University, and to whatever fates put her, with her American accent, in our hotel in Kiev. She was there studying fossil mammoth bones, and meeting with the very person we had been desperately trying to see. She cut through all the red tape, and arranged the meeting.

  I am indebted to Dr. J. Lawrence Angel, Curator of Physical Anthropology at Smithsonian Institution, for many things: for some positive and encouraging words about my books; for giving me a “backstage” look and an explanation of some of the differences and similarities between Neanderthal and modern human bones, and particularly for suggesting people who could give me further information and assistance.

  I deeply appreciate the special efforts of Dr. Ninel Kornietz, Russian expert on the Ukrainian Upper Paleolithic, who was gracious and kind, even on short notice. With her we saw artifacts in two museums, and she presented me with the one book I had been searching for on the musical instruments made out of mammoth bones by Ice Age people, and a recording of their sounds. The book was in Russian, and I owe deep thanks to Dr. Gloria y’Edynak, formerly an assistant of Dr. Angel, who knows Russian, including the technical terminology of paleoanthropology, for arranging for a translator for this book, and especially for checking it over and filling in the correct technical words. Thanks are also due for her translation of the Ukrainian language articles comparing modern weaving patterns in the Ukraine with designs carved into Ice Age artifacts.

  To Dorothy Yacek-Matulis I owe great appreciation for a good, readable, workable translation of the Russian mammoth bone music book. The material has proved invaluable.

  Thanks are also in order to Dr. Richard Klein, author of Ice-Age Hunters of the Ukraine (University of Chicago Press), who kindly provided additional papers and information about the ancient people of the region.

  I am particularly grateful to Alexander Marshack, research fellow of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University, and author of The Roots of Civilization (McGraw-Hill Book Co.), for copies of the results of his microscopic studies of Ukrainian Upper Paleolithic art and artifacts, which appeared in Current Anthropology, material from his as yet unpublished book on the Eastern European Ice Age people.

  My sincerest appreciation to Dr. Olga Soffer, Department of Anthropology, University of Wisconsin, and probably the leading expert in the United States today on the Ice Age populations of Russia, for the long, interesting, and useful conversation in the lobby of the Hilton, and her material, “Patterns of Intensification as Seen from the Upper Paleolithic Central Russian Plain,” from Prehistoric Hunter-Gatherers: The Emergence of Cultural Complexity, T. Douglas Price and James A. Brown, editors (Academic Press).

  Gratitude in great measure goes to Dr. Paul C. Paquet, co-editor, Wolves of the World (Noyes Publications), for interrupting his vacation to return my call, and for the long discussion on wolves and their possible domestication.

  Thanks again to Jim Riggs, anthropologist and instructor of “Aboriginal Life Skills” classes. I continue to use the information I learned from him.

  I am indebted to three people who read a fat manuscript on short notice and offered helpful comments from a reader’s point of view: Karen Auel, who read a first draft and got caught up in it, and let me know I had a story; Doreen Gandy, poet and teacher, who squeezed the reading into the end of her school year without any loss of her usual insights; and Cathy Humble, who managed, again, to make astute observations.

  Special thanks to Betty Prashker, my editor, whose perceptions I value, and whose commentary and suggestions were right on target.

  Words are insufficient to thank Jean Naggar, friend, confidante, and literary agent beyond compare, who has continued to exceed my wildest expectations.

  Sincere appreciation to the production and art departments of Crown Publishers, whose care and expert workmanship consistently turn out beautiful and well-made books.

  I am grateful to Judith Wilkes, my secretary and office assistant, whose intelligence I have come to depend upon, and who eases the pressure of my increased volume of correspondence, so I can write.

  And to Rav Auel.…

  This edition contains the complete text

  of the original hardcover edition.

  NOT ONE WORD HAS BEEN OMITTED.

  The Plains of Passage

  A Bantam Book / published by arrangement with Crown Publishers

  EARTH’S CHILDREN is a trademark of Jean M. Auel

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 1990 by Jean M. Auel

  Map copyright © by Rafael Palacios after Auel

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER:

  90-038330

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any

  means, electronic or mechanical, recording,

  or by any information storage and retrieval system, without

  permission in writing from the publisher.

  For information address: Crown Publishers, Inc.

  299 Park Avenue

  New York, NY 10171

  eISBN: 978-0-307-76765-3

  Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.

  v3.1_r5

  CONTENTS

  Master - Table of Contents

  The Plains of Passage

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Map

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32
<
br />   Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  1

  The woman caught a glimpse of movement through the dusty haze ahead and wondered if it was the wolf she had seen loping in front of them earlier.

  She glanced at her companion with a worried frown, then looked for the wolf again, straining to see through the blowing dust. “Jondalar! Look!” she said, pointing ahead.

  Toward her left, the vague outlines of several conical tents could just be seen through the dry, gritty wind.

  The wolf was stalking some two-legged creatures that had begun to materialize out of the dusty air, carrying spears aimed directly at them.

  “I think we’ve reached the river, but I don’t think we’re the only ones who wanted to camp there, Ayla,” the man said, pulling on the lead rein to halt his horse.

  The woman signaled her horse to a stop by tightening a thigh muscle, exerting a subtle pressure that was so reflexive she didn’t even think of it as controlling the animal.

  Ayla heard a menacing growl from deep in the wolf’s throat and saw that his posture had shifted from a defensive stance to an aggressive one. He was ready to attack! She whistled, a sharp, distinctive sound that resembled a bird call, though not from a bird anyone had ever heard. The wolf gave up his stealthy pursuit and bounded toward the woman astride the horse.

  “Wolf, stay close!” she said, signaling with her hand at the same time. The wolf trotted beside the dun-yellow mare as the woman and man on horseback slowly approached the people standing between them and the tents.

  A gusty, fitful wind, holding the fine loess soil in suspension, swirled around them, obscuring their view of the spear holders. Ayla lifted her leg over and slid down from the horse’s back. She knelt beside the wolf, put one arm over his back and the other across his chest, to calm him and hold him back if necessary. She could feel the snarl rumbling in his throat and the eager tautness of muscles ready to spring. She looked up at Jondalar. A light film of powdery dirt coated the shoulders and long flaxen hair of the tall man and turned the coat of his dark brown mount to the more common dun color of the sturdy breed. She and Whinney looked the same. Though it was still early in the summer, the strong winds off the massive glacier to the north were already desiccating the steppes in a wide band south of the ice.