The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  Thanks also to Dr. John Kallas, Portland, Oregon, expert in the collection of wild foods, who continually experiments with processing and cooking them, for sharing his extensive knowledge not only of wild plant foods, but also of clams, mussels and vegetables from the sea. I had no idea there were so many different kinds of edible seaweed.

  And special thanks to Lenette Stroebel of Prineville, Oregon, who has been breeding back from wild horses to the original Tarpan, and turning up some interesting characteristics. For example, they have hooves so hard they don’t need horseshoes even on rocky ground, they have a stand-up mane, and they have markings similar to the horses painted on some cave walls, such as the dark legs and tail, and sometimes stripes on the flanks. And they have a beautiful gray color called gruya. She not only allowed me to see the horses, but she told me a great deal about them, and then sent a wonderful series of photographs of one of her mares giving birth, which gave me the basis for the birth of Whinney’s foal.

  I am grateful to Claudine Fisher, professor of French at Portland State University and Honorary French Counsel for Oregon, for French translations of research material and correspondence, and for advice and insights about this and other manuscripts, and additional things French.

  To early readers, Karen Auel-Feuer, Kendall Auel, Cathy Humble, Deanna Sterett, Claudine Fisher and Ray Auel, who hurriedly read a first finished draft and offered some good constructive suggestions, thank you.

  I am deeply indebted to Betty Prashker, my sharp, smart and savvy editor. Her suggestions are always helpful and her insights invaluable.

  Thanks beyond measure to my literary agent, Jean Naggar, who flew here to read the first finished draft, and along with her husband, Serge Naggar, made some suggestions, but told me it worked. She has been there from the beginning, performing miracles with this series. Thanks also to Jennifer Weltz of the Jean V. Naggar Literary Agency, who is working with Jean to perform further miracles especially with foreign rights.

  With great regret, I offer gratitude in memoriam, to David Abrams, professor of anthropology and archeology in Sacramento, California. In 1982, David and his research assistant and future wife, Diane Kelly, took Ray and me on my first research trip to Europe—France, Austria, Czechoslovakia, and Ukraine (then Russia)—to visit for the first time some of the sites where the books in the Earth’s Children® series took place, some 30,000 years ago. I was able to get a sense of the localities, which helped me tremendously. We became friends with David and Diane, and saw each other several times over the years, both here and in Europe. It was a shock to learn that he was so ill—he was too young to go—but he held on with perseverance for much longer than anyone predicted, always keeping a wonderfully positive attitude. I miss him.

  I must thank another dear friend, in memoriam, Richard Ausman, who helped me to write these books by designing comfortable places where I could live and work. “Oz” had a special genius for creating beautiful and efficient homes, but more than that, he had been a good friend to both Ray and me for years. He thought they had caught the cancer in time, and married Paula hoping for many more years with her and her children, but it was not to be. I feel great sadness that he is no longer with us.

  There are many others I probably should thank for insights and assistance, but this is too long already, so I will end with the one who counts the most. I am grateful to Ray, for his love, support and encouragement, for helping to provide the time and space for me to work in spite of my strange hours, and for being there.

  The Land of Painted Caves is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  2011 Bantam Mass Market Edition

  Copyright © 2011 by Jean M. Auel

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

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  BANTAM BOOKS and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  Originally published in hardcover in the United States by Crown Publishers, a division of Random House, Inc., in 2011.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-88665-1

  Cover Illustration: Ron Wood/Wood Ronsaville Harlin, Inc.

  Cover typography: Anthony Bloch

  Map illustration: Rodica Prato after Jean Auel

  Insert map: copyright © Palacios after Jean Auel

  Hand lettering: Anthony Bloch

  www.bantamdell.com

  v3.1_r1

  Contents

  Master - Table of Contents

  The Land of Painted Caves

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Map

  Part One

  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

  Part Two

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Part Three

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  A Reader’s Guide

  Other Books by This Author

  About the Author

  CAVES OF THE SACRED SITES

  1. Comarque

  2. Gabillou

  3. Rouffignac

  4. La Foret

  5. Castelmerle

  6. Combarelles

  7. Gorge d’Enfer

  8. Laugerie Haute

  9. Cap Blanc

  10. Lascaux

  11. Cougnac

  12. Pech Merle

  13. Chauvet

  14. Font-de-Gaume

  Part One

  1

  The band of travelers walked along the path between the clear sparkling water of Grass River and the black-streaked white limestone cliff, following the trail that paralleled the right bank. They went single file around the bend where the stone wall jutted out closer to the water’s edge. Ahead a smaller path split off at an angle toward the crossing place, where the flowing water spread out and became shallower, bubbling around exposed rocks.

  Before they reached the fork in the trail a young woman near the front suddenly stopped, her eyes opening wide as she stood perfectly still, staring ahead. She pointed with her chin, not wanting to move. “Look! Over there!” she said in a hissing whisper of fear. “Lions!”

  Joharran, the leader, lifted his arm, signaling the band to a halt. Just beyond the place where the trail diverged, they now saw pale-tawny cave lions moving around in the grass. The grass was such effective camouflage, however, that they might not have noticed them until they were much closer, if it hadn’t been for the sharp eyes of Thefona. The young woman from the Third Cave had exceptionally good vision, and though she was quite young, she was noted for her ability to see far and well. Her innate talent had been recognized early and they had begun training her when she was a small girl; she was their best lookout.

  Near the back of the group, walking in front
of three horses, Ayla and Jondalar looked up to see what was causing the delay. “I wonder why we’ve stopped,” Jondalar said, a familiar frown of worry wrinkling his forehead.

  Ayla observed the leader and the people around him closely, and instinctively moved her hand to shield the warm bundle that she carried in the soft leather blanket tied to her chest. Jonayla had recently nursed and was sleeping, but moved slightly at her mother’s touch. Ayla had an uncanny ability to interpret meaning from body language, learned young when she lived with the Clan. She knew Joharran was alarmed and Thefona was frightened.

  Ayla, too, had extraordinarily sharp vision. She could also pick up sounds above the range of normal hearing and feel the deep tones of those that were below. Her sense of smell and taste were also keen, but she had never compared herself with anyone, and didn’t realize how extraordinary her perceptions were. She was born with heightened acuity in all her senses, which no doubt contributed to her survival after losing her parents and everything she knew at five years. Her only training had come from herself. She had developed her natural abilities during the years she studied animals, chiefly carnivores, when she was teaching herself to hunt.

  In the stillness, she discerned the faint but familiar rumblings of lions, detected their distinctive scent on a slight breeze, and noticed that several people in front of the group were gazing ahead. When she looked, she saw something move. Suddenly the cats hidden by the grass seemed to jump into clear focus. She could make out two young and three or four adult cave lions. As she started moving forward, she reached with one hand for her spear-thrower, fastened to a carrying loop on her belt, and with the other for a spear from the holder hanging on her back.

  “Where are you going?” Jondalar asked.

  She stopped. “There are lions up ahead just beyond the split in the trail,” she said under her breath.

  Jondalar turned to look, and noticed movement that he interpreted as lions now that he knew what to look for. He reached for his weapons as well. “You should stay here with Jonayla. I’ll go.”

  Ayla glanced down at her sleeping baby, then looked up at him. “You’re good with the spear-thrower, Jondalar, but there are at least two cubs and three grown lions, probably more. If the lions think the cubs are in danger and decide to attack, you’ll need help, someone to back you up, and you know I’m better than anyone, except you.”

  His brow furrowed again as he paused to think, looking at her. Then he nodded. “All right … but stay behind me.” He detected movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced back. “What about the horses?”

  “They know lions are near. Look at them,” Ayla said.

  Jondalar looked. All three horses, including the new young filly, were staring ahead, obviously aware of the huge felines. Jondalar frowned again. “Will they be all right? Especially little Gray?”

  “They know to stay out of the way of those lions, but I don’t see Wolf,” Ayla said. “I’d better whistle for him.”

  “You don’t have to,” Jondalar said, pointing in a different direction. “He must sense something, too. Look at him coming.”

  Ayla turned and saw a wolf racing toward her. The canine was a magnificent animal, larger than most, but an injury from a fight with other wolves that left him with a bent ear gave him a rakish look. She made the special signal that she used when they hunted together. He knew it meant to stay near and pay close attention to her. They ducked around people as they hurried toward the front, trying not to cause any undo commotion, and to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Joharran said softly when he saw his brother and Ayla with the wolf quietly appear with their spear-throwers in hand.

  “Do you know how many there are?” Ayla asked.

  “More than I thought,” Thefona said, trying to seem calm and not let her fear show. “When I first saw them, I thought there were maybe three or four, but they are moving around in the grass, and now I think there may be ten or more. It’s a big pride.”

  “And they are feeling confident,” Joharran said.

  “How do you know that?” Thefona asked.

  “They’re ignoring us.”

  Jondalar knew his mate was very familiar with the huge felines. “Ayla knows cave lions,” he said. “Perhaps we should ask her what she thinks.” Joharran nodded in her direction, asking the question silently.

  “Joharran is right. They know we’re here. And they know how many they are and how many we are,” Ayla said, then added, “They may see us as something like a herd of horses or aurochs and think they may be able to single out a weak one. I think they are new to this region.”

  “What makes you think so?” Joharran said. He was always surprised at Ayla’s wealth of knowledge of four-legged hunters, but for some reason it was also at times like this that he noticed her unusual accent more.

  “They don’t know us, that’s why they’re so confident,” Ayla continued. “If they were a resident pride that lived around people and had been chased or hunted a few times, I don’t think they would be so unconcerned.”

  “Well, maybe we should give them something to be concerned about,” Jondalar said.

  Joharran’s brow wrinkled in a way that was so much like his taller though younger brother’s, it made Ayla want to smile, but it usually showed at a time when smiling would be inappropriate. “Perhaps it would be wiser just to avoid them,” the dark-haired leader said.

  “I don’t think so,” Ayla said, bowing her head and looking down. It was still difficult for her to disagree with a man in public, especially a leader. Though she knew it was perfectly acceptable among the Zelandonii—after all, some leaders were women, including, at one time, Joharran and Jondalar’s mother—such behavior from a woman would not have been tolerated in the Clan, the ones who raised her.

  “Why not?” Joharran asked, his frown turning into a scowl.

  “Those lions are resting too close to the home of the Third Cave,” Ayla said quietly. “There will always be lions around, but if they are comfortable here, they might think of it as a place to return when they want to rest, and would see any people who come near as prey, especially children or elders. They could be a danger to the people who live at Two Rivers Rock, and the other nearby Caves, including the Ninth.”

  Joharran took a deep breath, then looked at his fair-haired brother. “Your mate is right, and you as well, Jondalar. Perhaps now is the time to let those lions know they are not welcome to settle down so close to our homes.”

  “This would be a good time to use spear-throwers so we can hunt from a safer distance. Several hunters here have been practicing,” Jondalar said. It was for just this sort of thing that he had wanted to come home and show everyone the weapon he had developed. “We may not even have to kill one, just injure a couple to teach them to stay away.”

  “Jondalar,” Ayla said, softly. Now she was getting ready to differ with him, or at least to make a point that he should consider. She looked down again, then raised her eyes and looked directly at him. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind to him, but she wanted to be respectful. “It’s true that a spear-thrower is a very good weapon. With it, a spear can be thrown from a much greater distance than one thrown by hand, and that makes it safer. But safer is not safe. A wounded animal is unpredictable. And one with the strength and speed of a cave lion, hurt and wild with pain, could do anything. If you decide to use these weapons against those lions, they should not be used to injure, but to kill.”

  “She’s right, Jondalar,” Joharran said.

  Jondalar frowned at his brother, then grinned sheepishly. “Yes she is, but, as dangerous as they are, I always hate to kill a cave lion if I don’t have to. They are so beautiful, so lithe and graceful in the way they move. Cave lions don’t have much to be afraid of. Their strength gives them confidence.” He glanced at Ayla with a glint of pride and love. “I always thought Ayla’s Cave Lion totem was right for her.” Discomfited by showing his strong inner feelings fo
r her, a hint of a flush colored his cheeks. “But I do think this is a time when spear-throwers could be very useful.”

  Joharran noticed that most of the travelers had crowded closer. “How many are with us that can use one?” he asked his brother.

  “Well, there’s you, and me, and Ayla, of course,” Jondalar said, looking at the group. “Rushemar has been practicing a lot and is getting pretty good. Solaban’s been busy making some ivory handles for tools for some of us and hasn’t been working at it as much, but he’s got the basics.”

  “I’ve tried a spear-thrower a few times, Joharran. I don’t have one of my own, and I’m not very good at it,” Thefona said, “but I can throw a spear without one.”

  “Thank you, Thefona, for reminding me,” Joharran said. “Nearly everyone can handle a spear without a spear-thrower, including women. We shouldn’t forget that.” Then he directed his comments to the group at large. “We need to let those lions know that this is not a good place for them. Whoever wants to go after them, using a spear by hand or with the thrower, come over here.”

  Ayla started to loosen her baby’s carrying blanket. “Folara, would you watch Jonayla for me?” she said, approaching Jondalar’s younger sister, “unless you’d rather stay and hunt cave lions.”

  “I’ve gone out on drives, but I never was very good with a spear, and I don’t seem to be much better with the thrower,” Folara said. “I’ll take Jonayla.” The infant was now thoroughly awake, and when the young woman held out her arms for the baby, she willingly went to her aunt.

  “I’ll help her,” Proleva said to Ayla. Joharran’s mate also had a baby girl in a carrying blanket, just a few days older than Jonayla, and an active boy who could count six years to watch out for as well. “I think we should take all the children away from here, perhaps back behind the jutting rock, or up to the Third Cave.”