The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  “We need to cut down some small trees for a new pole-drag. It was Zelandoni’s suggestion. I don’t think she wants blood on hers. She does consider it hers, you know,” Ayla said.

  “It is hers. No one else would think of using it,” Jondalar said.

  It took two trips to haul all the meat from the auspicious hunt away, most of it dragged by the horns and pushed by the neighboring people. By the time the travelers had packed up their campsite, the sun was working its way down to meet the horizon, with shades of orange and red blazoned across the sky. They took the meat they were keeping for themselves and headed for the Cave. Ayla and Jondalar lingered for a while—with the horses they could catch up easily enough. They were making a final tour of the abandoned camp to see if anyone had left anything important behind.

  It was obvious that people had been there. Trails between tents had worn paths that now led to flattened and yellow patches of grass; fireplaces were black circles of charcoal; some trees had raw scars of light-colored wood where branches had been torn off and pointed stumps that looked as though they had been chewed down by a beaver showed where trees had once grown. There was some trash around, a shredded and torn basket near one of the fireplaces, and a small and well-used sleeping roll that Jonlevar had outgrown was open and discarded in the middle of a flattened patch where a tent had been. Scattered chips of flint and broken points, and some piles of bone and vegetable peelings were lying around, but they would soon degrade back into the soil. Yet the vast stretches of cattails and reeds, though well harvested, showed little change, the yellowed grass and the black lenses of firepits would soon be covered with new green, and the trees that were removed made room for new ones to sprout. The people lived lightly on the land.

  Ayla and Jondalar checked their waterbags and took a drink; then Ayla felt the urge to pass her water before they started back, and walked around the perimeter of the trees. If they were snowbound in the middle of winter, Ayla wouldn’t hesitate to relieve herself in a night basket no matter who was there watching, but if it was possible, she preferred privacy, especially since she had to take down her leggings and not just move aside a loose dress.

  She untied the waist thong and squatted down, but when she stood up to pull her leggings back on, she was surprised to see four strange men staring at her. She was more offended than anything. Even if they had come upon her accidentally, they should not have stood there and stared at her. It was very rude. Then she noticed details: a certain griminess in their clothing, rather unkempt beards, stringy long hair, and mostly, lewd expressions. The last made her angry, though they expected her to be frightened.

  Perhaps she should have been.

  “Don’t you have the courtesy to look away when a woman needs to pass her water?” Ayla said, giving them a look of disdain as she retied her waist thong.

  Her disparaging remarks surprised the men. First because they expected fear, then because they heard her accent. They drew their own conclusions.

  One looked at the others with a deriding grin. “She’s a stranger. Probably visiting. Won’t be many of her kind around.”

  “Even if there are, I don’t see any around here,” another man said, then turned to leer at her, as he started toward her.

  Ayla suddenly remembered the time they stopped to visit the Losadunai on their Journey here; there had been a band of hoodlums who had been harassing women. She slipped her sling off her head and reached in her pouch for a stone, then whistled loud for Wolf, and followed it by the whistles for both horses.

  The whistles startled the men, but the stones did more than startle. The man who was moving toward her yelped with pain as a stone landed soundly on his thigh; another stone hit the upper arm of a second man with a similar response. Both men grabbed their bodies at the points of impact.

  “How in Mother’s Underworld did she do that?” the first man said angrily. Then looking at the men he said, “Don’t let her get away. I want to give her something back for that.”

  In the meantime Ayla had reached for her spear-thrower and armed it with a spear that was aimed at the first man. A voice came from the other side of the stand of trees.

  “Just be glad she didn’t aim for your head, or you’d be walking the next world now. She just killed a hyena with one of her stones.”

  The men turned to face a tall blond man who had a spear in another one of those strange devices aimed at them. He had spoken Zelandonii, but he too had an accent, not the same as the woman’s but as though he came from some distance.

  “Let’s get away from here,” another man said, and started running.

  “Stop him, Wolf!” Ayla commanded.

  Suddenly a large wolf they hadn’t seen raced after the man. He grabbed an ankle with his teeth and brought him down, then stood over him snarling.

  “Anyone else feel like running away?” Jondalar said. He looked the four men over and quickly summed up the situation. “I have a feeling you’ve been causing lots of trouble around here. I think we need to bring you to the nearest Cave and see what they think.”

  With Wolf nearby, he took away the few spears they had among them, and their knives. They weren’t used to being compelled to doing anything they didn’t want to, but when they resisted, Ayla set Wolf on them again. None of them felt like going against the snarling beast. As they started walking, Wolf herded them, nipping at their heels and snarling. With Ayla on the back of her dun-yellow mare on one side of them and Jondalar on his dark brown stallion on the other, they had little chance to go anyplace but where they were led.

  At one point along the way, two of the men decided to make a break for it running in different directions. Jondalar’s spear whizzed just past the ear of the man who appeared to be the leader and stopped him short. Ayla’s caught a flap of loose clothing of the other man and the momentum unbalanced him and brought him down to the ground.

  “I think we should tie the hands of those two together, and maybe the other two as well,” Jondalar said. “I don’t think they want to face the people who live near here.”

  They were later coming back than expected. The sun was making a show of fading purples and deep reds in the western sky when they arrived at the stone shelter where the Cave lived.

  “They’re the ones who did it!” a woman cried when she saw the men. “They’re the ones who forced me and killed my mate when he tried to stop them. Then they took our food and sleeping rolls, and left me there. I walked home, but I was pregnant and lost the baby.”

  “How did you meet up with them?” Demoryn asked Jondalar and Ayla.

  “Just before we were ready to leave, Ayla went around the stand of trees near our camp to pass water; then I heard her whistle for Wolf and the horses. I went to see what was wrong and found her holding off these four. When I got there, two of them were nursing the bruises she gave them with stones from her sling and she had her spear-thrower armed and ready,” Jondalar said.

  “Bruises! Is that all? She killed a hyena with her stones,” Tivonan said.

  “I wasn’t trying to kill them, just stop them,” Ayla said.

  “On our way home from our Journey, there were some young men causing trouble for the people on the other side of the glacier to the west. They had forced one young woman before her First Rites. I wondered if these men might be disturbing people around here,” Jondalar said.

  “They’ve been doing a lot more than disturbing, and they aren’t young. It’s been going on for years, stealing, forcing women, killing people, but no one has been able to find them,” Syralana said.

  “The question is, what do we do with them now?” Demoryn said.

  “You take them to the meeting of the zelandonia,” the First said.

  “Good idea,” Willamar said.

  “But first you should tie them down better than they are. They already tried to run away on our way here. I took away the spears and knives I could find, but I might not have found them all. And someone should guard them overnight. Wolf can help,”
Ayla said.

  “Yes, you are right. These are dangerous men,” Demoryn said as he walked back toward the shelter. “The zelandonia can decide what to do, but they need to be stopped, whatever it takes.”

  “Remember Attaroa, Jondalar?” Ayla said, both of them falling in beside the leader of the Cave.

  “I’ll never forget her. She nearly killed you. If it hadn’t been for Wolf, she would have. She was vicious, I’d even say evil. Most people are decent. They are willing to help people, especially if they are in trouble, but there always seems to be a few who take what they want and hurt people and don’t seem to care,” Jondalar said.

  “I think Balderan enjoys hurting people,” Demoryn said.

  “So that’s his name,” Jondalar said.

  “He always had a temper,” Demoryn continued. “Even as a child he liked to pick on those who were weaker, and inevitably there were always a few boys who followed him, and did what he said.”

  “Why do some go along with people like that?” Ayla said.

  “Who knows?” Jondalar said. “Maybe they’re afraid of them and think if they go along, they won’t be the ones who are picked on. Or maybe they don’t have much status and making other people afraid makes them feel more important.”

  “I think we need to select some people to watch them closely,” Demoryn said. “And guard them in shifts, so the watchers don’t get sleepy.”

  “They should also be searched again. Some of them may keep hidden knives that they can use to cut the ropes and perhaps hurt people,” Ayla said. “I’ll take a shift, and as I said, Wolf can help. He’s very good at guarding. It’s like he sleeps with one eye open.”

  When they were searched, each of the men had hidden at least one knife, which they claimed were just eating knives. Demoryn had been considering whether to untie their hands at night so they could sleep more comfortably, but finding the knives made him change his mind. They were given a meal and watched closely while they ate. Ayla collected their eating knives when they were through. Balderan did not want to give his up, but a signal to Wolf, which brought him to his feet with a menacing snarl caused the man to let go of the sharp-edged tool. When she got close to him she could see his seething anger. He could barely keep it under control. He had been able to exercise his free will for most of his life. He had taken what he wanted with impunity, including the lives of other people. Now he was physically restrained and forced to do something he didn’t want to do, and he didn’t like it.

  The visitors and most of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii That Watches Over the Most Ancient Sacred Site followed a trail upstream beside the meandering river that had cut deep into the limestone, creating a deep gorge that now constrained the river. Ayla noticed that the people of the local Cave began glancing at each other and smiling as though they shared a secret or were anticipating some amusing surprise. They rounded a sharp turn and behind the high gorge walls the visitors were astounded to see high above them a stone arch, a natural bridge spanning the river. The ones who had not seen it before stopped to gaze in wonder at the formation that had been created by the Great Earth Mother. They had never seen anything like it; no one had. It was unique.

  “Does it have a name?” Ayla asked.

  “It has many names,” Demoryn said. “Some people name it for the Mother, or for spirits of the next world. Some people think it looks something like a mammoth. We just call it the Arch or the Bridge.”

  Some four hundred thousand years before, the force of a subterranean stream carved through the limestone, eventually wearing the calcium carbonate rock away, creating caves and passageways. In the course of time, the level of the water lowered and the land uplifted, and the conduit that had broached the wall of stone had become a natural arch. The present river flowed through what had been a barrier and was now a bridge across the river, but so high it was seldom used. The high stone arch spanning the river was an awe-inspiring formation. Nothing like it existed anywhere else.

  The top of the span was approximately on the same level as the top of the high cliffs closest to it, but the ancient channel had also carved out meanders nearer the river that had become level ground. During the wet season, when the river was running high, the sides of the limestone barrier sometimes restricted the flow of the water and caused flooding, but most of the time the river that had once created caves and worn its way through the limestone obstruction was placid and calm.

  The field between the stone shelter of the First Cave of the Zelandonii Watchers and the river had a circular shape enclosed by the cliff walls of the deep gorge. Many eons before, it had been the loop of an oxbow that was the former riverbed, but it was now home to a meadow of mixed grasses, aromatic artemisia shrubs, and a plant whose edible green leaves resembled the feet of the ducks and geese that navigated the river waters in summer—goosefoot—and which bore multitudes of small black seeds that could also be ground between stones, then cooked and eaten.

  An area toward the back of the field had a shallow talus slope, whose sharp-edged stones were mixed with enough soil to feed the roots of cold-loving pine, birch, and juniper trees, often dwarfed into brush. Above the field, the dark evergreen of trees and brush growing on the slopes and plateaus of the cliff made a strong contrast with the white limestone of the cliff. It also formed hillocks and terraces that provided a place for the people to gather when someone wanted to impart information to a group.

  The First Cave of the Zelandonii That Watches Over the Most Ancient Sacred Site lived under a sheltering limestone ledge on a terrace above the floodplain. The zelandonia had gathered in the field below to hold their meeting.

  The arrival of the visitors and the members of the Third Cave of Sacred Site Watchers created quite a stir. The zelandonia had set up a pavilion of sorts, a tentlike structure with a roof but only partial sides; the roof offered shade from the sun and the sidewalls blocked the wind blowing down the gorge. One of the acolytes had seen the approaching procession and rushed in, interrupting the meeting. A couple of the leading Zelandonia were annoyed for a moment, until they turned to look; then they felt a frisson of fear, which they tried not to show.

  Ayla riding Whinney was in the lead. The First told her to ride up to the meeting tent, which she did. Then she moved her leg over and slid down and went to assist the First to step off the pole-drag. The First had a way of walking that was neither fast nor slow, but carried great authority. The two southern leaders immediately recognized the symbolism of her facial tattoos, clothing, and necklaces, and could hardly believe that the First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother had come to their gathering. They had seen her so seldom that she was almost a mythical figure. They gave lip service to her existence, but thought themselves to be among the highest-ranking of the zelandonia, and they had selected a First of their own. To actually see her was a little overwhelming, but to see the manner of her arrival was even more so. The control of horses was unprecedented. She had to be extraordinarily powerful.

  They approached with deference, greeted her with both hands extended, and welcomed her. She returned the greetings, and then proceeded to introduce several of her traveling companions: Ayla and Jonokol, Willamar and Jondalar, and then the rest of the travelers, with Willamar’s assistants and the children last. Demoryn greeted the two most important of their zelandonia, the man who was the Zelandoni of his Cave, and the woman who was the Zelandoni of the First Cave of Sacred Site Watchers. Ayla had told Jonayla to keep Wolf out of sight, but after all the formal introductions were over, she and the child brought him out, and she saw another look of shock and fear. After persuading them to let her introduce them to the wolf, there was a little less fear, but some apprehension lingered. By this time the people from the First Cave had come down to the field from their living site on the side of the cliff, but Ayla was glad that formal introductions were held off until later.

  The four men they were bringing for the zelandonia to deal with had been held back with the people from the Third Ca
ve of Watchers until after all the formalities were over, but now Demoryn brought them forward. He approached his Zelandoni.

  “You know the men who have been causing so much trouble, stealing and forcing women, and killing people?” he asked.

  “Yes,” the man replied. “We have just been talking about them.”

  “Well, we have them,” Demoryn said, and signaled some men who had been designated to watch them. They were brought forward. The woman who had accused them of killing her mate and harming her came with them. “This one’s name is Balderan. He’s their leader.”

  All the zelandonia looked at the four men whose hands were tied together. They noted the unkempt look of the men, but the woman Zelandoni of the First Cave wanted something more than appearance upon which to judge them.

  “How do you know they are the ones?” the woman Zelandoni asked.

  “Because I was one who was forced, after they killed my mate,” the woman said.

  “And you are?”

  “I am Aremina, of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii That Watches Over the Most Ancient Sacred Site,” she said.

  “What she says is true,” the male Zelandoni of the Third Cave of Watchers said. “She was pregnant at the time and also lost her baby.” He turned to Demoryn. “We have been talking about them, and were trying to think of a plan to find them. How did you catch them?”

  “It was the First’s acolyte,” Demoryn said. “They tried to attack her, but didn’t understand who she is.”

  “Who is she besides the First’s acolyte?” the Zelandoni of the First Cave of Watchers said.

  Demoryn turned to Willamar. “Why don’t you explain?”

  “Well,” Willamar said, “I wasn’t there, so I can only tell you what I was told, but I believe it. I know that Ayla is an extremely skilled hunter with both a stone-slinging weapon, and a spear-throwing weapon, which was devised by her mate, Jondalar. She’s also the one who controls the wolf, and the horses, although her mate and child also do. Apparently, when these men tried to attack her, she bruised them with stones, although she can kill with stones if she chooses. Then Jondalar came with his spear-thrower. When one of them tried to run away, she sent the wolf to stop him. I’ve seen them work together hunting. Those men didn’t have a chance.”