Later that night, when everyone had feasted and Ahru had led the dance to thank the spirits, Malan rose from his seat and gestured to the clan. They fell silent as he motioned Ott to stand. Without words, he gestured with sweeping arms as if to embrace the entire gathering. Then he turned and stared at Ott through rheumy eyes tired with age. He gestured for his spear and took it from Ahru. Only the crackling of the fire and the howl of a far-off wolf filled the night air.
Malan turned and cast a long look over the clan, and then offered his spear to Ott. Reverently, Ott accepted the spear in both hands and nodded at the old leader. Malan seated himself as Ott turned, looked down, and extended his hand to Cha. She took his hand and rose to stand beside him. From her neck hung a single lion’s claw. Ott faced the clan and raised the spear over his head as a roar of acceptance welled from the entire clan.
26
It came as no surprise when Malan died, but like the death of anyone beloved, respected, and revered, it was difficult to grasp the reality of his passing. He had been the one most responsible for the cohesion of the clan. His word had settled all disputes and his leadership had been unquestioned, but now he was gone.
Only one phase of the moon had passed since he had symbolically relinquished authority to Ott. The full reality of the transition was just beginning when Ott, Ahru, and Graf found him seated upright against the wall of his hearth. His eyes were closed, and they knew he was gone. The look of quietude on his face appeared almost serene. He had died quietly and quickly without a sound. The three men remained silent for a few moments looking from the body to each other. Finally, they turned and retraced their steps to the frontal area of the cave and alerted the others.
The burial ceremony would take place that night. Nin and several other women went about preparing the body at Ahru’s direction. No hunt was conducted that day, and the entire clan remained near the cave awaiting the ceremony.
At dusk everyone gathered at the cave entrance, and the fire was built higher and higher with a steady stream of logs. Numerous smaller fires flickered around the entrance and were fueled with a variety of green shrubs laced with herbs. Fragrant wisps of smoke floated on the night air and mingled with the smell of roasting meat and fish. A mix of wild cabbage, roots, and greens boiling in hide pots blended with the other aromas. The ceremony of Malan’s passing would include a great feast befitting and celebrating his life.
Ahru conferred with Ott and others after discovering Malan’s body, and together they planned the ceremony and selected the burial site. It was decided that he would not be buried at his hearth, but rather at a place he had visited both alone and with others—the chamber where Cha had completed her first paintings. Ahru selected a spot in front of the large wall depicting the most images. Malan’s spirit would dwell with the animal spirits captured by Cha. At Ahru’s direction, the burial pit was prepared. When the digging was complete, the bottom of the pit was lined with bear hides from Malan’s hearth. The body would be placed in the grave and then covered with additional hides before being filled with earth.
As darkness descended, the entire clan gathered at the cave entrance. The gathering grew silent as the silhouetted figures of Ott, Ahru, Graf, and other members of the clan hierarchy emerged from the cave interior followed by a procession of men and boys.
Flanked three to a side, the men carried a flat, wooden structure. On the platform rested Malan’s body. The body was covered with a bearskin folded to each side to reveal the torso of the dead leader. Covering his chest was the lion necklace—Ott’s tribute. Finely crafted spears with knapped and polished flint tips lay on each side of the body, and several flint blades had been placed along the shafts of the spears. A variety of bracelets and necklaces made with intricately carved bone and ivory had been placed on the remaining areas of the bearskin. Adorning Malan’s head was the ceremonial headdress he had worn at special feasts and ceremonies. A wide leather band with small ivory carvings of various animals covered his forehead and extended to the back of his head. The band was festooned with braided strips of soft leather with even smaller carvings and decorative shells interwoven in the braids.
Positioned at the far end of the platform rested an item never seen at any burial ceremony. On the fringe of the hide rested a large, highly polished obsidian flake, oblong in shape. Depicted on it in red ochre were three red dots. Cha’s contribution to the burial ceremony was admired by everyone, but understood by only the oldest members of the clan. Twelve seasons had passed since the appearance of the lights and the initial confrontation with the Prog. Since then, the dotted symbol had come to represent the spirit strength of the entire clan, although very few remembered the incident.
With the fires roaring, everyone sat silent for several moments. Then Ahru rose and began a plaintive chant announcing to all the spirits the arrival among them of a great leader. As Ahru danced others mimicked the chant, and it quickly spread through the entire gathering. Ott and Graf rose and joined the shaman in the dance around the fire and Malan’s body. Moments later the entire clan joined in. The chant rose to a melodic crescendo when Ahru stopped and threw his arms in the direction of the night sky and screamed, “Malan!” The entire clan repeated the gesture and roared the dead leader’s name with uplifted hands. All the spirits would know Malan was among them.
The feast celebrating the life of their leader began and lasted until the moon sat high in the sky.
Later that night, as the feasting ended, the platform bearing Malan was carried to the burial pit in the hall of paintings and lowered to rest. Several men placed additional tools, spears, and flint knives around the body in tribute. The body was covered with a thick layer of animal skins and the pit filled with earth. On the spot of the burial, a platform of flat rocks was constructed and topped with another smooth slap of obsidian fashioned by Cha and emblazoned with three red dots. After a period of silence, everyone filed out of the chamber one by one through the small opening. Ott was the last to leave. As he exited, he commanded several of the men to position a large rock over the entrance. It was his intention that Malan would remain undisturbed as he rested in the world of the spirits. No one would ever again be permitted to enter the resting place of Malan.
27
With the passing of Malan, complete authority over the clan rested with Ott. He wore the mantle of leadership well. Of the numerous clan groups existing beyond the valley, many were led by men who had learned their ways from Ott, and they thrived. These groups intermingled frequently and shared a commonality of traditions and learned skills that were passed from group to group. Tool and weapon making were practiced by all the men and some of the women. Bow making became a continually refined craft to the point where skilled individuals devoted their time exclusively to it. All the men who participated in the hunts carried bows, and with few exceptions, most were highly skilled bowmen.
Aside from its use in procuring food, the use of the bow gave rise to differentiating the stature of the hunters of the clan. As boys matured to manhood and participated in regular hunts, they would announce they were ready to receive the spirit of the lion. At such a time, the clan leaders would assess their skills, and if in agreement, confer with Ott, who would grant approval for the young hunter to pursue a lion. The hunt would be a group effort, but the boy requesting the hunt was expected to shoot the first arrow and the last arrow into the beast, thereby claiming its spirit—and a respected position as a clan participant in all matters. The rite of passage would become a test of skill and courage that would forever be a part of their clan culture. And it had been started by Graf.
Shortly after Malan’s death, a hunting party headed by Graf stalked an auroch as it grazed away from the main body of a small herd. The beast stopped where the grass gave way to a flat, sandy plain and a large, shallow body of water fed by an underground spring. Game was always abundant in this area due to the lush grass and nearby water. It was a favorite hunting spot for the men of the clan, and for the lions that prowle
d the area. On numerous occasions the men had successfully killed their quarry, and many times the cats would appear as the men approached the dead or dying animal. The men always gave way and let the snarling cats take the animal.
As Graf led the way, the men crouched low and moved through the long grass toward the grazing auroch. They proceeded until they were within range and formed a straight line facing the animal. They would wait for Graf to make the first shot and then rise and loose their arrows. It was a plan they had executed many times. At the head of the line, Graf positioned himself and pulled his bowstring taut as the animal lifted its head and sniffed the still air. He released the shaft and an instant later the flint-tipped arrow pierced the front quarter of the beast. Immediately, five more arrows found their mark, and the wounded auroch hobbled off at a slow trot. The animal showed no outward sign of panic as it slowed to a walk with the arrows protruding from its side.
The hunters had seen it many times before and knew what to expect. They did not pursue the animal. They would give it time to weaken and drop from blood loss, and then finish it with a spear or flint blade. They tracked the limping animal, keeping it in sight until it first dropped to its knees and then rolled onto its side. The hunters stopped and scanned the entire area surrounding the carcass looking for any large predators that might be nearby.
A short yell came from one of the men at the far right of the line closest to the downed auroch. From behind a low, elongated mound to the side of the water hole, two large male hyenas rose and proceeded at a slow trot toward the near-dead auroch. Snouts twitching at the blood scent, the animals closed on the carcass with snapping jaws. The hunters halted and readied their bows. The hyenas were dangerous, but normally hunted in packs at night. These two had been resting in the shade of the trees by the water hole when they detected the blood scent. Scavengers as well as pack hunters, they took to the scent of the dying animal. The men prepared to draw their bows as the beasts closed in, but at that instant the hyenas broke stride and with startled yelps darted to the side of the carcass.
From a low stalking position, a huge black-maned male lion and a smaller female sprang in a blur from a small clump of brush at the edge of the pool. In a swirl of dust, they closed on the hyenas, intercepting them before they could scramble away. The male lion hit the largest of the hyenas at its flank full run. With one powerful swipe of its forepaw, it swung the animal around and grasped its neck in its jaws. Dropping to its back, the lion flailed at the hyena’s underbelly with its outstretched hind claws. Rolling back over and standing full upright, the huge cat shook the hyena from side to side, raising a cloud of dust. With one final toss of its massive head, it released its grip on the helpless animal’s neck and tossed it several feet away. Reacting from instinct and shock, the disemboweled hyena rose and trotted away, trailing its intestines on the ground in a stream of blood. The men watched motionless as it disappeared into the tree line at the edge of the pool. Seconds later the female lion came into view, snout dripping blood, and moved to the side of the still-growling male. They walked to the auroch carcass and sat with mouths agape, panting. The hunters crouched and slowly retreated into the long grass.
At a safe distance, they huddled in the grass shifting glances at each other. Graf stared in the direction of the water hole. A few silent moments passed before he finally broke the stillness. He shifted his gaze at each of the men as he motioned and pointed in the direction of the lions. This was the land of the clan, and the spirit of the animals belonged to the clan. It was on the walls of the cave and in the power of the red symbol. Ott had proven that, and now they would live the truth of the spirits and the strength given by the red marking.
Graf turned the front of his bow toward the hunters and ran his finger over the red markings. Each of the men did the same. At Graf’s signal, they spread out in a tight line and retraced their steps toward the pool.
The lions had begun to feed by the time the hunters reached the edge of the long grass. The sounds of cracking bones mingled with low grunts as the lions tore at the flesh of the beast. Graf spread the grass and peered across the open expanse. The lions lay side by side on the far end of the carcass, their heads smeared red. A gathering of vultures squawked and strutted in a circle around the feeding lions. Every few moments, the male would rise from the carcass and rush toward the offending scavengers, sending them squawking in a flurry of dust.
Downwind and undetected, Graf and the others lay motionless in the grass. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky and rivulets of sweat trickled from Graf’s brow. His resolve was set, but pangs of confusion delayed his movement. No one hunted the lion, and only one had ever been killed. He thought back to the day Ott had killed the lion. The day he had fallen to the ground expecting to die. The day he had realized that someday he too would kill the beast—and now was that time. Graf drove all thoughts from his mind as he stared at the lions’ blood-smeared faces tearing at the flesh of the auroch. The auroch he and the men of the clan had killed. The auroch that belonged to the clan.
Without signal or sound, Graf rose from the grass and stood upright fingering an arrow into position on his bow. Both lions raised their eyes and froze at the movement. The male slowly stood as a strip of torn flesh dropped from his now snarling mouth. The huge black head thrust to one side, and a roar bellowed across the expanse to the edge of the grass where something intruded. Graf stared into its black eyes and moved forward. Closer. Back muscles rippled as the male lion crouched to spring at the intruding thing. Graf saw only the blackness of its eyes as he pulled at the sinew of his bow. The roaring enveloped him as his thumb touched his ear and he released the arrow.
The slender, razor-sharp flint tip of the arrow sliced through the lion’s eye.
The beast roared at the piercing shock of white-hot pain followed by total blackness. A second later its back legs kicked spasmodically, pushing its body forward over the auroch carcass where it lay motionless, the tip of the arrow buried in its brain. The female lion sprinted into the bush, three arrows dangling in its flank from the other hunters. As the male lay dead in front of him, its roar remained in Graf’s consciousness. He thought back to when he had stood on a rock ledge with Ott as a snarling, wounded lion lunged at them. Graf now understood what it was like to conquer fear.
At the next full gathering, Graf appeared in the mantle of the lion and took his place next to Ott. From that time forward, empowered by the spirit of the red orbs, each hunter of the clan sought to slay his own lion. And when they did, Cha and others would create the likeness of the lions, their spirits captured on the walls of the cave. And though many men did succeed in killing and capturing the spirits of their own lions, many others died trying. Some did not try at all.
The wall of lion spirits was filled with images over many seasons, but none were ever created larger than those of Ott and Graf.
28
The old shaman sat against the rock protrusion extending from the main entrance of the cave. The sky was clear blue, and the direct sunlight warmed his entire body. Ahru often came to this spot to rest and bask in the pleasant heat that radiated in the small area. Most often he would sit for a while and then nod off into a half sleep. Many seasons had passed since the death of Malan, and now Ahru too was growing old. No longer able to participate in the hunt, he rested during the day, saving his strength to preside at the communal meal that had become a regular occurrence.
Clan life was better than he could ever remember. Food was in abundance, and the days and nights warmer than ever before. The rituals conducted were more often celebrations of thanks rather than plaintive appeals. The death spirit came less frequently and usually took only those injured in the hunt, the old, and some of the newborn.
Ahru was resting comfortably with his thoughts when he heard rustling. He opened his eyes to see Cha standing before him. She wore a wrap fashioned of soft, tanned hide secured with a length of woven leather encircling her waist. Around her neck hung the lion claw and a se
cond necklace with numerous strands of leather festooned with small shells and animal figures carved from ivory and antler. Her hair was pulled back and plaited in a long braid that hung to her waist. She stood silently as Ahru focused on her face. More seasons than he could remember had passed since the first encounter with the red lights from the sky. Many changes in the way the clan lived had come about since that time.
Of all the women of the clan, Cha was the most revered. She was the leader’s mate, but she was also respected as a woman with spiritual abilities. She alone was responsible for the creation of the animal images that had become the symbolic cornerstone for the clan’s strength. She taught others the ways of creating the images in caves far distant and even beyond the valley.
Ahru reconciled that he would never completely understand these things. From that time so long ago when Cha and Ott had disappeared and mysteriously returned, many things had changed. In some way he knew they were responsible. Many times Ahru had questioned her about what had happened, but the answer was always the same. She remembered nothing from the night of the lights until awakening with Ott.
Cha seated herself and rested her hand on his. “I have made my place with the clan and with Ott. This pleases me. Helping my people pleases me, and in this I should feel satisfied, but I’m missing something. I must ask for your help.”
Ahru’s eyes narrowed as she drew closer and continued.
“The animal spirits bring food to the people, and the sign of the red night suns brings us strength. Now I wish to ask the spirits for something of my own, but I don’t know how. I come to ask you.”
The Way of the Seed_Earth Spawn of Kalpeon Page 8