“What is it you want, Cha?” Ahru asked.
“For many seasons I have been at the hearth of Ott, but I have no child. I want a child. Ahru, can you show me the way to ask the spirits for a child?”
Ahru stared at Cha’s face and marveled at what he saw before him. He pondered once again what had become more of a mystery to him than any of the changes that had occurred since the night of the lights so long ago. Since that time, clan life had become more than just a struggle for survival. The entire clan now lived in total cooperation and understood individual roles. Tool and weapon makers produced implements of varied and specialized use. The best of the hunters and hunt planners provided food for everyone. The preparation of hide clothing was performed by skilled hands and included coverings adorned with ivory and bone carvings. Ceremony and ritual conduct dominated all aspects of clan life. Feasts were a regular activity at the main cave, and huge gatherings with clan members from other parts of the valley were held regularly in conjunction with the cycle of the seasons. These things had always been a part of the existence of the clan for as long as Ahru could remember, but now they were more extensive than ever. He knew it all was a result of Ott and Cha’s contributions that had begun from the time of the lights. Still he did not understand. And he knew he never would.
Ahru studied Cha and thought of the other thing that baffled him most: her face remained unchanged. Since the time of the lights, many seasons had passed. Children had grown to adulthood and older individuals had died. Graf had been but a boy when taken to the hearth of Ott and Cha, and now he stood as tall as Ott and led hunts himself. Yet with all the seasons that had passed, Ott and Cha remained unchanged and more vital than ever. Ahru knew of others who had been born in the same season as Ott and Cha, and some were now too feeble to participate in the hunt or bear children. Yet Ott and Cha remained unchanged. The old shaman thought of these things as he stared at Cha standing before him.
“Ahru, can you show me the way to ask the spirits for a child?” Cha repeated.
“We shall ask them together,” the shaman responded. “On the next night when the moon is largest, go to the rock covering the resting place of Malan and bring the tools to make images of spirits.” The old shaman closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun.
29
Five nights later, with the moon full overhead, Cha rose from the feast fire and made her way to the rock of Malan. The torch trailed black smoke and flickered shadows off the walls as she rounded the last curve and stood facing the rock. Her eyes widened at what danced in the shadows before her.
Looming above her at almost twice her height stood a figure, half man and half animal. She was as familiar as anyone with the ceremonial costumes created by Ahru, but this one she had never seen. The bison head appeared almost alive and included full, curved horns. Its raised black hump covered the back, and strips of fur-covered hide trailed from the neck and hump and dangled around his legs. They trailed on the cave floor as he paced small steps back and forth.
Cha understood at once. Of all the animals known to the clan, the bison was the most plentiful. Each season thousands of calves were born in the vast grasslands surrounding the valley and forests. Due to the sheer numbers of the bison herds, it was easily understood that the bull bison was the most virile of all the animals known to the clan. The intent was to invoke the spirit of the bull bison to ask for a child.
From the ceiling of the isolated chamber, a vertical cone of limestone extended to just a few inches above the floor. The man-bison swayed and motioned toward it with an arm extended from beneath the hide strips. Cha moved to the face of the cone and laid her bag of tools at the base. The huge bison head bobbed up and down as Cha began. Within moments she outlined the image of the man-bison in black charcoal and then shaded it with black pigment. When finished, she turned and stood motionless. The bison head moved closer, and arms rose from beneath the hide strips. Hands extended and loosened the tie of Cha’s wrap and pushed it back from her body until it fell at her feet. The man-bison stroked at her naked hips and pubic area, and then again motioned her toward the cone and the image she had just finished.
Cha understood and reached for her tools. She outlined the image of her naked torso alongside the image of the man-bison. She added a pubic triangle, carefully shading it with black pigment. Finally, using a small flint blade, she incised a vulva slit. When finished, the naked torso and man-bison images seemed to meld into one.
Cha stared at her creation for several minutes and then turned toward the torches. The man-bison was gone, and the only movement was the flickering shadows from the flames.
Slowly, she made her way through the cave and back to the hearth. When she arrived, Ott was sitting naked on the hides covering their sleeping area. With a quiet stare, he motioned her to sit by his side. In the far corner, the man-bison head and hides lay in a pile where he had removed and dropped them.
But Cha bore no child.
30
Ott sat in his usual spot by what remained of the entrance fire. He sipped at broth laced with chunks of meat and roots as the morning sun burned through the light mist with the promise of a warm day.
Moments later, a tall figure emerged from the cave carrying a bow. It was Graf. He approached Ott without speaking. Words were exchanged only when needed, and they were usually accompanied with hand gestures. Ott sipped at his broth as Graf positioned himself on the rock beside him. From a flap in his tunic, Graf retrieved a bowl and dipped into the warm broth.
As the glowing embers faded to ash, Ahru shuffled from the cave entrance. The old man moved slowly with shoulders stooped forward. His right arm hung at a crooked angle by his side. The men watched as he made his way to his sitting place. They both knew his time for the spirits was near. Within two cycles of the moon, his entire being and vitality had faded. No longer did he dance or lead the chants at the regular rituals. Others he had chosen and trained performed those tasks as he sat quietly. When he spoke at all, his mouth twisted downward and his words were difficult to understand. Several times he had been found wandering toward the cave entrance well before dawn. All the clan felt sadness in what they knew was happening.
Seated at Ott’s side, the shaman struggled with his good arm to push back the shroud covering his head. It slid to his shoulders, revealing a thick shock of silver-white hair framing his thin, etched brown face. He struggled to speak, but couldn’t form the words. His rheumy eyes darted between the two men as he lapsed into silence. Then he reached toward the bow resting across Ott’s knees and, with a finger crooked with age, stroked at the red dots emblazoned on it. He raised his eyes to Ott’s, silently questioning what he had never understood. Ott stroked the old man’s brown hand. He had no answer.
With his stare locked on Ott, he nodded and struggled to stand. Graf stood and helped him to his feet. For a brief moment, Ahru remained staring at Ott, then he turned and lifted his good arm, signaling to Graf that he would make his own way back into the cave. The men watched as he shuffled to the cave entrance and was met by those who would attempt to assume his role. No longer would Ahru guide the spiritual needs of his people.
In the dark silence later that night, Ahru rose from his hearth and made his way deep into the interior of the cave. The following day his body was found resting against the boulder that guarded Malan’s burial chamber in the hall of the animal spirits. Ott ordered the boulder removed, and that night Ahru was buried next to his leader of so many seasons. The boulder was repositioned, and the seasons passed.
31
With Ott as his mentor, Graf had grown to manhood and established himself in the hierarchy of the clan. He desired a permanent mate now that he was comfortable with his responsibilities and status. This night at the feast marking the cycle of the moon, he had decided to ask a young woman named Yaan to join him at his hearth.
Fires crackled in a large semicircle ringing the open expanse at the front of the cave. Centered closer to the entrance, a huge cookin
g pit glowed orange and white from a thick layer of hot charcoal. In the pit, large, flat stones extended from end to end. Atop the stones, meats cooked and smoke wisped into the night air from the fat and juices sizzling in the embers. Wild sweet potatoes, fresh tubers, and roots roasted among hot rocks encircling the pit. The thick aroma of roasting meat wafted up into the clear night sky that radiated with the light of a full moon.
At the far-right side of the pit Ott, Cha, Graf, and Nin the medicine woman sat on hides, basking in the warmth of the glowing embers. At the opposite end of the pit, three shamans sat cross-legged, one tweeting on a long bone flute while the others thumped on drums fashioned from hollowed logs covered with stretched hides.
The calm was pervasive as Graf let his gaze wander to a fire at the far side of the perimeter, where Yaan sat with her father and older brother. Tall and lithe, she sat cross-legged, her head held high. Her black hair was pulled back off her face, tied at the nape of her neck, and hung braided to her waist. Two white feathers dangled from the tip of the braid, signifying she had yet to accept a mate.
Graf watched as the fire’s glow flickered shadows over Yaan’s face. At the same moment she turned and looked into his eyes. Graf rose and walked toward the seated threesome. As he neared their fire, the two men rose in greeting, but Yaan remained seated as was custom. Graf had known Yaan’s father and brother for as long as he could remember. Both were skilled flint nappers and were highly regarded by the entire clan. Indeed, most of Graf’s numerous tools and weapons were created with tips and blades fashioned by the father-and-son team. He appreciated their skills and, having hunted with them, respected their contributions to the success of the clan. The admiration was mutual, for Graf was held in no less regard than Ott.
Graf greeted the men with a slight nod and extended his right hand with the palm facing down. The greeting was repeated in kind by the craftsmen, while Yaan averted her eyes and remained silent. Everyone knew Graf’s intent. He would not have left his place beside Ott and Cha for any other reason.
Activity and sounds quieted as all eyes turned toward Graf. It was a well-established custom to ask for a mate at a ceremonial feast. The woman could refuse and remain at her family’s hearth until someone she felt more suitable made an offer. The decision was hers and hers alone. The drums and flutes fell silent, and only the crackling of the fires danced in the air as Graf signed and spoke his intention.
Yaan’s mother had died giving birth to her. If she were alive, Graf would have first made his intentions known to her and asked her for approval to take her only daughter, but with her gone the process defaulted to Yaan’s father. Even with his approval, custom held that the woman had the right to refuse.
When Graf finished, Yaan’s father nodded his approval and swept his arm to where Yaan sat. It was her choice. Graf stepped closer and extended his hand close to her face. She looked up into his eyes, took his hand, and rose to stand at his side. Laughter and cheering swept over the entire gathering and the drums and flutes started again. Graf and Yaan made their way to the communal fire and seated themselves while Ott and Cha looked on approvingly, and the chants and dances continued into the night. Finally, with the moon on the decline, Yaan accompanied Graf to his hearth as his mate.
32
Several months later, on a warm sun-washed morning, Graf and Yaan made their way across the high, arched bridge that extended from a point to the left of the cave entrance. The bridge was a natural formation that led to a flat plateau above the valley on the opposite side. Far below, the river snaked along the valley floor like a shimmering silver ribbon. Midway across, they stopped and scanned the vista. The view was spectacular in all directions. The valley walls on both sides of the arch sloped downward to the river below and were covered with thick, low shrubs and brush of deep green that matched the forest beyond. Above, the sky stretched horizon to horizon, a deep, brazen blue spotted with silver-white clouds.
In addition to the bows and quivers slung over their backs, Graf and Yaan carried special tools made for this hunt. The spears were longer and more slender than regular hurling spears and tipped with long stone points. Crafted by Yaan’s father, the blades were carefully knapped to include a barbed protrusion on each edge to the rear of the point. The spears were designed to catch fish, and the barbs made it impossible for a fish to pull free once impaled. Since the spears were normally jabbed at motionless or slow-swimming fish in shallow water, the added length provided greater reach.
Graf was skilled with the fishing spear and had perfected a technique that rarely failed to produce an impressive catch. The journey to the high plateau would lead to a body of water that Graf knew to be bountiful. It was there he would show Yaan how to use the fishing spear.
Like many of the women of the clan, Yaan had possessed a bow from the time she was large enough to use one. As she had grown, her father had increased the size of her bows. Her skill had increased until she was as good as the best of the women, but since becoming Graf’s mate, she could shoot and hunt as well as most of the men. Now he would teach her the way of the fishing spear.
They hiked up and across the bridge formation to the plateau, which angled up to a vast, open area of low, rolling green hills. The terrain was covered with lush, ankle-high grass with some areas of low shrubs and the occasional ancient tree towering with outstretched limbs and a thick canopy of elongated green leaves. With Yaan at his side, Graf led the way across the open expanse toward the undulating hills beyond. Unlike the lush forest and thick savannahs below, the high plateau was eerily silent and still. Because of the openness, the distance to the hills was deceptive, and by the time they had reached the first incline, the sun had climbed high overhead and the day was bright and warm. Like the distance, the size of the hills was deceiving. They loomed high and rolled to the horizon. Graf and Yaan rested for a while before starting the upward trek.
Stooping forward and using their spears for support, they climbed to a point a few feet below the crest of the hill, where Graf stopped and announced that on the other side was their destination.
Moments later, standing on the crest of the hill, they gazed out at another flat, vast plain that extended for several miles to the next ridge of hills that paralleled the one where they stood. Like the plain they had just crossed, this one was splattered with shrubs and the occasional towering tree, but it had one feature unlike anything Yaan had ever seen. The opposite side of the hill sloped downward at a long, soft angle that rolled gently onto the plain, and to the edge of a vast, kidney-shaped lake that glimmered with white ripples reflecting the brilliant sunshine and stirred by a stuttering breeze.
Graf led the way down the slope toward the nearest rim of the lake. In the distance, a small herd of horses grazed on the lush grass, and beyond Yaan spotted several black bison grazing with their huge heads lowered to the plain. As they made their way lower, Yaan detected a whooshing sound and felt moisture in the air. The sound and dampness increased as they continued to the bottom, where the base of the hill curved sharply to the right and to an area obscured from view. As they rounded the curve, the sound swelled to the roar of cascading water.
Yaan stared in awe as mist from the magnificent waterfall filled the air. Water thundered and curled over the rim of the lake, spewing down over a hundred feet to a huge, circular, rock-rimmed pool below. The water from the deep pool gushed over its far side and frothed white in a torrent that churned lower and disappeared into a long curve that eventually fed into the river that ran below the bridge formation and the cave.
Moving closer to the edge, Yaan stared at the precipitous drop as the whitewater of the falls roared over and down to the rock-sided pool far below. It was both magnificent and frightening. Mesmerized by the roar of the water and the drop to the pool, Yaan teetered with a tinge of vertigo and rocked on her heels. At that instant Graf grasped her upper arms from behind and pulled her back and around, facing the plateau and the vista of the lake. Together they walked up the narrow fi
nger of land between the bottom of the hill and the thundering falls, and made their way to the plain.
They moved up and out of the narrow stretch toward the open expanse and the rim of the lake. As they neared, Yaan noticed S-shaped ripples appearing, moving a few feet, and then quickly disappearing. In certain areas the ripples would churn the surface and then fade away from the edge. Graf led on to a spot where several flat-topped rocks poked above the surface and snaked out into the lake to about fifty yards. The rocks formed a natural walkway, and the depth of the water surrounding them was little more than three to six feet deep.
Watching the water, Graf and Yaan walked out along the edge of the rocks. Suddenly Graf froze, and with raised hand signaled Yaan to do the same. They both stood motionless, their eyes locked on the water below. With minimal movement, Graf slid his right hand toward the rear of his spear while raising his arm above and behind his head to thrusting position. Yaan darted her eyes over the water and spotted several fish hanging just below the surface, fanning the still water with their lateral fins. Graf remained poised, and Yaan wondered why he didn’t plunge his spear at the closest fish.
Then she noticed what Graf was watching: the edge of the rock face seemed to be moving ever so slightly. Then a large protrusion jutted out from the rock and waved back and forth in the calm water. Yaan realized at once that a very large fish was resting partially wedged in an open area between the bottom and a ledge extending off the lower portion of the rock.
The couple remained still and quiet. As they watched, a huge, barrel-shaped head moved out from the hidden area, followed by a body covered in brown scales tinted phosphorescent green at the edges. Now fully exposed, the fish extended to a length of more than five feet. It was as thick as a human torso and tapered to a tail with two large, pointed tail fins. Bulbous black eyes sat high on its head, and long, whisker-like tentacles wriggled outward above a wide, gaping mouth that covered the entire front of the head.
The Way of the Seed_Earth Spawn of Kalpeon Page 9