He moved silently, slowly, trying to get as close as possible. Even if Ram could not catch one of the animals, he might be able to drive them into the spears of the waiting hunters. Tao knew it would have to be done at just the right moment.
The wolf dog was ready to spring, and the boy could feel the tension in his body. In the middle of the wood the deer were still browsing quietly. The hunters moved like leopard cats, slowly closing the circle.
At that moment Tao saw a full-grown doe near the edge of the herd. Tall and chestnut-brown, she was the leader of the herd, and her black liquid eyes were alert, searching for danger. Ram could easily reach her within a few strides. But Tao waited. It was still too soon. “Stay,” he whispered.
The wolf dog’s body trembled under Tao’s hold as Ram strained to pull away. Still Tao waited.
Then he saw the big doe flinch. Her head came up and she sniffed the air. If she stamped and gave the alarm, the entire herd would disappear like the wind. He saw her body stiffen as she sensed danger, and Tao could wait no longer. With a quick nudge he pushed Ram ahead. “Now,” he whispered. “Go.”
The wolf dog dashed out, running straight for the deer. With great bounding leaps, he raced between the spruce trees and passed through the ring of hunters, closing on his prey.
The doe stamped and turned quickly, springing into the air. With a single leap she spun around. For a flickering moment both animals were blurred into one and Tao was sure the wolf dog had made his kill. But when he looked again, he saw the big doe bounding away in the opposite direction. Quickly Ram swerved to cut her off. It was too late. The deer was already strides ahead of him.
Tao groaned as he saw the rest of the herd scatter and all of the deer escape through the ring of hunters. In his excitement he had let Ram go too quickly. He heard the hunters grumbling and cursing, staring after the fleeing deer.
Tao stood at the edge of the spruce wood, a sinking feeling in his heart as he saw Ram come loping through the trees. Then he saw Garth jump out of the underbrush directly in the wolf dog’s path, threatening him with his spear.
Ram crouched on the forest floor, his slitted eyes staring up at the leader, the hair along his back bristling.
“Ghost of evil,” roared Volt, stalking up behind Garth. “Scourge of demons. I will cut out your black heart!”
Tao knew neither Volt nor Garth had seen him yet, and for one awful moment he waited in the shadows. Then he saw Volt raise his arm. With all his strength he hurled the spear straight at the crouching animal.
But Tao was already vaulting through the air, throwing himself between Ram and the flying spear. His hand struck the wooden shaft of the weapon, knocking it to the ground.
Volt spun around. He looked at Tao, then at the wolf dog, then back at Tao again, a puzzled expression on his face. Then slowly Volt began to understand, and a burning fury filled his dark eyes. “Pah!” he cried, almost spitting out the word. “So this is how you hunt alone? You and this evil beast are one.”
“No,” said Tao, trying to explain. “The wolf dog is not bad. He is no evil demon. He is a good hunter... he ... he has helped me bring much game to the clan people.”
The big man scowled darkly, shaking his woolly head. “No,” he sneered. “This beast is the soul of a devil and you call him friend.” He reached up and rubbed the scars on his cheek with the back of his hand. “This demon and his kind have haunted me all my life, and I will kill every last one of them.”
Garth stepped toward Tao, frowning, but Volt had already turned toward the woods. “Come,” he shouted to the hunters. “Help me kill this evil spirit and rid me of this curse.”
As Volt and Garth watched over the wolf dog, Tao crept into the nearby spruce trees.
Tao heard the hunters coming. He knew there was no use in pleading for Ram’s life. Volt would not listen, the hunters would not care. Suddenly he jumped away, shouting, “Come, Ram. Come!” The wolf dog sprang between the waiting men, racing after Tao, down through the spruce wood and out across the open meadow. Tao did not look back, but he could hear the cries and shouts as the angry men followed.
Dodging, turning, lurching through the tall grass, boy and wolf barely managed to keep ahead of their pursuers. Slipping through the birch stands, plunging through the high swamp grass, they raced for the Slough.
Halfway there Tao saw some of the hunters running to cut him off. His heart sank. That route of escape was blocked. He would have to head for the river.
Quickly he changed direction, leaping over the winding brooks. The bushes and trees became a blur of green, the ground sped away beneath him. He ran through the edge of the oak forest, vaulting along on his spear. His arms grew tired. If only he could stop to hide, to rest and take a quiet breath.
Then he caught a whiff of smoke. He looked back and saw tongues of yellow flame licking up into the sky. The hunters had started a grass fire to keep him from doubling back.
He ran straight ahead and reached the river, stopping under the branches of a giant willow tree. Here he looked around, breathing heavily. The river was an invisible wall. On the far side was the land of the Mountain People. For moments he paced the muddy bank with Ram, trying to make up his mind.
Then he heard the shouts of the hunters. They were racing ahead of the fire, getting closer. On the other side of the river the wolf dog would be safe. The hunters would not follow. He looked down at Ram. “You must go across the river,” he said. “Stay there until I call.”
Ram looked up, whining.
Tao pointed to the other shore. “Go,” he said, pushing the wolf dog into the water. Once, twice, Ram turned back, but Tao kept pushing him into the water. “Go,” he said sternly. “Go now.” He threw stones and sticks, chasing the wolf dog further and further out into the river.
Soon Ram was swimming. Tao saw his head bobbing on the water as the current carried him downstream. He watched as the wolf dog pulled himself up on the opposite shore and shook himself off. He saw him look back once or twice, then disappear into the trees.
A moment later the hunters came crashing through the underbrush.
FOURTEEN
When he heard the hunters coming through the woods, Tao jumped behind the big willow tree. He looked around quickly. There was no place else to hide. He was breathing hard and he was too tired to start running again. Then he glanced up into the branches of the willow, with its thick canopy of new green leaves.
With a wild throw he hurled his spear into a thicket of thornbushes, then started up the tree. The massive trunk was growing at a rakish angle and he had little trouble climbing up through the branches. High above the ground, he stretched himself out on a heavy limb, the way he had seen the leopard cats do. He peered down through the curtain of leaves, scarcely daring to breathe.
The smell of smoke still hung in the air, but as he looked back across the valley he saw that the fire had nearly burned itself out.
He had barely settled himself on his rough perch when the hunters came swarming around the foot of the tree. They grunted and shouted and pointed toward the river. They searched around the clumps of thornbushes and followed the footprints up and down the riverbank.
A moment later Tao saw Volt come into the clearing. The big leader soon found the spear in the thicket. He held it up and showed it to the hunters. Tao was certain they must know he was not far away.
He watched as Garth came up and went with Volt down by the river. He could hear them talking and wading through the shallow water, studying the tracks of the wolf dog on the bank.
The big leader walked back under the willow tree. He stood there looking around, grunting and shaking the spear as Garth and the other hunters searched the bank. Then, slowly, he glanced up into the branches of the willow. Tao held his breath. He pressed his body against the rough bark and felt it dig into his arms and legs. Cautiously he peered down through the screen of branches and leaves. Volt was still directly below. The big man walked around the tree. He kept looking up, scann
ing the branches. Then he stopped and looked straight at Tao. For one brief moment their eyes met. The boy was sure he had been discovered. He waited silently, his heart pounding, as he dug his fingers into the gray bark.
Volt continued to walk beneath the tree, his eyes searching from branch to branch. With a wave of relief Tao saw him turn away and go down to the river, where he joined the other hunters. There Volt held up the boy’s spear and shook it over his head again. “The fools have crossed the river,” he shouted.
Garth grunted. “Let the Mountain People find them.”
The hunters mumbled to each other and nodded in agreement.
Volt shook his fist. “Come,” he said, pointing his spear toward camp. “Let us go back.”
Tao stayed up on his hidden perch. He was sure Volt must have seen him. Calling off the hunters might only be a trick to get him down. He waited grimly for darkness. Then he climbed to the ground, cramped from his long watch. Bone tired, he spent the night huddled in the shadows of the riverbank, thinking about Ram. In a few days, if the hunters did not return, he would call the wolf dog back.
The next morning, still tired and hungry, Tao fished for minnows in the pools and eddies along the riverbank. He had only caught a few when he heard an eerie drawn-out howl come from across the water. It was a long, mournful whooo-woo-woo-woo and it drifted over on the misty morning air. It came again and again, echoing through the dank woodlands. The boy listened for a few moments, wondering. He heard it again, louder this time.
Suddenly his body stiffened. It was the howl of a wolf.
Tao walked up and down along the riverbank, looking toward the far side, where the mountain sloped down to the water and the hemlock and spruce trees crowded the shore. Again he listened and again he heard the sad, lonely cry. Without waiting longer, he pulled off his deerskin boots, tucked them under his belt and plunged into the river. He swam steadily, his dark head bobbing above the cold water. The swift current carried him downstream as he made for the opposite shore. When he got close to the bank, he reached out and grabbed an overhanging hemlock branch and pulled himself out of the water. Stepping onto the dry land, he sat down and shoved his feet into the wet boots. He found a broken tree limb and, using it as a crutch, he vaulted up through the woods.
The howling continued, coming from somewhere on the distant hillside. Tao made his way up through the spruce forest, hobbling over the stones and roots, guided by the wailing howl. Desperately he pushed through the tangle of undergrowth. All he could think of was Ram.
He saw fresh tracks going up the steep slope, and he knew men had been this way only a short time before.
He plunged through a low stand of hemlocks, ducking under the branches, tripping on the creepers. The howling cries were closer now. Suddenly he crashed through a thicket of junipers and stepped into a clearing. There was Ram, lying on the ground, alone, his legs lashed to a pole with leather thongs. When he saw the boy, the wolf dog whined and struggled to get free.
Tao’s anger flared. He ran up to the wolf dog and put his hand on the animal’s shoulder. “Hold still,” he whispered as he drew his flint knife and began to cut the bindings. Ram squirmed. Tao was almost finished when a heavy voice called out, “Let the wolf dog be.”
The boy whirled around to see a large, red-bearded man dressed in a bearskin robe step out of the bushes. The big man glared at him. He held a spear, pointing it at Tao. The boy heard the sound of footsteps and snapping twigs. A moment later, nine more hunters came out of the underbrush. They were dressed in sheepskin tunics, and all of them carried spears. Tao saw the anger in their eyes. “Who are you?” asked the red-haired leader. He spoke a language almost like Tao’s own.
“I am Tao of the Valley People.”
The man grunted. He understood. “We have watched you across the river with your wolf dog. Now you hunt on our land.”
“No,” said Tao. “I came only to get Ram. I do not want your game.”
The big leader shook his head, his eyes flashing defiance. “The wolf dog stays,” he said. “He belongs to us now.”
Tao’s fist tightened around his flint knife and he stepped forward. Two of the hunters grabbed him by the arms and held him back. The others tied Ram’s mouth with fibers and thongs, then lifted him up on the long pole. The wolf dog squirmed and struggled, froth dripping from his mouth as he tried to get free.
Tao twisted and tried to pull away. Anger surged through him as he saw the hunters carry Ram into the forest. “Let the wolf dog go,” he said harshly. “He has done you no harm. I will leave your land. I will never return.”
Once again the man shook his head.
“Then give me the wolf dog,” said Tao. “I will hunt with him ... here ... and bring you much food.”
The big leader glanced at the hunters, looking from one to another. They shook their heads. But one said, “Maybe the boy speaks wisely. It will be a help to have a wolf dog again.”
The leader grunted. “Come,” he said, “bring the boy. We will ask the shaman.”
Tao turned quickly. “You have the shaman?”
“Yes,” said the leader. “He rests in our camp.”
“Graybeard?”
The big man nodded as he strode ahead. “He is sick.”
Tao followed the hunters up through the pine forest to the camp of the Mountain People, where a circle of skin huts was set up at the foot of the high ledge. Three women were busy skinning an ibex while children played with stones near a woodpile. They stopped and looked up, their dark eyes full of curiosity, as Tao limped into the clearing.
The red-bearded leader took him over to one of the huts, where he reached down and opened the skin flap. “Here,” he said. “The shaman sleeps. He does not eat and he grows thin.”
In the dim light Tao saw Graybeard lying on a bed of dried grass and skins. The old man lifted his head slowly, his sunken eyes blinking from the light. A spasm of coughs racked his body as he crawled out of the hut.
Tao was shocked. He had never seen the old man so thin and feeble.
“Ah,” said Graybeard, his voice weak. “The Mountain People have brought you? They say I am dying.”
The boy shook his head. He looked up at the red-bearded leader, unwilling to believe what he had heard. “It cannot be.” Tao knelt. “Graybeard, with rest you will be well again.”
“Perhaps,” said Graybeard, “but first you must help me get back to the land of your people.”
Tao shook his head again. “I cannot go back.”
“Why?”
The leader looked down. “Tell the shaman.”
Tao looked uneasily at the man, then began. He told Graybeard how he had sent Ram across the river to escape Volt and the clan hunters and how the Mountain People had captured him.
The big leader nodded. “Now he will stay with us and hunt with the wolf dog.”
“No,” said Graybeard. “He cannot stay.”
The leader scowled and went away.
“Do not worry,” said Graybeard to Tao. “I will tell them to let the wolf dog go.”
“But if I take Ram back to the valley, my people will kill him.”
Graybeard held up a hand. “If you trust me and do as I say, there will be no danger.”
Tao frowned. “I do not understand.”
The old man smiled weakly. “The longhorns have come back onto the high plains. Tomorrow is the day of the hunt. Tonight we will paint images of the great bulls on the walls of the Secret Cavern.”
Tao was stunned. “But I am not a Chosen One. The elders will not accept me.”
“I have trained you,” said Graybeard, breathing heavily. “And I will give the word so that the clan people will know. You will make the spirits of the longhorns live in the Secret Cavern.”
“But you are still the Cave Painter.”
“No, Tao, I can no longer lift my arms or hold a brush.”
“Then you must rest and get well and you will paint again.”
The old man ben
t over, coughing badly. “There is no time. Even now the herds are on the high plains. The hunters are waiting.”
“There are others.”
“None as good as you. Your images are true and will please the spirits.”
Tao shook his head. “It is a long journey.”
“I can walk slowly.”
“You are like an old boar,” said the boy. “You will not give up.”
“If you will not do this for me, I will try to do it myself.”
Tao sighed and threw up his hands. “Then we must start now.”
Graybeard spoke with the leader of the Mountain People again. They released Ram, and Tao was glad to see him safe and unharmed.
Still in a daze, with the sun still high in the sky, Tao helped the old man down through the spruce forest. They moved slowly, with Ram running on ahead, leading the way.
They came to the river, where Tao built a platform of willow branches and tied them together with vines. Graybeard sat crosslegged on the makeshift raft and the boy pushed it out into the stream. It bobbed and tossed on the current, sending up showers of cold water, drenching the old man. Tao winced as he saw Graybeard shivering with cold.
When they reached the far shore, the boy wanted to stop and build a fire, to let the old man rest and dry off.
But Graybeard shook his head, dragging himself along, his teeth chattering. “We must get there before dark,” he said.
As Tao helped the old man along, his mind was filled with fear and doubt. All he knew now was that somehow, tonight, he would become a cave painter.
FIFTEEN
They walked slowly across the valley, with Graybeard leaning on Tao’s shoulder, until they reached the foot of the limestone cliffs. Here Graybeard told Tao what to do. “Listen carefully,” he said, “and do as I say.”
Tao stood quietly, waiting for the old man to catch his breath. He could not believe this was really happening.
“Go up to the top of the cliffs, above the camp, and wait,” said Graybeard. “As soon as darkness comes, climb down the narrow path to the entrance of Big Cave.”
The Boy of the Painted Cave Page 8