To his relief the land soon began to level out, and at the top of the next hill he stopped to take a last look at the high mountains behind him. He would miss living among the peaks. They were his home, far more than any village, and he was not sure he could stay away for too long. One day, when he had explored all the lands he wished to see, he promised himself, he would come back and live there again.
Turning resolutely, he walked on, nibbling at berries when he found them and drinking water from the cold, clear streams. It was a good life, to wander in this way.
All that day and for many more days, Lief walked hard, stopping only to find food and to sleep, and even before the end of the moon’s next cycle, he noticed that the land around him had begun to change. The trees were large and leafy, very different from the tall straight pines of northern lands, and the hills were gentle and brilliantly green. As he went on, trees began to disappear, replaced by low bushes of gorse or some other plant he could not name. The sky was bluer, too. Excited, he quickened his pace. Perhaps he was closer than he had thought to the great water.
Birds he had never seen before were flying overhead. They were white and shone in the sunlight, and their flight was quick and graceful. One of them spiraled high into the sky, then tumbled down again behind the curve of the next hill. It must have seen a mouse or some other small creature, Lief thought, and ran up the hill so he could see over the top and discover what it had caught. When he got there he gasped in wonder. There were no animals where the bird had landed. In fact, it could not have landed at all. Where it had come down there was only water - water that seemed to push itself up and down as if compelled into endless motion by some unknown force. The bird sat complacently atop the sparkling water, as if this moving surface was as familiar to it as the solid ground.
Lief’s eyes traveled further, following the water all the way to the sky, where it merged and blended so that there was no way of telling where one stopped and the other began. Tears pricked behind his lids at the wonder of it. Finally, he had come to the great water, and it was more beautiful than he had ever imagined. Here, near the land, the water was a hazy green, but as it stretched away it became deep blue and purple, and then a hard gray-blue that softened until it melted into the sky. No islands interrupted the glittering surface as others had said they did, but perhaps he would see them as he traveled along its edges.
Lief stared for a long time; then he ran again, down and down, until the great water was lapping at his feet. Removing his shoes, he waded in. The water felt warm, with none of the icy chill of the mountain lakes. He swished about, peering curiously at all the small creatures below the surface, seeing how they, like the bird, went back and forth with its motion. Could he do that as well?
Pulling off his clothes, he went deeper. For a long time he could touch the bottom and he kept going until only his head was above the water. As it moved, some came into his mouth, and he was surprised to note that it had a salty taste. Then, suddenly, it rose up in front of him in a great crest. Taking hold of his body, it flung him first up, then down, then plunged him under its surface so he could not see at all. Water was in his ears, his eyes, had gone down his throat, making him gasp and cough. Lief floundered, unable to right himself; then his feet found the bottom again and he staggered back to shore, a little frightened by the unknown force that had tossed him effortlessly about, but also elated. That had been an astonishing ride. When he understood the water better, he would try it again.
He rubbed his skin. It felt clean, smooth. He splashed himself all over, glorying in the sensation of cleanness and coolness after his long journey. Then he picked up his clothes and dunked them up and down. They were as soiled as he was. When all the dirt and sweat had been rinsed away, he laid the clothes out on a rock in the sun, sank down onto the pale grainy surface beside the water and fell asleep.
He awoke many hours later, stretched luxuriously in the sunlight, and went back to the water to see if any of the small creatures at its edges could be eaten. He found a crab, which was not very satisfying since there was little meat inside its hard covering, but then he spotted some large shells. He had seen them before, brought by the Mother People as gifts for the villagers with whom they traded. What he did not know was whether there might be food inside them. It seemed a shame to destroy such a beautiful object to find out but he was hungry, so he smashed one open. The big snail-like creature inside was delicious when he roasted it over the fire. He gathered a few more to eat later and went on his way, wondering how the Mother People managed to get the meat out without destroying the shell.
For days, he followed the shoreline, over hills and cliffs, along beaches, all the while observing the water. He noticed how it rose and retreated at regular intervals, so that in the morning the whole shoreline might be revealed while by afternoon only a thin ribbon of sand remained. He did not know why this was so but suspected that it was connected the unknown force that had tossed him about so roughly. He went back into the water many times, and soon learned to move with the surges instead of being overturned by them, although sometimes he still lost his balance. Then he emerged sputtering as he had before, but now he laughed with pleasure.
He watched the many creatures that lived along the shoreline or in the water with equal fascination. Birds seemed to know when the beaches would be exposed to their probing beaks and gathered in huge flocks to feed on the tiny snails and crabs that had burrowed into the wet sand. Lief found food there, too, and also in the water. He learned to use a piece of wood to hold him up as he floated, watching the swimmers below. There were fish of all sizes, some large enough to send him racing back toward the shore lest they mistake him for food, others that were just right for him to eat. These he caught with a closely woven net he had made from reeds. When he dragged it thorough the water, fish and crabs and other creatures he did not know were caught in its web. One especially intrigued him. It had a huge soft body with large eyes and many long legs that writhed constantly in search of prey. He did not try to eat this one, suspecting that it would not taste very good or even harm him, but tossed it back into the water along with various other creatures that did not look edible, and watched with interest as they squirmed or swam or wriggled away, according to their habits. The fish he kept, to roast over his fire.
Lief wandered on, content. There was much to be discovered in this place, and he had no wish to hurry. Still, he watched always for the islands in the water. He had the odd feeling that they would hold something important for him if he found them. Many times he dismissed the fanciful thought, but always it returned. And then, early one morning when the mists were still rising, he saw the islands. They rose up from the water, as unexpected and ethereal as dreams in the swirling fog. Some were hardly more than bits of sand and rock sticking up just above the surface, others were much larger. Trees and bushes grew on them, and one or two even had mountains, small ones, but mountains all the same. One island was especially large, and he saw smoke curling up from its interior.
Excitement gripped him. This must be the island where the Mother People came for their ceremonies. It was a beautiful place, and he could see why they had chosen it. On one side the land sloped gently through pale sand to the water; the other side had rugged dark cliffs that soared into the sky. Huge birds wheeled and screamed around them. To see water and rocks together like this was magnificent.
Another sight distracted him. A long ribbon of sand stretched out to the island and at the end of the spit a raft of logs tied together bobbed up and down. Lief let out a low whistle of admiration. So that was how the Mother People got across the water! He saw another contrivance nearby, a huge log that had been hollowed out inside. This one was propelled by two broader poles, one on either side. It would not carry so many people but it might go faster. He must look at both of these rafts more carefully later, so he could make one for himself. Perhaps one day they would take him across the cold mountains lakes.
And then, as he came around a bend i
n the shoreline, he saw the Mother People themselves, wending their way across the sand. For an instant his heart seemed to stop, as it sometimes did when he saw an especially beautiful creature or a vista so magnificent that it took his breath away, and he wondered what it was about the Mother People that seemed so fine to him. Perhaps, he thought, it was because they walked so proudly, with such firm and purposeful steps, or perhaps it was their reverence for this Goddess of theirs that gave them a look of power.
The sensation passed, and he saw them again as ordinary people, milling about, talking to each other and greeting friends as they walked toward the spit of sand. When they reached the raft, some people climbed onto it, balancing carefully as the logs rolled in rhythm with the moving water. One man stood at the side holding a long pole, the others sat while he propelled the craft slowly away from the sand toward the island. Others climbed into the second craft; it slid easily through the water as men pulled at the poles at either side.
Lief relaxed and sat down on a convenient rock to watch. He must have arrived at the right time for the winter ceremony, and he was pleased. Still, he would take his time before approaching the group. Years of traveling alone had taught him caution. Even Mother People might not want strangers coming to their ceremonies. Worse, they might want him to take part, and this he had no desire to do. He was always eager to watch, but he did not want to join. Besides, he was not as good at talking to others as he was at talking to himself, inside his thoughts. Once he knew more of strangers, he felt easier approaching them.
He studied the people curiously. They had formed a long line now that snaked across the sand as they waited for their turn on the boats. There were old people, often with a young girl or boy in attendance to help them if that was needed, babes still in their mothers’ arms, young boys throwing stones into the water to hear the splashes, as boys did in mountain lakes, and girls skipping from one small rock to the next. He could hear them calling, shouting in delight, their voices high and clear. The men and the women without infants came behind, carrying bundles of possessions and joking with each other while they watched for stragglers or a child who needed a restraining or a helping hand.
One young woman especially fascinated Lief. At one moment she seemed to move with the uncertainty of a girl not yet sure of her place, the next moment with the authority of a woman of some importance. He felt sadness in her, more sadness than such a young woman should have. She will be important to me, Lief thought, and rubbed his forehead in confusion. Why should he think that?
He looked away from her and began to watch the others again, preferring to ponder on what he could understand, not what was only in his mind. His eyes came back to the woman anyway, and he wondered why. Usually, he was attracted to big lusty women who knew their bodies well and were prepared to share them with a passing stranger. This one was small and slender, too young to have experience. To take advantage of such a young woman had always seemed wrong to Lief. Girls on the cusp of becoming a woman did not yet know what was right for them and should be given time to mature before a stranger approached them.
Still, he was attracted to this one. Perhaps it was her hair. It was the color of the sunset as it began, and it shone in the bright sunlight. He had always favored hair of that red-gold hue.
Lief tore his eyes away, impatient with his thoughts. There was no doubt that this woman aroused feelings in him, but they were quite different than anything he had felt before and he was not sure he wanted to deal with them. He would find out who she was, then he would decide if he wished to meet her.
He waited until almost all the Mother People had arrived before he left his perch on the rock and joined them. To his relief, they welcomed him with great friendliness and seemed eager to answer his questions. The woman with the long red-gold hair was called Zena, they told him, and she would one day be the leader of the Mother People, the one who conducted their ceremonies and spoke for the Goddess, as her mother had been before her, and her mother before that. She would not do it this year, they explained, but when she was older and had recovered a little from the grief of losing her twin sister, who had been like a part of herself.
That explained her sadness, Lief realized, and the fact that she would one day be the leader of her people explained the air of authority that sat so uneasily on her young shoulders. He watched her with even greater interest after that, but he still made no effort to meet her. He was as puzzled by his reticence as he was by his continuing interest. Normally, he was not shy with women. He told himself that it was because he had never before known a woman with such a serious purpose in life, but he did not think that was right.
Late the next day, the ceremonies began. Lief watched in fascination as the Mother People gathered in the circle of stones they had created to speak to their Goddess, the Great Mother as they also called her. They seemed so happy, so eager to speak to this Goddess, and he could understand why it was so. She seemed a fine spirit to him, not one who threatened and made rules like the Great Spirit invoked by the new leader, but one who listened with compassion and supported those who worshiped her. Lief was not sure if he believed in any of these spirits, but he still found this one appealing. No one was afraid of her as the northern people were of their spirits, and the ceremonies that honored her were full of dancing and singing and laughter, as well as thanks for the past summer’s riches. The last evening was especially impressive, though it was more serious. His breath caught in his throat as the long line of women and men and children, each carrying a lighted torch, threaded their way through the imposing rocks in the darkness while their wise woman called down the Goddess. It seemed to him that even he could feel the presence of her spirit, and he was comforted.
When the ceremonies were finished the revelry began, as he had hoped. Couples embraced behind sheltering rocks while the children danced and played games and the old ones watched, smiling. Lief found a few partners too, but his heart was not in the encounters. He was irritated with himself, and astonished. Never before had he acted like this. What was the matter with him? All he could see in his mind was the sad woman with the long red hair, and all he could think was that she was important to him in some way he could not imagine. He continued to watch her and to wonder about his feelings, but he still did not try to meet her. It was as if something inside him told him the time was not yet right, that he must watch and wait.
The Mother People began the long journey back to their homes soon after the ceremonies were over. Most lived to the south and west, but some had moved back to the foothills of the mountains. Zena’s tribe was one of these, Lief was told. The knowledge pleased him. Perhaps she loved the mountains as he did. Then he was irritated with himself again. Since he did not even know her, what did that matter?
He watched them go and went on his way, determined to finish his explorations. For another cycle of the moon he followed the coast through verdant countryside where people spoke in a tongue he could not understand, and ventured into villages where the inhabitants lived entirely from the bounty of the sea. After that, he came to deep forests teeming with animals and birds and emerged once more into coastal lands that stretched away to the great water beyond. He studied his surroundings with his usual attention, but even as he watched the movements of a bird or a child, an image of the red-haired woman hovered just before his eyes, and even as he raised his arms to aim his slingshot or bow at an animal when he needed food, thoughts of her interrupted the gesture. Finally, after two more cycles of the moon had passed and she still remained in his mind and heart, Lief gave in. Turning north again, he set off to find her.
CHAPTER THREE
Deep in the bushes where she had hidden, Mara wept in silence. She was glad they had not found her, but it had taken all the courage she possessed not to leap out and pull her crying child against her breast. To watch him disappear had been so much harder than she had imagined. The tears came faster, but Mara choked back the sobs that wanted to come with them, lest she be heard. Not unti
l the small group was out of hearing did she let them emerge. The sobs tore through her body then, wrenching it back and forth in spasms more painful even than birth. When finally it seemed that nothing more was left inside her, she heaved a great sigh and pulled herself out of the bushes. The woman, Zena, had understood the signs. Her baby would live, and that was all that mattered.
Truly, her mother had been right. She had always insisted that the Great Mother, the Goddess, was the only one they should worship, had taught Mara and her sister the symbols, although to do so was dangerous. Before, Mara had not been sure the Goddess existed except in her mother’s mind. Now she knew her mother’s words must be true. Otherwise, how was it possible that Zena had been sent to her? The ones called Zena were special, closer to the Goddess than others, her mother had said, and that Zena herself had come to help was clearly a sign.
Mara straightened her shoulders as she trudged along the path. From this moment on, she resolved, she would believe in the Great Mother. Had She not come to her when she was desperate and found a way for her baby to live? Her son would believe as well. That at least she had been able to give him.
Would she ever see him again? The thought took Mara’s courage away and she pushed it from her. This, too, she would leave to the Goddess. For now, her only task was to return to her mother and her sister, Rofina, and make sure they were all right. She had been away too long already. Anything could have happened.
As the day wore on she moved more and more slowly, forcing herself to take one more step and then another. Blood dripped from her, but she ignored it. Each time she came to a stream she washed herself, but she did not stop long enough to make a pad of soft grasses or even to stuff grasses into her boots to relieve her weary feet. Her body felt too torn, her breasts too sore, to care. Milk kept building up in them; with no baby to suck it away, the pain was becoming almost intolerable.
ICE BURIAL: The Oldest Human Murder Mystery (The Mother People Series Book 3) Page 3
