The Mammoth Hunters ec-3

by Jean M. Auel

  Wymez settled back, nodded to Ayla, then, smiling at Jondalar, he began. "We have more in common than a feel for the stone, young man. I, too, made a long Journey in my youth. I traveled south toward the east first, past Beran Sea, all the way to the shores of a much larger sea farther south. This Southern Sea has many names, for many people live along its shores. I traveled around its eastern end then west along the south shore through lands of many forests, much warmer, and rainier, than here.

  "I won't try to tell you all that happened to me. I will save that for another time. I will tell you Ranec's story. As I traveled west, I met many people and stayed with some of them, and learned new ways, but then I would get restless and travel again. I wanted to see how far west I could go.

  "After several years I came to a place, not far from your Great Waters, I think, Jondalar, but across the narrow straits where the Southern Sea joins it. There, I met some people whose skin was so dark it seemed black, and there I met a woman. A woman I was drawn to. Perhaps at first it was her difference… her exotic clothes, her color, her dark flashing eyes. Her smile compelled… and the way she danced, the way she moved… she was the most exciting woman I ever met."

  Wymez talked in a direct, understated way, but the story was so enthralling it needed no dramatics. Yet, the demeanor of the stocky, quietly reserved man changed perceptibly when he mentioned the woman.

  "When she agreed to join with me, I decided to stay there with her. I always had an interest in working stone, even as a youngster, and I learned their way of making spear points. They chip off both sides of the stone, you understand?" He directed the question to Jondalar.

  "Yes, bifacially, like an axe."

  "But these points were not so thick and crude. They had good technique. I showed them some things, too, and I was quite content to accept their ways, especially after the Mother blessed her with a child, a boy. She asked me for a name, as was their custom. I chose Ranec."

  That explains it, Ayla thought. His mother was dark-skinned.

  "What made you decide to come back?" Jondalar asked.

  "A few years after Ranec was born, difficulties began. The dark-skinned people I was living with had moved there from farther south, and some people from neighboring Camps didn't want to share hunting grounds. There were differences in customs. I almost convinced them to meet and talk about it. Then some young hotheads from both sides decided to fight about it instead. One death led to another for revenge, and then to attacks on home Camps.

  "We set up good defenses, but there were more of them. It went on for some time and they kept killing us off, one after another. After a while, the sight of a person with lighter skin began to cause fear and hatred. Though I was one of them, they started distrusting me, and even Ranec. His skin was lighter than the others, and his features had a different cast. I talked to Ranec's mother, and we decided to leave. It was a sad parting, leaving family and many friends, but it wasn't safe to stay. Some of the hotheads even tried to keep us from going, but with help, we stole away in the night.

  "We traveled north, to the straits. I knew some people lived there who made small boats which they used to cross the open water. We were warned that it was the wrong season, and it was a difficult crossing during the best of conditions. But I felt we had to get away, and decided to chance it.

  "It was the wrong decision," Wymez said in a tightly controlled voice. "The boat capsized. Only Ranec and I made it across, and one bundle of her belongings." He paused for a moment before he continued the story. "We were still far from home, and it took a long time, but we finally arrived here, during a Summer Meeting."

  "How long were you gone?" Jondalar asked.

  "Ten years," Wymez said, then smiled. "We created quite a stir. No one expected to see me again, much less with Ranec. Nezzie didn't even recognize me, but my little sister was only a girl when I left. She and Talut had just completed their Matrimonial and were setting up the Lion Camp with Tulie and both of her mates, and their children. They invited me to join them. Nezzie adopted Ranec, though he is still the son of my hearth, and took care of him as though he were her own, even after Danug was born."

  When he stopped talking, it took a moment to realize he was through. Everyone wanted to hear more. Even though most of them had heard many of his adventures, he always seemed to have new stories or new twists to old stories.

  "I think Nezzie would be everyone's mother, if she could," Tulie said, recalling the time of his return. "I had Deegie at the breast then, and Nezzie couldn't get enough of playing with her."

  "She does more than mother me!" Talut said, with a playful grin as he patted her broad backside. He had gotten another waterbag of the powerful drink and was passing it on after taking a swallow.

  "Talut! I'll do more than mother you, all right!" She was trying to sound angry, but stifling a smile.

  "Is that a promise?" he countered.

  "You know what I meant, Talut," Tulie said, brushing aside the rather obvious innuendos between her brother and his woman. "She couldn't even let Rydag go. He's so sickly, he'd have been better off."

  Ayla's eye was drawn to the child. Tulie's comment had bothered him. Her words had not been intentionally unkind, but Ayla knew he didn't like being spoken of as though he wasn't there. There wasn't anything he could do about it, though. He couldn't tell her how he felt, and without thinking, she assumed that because he couldn't speak, he didn't feel.

  Ayla wanted to ask about the child, too, but felt it might be presumptuous. Jondalar did it for her, though it was to satisfy his own curiosity.

  "Nezzie, would you tell us about Rydag? I think Ayla would be particularly interested – and so would I."

  Nezzie leaned over and took the child from Latie, and held him on her lap while she gathered her thoughts.

  "We were out after megaceros, you know, the giant deer with the great antlers," she began, "and planned to build a surround to drive them into – that's the best way to hunt the big-antlered ones. When I first noticed the woman hiding near our hunting camp, I thought it was strange. You seldom see flathead women, and never alone."

  Ayla was leaning close, listening intently.

  "She didn't run away when she saw me looking at her, either, only when I tried to get closer. Then I saw she was pregnant. I thought she might be hungry, so I left some food out near the place she was hiding. In the morning it was gone, so I left more before we broke camp.

  "I thought I saw her the next day a few times, but I wasn't sure. Then that night, when I was by the fire nursing Rugie, I saw her again. I got up and tried to get closer to her. She ran away again, but she moved like she was in pain, and I realized she was in labor. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to help, but she kept running away, and it was getting dark. I told Talut, and he got some people together to go after her."

  "That was strange, too," Talut said, adding his part to Nezzie's story. "I thought we'd have to circle around and trap her, but when I yelled at her to stop, she just sat on the ground and waited. She didn't seem too frightened of me, and when I beckoned to her to come, she got right up and followed behind me, like she knew what to do and understood I wouldn't hurt her."

  "I don't know how she even walked," Nezzie continued. "She was in such pain. She was quick to understand that I wanted to help her, but I don't know how much help I was. I wasn't even sure she'd live to deliver her baby. She never cried out, though. Finally, near morning, her son was born. I was surprised to see he was one of mixed spirits. Even that young you could tell he was different.

  "The woman was so weak I thought it might give her reason to live if I showed her that her son was alive, and she seemed eager to see him. But I guess she was too far gone, must have lost too much blood. It was as though she just gave up. She died before the sun came up.

  "Everybody told me to leave him to die with his mother, but I was nursing Rugie anyway, and had a lot of milk. It wasn't that much trouble to put him to my breast, too." She hugged him protectively. "I know h
e's weak. Maybe I should have left him, but I couldn't love Rydag any more if he were my own. And I'm not sorry I kept him."

  Rydag looked up at Nezzie with his big, glowing brown eyes, then put thin arms around her neck and laid his head on her breast. Nezzie rocked him as she held him.

  "Some people say he's an animal because he can't talk, but I know he understands. And he's not an 'abomination' either," she added, with an angry look at Frebec. "Only the Mother knows why the spirits that made him were mixed."

  Ayla was fighting to hold back tears. She didn't know how these people would react to tears; her watering eyes had always bothered people of the Clan. Watching the woman and the child, she was overwhelmed with memories. She ached to hold her son, and grieved anew for Iza, who had taken her in and mothered her, though she had been as different to the Clan as Rydag was to the Lion Camp. But more than anything, she wished there was some way she could explain to Nezzie how moved she was, how grateful she was for Rydag's sake… and her own. Inexplicably, Ayla felt it would somehow help repay Iza if she could find a way to do something for Nezzie.

  "Nezzie, he knows," Ayla said softly. "He is not animal, not flathead. He is child of Clan, and child of Others."

  "I know he is not an animal, Ayla," Nezzie said, "but what is Clan?"

  "People, like mother of Rydag. You say flathead, they say Clan," Ayla explained.

  "What do you mean, 'they say Clan'? They can't talk," Tulie interjected.

  "Not say many words. But they talk. They talk with hands."

  "How do you know?" Frebec asked. "What makes you so smart?"

  Jondalar took a deep breath and held it, waiting for her answer.

  "I lived with Clan before. I talked like Clan. Not with words, until Jondalar came," Ayla said. "The Clan were my people."

  There was a stunned silence as the meaning of her words became clear.

  "You mean you lived with flatheads! You lived with those dirty animals!" Frebec exclaimed with disgust, jumping up and backing away. "No wonder she can't talk right. If she lived with them she's as bad as they are. Nothing but animals, all of them, including that mixed-up perversion of yours, Nezzie."

  The Camp was in an uproar. Even if some might have agreed with him, Frebec had gone too far. He had overstepped the bounds of courtesy to visitors, and had even insulted the headman's mate. But it had long been an embarrassment to him that he belonged to the Camp that had taken in the "abomination of mixed spirits," and he was still chafing under the barbs of Fralie's mother in the most recent round of their long-standing battle. He wanted to take out his irritation on someone.

  Talut roared to the defense of Nezzie, and Ayla. Tulie was quick to defend the honor of the Camp. Crozie, smiling maliciously, was alternately haranguing Frebec and browbeating Fralie, and the others were voicing their opinions loudly. Ayla looked from one to another, wanting to put her hands over her ears to shut out the noise.

  Suddenly Talut boomed a shout for silence. It was loud enough to startle everyone into quiet. Then Mamut's drum was heard. It had a settling, quieting effect.

  "I think before anyone else says anything, we ought to hear what Ayla has to say," Talut said, as the drum stilled.

  People leaned forward attentively, more than willing to listen to find out about the mysterious woman. Ayla wasn't sure she wanted to say any more to these noisy, rude people, but she felt she had no choice. Then, lifting her chin a bit, she thought, if they wanted to hear it, she'd tell them, but she was leaving in the morning.

  "I no… I do not remember young life," Ayla began, "only earthquake, and cave lion who make scars on my leg. Iza tell me she find me by river… what is word, Mamut? Not awake?"

  "Unconscious."

  "Iza find me by river, unconscious. I am close to age of Rydag, younger. Maybe five years. I am hurt on leg from cave lion claw. Iza is… medicine woman. She heal my leg. Creb… Creb is Mog-ur… like Mamut… holy man… knows spirit world. Creb teach me to speak Clan way. Iza and Creb… all Clan… they take care of me. I am not Clan, but they take care of me."

  Ayla was straining to recall everything Jondalar had told her about their language. She hadn't liked Frebec's comment that she couldn't talk right, any more than the rest of what he said. She glanced at Jondalar. His forehead was furrowed. He wanted her to be careful of something. She wasn't entirely sure of the reason for his concern, but perhaps it was not necessary to mention everything.

  "I grow up with Clan, but leave… to find Others, like me. I am…" She stopped to think of the right counting word. "Fourteen years then. Iza tell me Others live north. I look long time, not find anyone. Then I find valley and stay, to make ready for winter. Kill horse for meat, then see small horse, her baby. I have no people. Young horse is like baby, I take care of young horse. Later, find young lion, hurt. Take lion, too, but he grow up, leave, find mate. I live in valley three years, alone. Then Jondalar come."

  Ayla stopped then. No one spoke. Her explanation, so simply told, with no embellishments, could only be true, yet it was difficult to believe. It posed more questions than it answered. Could she really have been taken in and raised by flatheads? Could they really talk, or at least communicate? Could they really be so humane, so human? And what about her? If she was raised by them, was she human?

  In the silence that followed, Ayla watched Nezzie and the boy, and then remembered an incident early in her life with the Clan. Creb had been teaching her to communicate with hand signs, but there was one gesture she had learned herself. It was a signal shown often to babies, and always used by children to the women who took care of them, and she recalled how Iza had felt when she first made the signal to her.

  Ayla leaned forward and said to Rydag, "I want show you word. Word you say with hands."

  He sat up, his eyes showing his interest, and excitement. He had understood, as he always did, every word that was said, and the talk about hand signs had caused vague stirrings within him. With everyone watching, she made a gesture, a purposeful movement with her hands. He made an attempt to copy her, frowned with puzzlement. Then, suddenly comprehension came to him from some deeply buried place, and it showed on his face. He corrected himself as Ayla smiled and nodded her head. Then he turned to Nezzie and made the gesture again. She looked at Ayla.

  "He say to you, 'mother,'" Ayla explained.

  "Mother?" Nezzie said, then closed her eyes, blinking back tears, as she held close the child she had cared for since his birth. "Talut! Did you see that? Rydag just called me 'mother.' I never thought I'd ever see the day Rydag would call me 'mother.'"

  4

  The mood of the Camp was subdued. No one knew what to say or what to think. Who were these strangers that had suddenly appeared in their midst? The man who claimed to come from someplace far to the west was easier to believe than the woman who said she had lived for three years in a valley nearby, and even more amazing, with a pack of flatheads before that. The woman's story threatened a whole structure of comfortable beliefs, yet it was difficult to doubt her.

  Nezzie had carried Rydag to his bed, with tears in her eyes, after he had signed his first silent word. Everyone else took it as a signal that the storytellings were over and moved to their own hearths. Ayla used the opportunity to slip away. Pulling her parka, a hooded outer fur tunic, over her head, she went outside.

  Whinney recognized her and nickered softly. Feeling her way in the dark, guided by the mare's snorting and blowing, Ayla found the horse.

  "Is everything all right, Whinney? Are you comfortable? And Racer? Probably no more than I am," Ayla said, with thoughts as much as with the private language she used when she was with the horses. Whinney tossed her head, prancing delicately, then rested her head across the woman's shoulder as Ayla wrapped her arms around the shaggy neck and laid her forehead against the horse who had been her only companion for so long. Racer crowded in close and all three clung together for a moment of respite from all the unfamiliar experiences of the day.

  After Ayla assured
herself that the horses were fine, she walked down to the edge of the river. It felt good to be out of the lodge, away from people. She took a deep breath. The night air was cold and dry. Sparks of static crackled through her hair as she pushed back her fur-lined hood, stretched her neck and looked up.

  The new moon, avoiding the great companion that held it tethered, had turned its shining eye out upon the distant depths whose whirling lights tantalized with promises of boundless freedom, but offered only cosmic emptiness. High thin clouds cloaked the fainter stars, but only veiled the more determined with shimmering halos, and made the sooty black sky feel close and soft.

  Ayla was in a turmoil, conflicting emotions pulling at her. These were the Others she had looked for. The kind she had been born to. She would have grown up with people like them, comfortable, at home, if it hadn't been for the earthquake. Instead she had been raised by the Clan. She knew Clan customs, but the ways of her own people were strange. Yet if it hadn't been for the Clan, she wouldn't have grown up at all. She couldn't go back to them, but she didn't feel that she belonged here, either.

  These people were so noisy, and disorderly. Iza would have said they had no manners. Like that Frebec man, speaking out of turn, without asking permission, and then everyone yelling and talking at once. She thought Talut was a leader, but even he had to shout to make himself heard. Brun would never have had to shout. The only time she ever heard him shout was to warn someone of impending danger. Everyone in the clan kept the leader at a certain level of awareness; Brun had only to signal, and within heartbeats, he would have had everyone's attention.

  She didn't like the way these people talked about the Clan, either, calling them flatheads and animals. Couldn't anyone see they were people, too? A little different, maybe, but people just the same. Nezzie knew it. In spite of what the rest said, she knew Rydag's mother was a woman, and the child to whom she gave birth only a baby. He's mixed, though, like my son, Ayla thought, and like Oda's little girl at the Clan Gathering. How could Rydag's mother have had a child of mixed spirits like that?