"Be of the Mother," she whispered in blessing. "Your strength will come from the earthforce, your wisdom and courage from the Mother. Only listen, and they will guide you."
Ralak stared once more into Zena's eyes, then she sighed, a long, deep sigh, and gave up the effort to stay alive. During all the long hours Zena had spent on the mountain, she had clutched at the earth, willing its strength into her frail body so she could take just one more breath. Now she could let go. The earthforce was waiting to reclaim her, and she slid willingly into its grasp.
Zena felt her go, as if a connection between the earth and Ralak's hand and her own fingers had been broken. Even as she neared death, Ralak had transmitted the power of the earthforce through her hand. Now the flow was reversed, as her life drained back into the earth that had sustained her so many times. Zena let the lifeless fingers slip to the ground.
An agonized howl broke the silence. Zena jumped up, startled. She had almost forgotten the others. The howl had come from Kropor. He ran to Ralak and bent over her, but leaped up again immediately. No breath moved between the lips of the tiny female he adored, and her eyes stared at him sightlessly. He howled again, over and over, long, anguished howls that resounded through the clearing, caused all the birds to take flight, the animals to run into their burrows.
The howling seemed suddenly not to satisfy him. He looked wildly around until he spotted a large branch that had fallen from a nearby tree. Grabbing it with both hands, he began to run around the clearing, sweeping the limb noisily behind him in huge arcs. Everything in its path, digging sticks, baskets, food, even the children, were swept away. When there were no more objects anywhere in the clearing, Kropor stood still and raised the big branch over his head, then brought it to the ground with all his strength. Again, he raised the limb, again it plunged to the ground with a fearful whack.
The children huddled near the shelter, terrified by the noisy display. Kropor approached them, seeming not even to see them, and raised the stick again. They ran, all but Clio, Ralak's young one. Her prolonged and arduous birth had left indelible marks on her as well as her mother. Caught too long between womb and outer world, she had received sustenance from neither. No watery nourishment had come through the cord that attached her to her mother's body, and she had been unable to reach the life-giving air that would replace it. And so a part of her had died.
At first, the damage had not been apparent, for Clio grew like any other child. But when the time came for her to speak, her tongue seemed unable to frame words, her brain unable to comprehend them. She did not understand fear, either. As precocious physically as she was limited mentally, she had quickly learned to run without inhibition in any direction that pleased her, toward any creature, any cliff or body of water, however dangerous.
The child stood now and regarded Kropor without fear, unaware that his behavior posed a threat. He raised his stick high, as if to bring it down on her head. Zena thought he did not see Clio at all, and jumped forward to pull her out of the way. Toro got there first and grabbed the child just before the stick crashed. Clio clung to her, finally frightened by the abrupt gesture. Toro was her mother even more than Ralak had been. Once she had started to run, Ralak had been too weak and ill to care for her, and Toro had taken over. It was always Toro Clio wanted when she was hurt.
Kropor dropped the stick suddenly. He ran around the edges of the clearing, picking up everything the branch had swept away, and threw each object to the ground with angry force. A cutting stone bounced near Bran's foot, and he charged at Kropor, to stop him. Kropor paid no attention.
Zena called his name loudly, trying to penetrate his agony. But Kropor only stared at her unseeingly. She came closer, to touch him, but backed away quickly when he raised his arm as if to strike her. Bran and Lotan appeared by her side. Kropor roared at them, but there was no aggression in his tone, only helplessness. He began to shuffle despondently in ever-widening circles, moving away from the others. Bran and Lotan let him go.
Just as he entered the trees, Kropor raised his head and stared at the group huddled on the opposite edge of the clearing, as if he were seeing them for the first time since he had begun to howl. His eyes widened in an expression of horror. Another wrenching howl escaped him, then he turned and ran, crashing through the underbrush like a demented animal.
Toro looked after him, her face reflecting an agony of indecision. Kropor was her mate; she had been with him now for many moons. With Ralak gone, her loyalty was to him, not the others. Holding Clio tightly with her free hand, she followed his retreating form. Metep trudged after her mother, one hand resting protectively on her swollen belly.
Zena looked after them sadly. There was nothing she could do. Toro had always cared for Kropor, despite his devotion to Ralak, and Metep needed to be with her mother. She was certain Kropor would not harm them now. He had spent his rage, and only grief was left. Perhaps Toro could help with that.
Clio was another matter. Zena wanted badly to call the child back, but she knew it was no use. Clio would not leave Toro. And in the end, only the Mother knew the answer to Clio; only the Mother could keep her safe, for she was uncontrollable, like the earthforce at its most extreme. Zena saw it in her wild, fearless eyes that flashed like lightning when storms came, in the exuberance of her body as she ran to greet the thunder. Clio loved storms. She danced then, frenzied, graceful dances that lasted until she sank exhausted to the earth, and had to be carried back to the shelter. Only at these times, and when she slept, could she be restrained for more than a moment.
Ralak had understood. "I pulled too hard on the earthforce when Clio was born," she had said once. "Now she belongs to it, and not to us." There had been no sorrow in her tone, only acceptance.
Zena struggled to accept, as Ralak had accepted, as she knew Kalar would have accepted. To be truly wise, she must trust.
Determinedly, she turned back to Ralak. Lotan was kneeling beside her, crooning her name in sorrow. He had loved his mother more than any other, and to be without her seemed impossible. Zena left him there and went to the stream, where bushes redolent with snowy blossoms grew in thick clumps. She broke off a bundle of fragrant branches and carried them back to the shelter. Gently, she placed the soft clusters on Ralak's body, covering all but her face. The pale blossoms gave off a tangy scent that seemed right for one such as Ralak. They would protect her and sustain her with their fragrance.
When she had finished, she gathered the others around her. From this moment on, each death, each birth, each animal that gave its life to feed them, each season of life-giving rain, each gathering of the earth's bounty, must be remembered and blessed. That was the Mother's way, and she would honor it. She stood at Ralak's head, and her voice rang out as if she had spoken thus all her life.
"Great Mother, Earthforce, Giver of All Life, take Ralak back to Your heart. Always, she has been one with You, one with the earthforce that gave her strength, one with the Mother whose love she came to know. Now she is Yours once more. We commend her to You."
Zena looked down at Ralak. "Go with the Mother, Ralak," she told her quietly. "The love in our hearts goes with you."
Struggling to control the tears that had welled up when she looked into Ralak's still face, Zena continued. There was more she must say, words she should have said long ago but had been unable to utter. Now her voice was low, filled with sadness.
"Great Mother, hear me now. It is of Kalar I speak, and Cere and Lett, and all the others who died so brutally. Still, I do not know why this should be so, but I know You have taken them back to Your heart, and that is enough. I speak to You now of them, and through You, I speak to them."
"The love in our hearts goes with all of you," she told the ones who had died. "Always, you live within us. I feel your wisdom, Kalar, and I feel Cere's love, and the loyalty of Lett, the knowledge of the Mother's creatures that came from Agar, Tempa's willingness always to help..."
Zena named them, one at a time, names she had not sp
oken for so long her mouth had almost forgotten how to frame the sounds, as she remembered each face and personality. When she had finished, she commended them to the Mother.
"Keep them safe in Your heart," she concluded. "Like Ralak, they live within us, but they are Yours now."
Zena's voice faded and she sat down abruptly, exhausted by her efforts. Bran watched her, astonished at the change her trip to the mountain had wrought. Zena, the serious child he had once teased, had become a wise one. He had seen the new strength in her stature when she had risen, had heard the unmistakable power in her voice when she had spoken to the Mother. She reminded him of Kalar, with her sturdy body, her wide hips and big head.
He yawned and went to put wood on the fire. Darkness would fall soon, and it was his job to keep them safe.
Zena lay near the fire as silence descended on the clearing. She felt cleansed of a burden she had carried too long, and ready to listen for the Mother's message. It was always at these times, when day turned into night, or night became day, that the Mother had spoken to Kalar, for these were the times of silence. She must learn to listen in the same way.
Zena opened her mind and waited, but weariness undermined her resolve, and she slept until a frantic voice aroused her. She sat, suddenly awake. It was Toro shouting, and her voice was full of fear.
Zena ran to the edge of the clearing, calling loudly as she ran. Bran and Lotan sprinted beside her.
Toro burst from the trees. "You must come," she said. "Clio has gone. She was sleeping beside me, but now she has gone. It was the moon - "
She broke off, sobbing, but Zena knew what she meant. Like storms, the moon attracted Clio powerfully. It seemed to pull at her, as it had pulled at Zena earlier. Sometimes, when the moon was full, Clio ran toward it as if she thought she would fly, as the birds flew, and reach it.
"Bring sticks with fire," Zena instructed. "Nyta can stay to guard the others. Bran can come with me, and Lotan."
"Keep Three-Legs," she added. "Do not let her follow." They each grabbed a burning stick and hurried after Toro. The trees were dark, despite the full moon, but presently, they came out into a small, clear space, where some light came through.
"We were sleeping here," Toro explained. "We could not find Kropor. He moved too fast."
Metep was huddled fearfully in the darkest corner of the clearing. She did not rise, but clutched her belly, groaning, as a strong contraction racked her.
Toro's eyes widened, and she bent anxiously over her daughter. "The infant comes," she said to Zena. "We must go back to the shelter."
Zena nodded. The night would be busy between Metep and Clio. The Mother had certainly not waited long to provide her with challenges!
"Take Metep back while she can walk," she instructed. "We will look for Clio and follow."
Metep struggled to her feet and set off, leaning heavily on her mother. Zena looked at Bran and Lotan, seeking their advice. The search seemed almost impossible. Clio could have run in any direction. They could call her name, but she might not answer, might not come even if she saw them. A child of the woods, she had no fear of being alone among the dark trees. She did not understand the dangers.
"We must try," Bran said, answering her unspoken question. Lotan nodded vigorously. Clio was his little sister, the one he had held close when she was tiny. She was all he had left of his mother.
"We each go a different way, and return here to meet, then try again," he suggested.
Clutching their torches, they trudged separately through the dark forest, calling loudly as they walked. There was no answer; they met and tried again, but still there was no sign of Clio.
"We wait here with a fire until the light comes, and then look again," Bran said. "You return to Metep."
Zena nodded reluctantly. Bran was right. They would never find Clio in the darkness. The moon had vanished behind thick clouds, and now the night was utterly black. Still, she did not want to give up. Without the moon to follow, Clio would surely be afraid. She might have fallen, could be lying somewhere, hurt and crying. A predator might find her, or the hyenas.
Zena thrust her fear away. Fear would not help Clio; only calmness and trust would do that. Closing her eyes, she tried to will feelings of peace and security to Clio, tried to visualize her accepting the certainty of the Mother's protection. Clio had no words, but Zena was certain she could feel thoughts in her own way. She had the earthforce strongly within her as well, and it would guard her. Comforting herself with these thoughts, Zena trudged wearily back to the shelter.
***************************
Deep in the woods, in a hole between the roots of a tree, Clio frowned. The moon had disappeared, and without it, she did not know where to go. She had followed it, and then it had hidden, so she had crawled beneath the tree to rest.
Something rustled in the underbrush, as if a large animal were moving. Clio froze. Her breath barely moved in her chest, and even her scent seemed to disappear. It was not fear that kept her motionless, but instinct, the instinct of an animal with no other form of protection. The rustling stopped. Clio's eyes closed, but even in sleep, her body was utterly still.
Toward morning, a shadow passed over her. Sleeping soundly now, Clio did not see it. She did not hear, either, for the creature that stared down at her made no sound as its feet trod the damp earth. Perhaps, though, she felt the strength of its intent gaze, or smelled it, for she suddenly opened her eyes. A scream rose in her throat, but she did not utter it. Instead, she held out her hand.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sima burst into the clearing, her body tense with fear. "Lion!" she gasped. "I saw its tracks, near the place where we lost Clio."
Every morning since Clio's disappearance, Sima had scoured the nearby woods looking for her. She was nine now, and took a keen interest in all the young ones, but Clio had aroused a special protectiveness, since she could not speak like the others, and seemed to understand so little.
Lotan dropped the statue he had been carving and jumped to his feet. He, too, spent most of his time looking for Clio, and refused to believe she could not be found. How could she disappear without a trace? But if a lion was in the area, that was possible. It could have sprung on her and dragged her away, and they would never know.
"Show me," he said urgently to Sima, grasping her hand. Together, they set off into the trees. Bran grabbed a stout stick and followed, with Lupe behind him, as always.
Zena watched them go, anxiety stilling her fingers in the middle of a stroke as she sharpened her stick. Over and over, she had waited for a message from the Mother that might help them to find Clio. But nothing had come.
That was not true, she realized, sitting back on her heels to reflect. Each time she thought of Clio, a strange feeling of peace washed over her, erasing the anxiety that had accumulated as the days passed without any sign of her.
Perhaps the peaceful feeling itself was a message, she thought hopefully. It seemed impossible that the child could still be all right, after so many days and nights wandering by herself. But if the Mother was protecting her, perhaps she was safe.
Still, the appearance of a lion was worrying. Normally, lions stayed in the plains, where the zebras and antelopes they preyed on were plentiful. Only hunger would have brought it so deeply into the woods, and Zena could not imagine how even the Mother could protect a helpless child against a hungry lion. Worse, if one lion was in the area, there must be others. At this time of the year, each lioness was trying to feed herself, her growing cubs, and one or two males for whom she hunted.
Sima and Lotan returned, interrupting her thoughts. They were flushed and breathless, and worried. Lotan nodded soberly as Zena raised a questioning face.
"Lion," he said. "Many, I think." His lips tightened, and he went off to sit by himself, with his head in his hands.
Zena looked compassionately at his slumped figure. All of them had been upset by Clio's disappearance, but for Lotan her loss had been devastating. She was always
in his thoughts. Only when Zena mated with him did he seem to forget. Then, both of them lost themselves completely in the sensations. For Zena, the pleasure was more than physical. Mating gave her a feeling of closeness to the Mother that reminded her of the intense unity she had felt on the mountain. Strangely, as she immersed herself in purely sensual feelings, she seemed to spring free of the body that created them and enter the realm of her heart.
Lotan felt some of this unity as well, but it quickly disappeared. As soon as they had rolled apart, his face grew strained and weary once again, as thoughts of Clio returned.
Zena shook her head in dismay. If lions were hunting near the shelter, they would have to leave, even if they had not found Clio. The danger of an attack was too great, especially without fire. All their burning sticks had gone out in a drenching rain, and they had been unable to find more. The thought of leaving distressed her because of Clio, but in another way it was a relief. Ever since her trip to the mountain, she had felt a terrible restlessness, a restlessness that grew each day until she thought she would burst with it. She was supposed to lead the tribe to a new home; she knew it absolutely, from the dreams.
They came every night, and they were always the same. She saw herself walking in a lush valley enclosed by high plateaus. Smoking mountains loomed behind the hills. Far ahead was a body of water that stretched all the way to the horizon. As she came close to it, her feet sank into soft, grainy earth that sparkled white in the sunlight, unlike any earth she had seen before. Always, the sun rose on her right as she traveled, and set on her left. Always, too, she felt a strong sense of urgency. She must go to this place soon, and she must take the others with her. Sometimes she thought she saw Clio with them as well, although that seemed impossible, and a big, stooped male that looked like Kropor.
The big male's face never came clear, so she could not tell. Now it dissolved into Bran's face. He was standing in front of her, waiting for her eyes to focus on him.
CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) Page 25
