The Shelters of Stone

by Jean M. Auel

  The great beast stood still, head drooping, breathing heavily. The men tightened the circle, closing in for the kill. The man whose turn it was to draw the beast out moved in cautiously, spear held in readiness. The rhino appeared not to notice. As the man drew near, the unpredictable beast caught the movement with his weak eyes. His flagging strength, revived by the short rest, was goaded by the fury that filled his primordial brain.

  Without warning, the rhino charged again. It happened so fast that the man was unprepared. The huge woolly beast finally succeeded in thrusting his massive horn into something more solid than air. They heard an agonized scream and the man was down. When Ayla heard it, without thinking she urged her horse forward.

  “Ayla! Wait! It’s too dangerous!” Jondalar called after her, prodding his own mount as he readied his spear-thrower.

  The other men were hurling their spears even as Jondalar spoke. When Ayla jumped off her still-moving horse and ran toward the wounded man. the huge beast lay crumpled in a heap; several spears, a couple from a spear-thrower, were sticking out of his body in every direction, like the quills of some enormous grotesque porcupine. But the kill was too late. The enraged beast had had his satisfaction.

  Several young men, looking scared and lost, were ranged around the fallen man, who was crumpled, unconscious where he dropped. As Ayla approached them with Jondalar close behind, they appeared surprised to see her, and it seemed for a moment that one was going to bar her way or ask who she was, but she ignored him. She turned him over and checked his breathing, and pulled out her knife to cut away blood-soaked leggings from his leg, her hands already colored from the task. There was a smear of red on her face where she had unconsciously pushed aside a strand of hair. She didn’t have any Zelandoni marks on her face, yet she seemed to know what she was doing. The young man backed away.

  When she exposed the leg, the damage was obvious. The calf of his right leg was bent backward where there was no knee. The huge pointed horn had gored the man in the calf and broken both bones. The muscle was torn open, the jagged end of a bone was showing, and blood was pouring out of the gash and pooling on the ground.

  She looked up at Jondalar. “Help me straighten him out while he’s unconscious, it’s going to hurt to move him when he wakes up. Then get me some soft hides, our toweling hides will work. I need to apply pressure to stop the bleeding, then I’ll need help to splint the leg.” The tall man hurried off, and she turned to one of the young men who were standing around, gaping.

  “He’ll need to be carried back. Do you know how to make a stretcher?” He looked blank, as though he hadn’t heard or understood her. “We need something for him to lie on while he’s carried.”

  He nodded. “A stretcher,” he said.

  He was really only a boy, she realized. “Jondalar will help you,” she said as the man returned with the hides.

  They laid him out on his back. He moaned from the movement, but didn’t wake up. She checked him again; he might have sustained a head injury from the fall, but she didn’t see anything obvious. Then, leaning hard on his leg above the knee, she tried to slow the bleeding. She thought about a tourniquet, but if she could get the bone straightened and wrap the leg, she might not need it. Pressure on the wound itself should be enough. He was still bleeding, but she had seen worse.

  She turned to Jondalar. “We need splints, some straight wood about the length of his leg, break some of those spears if you need to.”

  Jondalar brought her two splints, broken lengths of spears. She quickly cut strips out of one of the hides, and other pieces to wrap around the splints for padding, to get them ready. Then, grasping the foot of the broken leg by holding the toes with one hand and his heel with her other hand, she gently pulled it straight, feeling where it resisted and easing it through. He spasmed a few times, and noises escaped his mouth; he’d been close to waking. She reached into the bleeding gash and tried to feel if the bones were aligned.

  “Jondalar, hold his thigh for me,” she said. “I need to set this leg before he wakes up, and while he’s still bleeding. The blood will help keep the wound clean.” Then she looked up at the young men—boys—who were standing around watching with looks of horror and amazement on their faces. “You, and you,” she said, looking directly at two of them. “I’m going to lift his leg and pull to align the bones so they will heal straight. If I don’t, he’ll never walk on that leg again. I want you to get those splints and put them underneath his leg, so when I lower it, the leg will be right between them. Can you do that?”

  They nodded and hurried to get the wrapped spears. When everybody was ready, Ayla grasped the foot by the toes and heel again with both hands and gently but firmly lifted his leg. With Jondalar holding the thigh, she pulled, exerting strong pressure carefully. It was not the first time he had seen her set bones, but now she was trying to set two of them. He could see the concentration on her face as she pulled, trying to sense by the feel of his leg in her hands if the bones were lining up. Even he felt what seemed to be a slight jerk and a settling, as though a bone had found its place. She lowered the leg gently, then examined it critically. It looked straight to Jondalar, but what did he know? At least it wasn’t bent backward at a place it had no right to be.

  She signaled that he could let go and turned her attention to the bleeding wound. Pressing it together as best she could, with Jondalar’s help to lift it, she wrapped it up, splints and all, then tied everything together with the strips of leather she had cut. Then she sat back on her heels.

  It was then that Jondalar noticed the blood. It was everywhere, the wrappings, the splints, Ayla, himself, the young men who had helped. The young man on the ground had lost a lot of blood. “I think we have to get him back soon,” Jondalar said.

  A fleeting thought passed through his mind. The prohibition against talking was not quite over, and the ritual releasing the newly mated couple from it had not been performed, but Ayla hadn’t even considered it, and Jondalar dismissed it as soon as he thought about it. This was an emergency, and there was no Zelandoni around to ask.

  “You will need to make the stretcher,” she said to the young men standing around, seeming to be in more shock than the one on the ground.

  They looked at each other, shuffled their feet. They were all young and inexperienced. Several had only recently reached manhood, a few had made their first kill during the massive bison hunt that marked the beginning of the summer hunting season, and that had been an easy hunt, hardly more than target practice. The rhino baiting had been at the instigation of one of them who had watched his brother at similar sport a few years before, and a couple of the others who had heard about it, but primarily it was a spur-of-the-moment decision because they happened to see the beast. They all knew that they should have brought in some experienced older hunters before they attempted to bring down the huge animal, but they could only think of the glory of doing it themselves, the envy of the other bachelor fa’lodges, and the admiration of the whole Summer Meeting when it was brought it in. Now one of them was badly hurt.

  Jondalar quickly assessed the situation. “What Cave does he belong to?” he asked.

  “The Fifth,” came the reply.

  “You run ahead and tell them what happened,” Jondalar said. The young man to whom he had spoken sprinted off. He thought that he could have ridden in to tell them on Racer faster than a boy could run, but someone needed to supervise the construction of the stretcher. The boys were still scared and in shock, and having a grown man around to direct them right now was exactly what they needed. “We’ll need three or four of you to help carry him in. The rest of you should stay here and gut that animal. It could bloat up fast. I’ll send some people back to help you. There’s no point in wasting the meat, the cost was too high.”

  “He’s my cousin. I’d like to help carry him back,” one young man said.

  “Fine. Pick three more, that should be enough to get him back. The rest can stay,” Jondalar said. Then he notice
d that the youngster seemed almost overcome and was trying to hold back tears. “What is your cousin’s name?” he asked.

  “Matagan. He is Matagan of the Fifth Cave of the Zelandonii.”

  “I know you must care about Matagan, and this has been very hard on you,” Jondalar said. “He was very seriously hurt, but I will tell you the truth, he is very lucky that Ayla happened to be here. I can’t promise, but I think he will be all right, and may even walk again. Ayla is a very good healer. I know. I was mauled by a cave lion, and would have died on the steppes far to the east, but Ayla found me, treated my wounds, and saved my life. If anybody can save Matagan, Ayla will.”

  The young man let out a sob of relief and then tried to control himself again.

  “Now, get me some spears so we can carry your cousin home,” Jondalar said. “We’ll need at least four, two for each side.” Under his guidance, they soon had the spears tied together with thongs to make two sturdy supports, and spare pieces of clothing laced between them. Ayla checked the wounded young man, then several of them lifted him onto the makeshift stretcher.

  They were not too far from the camp. Ayla and Jondalar signaled Whinney and Racer to follow, and they walked beside the wounded young man. She watched him with worried concentration, and when they stopped to change bearers, she checked his breathing and felt for the beat in his wrist. It was faint, but definite.

  They were nearest the upstream end of the camp, close to the encampment of the Ninth Cave. News of the accident had spread rapidly, and several people had followed the young man back to meet them. Joharran was among them and spotted them in the distance. When they joined up, the two who were bearing the litter were relieved of their place, and the pace back to the large Meeting place quickened.

  “Marthona went to tell someone to get Zelandoni, and Zelandoni of the Fifth,” Joharran said. “They were at the other end of the camp at some Zelandonia meeting. Should we take him to our camp, or to his own?” he asked Ayla.

  “I want to change those wrappings, and get a poultice on that wound, I don’t want it to fester,” Ayla said. She thought for a moment. “I haven’t had much time to replenish all my medicines, but I’m sure Zelandoni has enough, and I want her to look at him. Let’s take him to the zelandonia lodge.”

  “That’s a good idea. It would take her a while to get here, we can probably get there faster. Zelandoni doesn’t run the way she used to,” Joharran said, somewhat diplomatically referring to her great size. “The Fifth’s Zelandoni will probably want to see him, but healing was never his greatest talent, I’m told.”

  When they arrived at the zelandonia lodge, the First met them at the entrance. A place had already been made ready, and Ayla wondered if someone had gone ahead and told her that she had decided not to keep the man at the camp of the Ninth Cave, or if the woman had just assumed that the injured man would be brought there. Several people who had seen them coming were already talking about all the blood. Though several of the zelandonia were outside, no one else was inside the lodge.

  “Put him down over there,” the First said, showing them one of the raised beds at the far side, opposite the entrance. The men carried him there, then moved him to the bed. Most of the men left, but Joharran and Jondalar stayed.

  Ayla made sure the leg was straight, then started to remove the wrappings. “It needs a poultice so it won’t fester,” she said.

  “He will keep for a moment. Tell me what happened,” the First said.

  Both Ayla and Jondalar quickly explained the circumstances, then Ayla finished, “Both lower legbones in that leg are broken, the calf was bent backward at the break. I knew if they weren’t set straight, he would never walk on that leg again, and he’s a young man. I decided to set the leg right there, while he was unconscious and before it started to swell up, and make it harder to work with the bones. I had to feel around inside, and pull hard to get the bones aligned again, but I think they are. He was making some noises on the way here, he may wake up soon. I’m sure he will be in pain.”

  “It’s obvious that you know something about it, but I need to ask you some questions. First, I presume you have set bones before,” the First said.

  Jondalar answered for her. “A Sharamudoi woman, a good friend that I cared for very much, the mate of a leader, had fallen down a cliff and broken her arm. Their healer had died, and they hadn’t been able to get word to another one, and the bone was healing together wrong, and very painfully. I watched Ayla rebreak it and set it right. I also watched her set a badly broken leg of a man of the Clan. He had jumped off a very high rock to protect his mate from some young Losadunai men who had been attacking Clan women. If there is one thing Ayla knows about, it’s broken bones and open wounds.”

  “Where did you learn, Ayla?” she asked.

  “Clan people have very sturdy bones, but the men of the Clan often break them when they are hunting. They don’t usually throw spears, they chase after an animal to stab him with a spear or sometimes jump on him. Or they do what those boys were doing, get an animal to chase several of them until the beast is so tired, they can get close enough to spear him. It’s very strenuous. Women break bones, too, but mostly it’s the men. I first learned about broken bones from Iza. The people of Brun’s clan would break a bone sometimes, but it was the summer that we went to the Clan Gathering that I really learned, from the other Clan medicine women, how to set broken bones and treat wounds,” Ayla said.

  “I think this young man is very lucky that you happened to be there, Ayla,” the One Who Was First said. “Not every Zelandoni would have known what to do with a leg that badly broken. There will be some more questions, the Fifth will want to talk to you, I’m sure, and the boy’s mother, of course, but you did well. What kind of poultice were you going to put on this leg?”

  “I dug some roots that I saw on the way here. I think you call it anemone,” Ayla said. “The wound was bleeding while I was handling it, and a person’s own blood is sometimes the best thing to clean out a wound, but now that the blood is drying, I was going to mash the root and boil it to make a wash to clean the wound, and then add some fresh to the mash and use it with some other roots in a poultice. In my medicine bag, I have some powdered geranium root, to clot the blood, and spores of club moss to absorb fluid, and then I was going to ask if you had certain things or knew where they grow.”

  “All right, ask me.”

  “There is a root, when I described it to Jondalar he thought you might call it comfrey. It is very good for healing, inside and out. It’s good for bruises, in a salve made with fat, but it’s very good on fresh wounds and cuts. A fresh poultice can keep the swelling down when a bone is broken, and it helps broken bones to grow back together,” Ayla said.

  “Yes, I have some powdered, and I know a place nearby where it grows, and I would describe its properties the same way,” the First said.

  “I would also use the bright pretty flowers that I think are called marigolds. They are especially good for open wounds, also for wounds and sores that won’t heal. I like to squeeze the juice out of fresh flowers, or boil the dried petals to put on open wounds, then keep it wet. It helps prevent the smelly bad festering, and I’m afraid this boy will need that. I’m sorry, I don’t know his name,” Ayla said.

  “Matagan,” Jondalar said. “His cousin told me he is Matagan of the Fifth Cave.”

  “What else would you use if you had it?” Zelandoni asked.

  For an instant, Ayla had a fleeting image of Iza testing her knowledge. “Crushed juniper berries for a bleeding wound, or the mushroom that is round, puffball. That can stop bleeding of wounds. A dry powder of goldenseal is also good, and…”

  “That’s enough. I’m convinced that you know what to do. The treatment you suggest is very appropriate,” the First said, “but right now, Jondalar, I want you to take her someplace where she can clean up, both of you, in fact. That boy’s blood is all over you, and that will upset his mother more than anything. Leave the anemone roots
with me, I will send someone to get fresh comfrey. We’ll take care of him for now. You can come back when you are clean and rested. Why don’t you go to your camp the back way, so you don’t have to walk through the whole Summer Meeting camp again. I’m sure there is a crowd waiting outside. Use the other entrance, it’ll be faster, and you may avoid those who’ll want to detain you. Before you go, though, I think you need to be released from your ban against talking. It seems your isolation ended a day early.”

  Oh! I forgot,” Ayla said. “I didn’t even think about that!”

  “I did,” Jondalar put in, “but didn’t have time to worry about it.”

  “You were right. This was certainly emergency enough,” Zelandoni said, “but I must ask you formally. You have completed your trial period, Jondalar and Ayla, have you decided that you want to stay mated, or would you rather end this now and try to find someone else with whom you would be more compatible?”

  The two looked at her, then looked at each other, and then a grin stole over Jondalar’s face that transferred to a smile from Ayla.

  “If I’m not compatible with Ayla, who on earth would I ever be compatible with?” Jondalar said. “This may have been our Matrimonial, but in my heart, we have been mated for a long time.”

  “That is true. We even said words like that before we crossed the glacier, right after we left Guban and Yorga. We knew we were mated then, but Jondalar wanted you to tie the knot for us, Zelandoni.”

  “Do you want to become unmated, Ayla? Jondalar?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t,” Ayla said, smiling at Jondalar. “Do you?”

  “Not for a heartbeat, woman,” he said. “I waited long enough, I’m not about to end it now.”

  “Then you are released from the prohibition against talking to others and you can declare to all that Jondalar and Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii are mated. Ayla, any children born to you are born to the hearth of Jondalar. It will be the responsibility of both of you to care for them until they are grown. Do you have your leather thong?” While they retrieved the long strip of leather, Zelandoni got two necklaces from a nearby table. She took back the thong and tied a simple necklace around each of their necks. “I wish you both a long and happy life together,” the One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother concluded.