CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) (31 page)

She rose painfully
to her feet, to go to the shelter.  The ache in her belly was always
there, deep and insistent, and the blood flowed harder.  Her strength was
waning fast.

Kropor saw her
struggle and came to help her.  He never strayed far from her side, except
when he disappeared in a temper, and he seemed always to know when she needed
help.  She smiled up at him gratefully.  He was a valued companion
now.  She still had to shout words at him sometimes, for he was often
irritable with the others, but he no longer seemed to mind her occasional
anger.  In fact, he appeared to enjoy it, and often grinned widely as her
words pummeled him.

She had finally
come to understand why he had changed.  Zena had explained it to her,
while she listened in amazement.

"He cares for
you more than any other," Zena had told her.  "When you left to
look for Lotan, he felt a terrible sadness.  He blamed Lotan, so he tried
to hurt him.  He said these things one day, but I knew already."

Zena had
discovered other things about Kropor too.  Ralak was not sure how she had
managed to elicit the story, for Kropor did not use many words, but somehow
Zena had learned that he had been forced from his tribe when his mother had
died, long before he was grown.  He had been alone until he had found
Ralak.

That, Zena
pronounced, was why he cared most for Ralak.  At first, he had thought she
was like the bad female who had forced him to leave, and had hurt her. 
Then he had realized she was like his mother instead.  He had loved his
mother too.

It would be good,
Ralak thought wryly, if Zena would put as much energy into listening to the
Mother as she did listening to others.  She loved to ask questions, and
had pulled most of Ralak's story out of her, too, though Ralak had not intended
to tell of her struggles.  Zena knew of the deaths of her tribe and her
brother; she knew how Ralak had clung to the earth in labor, how she had
suffered when Lotan was gone.  But Ralak had not told her of the
challenge.  That she must know without words.

Zena came to give
her the fruit she and Lotan had collected. Ralak took a few bites, and then lay
back wearily.

Zena took her hand
and spoke softly.  "If it pains you, I will give you the herbs."

It was the first
time she had referred to Ralak's illness.  Her words signaled acceptance,
and Ralak was grateful.  If Zena could accept the Mother's way in this
matter, she could accept it in others.  She would be ready soon. 

Ralak's eyes
closed, and the strain left her face.  "Perhaps later," she
said. "I sleep now."   

Zena continued to
hold Ralak's hand.  It was dry, the skin like thin bark stripped from a
tree, and she could feel the bones clearly against their fragile covering.

Darkness fell, and
still Zena did not move.  She felt connected to Ralak through her papery
hand, as if she could feel Ralak's feelings, see and hear through her eyes and
ears as well as her own.  Together, they saw the fire flicker as Lotan
placed more sticks on it, smelled the fragrance of the leaves he threw in the
flames.  They heard the noises around the clearing, of insects chirping
and small monkeys chattering to each other as they prepared to sleep. 
They were different noises than Zena had known before, for Ralak had led them
to a place where she had lived long ago.  Even though all her tribe had
died in this place, she had come back.  Zena did not know why. 

Tall trees grew
close around the clearing, filtering the moonlight, and the moss that hung
thickly from their branches cast strange shadows.  Frogs called in a
cascading chorus that mimicked the water cascading through the many small
streams. The smells were strong and moist.  It was not like the place
where they had met the Big Ones long ago, Zena reflected, for that had been
dark and musty, as if the sun had never penetrated.  Here, there were
fragrant flowers and dappled sunlight, and greenness.  Even the mountains
were green.  They rose from the valley floor, taking the vegetation with
them into the swirling clouds.

Zena sighed, and
lay down beside Ralak, still holding her hand.  She did not sleep, but she
dreamed as if she were asleep.  She saw herself walking toward a tall
mountain that rose steeply from a misty valley.  She recognized the
mountain, for it was not far away.  She had often stared up at its conical
peak spearing through the clouds that hugged its upper slopes.  But in her
dream, there was no peak, for where the top should be were only more clouds,
heavy and white.  They circled slowly, thinning as they moved, then
dissipated suddenly.  For an instant before they regrouped, Zena saw the
summit, golden in the sunlight.  It seemed to beckon her.

She saw herself
begin to climb the mountain.  Moss and ferns grew thickly beneath her, and
the earth was damp.  Even in her dream-like state, she felt the dampness
clearly, smelled the dank odors that rose into the air as her feet pressed against
the lush growth.

She wanted a
track, she realized, so she could find her way through the mist and the
clinging undergrowth to the top of the mountain.  She was supposed to go
there.  Something waited for her there.

Sleep overtook
Zena and the mountain faded.  She slept soundly, unaware of the others as
they slid quietly into the shelter.  But just as dawn crept across the
land, sending fingers of pale light into the shelter, she heard Ralak stir
beside her and utter a sharp cry. 

Alarm woke Zena
quickly.  She leaned over Ralak, trying to see her face clearly in the
dimness, but then she realized she did not need to see.  She knew
already.  Ralak was slipping away; she was going somewhere, and Zena could
not stop her. 

Tears poured down
her face and fell onto Ralak's thin cheeks.  The wetness seemed to rouse
Ralak, for she opened her eyes wide and stared straight at Zena.

"Go!"
she said hoarsely.  "Go while I can help.  You must go
now.  They will guide you."

For a moment, Zena
was confused.  Where should she go, and why?  Then she remembered.
The mountain; she must go to the mountain.  The dreamlike vision came back
to her as if she were still within it. 

She placed her
lips against Ralak's cool cheek, to let her know she had understood.  Then
she rose silently and slipped from the shelter.

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

Mist hung heavily
in the air.  Wisps of it clung to the shelter, wrapped themselves
sinuously around the lower branches of the trees.  Zena felt the soft
strands tickle her arms, caress her forehead.  Despite their fragility,
they seemed solid in the dim light, as if she would have to push them aside to
walk.

No noises, no
movements interrupted the early morning stillness.  The birds were still
sleeping; the tiny monkeys had not yet left their leafy nests.  Even the
insects had fallen silent in the brief interim between night and day. 
Zena looked up, searching for the sliver of rosy orange that preceded the sun,
but only the moon was there; it hung above the mountain's shrouded peak, remote
and cool and beautiful. 

She
shivered.  The moon had always made her uneasy.  It was the sun she
loved, with its warmth and brilliance. She remembered Cere's words.  On
the night that her mother, Mina, had struggled to bear her, the moon had hidden
behind dark clouds and refused to emerge.  But the sun had come. 
Just as Kalar finished speaking to the Mother, it had slid over the horizon and
touched her eyelids with rose, so that she would know her actions were
blessed.  The sun had given her light to see as she pulled Zena from the
dark womb that had enclosed her for so long, had warmed Zena in her first
moments.

A filmy cloud slid
across the moon's watching face.  Tendrils from the cloud reached down,
far down, all the way to the earth and touched her arm.  Zena felt them
like fingers, drawing her toward the mountain.  Something waited for her
there; she could feel it, almost smell it.  She must hurry.

Darkness enclosed
her as she entered the woods.  She could see the dim outlines of trunks, a
ghostly network of branches against the pale sky, but the solid reality of
trees dissolved into moving shadows when she looked too hard.  She left
them with relief and entered a narrow strip of marsh that bordered the
mountain.  Her feet squashed soddenly into dank vegetation, and a myriad
of scents rose to her nostrils.  She breathed them in, aware of each
separate smell and then the mass of scents.  They seemed to enter her
through her eyes and ears as well as her nostrils, just as she thought she
could smell the color of the brackish water as well as see it.  All her
senses were intermingled, fully alive. 

She came to a
shallow pool and bent to drink.  Her face stared back at her, startled, then
split into many fragments as she splashed cool water against her skin. 
The ruffled surface settled again, reflecting the tall reeds that surrounded
her.  A vague track led her though them to higher ground.  The
foliage was dense now, and dripping with moisture.  She pushed her way
into it until the wall of green became impenetrable.  There was no sign
that any creature had ever ventured this way before.  Zena stopped,
uncertain.

A flash of
brilliant blue caught her eye as a bird flew past and settled on a rock beyond
her.  Its feathers were the color of the sky in all its moods, from palest
blue to sparkling turquoise to the ominous purple that preceded a storm. 
Long, golden streamers issued from its tail. 

Zena stared,
entranced.  Never before had she seen a bird like this one.  She
climbed toward it, to see better.  The bird rose into the air with a
flurry of wings and flew to another rock, farther on.  Zena
followed.  The bird waited, but as soon as she approached, it flew on
again. 

It was leading
her, she realized, as a bird had once led the honey-digger while she watched.
She followed unquestioningly, immersed in her quest.  Up and up she went,
straining her eyes to see in the dim predawn light.

Everything around
her spoke of mystery, of challenge.  It flowed into her heart and pushed
her forward, even when the way grew so steep she could barely stand without
falling.  Only once did she stop to rest.  The bird waited patiently
on a branch that hung directly above her head, so that she had to crane her
neck backward to see it.

She looked down
from her precipitous perch.  All the earth seemed to be below her
now.  Trees, plains, marshes, rocky hillsides, rivers and lakes spread
away in an array so vast her eyes could scarcely encompass its
dimensions.  And as she watched, the orange orb of the sun popped suddenly
over the horizon and covered it all in sparkling layers of brilliance. 
Every leaf and flower and twig in all that panorama held a drop of water, and
every drop welcomed the sun's light and reflected it back in glittering
splendor. 

Zena's eyes filled
with tears at the spectacle; her tears caught the light, so that even within
her there was radiance.  She pulled it into her, marveling.  The
golden glow filled her completely, erasing her hunger, her fatigue, even the
sadness that caught at her when her thoughts went for a moment to Ralak. 
It was all the same, she realized.  The radiance was in the trees and
grasses, the earth itself, as it was in her, in everything that lived. 
She breathed it in, felt it enter her body in waves of gold that she could see
and hear and taste and smell.

The bird's
feathers flashed past her face; then it vanished into the mist.  Zena
scrambled after it.  Now all her attention was focused on her movements,
for the way was so steep and slippery she had to crawl.  Water was
everywhere, rushing down in streams and rivulets between the mossy rocks, the
clumps of ferns and flowers.  Multicolored and delicate, the flowers
nodded on their tall stems like fragments of a scattered rainbow.  Swaths
of red and blue and purple and yellow dotted the hillside, and behind them all
was the velvety green.

The gurgle of
rushing water became a thunderous racket as Zena scrambled higher. 
Rounding a bulky promontory, she discovered its cause.  A massive
waterfall cascaded from a cliff hundreds of feet above her head, plunging
straight down in heavy, immutable torrents.  A frenzy of white foam surged
wildly below her feet.  Sheer cliffs surrounded her on both sides. 

No one could go up
this way, she realized.  She would have to find another route.

The bird waggled near
her, catching her attention.  To her horror, it flew straight into the
waterfall and disappeared behind it.  For the first time, she was
afraid.  Must she follow?

The bird
reappeared and repeated its maneuver.  Reluctantly, Zena approached the
falls, but when she came close, she saw that there was a small opening, just to
the left of the major cascade.  She squeezed through it and found herself
in a protected place behind the crashing water.  Even the thunderous noise
was muted here, so that she could hear soft drips as moisture fell in
glittering beads from the rocks above.  There was no other movement, no
sign of life, only the muffled splashes.

She looked for the
bird.  It was perched on a ledge, watching her.  She recognized it by
its shape alone, for light barely penetrated the cavernous space, and the bird
had lost its brilliance.  It flew into a small tunnel.  Zena crawled
after it and emerged into another chamber.  For a moment, she could see
nothing, then her eyes adjusted and she saw that a wide pool spread across the
entire space.  The water was black, unmoving.  Beyond that, all was
darkness. 

The bird flew
across the pool and landed on a half-submerged rock.  Zena frowned. 
The bird could fly, but she would have to go through the water.  It loomed
before her, opaque, forbidding, and utterly still.  Everything in the cave
was still, except her fear as she faced the murky water.  Her fear
resonated in the silence, bounced into the dank air and then returned to lodge
deep in her belly.