Plains of Passage (59 page)

A skirt of deciduous trees formed a narrow band between the plains below, still warmed by the vestiges of summer, and the cooler heights. Primarily oak and beech with hornbeam and maple also prominent, the leaves were already changing into a colorful tapestry of reds and yellows accented by the deep evergreen of spruce at the higher edge. A cloak of conifers, which included not only spruce, but yew, fir, pine, and the deciduous-needled larch, starting low, climbed to the rounded shoulders of lower prominences and covered the steep sides of higher peaks with subtle variations of green that shaded to the yellowing larch. Above the timberline was a collar of summer-green alpine pasture that turned white with snow early in the season. Capping it was the hard helmet of blue-tinged glacial ice.

The heat that had brushed the southern plains below with the ephemeral touch of the short hot summer was already fading, giving way to the grasping clutch of cold. Though a warming trend had been moderating its worst effects—an interstadial period lasting several thousands of years—the glacial ice was regrouping for one last assault
on the land before the retreat would be turned to a rout thousands of years later. But even during the milder lull before the final advance, glacial ice not only coated low peaks and mantled the flanks of high mountains, it held the continent in its grip.

In the rugged forested landscape, with the added hindrance of hauling the round boat on the pole drag, Ayla and Jondalar walked more than they rode the horses. They hiked up sharply pitched slopes, over ridges, across loose patches of scree, and down the steep sides of dry gullies, caused by the spring runoff of melting snow and ice, and the heavy fall rains of the southern mountains. A few of the deep ditches had water at the bottom, oozing through the mulch of rotting vegetation and soft loam, which sucked at the feet of humans and animals alike. Others carried clear streams, but all would soon be filled again with the tempestuous outflow of the downpours of autumn.

At the lower elevations, in the open forest of broad-leafed trees, they were impeded by undergrowth, forcing their way through or finding a way around brush and briars. The stiff canes and thorny vines of the delicious blackberries were a formidable barrier that tore at hair, clothes, and skin as well as hides and fur. The warm shaggy coats of the steppe horses, adapted for living on cold open plains, were easily caught and tangled, and even Wolf took his share of burrs and twigs.

They were all glad when they finally reached the elevation of evergreens, whose relatively constant shade kept the undergrowth to a minimum, although on the steep slopes where the canopy was not as dense, the sun did filter through more than it would have on level ground, allowing some brush to grow. It was not much easier to ride in the thick forest of tall trees, with the horses having to pick their way around the wooded obstacles and passengers dodging low-hanging branches. They camped the first night in a small clearing on a knoll surrounded by needled spires.

It was approaching evening of the second day before they reached the timberline. Finally free of entangling brush and past the obstacle course of taller trees, they set up their tent beside a fast, cold brook on an open pasture. When the burdens were removed from the horses, they were eager to graze. Though their customary coarser dry fodder of the lower, hotter elevations was adequate, the sweet grass and alpine herbs of the green meadow were a welcome treat.

A small herd of deer shared the pasture, the males busily rubbing their antlers on branches and outcrops to free them of the soft coating of skin and nourishing blood vessels called velvet in preparation for the fall rut.

“It will soon be their season for Pleasures,” Jondalar commented as
they were setting up the fireplace. “They are getting ready for the fights, and the females.”

“Is fighting a Pleasure for males?” Ayla asked.

“I never thought of it that way, but it may be for some,” he acknowledged.

“Do you like to fight with other men?”

Jondalar frowned as he gave the question serious consideration. “I’ve done my share. Sometimes you get drawn into it, for one reason or another, but I can’t say I liked it, not if it’s serious. I don’t mind wrestling or other competitions, though.”

“Men of the Clan don’t fight with each other. It’s not allowed, but they do have competitions,” Ayla said. “Women do, too, but they are a different kind.”

“How are theirs different?”

Ayla paused to think about it. “The men compete in what they do; the women in what they make,” she said, then smiled, “including babies, though that is a very subtle competition, and nearly everyone thinks she is the winner.”

Farther up the mountain, Jondalar noticed a family of mouflon, and he pointed out the wild sheep with huge horns that curled around close to their heads. “Those are the real fighters,” Jondalar said. “When they run at each other and bang their heads together, it sounds almost like a clap of thunder.”

“When stags and rams run at each other with their antlers or horns, do you think they are really fighting? Or are they competing?” Ayla asked.

“I don’t know. They can hurt each other, but they don’t very often. Usually one just gives up when another one shows he is stronger, and sometimes they just strut around and bellow, and don’t fight at all. Maybe it is more competition than actual fight.” He smiled at her. “You do ask interesting questions, woman.”

A fresh cool breeze turned chilly as the sun dipped below the edge of vision. Earlier in the day, light siftings of snow had drifted down and melted in the open sunny spaces, but some had accumulated in the shady nooks, forecasting the possibility of a cold night, and heavier snows to come.

Wolf disappeared shortly after their hide shelter was set up. When he hadn’t returned by dark, Ayla felt anxious about him. “Do you think I should whistle to call him back?” she asked as they were getting ready to settle down for the night.

“It’s not the first time he’s gone off to hunt by himself, Ayla. You’re just used to him being around because you kept him close to you. He’ll be back,” Jondalar said.

“I hope he’s back by morning,” Ayla said, getting up to look around, trying in vain to see into the dark beyond their camp fire.

“He’s an animal; he knows his way. Come back and sit down,” he said. He put another piece of wood on the fire and watched the sparks rising into the sky. “Look at those stars. Did you ever see so many?”

Ayla looked up and a feeling of wonder came over her. “It does seem like a lot. Maybe it’s because we’re closer up here, and we’re seeing more of them, especially the smaller ones … or are they farther away? Do you think they go on and on?”

“I don’t know. I never thought about it. Who could ever know?” Jondalar asked.

“Do you think your Zelandonii might?”

“She might, but I’m not sure she’d tell. There are some things only meant for Those Who Serve the Mother to know. You do ask the strangest questions, Ayla,” Jondalar said, feeling a chill. Though he wasn’t sure it was from the cold, he added, “I’m getting cold, and we need to get an early start. Dolando said the rains could begin any time. That could mean snow up here. I’d like to be down from here before that.”

“I’ll be right there. I just want to make sure Whinney and Racer are all right. Maybe Wolf is with them.”

Ayla was still worried when she crawled into their sleeping furs, and she was slow to fall asleep as she strained to hear any sound that might be the animal returning.

   
It was dark, too dark to see beyond the many, many stars that were streaming out of the fire into the night sky, but she kept looking. Then two stars, two yellow lights in the dark moved together. They were eyes, the eyes of a wolf who was looking at her. He turned and started walking away and she knew he wanted her to follow, but when she started after him, her path was suddenly blocked by a huge bear.

She jerked back in fear when the bear got up on his hind legs and growled. But when she looked again, she discovered it wasn’t a real bear. It was Creb, the Mog-ur, dressed in his bearskin cloak.

In the distance she beard her son calling out to her. She looked beyond the great magician and saw the wolf, but it wasn’t just a wolf. It was the spirit of the Wolf, Durc’s totem, and it wanted her to follow. Then the Wolf spirit turned into her son, and it was Durc who wanted her to follow. He called out to her once more, but when she tried to go to him, Creb blocked her way again. He pointed to something behind her.

She turned and saw a path leading up to a cave, not a deep cave, but an overhanging shelf of light-colored rock in the side of a cliff, and above it an odd
boulder that seemed frozen in the act of falling over the edge. When she looked back, Creb and Durc were gone.

   “Creb! Durc! Where are you?” Ayla called out, bolting up.

“Ayla, you’re dreaming again,” Jondalar said, sitting up, too.

“They’re gone. Why wouldn’t he let me go with them?” Ayla said, with tears in her eyes and a sob in her voice.

“Who’s gone?” he said, taking her in his arms.

“Durc is gone, and Creb wouldn’t let me go with him. He blocked the way. Why wouldn’t he let me go with him?” she said, crying in his arms.

“It was a dream, Ayla. It was only a dream. Maybe it means something, but it was just a dream.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right, but it felt so real,” Ayla said.

“Have you been thinking about your son, Ayla?”

“I guess I have,” she said. “I’ve been thinking I’ll never see him again.”

“Maybe that’s why you dreamed about him. Zelandoni always said when you have a dream like that, you should try to remember everything about it, and that someday you might understand it,” Jondalar said, trying to see her face in the dark. “Go back to sleep now.”

They both lay awake for some time, but finally they dozed off again. When they woke up the next morning, the sky was overcast and Jondalar was anxious to be on their way, but Wolf had still not returned. Ayla whistled for him periodically as they struck their tent and repacked their gear, but he still did not appear.

“Ayla, we need to go. He’ll catch up with us, just like he always does,” Jondalar said.

“I’m not going until I know where he is,” she said. “You can go or wait here. I’m going to look for him.”

“How can you look for him? That animal could be anywhere.”

“Maybe he went back down. He did like Shamio,” Ayla said. “Maybe we should go back to look for him.”

“We’re not going back! Not after we’ve come this far.”

“I will if I have to. I’m not going until I find Wolf,” she said.

Jondalar shook his head as Ayla started backtracking. It was obvious she was adamant. They could have been well on their way by now if it wasn’t for that animal. As far as he was concerned, the Sharamudoi could have him!

Ayla kept whistling for him as she went along, and suddenly, just as she was starting back into the woods, he appeared on the other side of the clearing and raced toward her. He jumped up on her, almost
knocking her over, put his paws on her shoulder, and licked her mouth, gently biting her jaw.

“Wolf! Wolf, there you are! Where have you been?” Ayla said, grabbing his ruff, rubbing her face next to his, and putting her teeth on his jaw to greet him in return. “I was so worried about you. You shouldn’t run off like that.”

“Do you think we can get started now?” Jondalar said. “The morning is half-gone.”

“At least he did come, and we didn’t have to go all the way back,” Ayla said, leaping up on Whinney’s back. “Which way do you want to go? I’m ready.”

They rode across the pasture without speaking, irritated with each other, until they came to a ridge. Riding alongside, they looked for a way over it and finally came to a steep grade with sliding gravel and boulders. It appeared very unstable, and Jondalar continued trying to find another way. If it had been just them, they might have been able to climb over at several places, but the only way that seemed at all passable for the horses was the slope of sliding rock.

“Ayla, do you think the horses can climb that? I don’t think there’s any other way, except going down and trying to find some way around,” Jondalar said.

“You said you didn’t want to go back,” she said, “especially for an animal.”

“I don’t, but if we have to, we have to. If you think it’s too dangerous for the horses, we won’t try it.”

“What if I thought it was too dangerous for Wolf? Would we leave him behind then?” Ayla said.

To Jondalar, the horses were useful, and though he liked the wolf, the man simply did not think it was necessary to delay their passage for him. But it was obvious that Ayla did not agree, and he had sensed an undercurrent of division between them, a feeling of strain probably because she wanted to stay with the Sharamudoi. He thought that once they put some distance between them, she would look forward to reaching their destination, but he didn’t want to make her more unhappy than she was.

“It’s not that I wanted to leave Wolf behind. I just thought he would catch up with us, like he has before,” Jondalar said, although he had been nearly ready to leave him.

She sensed there was something more to it than he said, but she didn’t like to have the distance of disagreement between them, and now that Wolf had come back, she was relieved. With her anxiety gone, her anger dissipated. She dismounted and started climbing up the slope to
test it. She wasn’t altogether certain the horses could make it, but he’d said they would look for another way if they couldn’t.

“I’m not sure, but I think we should try it, Jondalar. I don’t think it’s quite as bad as it seems. If they can’t make it, then we can go back and see if we can find some other way,” she said.

It actually wasn’t quite as unstable as it appeared. Although there were a few bad moments, they were both surprised at how well the horses negotiated the slope. They were glad to put it behind them, but as they continued to climb, they encountered other difficult areas. In their mutual concern for each other and the horses, they were talking comfortably again.

The slope was easy for Wolf. He had run up to the top and back down again while they were carefully leading the horses up. When they reached the top, Ayla whistled for him and waited. Jondalar watched her and it occurred to him that she seemed much more protective toward the animal. He wondered why, thought about asking her, changed his mind afraid she would get angry, then decided to bring it up anyway.