The Plains of Passage (Earth's Children 4)

Jondalar, after all his worry, and being reassured that Ayla had not been blessed by Doni, began to wonder, again, if there was something wrong with him. He lay awake thinking, wondering if his spirit, or whatever essence it was that Doni took from him, was strong enough, or if the Mother had forgiven him his youthful indiscretions and would allow it.

Maybe it was her. Ayla said she wanted a child. But, with all the time they spent together, if she wasn't pregnant, it could be that she couldn't have children. Serenio never had any more ... unless she was expecting when he left ... As he stared into the darkness of the inside of the tent, listening to the rain, he wondered if any of the women he had known had ever given birth, and if any babies had been born with his blue eyes.

Ayla was climbing, climbing, a steep rocky wall, like the steep path up to her cave in the valley, but it was much longer, and she had to hurry. She looked down at the small river swirling around the bend, but it wasn't a river. It was a waterfall, cascading in a wide spray over jutting rocks softened by lush green moss.

She looked up, and there was Creb! He was beckoning to her and making the sign to hurry. He turned around and started climbing, too, leaning heavily on his staff, leading her up a steep but climbable grade beside the waterfall, toward a small cave in a rocky wall bidden by hazelnut bushes. Above the cave, at the top of a cliff, was a large, flattened boulder tilting over the edge, ready to fall.

Suddenly she was deep in the cave, following a long, narrow passage. There was a light! A torch with its beckoning flame, and then another, and then the sickening roar of an earthquake. A wolf howled. She felt a whirling, spinning vertigo, and then Creb was inside her mind. "Get out!" he commanded. "Hurry! Get out now!"

She sat up with a start, throwing her sleeping furs off, and bolted for the tent opening.

"Ayla! What is it!" Jondalar said, grabbing her.

Suddenly a brilliant flash of light could be seen through the skin of the tent, and in a bright outline around the seams of the smoke-hole flap, and the crack around the entrance left open for Wolf. It was followed almost instantly by a loud, sharp boom. Ayla screamed, and Wolf howled outside the tent.

"Ayla, Ayla. It's all right," the man said, holding her in his arms. "It's just lightning and thunder."

"We have to get out! He said to hurry. Get out now!" she said, fumbling into her clothes.

"Who said? We can't go out there. It dark, and it's raining."

"Creb. In my dream. I had that dream again, with Creb. He said. Come on, Jondalar! We have to hurry."

"Ayla, calm down. It was just a dream, and probably the storm. Listen to it. It sounds like a waterfall out there. You don't want to go out in that rain. Let's wait until morning."

"Jondalar! I have to go. Creb told me to, and I can't stand this place," she said. "Please, Jondalar. Hurry." Tears were streaming down her face, though she was oblivious to them, as she piled things into pack baskets.

He decided he might as well. It was obvious she wasn't going to wait until morning, and he'd never get back to sleep now. He reached for his clothes while Ayla opened the entrance flap. The rain poured in as though someone had spilled it from a waterbag. She went outside and whistled, loud and long. It was followed by another wolf howl. After a wait, Ayla whistled again, then began tearing the tent stakes out of the ground.

She heard the hoofbeats of the horses and cried with relief to see them, though the salt of her tears was lost in the pouring deluge. She reached out to Whinney, her friend who had come to help her, and hugged the soaking-wet mare around the sturdy neck and felt the frightened horse shivering. She swished her tail and circled nervously with small prancing steps; at the same time she turned her head and flicked her ears back and forth, trying to find and identify the source of her apprehension. The horse's fears helped the woman bring her own under control. Whinney needed her. She spoke to the animal in gentling tones, stroking and trying to calm her, and then felt Racer leaning on them, if anything more frightened than his dam.

She tried to settle him, but he soon backed away in prancing little steps. She left them together while she hurried to the tent for the harnesses and pack baskets. Jondalar had rolled up sleeping furs and piled them in his pack before he heard the sound of hooves, and he had gotten harnesses and Racer's halter ready.

"The horses are very frightened, Jondalar," Ayla said when she came into the tent. "I think Racer's ready to bolt. Whinney is calming him a little, but she's scared, too, and he's making her more nervous."

He picked up the halter and went out. The wind and the pouring rain washed over him in sheets, almost knocking him down. It was raining so hard that he felt as though he were standing in a waterfall. It was much worse than he thought. Before long the tent would have been awash, and the rain would soon have soaked the ground cover and their sleeping furs. He was glad Ayla had insisted they get up and leave. In another flash of light, he saw her struggling to tie pack baskets on Whinney. The bay stallion was beside them.

"Racer! Racer, come here. Come on, Racer," he called. A great roaring boom tore through the air, sounding as though the very skies were breaking apart. The young stallion reared and neighed, then pranced and pivoted in erratic circles. His eyes were rolling, showing whites, his nostrils were flaring, his tail was lashing violently, and his ears were flicking in all directions, trying to focus on the source of his fears, but they were inexplicable and all around him, and that was terrifying.

The tall man reached up for the horse, trying to put his arms around the neck to bring him down, talking to the animal to steady him. There was a strong bond of trust between them, and the familiar hands and voice were settling. Jondalar managed to get the halter device on, and, picking up the harness straps, he hoped the next nerve-shattering bolt of lightning and blast of thunder would hold off.

Ayla came to get the last of their things from inside the tent. The wolf was behind her, though she hadn't noticed the animal before. When she backed out of the conical skin shelter, Wolf yelped, started running toward the willow woods, then ran back and yelped at her again.

"We're going, Wolf," she said, and then to Jondalar, "It's empty. Hurry!" She ran toward Whinney and dumped the armload she carried into a pack basket.

Ayla had communicated her distress, and Jondalar was afraid Racer wouldn't stand still much longer. He didn't worry about dismantling the tent. He yanked the support poles out through the smoke hole, tearing off the flap, dropped them in a pack basket, then bunched up the heavy waterlogged skins and stuffed them in after. The skittish horse rolled his eyes and backed away as Jondalar reached for the mane as a hold to leap on. Though his jump was a bit awkward, he managed to gain his seat, and then he was nearly pitched off when Racer reared. But he threw his arms around the stallion's neck and held on.

Ayla heard a long wolf howl and a strange deep roar as she climbed on Whinney's back, and she turned to see Jondalar holding on to the rearing stallion. As soon as Racer settled back down, she leaned forw

ard urging Whinney to go. The mare sprang ahead in a fast gallop, as though something were chasing her, as though, like Ayla, she couldn't wait to get away from there. Wolf bounded ahead, racing through brush, and as Racer and Jondalar followed close on her heels, the menacing roar grew louder.

Whinney tore through the woods of the level valley floor, dodging around trees, jumping over obstacles. Keeping her head low, with her arms around the horse's neck, Ayla let the mare find her own way. She couldn't see anything in the darkness and the rain, but she sensed they were heading toward the slope leading to the steppes above. Suddenly another burst of lightning flashed, filling the valley with instant brilliance. They were in the beech woods and the slope was not far. She glanced back at Jondalar and gasped.

The trees behind him were moving! Before the light died, several tall pines leaned precariously, then it went dark. She hadn't noticed the rumble growing louder until she waited to hear the trees fall and became aware that the sound was drowned out by the overpowering noise. Even the crack of thunder seemed to dissolve into the booming roar.

They were on the slope. She knew from the change in Whinney's pace that they were climbing up, though she still couldn't see. She could only trust to the mare's instincts. She felt the animal slip, then recover her footing. Then they broke out of the woods and were in a clearing. She could even see the rolling clouds through the rain. They must be in that meadow on the slope where the horses had grazed, she thought. Racer and Jondalar pulled up alongside. He, too, was hunched over his horse's neck, though it was too dark to see more than the shape of their silhouette, a black-on-black shadow.

Whinney was slowing, and Ayla could feel her labored breathing. The woods on the other side of the meadow were thinner, and Whinney was no longer racing at a frantic pace, dodging trees. Ayla sat up straighter, but still kept her arms around her mare's neck. Racer had pulled ahead in his burst of speed, but soon he slowed to a walk and Whinney caught up. The rain was easing up. The trees gave way to brush, and then grass, and then the slope leveled out as the steppes opened out before them in a darkness softened only slightly by clouds lighted by a hidden moon through a veil of rain.