The Shelters of Stone (Earth's Children 5)

“Immortal Soul, no death you fear. We praise you.”

“We praise you.” The voices were louder now.

“Your mortal lives are drawing near, we call you.”

The tone was growing high-pitched, expectant.

“We

call you.” The voices were louder still.

“Give them to us and shed no tear. We praise you.”

“We praise you.”

“The Mother wills it, do you hear? We call you.”

Now it was demanding.

“We call you. We call you. We call you!”

They were shouting. Ayla’s voice had joined the rest, though she wasn’t even aware of it. Then she noticed a large figure taking form on the rough wall. A barely visible dark figure was moving in front of the wall, somehow causing the shape of a giant deer to take form. A mature male with large antlers that seemed to breathe in the dawning light.

The hunters kept repeating in a low, monotonous drone in rhythm with the deep booming drum, “We call you. We call you. We call you. We call you.”

“Give them to us! Shed no tear!”

“The Mother wills it. Hear! Hear! Hear!” the voices nearly screamed. Suddenly a light seemed to turn on, and a loud wailing cry was heard that ended in a death rattle.

“She hears!” the chanting voice said abruptly. All sound suddenly ceased. Ayla looked up, but the deer was gone. Only the first bright beam of light of the sunrise remained.

There was no sound or movement at first. Then Ayla became conscious of breathing and shuffling movements. The hunters appeared dazed and were looking around as though they had just awakened. Ayla heaved a great sigh, then knelt down again and hugged the wolf. When she looked up, Proleva was there, handing her a cup of hot tea.

Ayla murmured her thanks and sipped the tea gratefully. She was thirsty, and no longer feeling the nausea of morning sickness, she realized, though she wasn’t sure when it had stopped. Perhaps on the hike to the Gather Field. She and Jondalar, with Wolf close by, walked with Joharran and his mate back to the fire, where the hot tea had been made. They were joined by Marthona and Willamar, and Folara.

“Kareja says she has a disguise for you, Ayla,” Joharran said. “We can pick it up when we pass by the Eleventh Cave.”

Ayla nodded, not quite sure how a disguise would be used to hunt giant deer.

Then she looked around to see who else was in the hunting party. She recognized Rushemar and Solaban and was not surprised. She would expect to see the leader’s advisers, the ones Joharran always turned to for assistance. She was startled to see Brukeval, then wondered why. He was, after all, a member of the Ninth Cave. Why shouldn’t he hunt with them? She was even more surprised to see Marona’s friend Portula. But when the woman saw her, she flushed, stared for a moment, then turned away.

“I don’t think Portula expected to see you wearing those clothes,” Marthona said quietly to Ayla.

The sun was climbing the great blue vault, and the hunters set out quickly, leaving behind those who were not joining the hunt. As they headed toward The River, the warm sun dissipated the somber mood wrought by the ceremony, and the conversation, held in quiet whispers earlier in the morning, reached a more normal tone. They spoke seriously but confidently about the hunt. Their mission might not be assured, but the familiar ritual had addressed the spirit of the giant deer—and the bison, just in case—and had focused everyone’s attention on the hunt, and the phantom manifestation on the back wall of the Gather Field had reinforced their spiritual bonds with the world beyond the material one.

Ayla felt a dampness in the air from a morning mist rising near the water. She glanced to the side and caught her breath at the sheer unexpected beauty of a momentary natural phenomenon. Twigs and leaves and blades of grass, highlighted by a beam of light, sparkled with the brilliance of every rainbow color, caused by the refraction of sunlight through the prisms of droplets. Even the symmetrical perfection of a spider’s web, whose sticky strands were designed to capture that predator’s quarry, had snared instead jeweled drops of condensed moisture along its slender threads.

“Jondalar, look,” she said, calling his attention to the display. Folara stopped, too, then Willamar.

“I would take that as a favorable sign,” the Trade Master said, smiling broadly before moving on.

Where The River widened, the water foamed and tumbled over its pebble-strewn bed, but parted around larger rocks, unable to entice them to join in the playful dance of Whitewater and shimmering ripples. The hunters started across The River at the broad shallows, stepping from stone to stone through the deeper middle. Some of the large rocks were brought there by a more turbulent stream of a different season during past years, and some were carried there recently to fill in the gaps left by nature. As Ayla followed the others, her thoughts turned toward the upcoming hunt. Then, just as she was about to start across, she suddenly stopped.

“What’s wrong, Ayla?” Jondalar asked with a concerned frown.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “I’m going back to get the horses. I’ll be able to catch up before the hunters reach Two Rivers Rock. Even if we don’t use the horses for hunting, they can help carry the kill back.”

Jondalar nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’ll come with you,” he said, then turning to Willamar. “Will you tell Joharran we’ve gone back for the horses? It won’t take long.”