The Land of Painted Caves (Earth's Children 6)

“Is there anything you want me to do?” Ayla asked.

“You’ve done your share,” the First said. “You gathered the plants to begin with.”

“Then I think I will go and find Jondalar. I haven’t seen him all day,” Ayla said. “When are we going to visit the Sacred Site?”

“I think it’s best to wait a few days, after this whole Balderan matter is finished,” Zelandoni First said.

Balderan and his men had been watching both Ayla and Jondalar, and Wolf, very closely, though not overtly. It was getting dark and close to the time when the evening meal would be served. It wasn’t officially being called a feast, but it would be a communal meal to which everyone was contributing, so it felt like a major celebration.

Ayla and Jondalar weren’t entirely sure where the men were being held; it changed somewhat depending upon who was watching them. They were deeply involved in conversation with each other, and nearly walked into Balderan and his men.

Balderan looked around quickly, and noticed that the wolf was not with them. The men who were supposed to be watching them also seemed distracted and not paying attention. “Let’s do it now!” he said.

Suddenly Balderan jumped out, grabbed Ayla, and the next instant had a leather thong around her neck. “Stay back or she dies!” Balderan shouted as he pulled tight on the cord. Ayla gasped, trying to breathe.

The other men had armed themselves with stones that they were threatening to throw or perhaps use to hit her or whoever came after them. Balderan had been waiting for this moment. He had planned how it would go in his mind, and now that he had her, he was enjoying it. He was going to kill her, maybe not right away, but he was going to enjoy it. He was sure he knew how the big “gentle giant” of a man would react.

But Balderan didn’t know that Jondalar had cultivated that calm and restrained demeanor as part of his need to keep himself under control at all times. He had allowed his temper to get control of him before and knew what he was capable of doing.

Jondalar’s first thought was, how dare anybody try to harm Ayla! This time it wasn’t temper, it was reaction.

In an instant, before any of the men even thought of moving, Jondalar took two long steps and was behind Balderan. He bent over and grabbed both his wrists and broke his hold, almost broke his arms. Then letting go of one arm, he spun him around and smashed him in the face with his fist. He was close to hitting him again, but the man slumped over in a daze, blood running down his face from his broken nose.

Balderan had misjudged Jondalar entirely. He was not only a big man, he was a powerful man with quick reflexes, a man who sometimes had to exert himself to control a spirited stallion. Racer was not a domesticated horse; he was a trained horse. Jondalar had lived with him from the day he was born and taught him, but Racer still had all the natural instincts of an extremely strong and sometimes willful wild stallion. It took a lot of strength to handle the horse, and it kept the man in shape.

Balderan had doubled the leather cord that had originally been used to tie his shirt together. It was still hanging loosely around Ayla’s neck, but the marks it had made were bright red, even in the dim light of fireplaces tha

t were some distance away. People were belatedly running in their direction. Everything had happened so fast. Several Zelandonia, including the First, went to help Ayla, and Jondalar wouldn’t leave her side.

The people Zelandoni First had spoken to about how to deal with Balderan had gathered around him as he was lying on the ground. Suddenly Aremina, the woman who had been raped and whose mate he had killed, kicked him. Then the woman who had lost her daughter after she was held by them and badly mistreated suddenly kicked him too. Then a man who had been beaten by the men after watching his mate and young daughter being raped punched his face, breaking his nose again. Balderan’s other men were trying to back away, but they were all surrounded now, and one of them was punched in the face.

There was no stopping the angry crowd now. Everyone who had been subject to the depredations of Balderan and his men was giving it back and then some. The crowd had turned into a mob. It had happened so fast, no one knew what to do at first; then the Zelandonia moved in to stop it. Ayla was among them shouting, “Stop it! Stop it now! You are acting like Balderan.” But the people couldn’t stop. All their frustrations, their feelings of impotence, humiliation, and powerlessness came out.

When the people settled down and looked around all four men were sprawled on the ground covered with blood. Ayla bent over Balderan to check him; he was dead and so were two others. One was barely hanging on to life, the one who had asked how he could make reparations. Wolf suddenly appeared and stayed with Ayla, watching the scene closely, a low growl in his throat, and she could tell he wasn’t sure what to do. Ayla sat on the ground with her arms around his neck.

The First moved beside her. “That’s not at all the way I expected it to happen,” she said. “I didn’t realize there was so much pent-up anger, but I should have.”

“Balderan brought it on himself,” Zelandoni First said. “If he hadn’t attacked Ayla, Jondalar would not have hit him. Once he was down, the people who had been hurt by him couldn’t hold back. They knew he wasn’t invincible. I guess there is no need for the hemlock now. I will have to make sure it is disposed of properly.”

Everyone was still tense and overexcited. It took a while for most people to understand what had happened. Those who had participated were beginning to feel a range of emotions. Some felt shame for what they had done; others felt relief, sorrow, excitement, even elation that Balderan had finally gotten back what he had given out.

Levela had kept Jonayla with her when Wolf ran out of the tent, though she wanted to follow him. Ayla had some of Balderan’s blood on her when she returned, which upset her daughter. She assured Jonayla that it was not her own blood, but that of a man who was hurt.

The next morning Jondalar went to see the Zelandonia who were both called First to tell them that Ayla wanted to stay in her tent and rest that day. Her throat still hurt from the attempted strangulation. All the local zelandonia had been discussing how to help the people, whether they should call another meeting, or wait until people came to them.

As Jondalar walked back, he was aware that people were watching him, but he didn’t care. And he didn’t hear the comments. Men admired his strength and his speed, his reaction had been so swift; the women just admired him. To have a man like that, so handsome, so quick to jump to his woman’s defense, who wouldn’t want such a man? If he had heard them talking, he wouldn’t have cared. He just wanted to get to his Ayla and make sure she was well, and that everything was all right.

But after a while it was the story of Balderan’s attack on Ayla and Jondalar’s quick defense that was told several times, not the resulting melee that ended in the beating death of three men, and quite possibly a fourth, although Gahaynar was holding on to life. The zelandonia had to decide how they were going to dispose of the bodies. It posed a dilemma. They didn’t want to honor them in any way; there would be no ceremony, but they did want to make sure their spirits were given back to the Mother. They ended up taking the bodies into the mountains and leaving them on the crest of a hill, exposed to every kind of scavenger.

The visitors from the nearby Caves spent a few more days camped in the field, then began to trickle away to get back into their normal routine now that the excitement was over. They would have many stories to tell about the visitors, the One Who Was First, and her acolyte who controlled a wolf and horses, and called up a two-headed snake, and who helped rid them of Balderan, but the versions of what happened to Balderan and his gang would likely be different depending upon what part each person had played in the events.

Ayla was getting restless and anxious to leave. She decided it was a good time to finish drying the bison meat—it would give her something to do—and laid out lines of cordage supported by sticks of wood, and built smoky fires in and around them. Insects like gnats were drawn to the raw meat, where they liked to lay eggs that could cause it to spoil. The smoke kept them away, and incidentally flavored the meat. Then she set about slicing the sections of bison into thin, uniform pieces. Before long, Levela joined her, then Jondecam and Jondalar. Jonayla wanted to help, so Ayla showed her how to cut the meat and gave her a section of the corded lines to hang her pieces up to dry. Willamar and his two assistants strolled into camp around midday, quite excited.

“After we leave here, we were thinking it might be a good idea to go south along this river until we reach the Southern Sea,” Willamar said. “After coming all this way, it would be a shame not to see it, and we’ve been told this is the time to trade for shells. They have many of the small round bead shells, and the pretty long dentalia, and some particularly nice scallop shells, even periwinkles, I’m told. We could keep some and trade some to the Fifth Cave.”

“What do we have to trade with them for the shells?” Jondalar asked.

“I was going to talk to you about that. Do you think you could find some good flint and make some blades and points to exchange for shells? And maybe some of that meat you are drying, Ayla?” Willamar said.