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

The instrument, made of a mammoth bone, had such tonal resonance and variation when hit with a modified antler beater that it could be rapidly tapped at variously discrete areas in such a way that it approximated the sound of a voice speaking words. The words, spoken with a staccato throbbing, did not quite match a human voice, but they were words. They had a slightly ambiguous vibrato quality, which added a touch of mystery and expressive depth, but played by someone with sufficient skill, they were distinctly words. The drum could literally be made to talk.

The rhythm and pattern of the words made by the drum began to sound familiar. Then she heard the high-pitched resonance of a flute, and singing along with it was a sweet, high voice, a voice that sounded like the Mamutoi woman Fralie, whom Ayla had known. Fralie had been pregnant, a precarious pregnancy that she nearly lost. Ayla had helped her, but even with her help, the baby had been born early. But her daughter had lived, and became healthy and strong.

Sitting inside the round niche, Ayla discovered her face was wet with tears. She was crying great, heaving sobs, as though she felt she had suffered a devastating loss. The sound of the drum grew stronger, overcoming her anguished lament. She was recognizing sounds, discerning words.

Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,

The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime.

She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth,

The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth.

The Mother was lonely. She was the only.

It was the Mother’s Song! Sung as she had never heard it sung before. If only she had the voice to sing, that’s how she would sing it. It was both deep and earthy like a drum, and high and resonant like a flute, and the deep, rounded niche reverberated with the rich, vibrant sound.

The voice filled her head with the words; she felt them more than heard them, and the feeling was so much more than the words. She anticipated each line before it came, and when it came it was fuller, more eloquent, more profound. It seemed to go on forever, but she didn’t want it to stop, and as it neared the end, she felt a deep sadness.

The Mother was pleased with the pair She created,

She taught them to love and to care when they mated.

She made them desire to join with each other,

The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother.

Before She was through, Her children loved too.

But when Ayla anticipated no more, the voice did not stop.

Her last Gift, the Knowledge that man has his part.

His need must be spent before new life can start.

It honors the Mother when the couple is paired,

Because woman conceives when Pleasures are shared.

Earth’s Children were blessed. The Mother could rest.

The words came as a Gift, a benediction soothing her pain. The Mother was telling her she was right; she had been right all along. She’d always known; now it was confirmed. She was sobbing again, still feeling pain, but now it was mixed with joy. She was crying with grief and happiness both as the words repeated in her mind, over and over.

She heard the growl of a lion, and watched her Totem Spirit Lion turn to go. She tried to get up, but felt too weak, and called out to the animal.

“Baby! Baby, don’t go! Who will lead me out of here?”

The animal loped down the tunnel, then stopped and was coming toward her, but it wasn’t the lion that was approaching. Suddenly, the animal leaped at her, and began licking her face. Ayla shook her head, feeling shaky and confused.

“Wolf? Is it you, Wolf? How did you get here?” she said, hugging the great beast.

As she sat holding on to the wolf, her visions of the bison in the niche faded and grew dark. The scenes on the walls of the tunnels were getting dim, too. She reached for a wall to steady herself, then felt along the stone to move out of the niche. She sat on the ground and closed her eyes, trying to overcome her spinning head. When she tried to open her eyes, she wasn’t sure that she had. It was absolutely dark, whether her eyes were open or closed, and she felt a tingling lick of fear crawl up her spine. How was she going to find her way out?

Then she heard Wolf whine, and felt his tongue on her face. She reached out for him and her nervousness eased. She groped for the stone wall beside her, and at first felt nothing, but as she kept reaching, her shoulder bumped the stone. There was a space under one wall, unnoticed because it was so close to the ground, but as she was feeling her way, her hand touched something that was not stone.

She pulled it back quickly, then realizing that it was familiar, she reached in again. The cave was blacker than night, and she tried to discover what it was by feel. It had a soft suede feel, like well-scraped buckskin leather. She pulled out a leather-wrapped bundle. Examining it in her hands, she located a thong or strap, unwrapped it, and found an opening. It seemed to be a carrier pack of some sort, a soft leather pouch suspended from a strap. Inside, she found an empty waterbag—it made her realize that she was thirsty—a fur something, perhaps a cloak, and she could feel and smell the remnants of some uneaten food.

She closed it and put it over her shoulder, then pulled herself up and stood next to the wall, fighting a wave of dizziness and nausea. She felt something warm run down the inside of her leg. The wolf was drawn to sniff her, but she had trained him away from that habit long before, and pushed his inquisitive nose aside.