The entrance to the cave was quite large but not symmetrical, and more wide than high. The right side was taller; the left lower section had a projecting ledge over part of it, creating a sheltered area that offered some protection from rain, and from the occasional rain of pebbles that cascaded down the cliff. A cone-shaped mound of gravel had accumulated at the far left end of the cave’s mouth, falling from the rock face above, amassing on the ledge, and spilling over, creating a scree slope from the base of the cone that continued down the side of the cliff.
As a result of the capacious opening, light penetrated to some depth into the cave. Ayla thought it would make a good place to live, but it obviously was not used as such. Except for the corner under the ledge where a small fire was burning outside a sleeping shelter, there was little evidence of the things that people used to make their life comfortable. As they approached, a Zelandoni came out of the shelter and greeted them.
“In the name of the Great Earth Mother, you are welcome to Her Most Ancient Sacred Place, First Among Those Who Serve Her,” she said, holding out both hands.
“I greet you, Watcher of Her Most Ancient Sacred Site,” the First replied.
Jonokol was next. “I am Zelandoni of the Nineteenth Cave of the Zelandonii, and I greet you, Watcher of Her Most Ancient Sacred Site. I am told the images inside this Sacred Place are quite striking. I have also made some images, and I am honored to be invited to see this Sacred Site,” he said.
The Watcher smiled. “So you are a Zelandoni Image Maker,” she said. “I think you will be a little surprised at what you see in this cave, and perhaps you will appreciate the artistry more than most. The Ancients who worked here were quite skilled.”
“Are all the images here made by the Ancients?” the Nineteenth asked.
The Watcher heard the unspoken plea in Jonokol’s voice. She had heard it before from artists who came to visit. They wanted to know if they would be allowed to add to the work, and she knew what to say.
“Very nearly, though I do know of a few made more recently. If you feel equal to the task, and compelled to do so, you are free to make your mark here. We put no restrictions on anyone. The Mother chooses. You will know if you are chosen,” the Watcher said. Though many asked, very few actually did feel equal to the task of contributing to the remarkable work inside.
Ayla was the next one. “In the name of the Great Mother of All, I greet you, Watcher of the Most Ancient Sacred Site,” she said, holding out her hands. “I am called Ayla, acolyte to the First Among Those Who Serve The Great Earth Mother.”
She’s not ready to give up her name yet, was the Zelandoni’s first thought. Then she grew conscious that the young woman had spoken with an unusual accent and knew she was the person she had been told about. Most of her Cave thought that all the visitors spoke Zelandonii with what they considered a northern accent, but the way this woman spoke was entirely different. She spoke well, and she obviously knew the language, but the way she made certain sounds was unlike anything she had heard before. There was no doubt that she came from a very distant place.
She looked at the young woman more carefully. Yes, she thought, she’s attractive, but she has a foreign aspect, a different set to her features, a shorter face, wider space between her eyes. Even her hair, it’s not fine, like so many Zelandonii women. It has a thicker texture, and though she is blond, the shade is distinctive, darker, rather like honey or amber. A foreigner and yet she is acolyte to the First. It’s rare enouch for a foreigner to become one of the zelandonia, much less acolyte to the First. But perhaps understandable since she’s the one who can control horses and a wolf. And she’s the one who stopped the men who have been causing so much trouble for so many years.
“You are welcome to this Most Ancient Sacred Site, Ayla, acolyte to the First,” the Zelandoni said, grasping Ayla’s hands. “I suspect you have traveled farther to see this site than anyone ever has.”
“I came with the rest of …” Ayla started, then seeing the smile on the woman’s face, she understood. It was her accent. The Watcher was talking about how far she had traveled on her Journey with Jondalar, and before that, from her home with the Clan, and perhaps even before that. “You could be right,” she said, “but Jondalar may have traveled even farther. He Journeyed all the way from his home to the end of the Great Mother River far to the east, and beyond, where he found me, and then back again before we started on this Donier Tour.”
Jondalar stepped closer at the sound of his name and grinned when he heard Ayla describe his travels. The woman was not young and immature and not old, but old enough so that she had the wisdom that came from experience and maturity, about the age he used to like women before he met Ayla.
“Greetings, respected Watcher of the Most Ancient Sacred Site,” he said, holding out his hands. “I am Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Flint-Knapper of the Ninth Cave. Mated to Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, who is acolyte of the First. Son of Marthona, former leader of the Ninth Cave; brother of Joharran, leader of the Ninth Cave. Born to the Hearth of Dalanar, leader and founder of the Lanzadonii.”
He recounted his important names and ties. It was one thing for members of the zelandonia to simply state their primary affiliations, but it would seem too casual and not very courteous for him to be so brief in a formal introduction, especially to a Zelandoni.
“You are welcome here, Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” she said, taking his hands and looking into eyes of an incredibly vivid shade of blue, eyes that seemed to see inside her very spirit, and cause her womanhood to quiver. She closed her eyes for a moment to regain her internal balance. No wonder she’s not ready to give up her name yet, the Watcher thought. She’s mated, and to one of the most fascinating men I have ever met. I wonder if anyone is planning a Mother Festival for these visitors from the north … too bad my time for serving as Watcher is not up yet. If someone needs me here, I can’t go to Mother Festivals.
Willamar, who was waiting to introduce himself to the Watcher, ducked his head to smile to himself. It was a good thing that Jondalar hardly seemed to notice the impact he still had on women, he thought, and as perceptive as she was, Ayla seemed oblivious to it. Even though it was discouraged, he knew that jealousy still lived in the hearts of many.
“I am called Willamar, Master Trader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” he said, when his turn came, “mated to Marthona, the former leader of the Ninth Cave, who is the mother of this young man. Though he was not born to my hearth, he was raised there so I think of him as the son of my heart. I feel the same about Ayla and her little one, Jonayla.”
She’s not only mated, she has a child, a young child, the Watcher thought. How can she even think of becoming a Zelandoni? Much less as an acolyte to the the most powerful Zelandoni on earth? The First must see a lot of potential in her, but inside she must be pulled so many ways.
Only these five visitors would be going into the cave at this time. The rest of the visitors would go another time and might not see as much. The Caves that watched over the Sacred Site didn’t like too many to go in at one time. There were torches and lamps near the fireplace. That was part of the Watcher’s job, to gather and prepare them so they would be on hand when needed. Everyone took a torch. The Watcher handed out extras, put more of them in a pack, and added some stone lamps and small bladders of oil. When everyone had a fire holder to light the way, the Watcher started in.
There was enough daylight coming into the entrance chamber to get a sense of the huge size of the cave, and a first impression of its disorganized character. A chaotic landscape of stone formations filled the space. Columns of stalactites once attached to the ceiling and their stalagmitic mates had dropped down as though the floor had fallen out from under them, some tipped over, some collapsed, some shattered. There was a sense of immediacy in the way they were strewn about, yet everything was so frozen in time they were iced with a thick caramel layer of glistening stalagmitic frosting.
The Watcher started humming as she led them toward the left, staying close to the wall. The rest followed in single file, with the First next in line, then Ayla, followed by Jonokol and Willamar, with Jondalar at the end. He was tall enough to see over the heads of the rest and thought of himself as a sort of protective rear guard, though he had no idea from what they needed to be protected.
Even well into the cave there was still enough light coming in from the entrance that it was not entirely dark. Instead the cave was suffused with a kind of deep twilight, especially once eyes became accustomed to the shadowed ambience. As they moved inside and passed by with their lamps or torches, the coloration of the stone the light illuminated varied from thin new icicles of pure white to lumpy gray stumps hoary with age. Flowing draperies hung from above, striped along the folds in shades of yellow, orange, red, and white. Shining lights of crystal caught the eye, reflecting and amplifying the meager light, some glittering off the floor covered by a white film of calcite. They saw fantastical sculptures that kindled the imagination and colossal white columns that glowed with translucent mystery. It was an utterly beautiful cave.
In the vague light they reached a place where the space seemed to open out. The sides of the chamber disappeared and in front of them, except for a gleaming white disk, the emptiness seemed to go on and on. Ayla felt that they had entered another area that was even larger than the entrance chamber. Though the ceiling was hung with strange and magnificent stalactites that resembled long white hair, the floor was unusually level, like the calm, still lake it once was. But now the floor of the huge chamber was cluttered with skulls and bones and teeth, and the shallow depressions that had been the beds of hibernating cave bears.
The Watcher, who had been humming continuously, started increasing the volume of her sound until the intensity and force of the droning was louder than Ayla, who was standing beside her, would have thought possible for anyone to make, but there was no reverberation. The noise was swallowed by the immensity of the empty space inside the stone cliff. Next the One Who Was First started singing the Mother’s Song in her deep, rich operatic contralto.
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.
From the dust of Her birth She created the other,
A pale shining friend, a companion, a brother.
They grew up together, learned to love and to care,
And when She was ready, they decided to pair.
Around Her he’d hover. Her pale shining lover.
She was happy at first with Her one counterpart …
The First hesitated, then stopped. There was no resonance, no echo coming back. The cave was telling them that this was not the place for people. This space belonged to the cave bears. She wondered if there were any images in the empty room. The Watcher would know.
“Zelandoni who watches over this cave,” she said formally, “did the ancients make any images in the room ahead?”
“No,” the woman said. “This room isn’t ours to paint. We can go into the room in spring, just as they often go into our place in this cave, but the Mother has given this room to the cave bears for their winter sleep.”
“That must be why people decided not to live here,” Ayla said. “When I first saw this cave I thought it ought to be a good place to live and wondered why a Cave had not chosen it. Now I know.”
The Watcher led them to the right. They passed by a small opening that led to another chamber and a little farther on came to a larger opening. Like the entrance chamber, this one was a chaotic mass of fallen blocks of stalagmites and concretions. The pathway went around these obstructions and led to a vast space with a high ceiling and a dark red floor. A promontory created by a huge cascade of stone dominated the chamber marked by several large red dots on a rock pendant suspended from the ceiling. They came to a large panel, a nearly vertical wall that continued up to the ceiling, covered by large red dots and various signs.
“How do you think these dots were made?” the Watcher asked.
“I suppose a big wad of leather or moss, or something similar could have been used,” Jonokol said.
“I think the Zelandoni of the Nineteenth should look a little more closely,” the First said. Ayla remembered that she had been here before and no doubt knew the answer. Willamar probably knew, too. Ayla did not volunteer a guess, nor did Jondalar. The Watcher held up her hand and stretched back her fingers, then held it up to a dot. It was just about the same size as her palm.
Jonokol peered at the large dots. They were a bit blurry but he could see faint impressions of the beginnings of fingers extending up from some of the dots. “You’re right!” he said. “They must have made a very thick paste of red ocher, and dipped their palms in it. I don’t think I have ever seen dots made that way!”
The Watcher smiled at his amazement, and looked rather pleased with herself. Seeing the smile made Ayla notice that the area they were in seemed to be more well lit. She looked around and realized they were close to the entrance again. They could have come this way in the beginning instead of going around by way of the extensive bear sleeping room, but she was sure the Watcher had her reasons for going the way she did. Next to the large dots was another painting that Ayla could not decipher except for the straight line of red paint above it with a crosspiece near the top.
The path led them around the blocks and concretions in the center of the room until they came to the head of a lion painted in black on the wall opposite. It was the only black painting she saw. Near it was a sign and some little dots, perhaps made with a finger. Somewhat farther on was a series of palm-size red dots. She counted them in her mind using the counting words. There were thirteen. Above them was another group of ten dots on the ceiling, but in order to make them someone had had to climb up on a concretion, with the help of some friends or apprentices, she supposed, so they must have been important to the maker, although she could not imagine why.
A little farther on was an alcove. A lobe of rock at the entrance was completely covered with the large red dots. Inside the alcove were more red dots on one wall and on the opposite wall, a group of dots, some lines and other markings, and three horse heads, two of them yellow. Within the central mass of blocks and stalagmites, opposite the alcove, the Watcher pointed out another sizable panel of large red dots behind some low concretions.
“Is there an animal head made of red dots in the middle of those dots?” Jonokol asked.
“Some people think so,” the Watcher said, smiling at the image-making Zelandoni for seeing it.
Ayla tried to see an animal, but she only saw dots. She did, however, see a difference. “Do you think these dots were made by a different person than the other dots? They seem bigger.”
“I think you are right,” the Watcher said. “We think the others were made by a woman, these by a man. There are more images, but in order to see them, we need to go back the way we came.”
She began humming again as she led them into a small chamber within the central concretions. A large drawing of the front part of a deer was painted there, probably a young megaceros. It had small, palmate antlers and a slight hump on the withers. While they were there, the Watcher raised the volume of her humming. The chamber resonated, crooned back to them. Jonokol joined in, singing scales that softly harmonized with the Watcher’s tones. Ayla began whistling birdsongs that complemented the music. Then the First started singing the next verses of the Mother’s Song, toning down her strong contralto so that it just lent a rich, deep intense note to the singing.
She was happy at first with Her one counterpart.
Then the Mother grew restless, unsure in Her heart.
She loved Her fair friend, Her dear complement,
But something was missing, Her love was unspent.
She was the Mother. She needed another.
She dared the great void, the chaos, the dark,
To find the cold home of the life-giving spark.
The whirlwind was fearsome, the darkness complete.
Chaos was freezing, and reached for Her heat.
The Mother was brave. The danger was grave.
She drew from cold chaos the creative source,
Then conceiving within, She fled with life force.
She grew with the life that She carried inside.
And gave of Herself with love and with pride.
The Mother was bearing. Her life She was sharing.
The dark empty void and the vast barren Earth,
With anticipation, awaited the birth.
Life drank from Her blood, it breathed from Her bones.
It split Her skin open and sundered Her stones.
The Mother was giving. Another was living.
Her gushing birth waters filled rivers and seas,
And flooded the land, giving rise to the trees.
From each precious drop more grass and leaves grew,
And lush verdant plants made all the Earth new.
Her waters were flowing. New green was growing.
The First stopped at a place that felt like an ending to the impromptu chorus. Ayla stopped too, at the end of an extended melodious trill of a skylark, leaving Jonokol and the Watcher, who finished on a harmonizing tone. Jondalar and Willamar slapped their hands on their thighs in appreciation.
“That was marvelous,” Jondalar said. “Just beautiful.”
“Yes. That sounded quite good,” Willamar said. “I’m sure the Mother appreciated it as much as we did.”
The Watcher led them through the small chamber, then down to another recess. From the entrance the head of a bear painted in red could be seen. As they crouched down to get through a low corridor, more of the bear came into sight, and then the head of a second one appeared out of the darkness. Once they were through and could stand, they could see the head of a third bear lightly sketched under the head of the first one. The shape of the wall was skillfully used to add depth to the first bear, and although the second bear seemed to be complete, it was a hollow in the place of the hindquarters that gave that impression. It was almost as though the bear were emerging from the spirit world through the wall.
“Those are definitely cave bears,” Ayla said. “The shape of their forehead is so distinctive. It’s like that from the time they are little.”
“Have you seen little cave bears?”
“Yes, occasionally. The people I grew up with had a special relationship with Cave Bears,” Ayla said.
When they stood at the back of the niche, they could see two ibex partially painted in red on the right wall. The horns and the backs of the animals were formed by the natural fissures in the rock wall.
They went back through the corridor and climbed back up to the level of the deer, then followed the left-hand wall until they reached a large open area. As they walked around the chamber, Jonokol looked into a niche that held an ancient concretion with a top in the shape of a small basin. He took his waterbag and poured a little water in it. They went back out the way they went in and finally reached the large opening that led to the bears’ sleeping room. Not far from the entrance of the cave, on a big rock pillar that separated the two chambers, opposite the other paintings in the room full of chaotic rock formations, was a panel some twenty feet long by ten feet high that was covered in large red dots. There were other markings and signs, including the straight line with a crossbar near the top.
The Watcher led them through the opening into the bears’ sleeping room again, following the left wall. She stopped just before an opening. “There is much in here, but I wanted you to see certain things,” the Zelandoni said, looking directly at Ayla. “First,” she said, holding up the torch she was carrrying. There were some red marks on the wall that appeared to be random lines. Suddenly Ayla’s mind filled in the gaps and she could see the head of a rhinoceros. She saw the forehead, the start of the two horns, a short line for its eye, the end of its muzzle with a line drawn for the mouth, and then the suggestion of its chest. It startled her in its simplicity, yet once she saw the animal, it was clear.
“It’s a rhinoceros!” Ayla said.
“Yes, and you will not see any others inside this room,” the Watcher said.
The floor was hard stone, calcite, and the left wall was blocked by white-and-orange-colored columns. Once past the columns, there were almost no concretions except for the ceiling, which held strange rounded stone shapes and reddish deposits. The floor was full of pieces of stone of every size that had fallen from the ceiling. A somewhat circular area was broken by the fall of a heavy fragment from above, which caused a tilt in the floor. Near the entrance, on a rock pendant was a small, rudimentary sketch in red of a mammoth.
Beyond that, high up on the wall was a small red bear. It was apparent that the artist had to climb up the wall to paint it. Below it, on a rock sticking out of the wall, were two mammoths that utilized the relief of rock wall, and beyond it on another protrusion was a strange sign. On the opposite wall was an extraordinary panel of red paintings, which included the forequarters of a well-made bear. The shape of the forehead and the way the head was carried identified it as a cave bear.
“Jonokol, doesn’t this bear look very much like the red bear we just saw?” Ayla asked.
“Yes, it does. I suspect it was made by the same person,” he said.
“But I don’t understand the rest of the painting. It’s like two different animals joined together so that it seems to have two heads, one of them coming out of the chest of the bear, but then there’s a lion in the middle, and another lion head in front of the bear. I don’t understand this painting at all,” Ayla said.
“Perhaps it’s not meant to be understood by anyone but the one who made it. The artist used a lot of imagination, and may have been trying to tell a story that is not known anymore. There are no Elder Legends or Histories that I know of to explain it,” the First said.
“I think we just have to appreciate the quality of the work,” the Watcher said, “and let the Ancients keep their secrets.”
Ayla nodded agreement. She had seen enough caves now to know that it wasn’t so much how the images looked when they were done as what the artists accomplished while they were making the art. Farther into the gallery, beyond the second lion head and a fault in the wall was a panel painted with black: the head of a lion, a big mammoth, and finally a figure painted high above the floor on a pendant hanging from the ceiling; it was a large red bear, its back outlined with black. The mystery was how the artist painted it. It was easily visible from the floor, but whoever made it had to climb over many high concretions to reach it.
“Did you notice that all the animals are going out of the room, except for the mammoth?” Jonokol said. “It’s as if they are coming into this world from the place of the spirit world.”
The Watcher stood just outside the room they had been in and started humming again, but this time it was similar to the melody of the music of the Mother’s Song the way the First sang it. Every Cave of the Zelandonii sang or recited the Mother’s Song. It told the story of their beginnings, of the origin of the people, and while they were all similar and told the same story, each Cave’s version was not exactly the same. That was especially true if they sang it. The melodies of the songs were often quite different, sometimes depending on who did the singing. Because she had been endowed with such an extraordinary voice, the First had composed her own unique way of singing it.
As if on signal, the First picked up the next verse of the Mother’s Song from where she left off. Both Jonokol and Ayla refrained from joining in, and just enjoyed listening.
In violent labor spewing fire and strife,
She struggled in pain to give birth to new life.
Her dried clotted blood turned to red-ochered soil,
But the radiant child made it all worth the toil.
The Mother’s great joy. A bright shining boy.
Mountains rose up spouting flames from their crests,
She nurtured Her son from Her mountainous breasts.
He suckled so hard, the sparks flew so high,
The Mother’s hot milk laid a path through the sky.
His life had begun. She nourished Her son.
He laughed and he played, and he grew big and bright.
He lit up the darkness, the Mother’s delight.
She lavished Her love, he grew bright and strong,
But soon he matured, not a child for long.
Her son was near grown. His mind was his own.
She took from the source for the life She’d begun.
Now the cold empty void was enticing Her son.
The Mother gave love, but the youth longed for more,
For knowledge, excitement, to travel, explore.
Chaos was Her foe. But Her son yearned to go.
He stole from Her side as the Great Mother slept,
While out of the dark swirling void chaos crept.
With tempting inducements the darkness beguiled.
Deceived by the whirlwind, chaos captured Her child.
The dark took Her son. The young brilliant one.
The Mother’s bright child, at first overjoyed,
Was soon overwhelmed by the bleak frigid void.
Her unwary offspring, consumed with remorse,
Could not escape the mysterious force.
Chaos would not free. Her rash progeny.
But just as the dark pulled him into the cold,
The Mother woke up, reached out and caught hold.
To help Her recover Her radiant son,
The Mother appealed to the pale shining one.
The Mother held tight. And kept him in sight.
The sound resonated. The song echoed back to them, not as strongly as some, the First thought, but with interesting nuances, almost as though it were doubling back on itself. When the First reached a place in the verse she felt was appropriate, she stopped. Silently, the group continued on.
On the right side of the cave they came to a large accumulation of stalagmitic stone along with collapsed blocks. This time the Watcher took them to the left side of the cave at the deepest part of the bears’ sleeping room. Across from the stalagmites and stone blocks was a large rock pendant in the shape of a blade hanging from the ceiling. The stones defined the beginning of a new chamber with a high ceiling in the beginning, but decreasing toward the back. Many concretions hung from the roof and the walls, unlike the bears’ sleeping place, which had no such concretions.
When they reached the hanging pendant, the Watcher knocked her torch against an edge of rock to make it burn cleaner, then held it up so the visitors could see the the surface of the panel. Closest to the bottom, facing left, painted in red, was a spotted leopard! Ayla, Jondalar, and Jonokol had never seen a leopard painted on the walls of a Sacred Site before. Its long tail made Ayla think it was probably a snow leopard. At the end of the leopard’s tail was a thick flow of calcite and on the other side of it was one large red dot. No one understood the reason for the large red dots in this place, or even what the leopard meant, but there was no doubting that it was a leopard.
The same could not be said about the animal above it that faced right. The massive shoulders and shape of the head could almost be mistaken for a bear, but the thin body, long legs, and spots on the upper body made Ayla sure it was a cave hyena! She knew hyenas and they had massive shoulders. The shape of the head in the painted animal somewhat resembled that of a cave bear. The powerful teeth and jaw muscles of a hyena, which could crack the bones of a mammoth, had developed a more powerful bone structure, too, but its muzzle was longer. The coat of a hyena was stiff and coarse, especially around the head and shoulders.
“Do you see the other bear above it?” the Watcher said.
Suddenly Ayla caught sight of another figure above the hyena. In faint red lines Ayla could make out the distinctive shape of a cave bear facing left, in the opposite direction from the hyena, and she began making comparisons.
“I don’t think the spotted animal is a bear. I think it is a cave hyena,” Ayla said.
“Some people think so, but its head is so bearlike,” the Watcher said.
“The heads of the two animals are similar,” Ayla said, “but the hyena in the image has a longer muzzle, and no discernible ears. The tuft of bristly hair on the top of its head is typical of a hyena.”
The Watcher didn’t argue. People had a right to think what they wished, but the acolyte had made some interesting observations. The woman then pointed out another cat that was hidden on a narrow panel on the underside of the hanging stone and asked her what kind of cat she thought it was. Ayla wasn’t sure; there were no distinctive marks on its coat and it was enlongated to fit the space, but it was very catlike—on second thought, maybe weasel-like. There were some other animals that she was told were ibex, but they weren’t as clear to her. They were then led back to the left side of the chamber. At first there were many concretions, but no drawings.
As they continued down the passage they came to a long panel. A calcareous formation had decorated the wall with draperies and strings of red, orange, and yellow that didn’t quite reach the thick conical mounds beneath them. Concretions like rivulets frozen in time seemed to run down the hanging drapes, leaving spaces between them on which strange signs had been painted.
One was a sort of long rectangular shape with lines coming out the sides. It reminded Ayla of a very large depiction of one of those creeping creatures with many legs, perhaps a caterpillar. In a space next to it was a shape that had something like wings on either side of the center. It could have been a butterfly, which was the next stage in the life of a caterpillar, but it wasn’t as carefully done as many of the other paintings, so she wasn’t sure. She thought of asking the Watcher, but doubted if she knew. Whatever she said would only be her guess.
As they continued, the wall became less extravagantly decorated. The Watcher started softly humming again. There was some resonance, but not much until they came to an area with overhanging rock. There clusters of red dots had been made. It was followed by a frieze of five rhinoceroses. There were other signs and animals in the area. Seven heads and one complete catlike animal, perhaps lions, plus a horse, a mammoth, a rhinoceros. Several positive images of handprints, plus dots forming lines and circular figures. Farther on were more signs and a sketch of a rhino in black.
Next they came to another blade of rock, a kind of partition on which were more signs, a partial outline of a mammoth in black with a red negative hand stencil inside the line of the body, and another on the flank of a horse. To the right of them, two clusters of large dots. On the other side of the panel of hand stencils was a drawing in red of a little bear. There was also a red deer and some other marks, but the bear was the predominant figure. It was drawn very much like the other red bears they had seen, but it was a miniature version. The panel marked the beginning of a small chamber straight ahead. As they looked in they could see that it had little headroom.
“I don’t think we need to go in here,” the Watcher said. “It’s just a very small space without much in it, and we’d have to stoop or crouch once we were inside of it.”
The First agreed. She had little desire to squeeze herself into a tiny space, and as she recalled, there wasn’t much in it. Besides she knew what was coming and was more anxious to see that.
Instead of going straight ahead to visit the small chamber, the Watcher turned left, then followed the right wall. The next chamber was about five feet lower than the one they were in. The floor was slanted down, the ceiling was high in places and low in others, and the walls and ceiling had many concretions. There was some evidence that cave bears had been there—paw prints, claw marks, and bones. Ayla thought she saw the hint of a drawing some distance away, but the Watcher just walked through, not bothering to point it out. The space felt like an entryway to something else.
The entrance to the next chamber was low. In the center of the next room was a sinkhole, a depression that was about thirty feet around and over twelve feet deep. They passed around the right of it on a floor of brown earth.
“When did the floor collapse?” Jondalar asked. The floor underfoot seemed solid enough, but he wondered if it could happen again.
“I don’t know,” the Watcher said, “but I do know it was after the Ancients were here.”
“How do you know that?” Jondalar asked.
“Look above the hole,” she said, pointing to a smooth, bladelike pendant of rock descending from the ceiling over the hole.
Everyone looked. Because the surfaces of most of the walls and descended ceiling rocks in this chamber were coated with a soft layer of light brown claylike material, vermiculite—a chemical alteration of the mineral constituents of the stone that softened the surface—the images were white. Drawings, engravings of a sort, could be made with a stick, or even a finger, displacing the brown-colored surface clay and leaving a pure white line underneath.
Ayla noticed that there were many white drawings in this room, but on the overhanging rock she could clearly see a horse, and an owl with its head turned around so that its face could be seen over its back. It was something owls were known to do, but she had never seen a drawing of it; she had never seen any owl drawings in any cave.
“You are right. That had to be made by the Ancients before the floor collapsed,” Jondalar said, “because no one could reach it now.”
The Watcher smiled at him, and enjoyed the incredulity in his voice. She pointed out several more of the finger-etched drawings in the large room. She took them around to the other side of the circular depression, the left wall. Although it was filled with hanging pendants of stalactites and stalagmitic pillars and circular pyramids built up on the floor, it was not difficult to move around in the room, and most of the decorations were at eye level. Even at a distance, the light from their torches showed many white engravings, some scraped to produce a white surface. Standing in the middle of the room they could see mammoths, rhinoceroses, bears, aurochs, bison, horses, and a series of curved lines and sinuous fingermarks drawn over bear claw marks.
“How many animals are in this room?” Ayla asked.
“I have counted almost twice twenty-five,” the Watcher said, holding up her left hand with all her fingers and her thumb bent at the knuckles, then opening her hand and closing the knuckles again.
Ayla remembered the other way to count with fingers. Counting with hands could be more complex than the simple counting words, if one understood how to do it. The right hand counted the words, and as each word was spoken, a finger was bent; the left hand indicated the number of fives counted. The left hand, held palm facing out, with all the fingers and thumbs bent at the knuckles, counted not five, the way she had taught herself when she first learned to count and the way Jondalar had once taught her the counting words, but twenty-five. She had learned this way of counting in her training, and the concept had astounded her. It made the counting words so much more powerful when used like that.
It occurred to her that the large dots could be a way of using the counting words, too. One handprint could be counted as five; one large dot made with only the palm of the hand could mean twenty-five; two would be twice twenty-five, fifty; and so many on the wall in one place would be a very large number, if one understood how to read it. But as with most things associated with the zelandonia, it was probably more complex than that. All signs had more than one meaning.
As they were walking around the room, Ayla saw a beautifully made horse, and behind it two mammoths, one superimposed on the other, with the line of their bellies drawn as a high arch, which made Ayla think of the massive arch outside. Was the arch supposed to represent a mammoth? Most of the animals in this chamber seemed to be mammoths, but there were many rhinoceroses, too; one in particular captured Ayla’s attention. Just the front half was engraved and it seemed to be emerging from a crack in the wall, emerging from the world behind the wall. There were also a few horses, aurochs, and bison, but no felines or deer. And while almost all of the images in the first part of the cave were made with red paint—the red ocher from the floor and walls—the images in this part were white, engraved with fingers or another hard object, except for some made with black on the right wall at the end, including a beautiful black bear nearby.
They looked interesting and she wanted to go see them, but the Watcher led them around the left side of the large crater in the middle of the room toward another section of the cave. The left wall was hidden by a rocky mass of big blocks that she could barely make out in the light of the torches, which reminded her to knock off the excess burned ash from her torch. The light flared up and she realized that she would need to light another torch soon.
The Watcher began humming again as they approached another space defined by a much lower height. So low that someone had climbed up on the blocks and drawn a mammoth with a finger on the ceiling. On the right was the head of a bison, quickly done, followed by three mammoths, then several more drawings on rock pendants hanging from the ceiling. Ayla could see two big reindeer drawn in black and shaded to give them contours and, less detailed, a third one. On another part of the pendant, two black mammoths faced each other, but only the forequarters of the one on the left were made. The one on the right was filled in with black, and it had tusks—the only tusks she had seen on the mammoths in this cave. There were other drawings on pendants farther back, quite a distance above the floor: another mammoth engraved in left profile, a big lion, and then, surprisingly, a musk-ox identifiable by its down-curving horns.
Ayla had been so involved in trying to see the animals on the pendants in the back that it wasn’t until she heard the First join in that she realized the Watcher, the First, and the Zelandoni of the Nineteenth Cave were singing to the cave again. She didn’t join in this time. She could make bird and animal sounds, but she couldn’t sing. But she did enjoy listening.
She welcomed him back, Her lover of old,
With heartache and sorrow, Her story She told.
Her dear friend agreed to join in the fight,
To rescue her child from his perilous plight.
She told of Her grief. And the dark swirling thief.
The Mother was tired, She had to recover,
She loosened Her hold to Her luminous lover.
While She was sleeping, he fought the cold force,
And for a time drove it back to the source.
His spirit was strong. The encounter too long.
Her fair shining friend struggled hard, gave his best,
The conflict was bitter, the struggle hard pressed.
His vigilance waned as he closed his great eye,
Then darkness crept close, stole his light from the sky.
Her pale friend was tiring. His light was expiring.
When darkness was total, She woke with a cry.
The tenebrious void hid the light from the sky.
She joined in the conflict, was quick to defend,
And drove the dark shadow away from Her friend.
But the pale face of night. Let Her son out of sight.
Trapped by the whirlwind, Her bright fiery son,
Gave no warmth to the Earth, cold chaos had won.
The fertile green life was now ice and snow,
And a sharp piercing wind continued to blow.
The Earth was bereft. No green plants were left.
The Mother was weary, grieving and worn,
But She reached out again for the life She had borne.
She couldn’t give up, She needed to strive,
For the glorious light of Her son to survive.
She continued the fight. To bring back the light.
Suddenly something caught Ayla’s eye, something that made her shiver, and gave her a frisson of not exactly fear, but recognition. She saw a cave bear skull, by itself, on top of the horizontal surface of a rock. She wasn’t sure how the rock had found its way to the middle of the floor. There were a few other smaller rocks nearby and she assumed they had fallen from the ceiling, though none of the other rocks had a squared-off flat top surface, but she knew by what means the skull had found its place on the rock. Some human hand had put it there!
As she walked toward the rock, Ayla had sudden memories of the cave bear skull Creb had found with a bone forced through the opening formed by the eye socket and the cheekbone. That skull had great significance to The Mog-ur of the Clan of the Cave Bear, and she wondered if any member of the Clan had ever been in this cave. This cave would certainly have held great meaning for them if they had. The Ancients who made the images in this cave were certainly people like her. The Clan didn’t make images, but they could have moved a skull. And the Clan was here at the same time as the Ancient Painters. Could they have come into this cave?
As she drew closer and looked at the cave bear skull perched on the flat stone, with its two huge canine teeth extended over the edge, in her heart she believed that the Ancient who had put it there belonged to the Clan. Jondalar had seen her shake, and walked toward the center of the space. When he reached the stone, and saw the cave bear skull on the rock, he understood her reaction.
“Are you all right, Ayla?” he asked.
“This cave would have meant so much to the Clan,” she said. “I can’t help but think they knew about it. With their memories, maybe they still do.”
The rest of them were now crowded around the stone with the skull.
“I see you have found the skull. I was going to show it to you,” the Watcher said.
“Do any of the people of the Clan come here?” Ayla asked.
“The people of the Clan?” the Watcher said, shaking her head.
“The ones you call Flatheads. The other people,” Ayla said.
“It’s strange that you should ask,” the Watcher said. “We do see Flatheads around here, but only at certain times of year, usually. They frighten the children, but we have come to a kind of understanding, if you can reach an understanding with animals. They stay away from us, and we don’t bother them if all they want is to go into the cave.”
“First I should tell you, they aren’t animals; they are people. The cave bear is their primary totem—they call themselves the Clan of the Cave Bear,” Ayla said.
“How can they call themselves anything? They don’t talk,” the Watcher said.
“They talk. They just don’t talk the way we do. They use some words, but mostly they talk with their hands,” Ayla said.
“How does one talk with hands?”
“They make gestures, motions with their hands and with their bodies,” Ayla said.
“I don’t understand,” the Watcher said.
“I’ll show you,” Ayla said, handing her torch to Jondalar. “The next time you see a person of the Clan who wants to go into this cave, you could say this.” Then she said the words as she made the gestures. “I would greet you, and I would tell you that you are welcome to visit this cave that is home to cave bears.”
“Those motions, those hand wavings, they mean what you just said?” the Watcher asked.
“I’ve been teaching the Ninth Cave and our zelandonia, and anyone else who wants to learn,” Ayla said, “how to make a few basic signs, so if they meet some people of the Clan when they are traveling, they can communicate, at least a little. I’ll be happy to show you some signs, too, but it would probably be better if we wait until we get out of the cave where there is more light.”
“I would like to see more, but how do you know so much?” the Watcher asked.
“I lived with them. They raised me. My mother, and whoever she was with—my people, I suppose—died in an earthquake. I was left alone. I wandered by myself until a clan found me and took me in. They took care of me, loved me, and I loved them back,” Ayla said.
“You don’t know who your people are?” the Watcher said.
“My people are the Zelandonii, now. Before that, my people were the Mamutoi, the mammoth hunters, and before that, my people were the Clan, but I don’t remember the people I was born to,” Ayla explained.
“I see,” the Watcher said. “I would like to know more, but now we still have more of this cave to see.”
“You are right,” the First said. Once it came up, she had been interested in how this Zelandoni would react to the information that Ayla brought. “Let’s continue.”
While Ayla had been thinking about the bear skull on the stone, the Watcher had shown the others more of the section they were in. Ayla noticed several areas as they walked on, a large scraped panel of mammoths, some horses, aurochs, and ibex.
“I should tell you, Zelandoni Who Is First,” the Watcher said, “the last chamber along this axis that is going the length of the cave is rather difficult. It requires climbing up some high steps and stooping over to go through a place with a low ceiling, and there isn’t much to see except some signs, a yellow horse, and some mammoths at the end. You might want to think about it before proceeding.”
“Yes, I recall,” the First said. “I don’t need to see this last place this time. I’ll let the more energetic ones go ahead.”
“I’ll wait with you,” Willamar said. “I have seen it, too.”
When the group got back together, they all started to walk along the wall that had been on the right and was now on their left. They passed the panel of scraped mammoths and finally came to the black paintings that they had only glimpsed from a distance. As they approached the first of the images, the Watcher started humming again, and the visitors could feel the cave responding.