The Shelters of Stone

  But the sound of these sobs seemed to have a different tone, Ayla thought, not so much of despair, but of mutual sadness and comfort. Then, at a signal from the First, the zelandonia and several others, including Ranokol, Shevonar’s brother, helped them all up and led them away from the grave.

  Ranokol’s pain at the loss of his brother had been as great as Relona’s, but he expressed it differently. He kept wondering why Shevonar had to make the sacrifice and not him. His brother had a family, and he didn’t even have a mate. Ranokol couldn’t stop thinking about it, but he didn’t want to talk about it. He would have avoided the burial ceremony altogether if he could have, and throwing himself on the grave was the last thing he wanted to do. He just wanted to leave as soon as he could.

  “We have returned Shevonar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii to Your breast, Great Mother Earth,” Zelandoni intoned.

  All the people who had gathered together for the burial of Shevonar stood surrounding the grave, and Ayla sensed an anticipation. They were expecting something to happen and were focusing on the great donier. The drums and ñutes had continued to play, but the sound had become part of the environment and Ayla hadn’t noticed it until the tone of the music changed, and Zelandoni began to sing again.

  “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 people responded in unison, some singing, some just saying the words.

  “The Mother was lonely. She was the only.”

  Then the One Who Was First sang alone again.

  “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.”

  And the people responded again, with the next line.

  “Around Her he’d hover. Her pale shining lover.”

  Ayla realized this was a familiar and understood story song that everyone knew and had been waiting for. She was already caught up in it and wanted to hear more. She listened while Zelandoni continued to sing the first part and the people responded with the last line.

  “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 out for Her beat.”

  “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.”

  “In violent labor spewing fire and strife,

  She struggled in pain to give birth to new life.

  Her dried clotted blood turned to red-ochred soil,

  But the radiant child made it all worth the toil.”

  “The Mother’s great joy. A bright shining boy.”

  Ayla’s breath caught in her throat when she heard those words. They seemed to tell the story of her and her son, Durc. She remembered struggling in pain to give birth to him and afterward, how it was all worth it. Durc had been her great joy. Zelandoni continued in her magnificent voice.

  “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.”

  This story seems so familiar, Ayla thought. She shook her head as though trying to make something fall into place. Jondalar, he told me some of this on our Journey here.

  “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.”

  Ayla’s mind kept nagging at her. It’s not just Jondalar, she thought. I feel as if I know this, or at least the essence of it. But where could I have learned it? Then something clicked. Losaduna! I memorized all kinds of things he taught me! There was one story like this about the Mother. Jondalar even recited parts of it during that ceremony. It wasn’t exactly the same, and it was in their language, but Losadunai is close to Zelandonii. That’s why I was able to understand what they said so fast! As she listened, she concentrated on bringing the memory of the Mother’s story back and began to feel a sense of the similarities and differences.

  “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.”

  Ayla began to smile as she started anticipating the next verse, or at least the essential meaning of it. The Mother Earth tells Her old friend, the Moon, the story of what happened to Her son next, Ayla thought.

  “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.”

  And now the listeners say it their way, Ayla said to herself. That’s how the story is supposed to be told. First the Losaduna, or the Zelandoni, narrates it, then the listeners answer or repeat it another way.

  “She told of Her grief. And the dark swirling thief.”

  Then it’s Zelandoni’s turn again.

  “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,

&nbs
p; 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 battle 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 bid 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.”

  “And Her luminous friend was prepared to contest,

  The thief who held captive the child of Her breast.

  Together they fought for the son She adored.

  Their efforts succeeded, his light was restored.”

  “His energy burned His brilliance returned.”

  The Great Mother Earth and the Moon have brought the Sun back, but not all the way; Ayla was again anticipating.

  “But the bleak frigid dark craved his bright glowing heat.

  The Mother defended and would not retreat.

  The whirlwind pulled hard. She refused to let go.

  She fought to a draw with Her dark swirling foe.”

  “She held darkness at bay. But Her son was away.”

  Was the Zelandonii version longer than the Losadunai story? Or did it just seem that way? Maybe singing the story makes it seem longer, but I really like the singing. I wish I understood it more. I think the songs change sometimes, the singing of some verses doesn’t sound the same as other verses.

  “When She fought the whirlwind and made chaos flee,

  The light from Her son glowed with vitality.

  When the Mother grew tired, the bleak void held sway,

  And darkness returned at the end of the day.”

  “She felt warmth from Her son. But neither had won.”

  “The Great Mother lived with the pain in Her heart,

  That She and Her son were forever apart.

  She ached for the child that bad been denied,

  So She quickened once more from the life-force inside.”

  “She was not reconciled. To the loss of Her child.”

  “When She was ready, Her waters of birth,

  Brought back the green life to the cold barren Earth.

  And the tears of Her loss, abundantly spilled,

  Made dew drops that sparkled and rainbows that thrilled.”

  “Birth waters brought green. But Her tears could be seen.”

  I really like this next part, but I wonder how Zelandoni will sing it, Ayla thought.

  “With a thunderous roar Her stones split asunder,

  And from the great cave that opened deep under,

  She birthed once again from Her cavernous room,

  And brought forth the Children of Earth from Her womb.”

  “From the Mother forlorn, more children were born.”

  “Each child was different, some were large and some small,

  Some could walk and some fly, some could swim and some crawl.

  But each form was perfect, each spirit complete,

  Each one was a model whose shape could repeat.”

  “The Mother was willing. The green earth was filling.”

  “All the birds and the fish and the animals born,

  Would not leave the Mother, this time, to mourn.

  Each kind would live near the place of its birth,

  And share the expanse of the Great Mother Earth”

  “Close to Her they would stay. They could not run away.”

  “They all were Her children, they filled Her with pride.

  But they used up the life-force She carried inside.

  She had enough left for a last innovation,

  A child who’d remember Who made the creation.”

  “A child who’d respect. And learn to protect.”

  “First Woman was born full-grown and alive,

  And given the Gifts she would need to survive.

  Life was the First Gift, and like Mother Earth,

  She woke to herself knowing life had great worth”

  “First Woman defined. The first of her kind”

  “Next was the Gift of Perception, of learning,

  the desire to know, the Gift of Discerning.

  First Woman was given the knowledge within,

  That would help her to live, and pass on to her kin.”

  “First Woman would know. How to learn, how to grow.”

  “Her life-force near gone, the Mother was spent,

  To pass on Life’s Spirit had been Her intent.

  She caused all of Her children to create life anew,

  And Woman was blessed to bring forth life, too.”

  “But Woman was lonely. She was the only.”

  “The Mother remembered Her own loneliness.

  The love of Her friend and his hovering caress.

  With the last spark remaining, Her labor began,

  To share life with Woman, She created First Man.”

  “Again She was giving. One more was living.”

  “To Woman and Man the Mother gave birth,

  And then for their home, She gave them the Earth,

  The water, the land, and all Her creation.

  To use them with care was their obligation.”

  “It was their home to use. But not to abuse.”

  “For the Children of Earth the Mother provided,

  The Gifts to survive, and then She decided,

  To give them the Gift of Pleasure and sharing,

  That honors the Mother with the joy of their pairing.”

  “The Gifts are well-earned. When honor’s returned.”

  “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.”

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

  Ayla waited for more, but when there was only silence, she realized the Mother’s Song had come to an end.

  People straggled back to their Caves in twos and threes. Some would not return to their homes until the middle of the night, some made plans to stay with friends or relatives. A few acolytes and Zelandonia remained behind at the gravesite, completing some of the more esoteric aspects of the ceremony, and would not be back until morning.

  Several people went home with Relona and her children and stayed overnight in her dwelling, most sleeping on the floor. It was thought necessary for many people to surround her. The elans of deceased mates had been known to try to return to their homes before they understood that they no longer belonged to this world. The grieving mates were susceptible to invasion by the roaming spirits and needed the protection of many people to ward off malign influences. Older people in particular were sometimes tempted to follow their mates’ elans to the next world shortly after one of them died. Fortunately, Relona was young yet and had young children who needed her.

  Ayla was one of those who stayed with t
he new widow, and Relona seemed pleased that she did. Jondalar had planned to stay as well, but by the time he completed the last of his ceremonial duties, it was quite late, and when he looked inside the dwelling, there were so many people sprawled out, he couldn’t see any room to squeeze in his large frame. Ayla waved at him from the other side of the room. Wolf was with her, and probably because of him, she had a little more room around her, but when he tried to step around people to reach her, he woke a few up. Marthona, who was closer to the entrance, told him to go home. He felt a bit guilty about it, but was grateful. Overnight vigils to ward off wandering spirits were not something he enjoyed. Besides, he’d had enough dealings with the spirit world for one day, and he was tired. He missed having Ayla beside him when he crawled into his sleeping roll, but he fell asleep quickly.

  When she returned to the Ninth Cave, the One Who Was First went immediately into her dwelling. She would soon be making another Journey to the next world and wanted to meditate, to prepare for it. She took off her chest plaque and turned it around to the plain undecorated side. She did not want any interruptions. She would not only try to guide Shevonar’s spirit to the world beyond, she planned to search for the elan of Thonolan as well, but for that she would need both Jondalar and Ayla.

  Jondalar awoke with a strong urge to make some tools. Although he might not have expressed it as such, he was still feeling uneasy about all the arcane events he’d recently been involved with. Flint-knapping was not only his craft, it was something he enjoyed, and getting his hands on a solid piece of stone was a good way to forget about the ambiguous, intangible, and vaguely ominous spirit world.

  He took out the pack of flint that he had quarried from the Lanzadoni flint mine. Dalanar had looked over the material that Jondalar had extracted from the outcrop, which contained the superior-quality flint that the Lanzadoni were known for. He made specific suggestions regarding what pieces to take with him and helped him trim away excess material, so that all he’d had to carry with him were workable blanks and cores. Horses could carry a great deal more than people, but flint was heavy. There was a limit to the amount of stone that could be taken, but when he examined the flint he had, he appreciated again just how fine it was.