The Mammoth Hunters

  “I guess I am,” Ayla said, and then smiled though her heart wasn’t in it.

  Deegie wondered about her lack of enthusiasm. Somehow, Ayla just didn’t seem to be as excited about being Promised as she had been. Ayla wondered, too. She should be happy, she wanted to be happy, but all she felt was lost hope.

  During the general socializing, Ayla and Mamut slipped off to the Aurochs Hearth to make their final preparations. When they were ready, they returned along the passageway, but Mamut stopped in the shadows between the Reindeer Hearth and the Mammoth Hearth. People were in small groups, deeply involved in conversations, and the shaman waited until no one was looking in their direction. Then he motioned to Ayla and they moved quickly into the ceremonial area, staying in the shadows until the last moment.

  Mamut, unnoticed at first, stood silently in front of the fireplace near the screen, his cape brought around in front of him with his arms across his chest, his eyes apparently closed. Ayla, sitting cross-legged on the ground at his feet with her head bowed, had a cape draped across her shoulders as well. When they were seen, it was with the eerie feeling that they had suddenly appeared in their midst. No one had seen them coming. They were just there. The people quickly found places to sit, filled with a sense of anticipation and excitement, prepared now for the mystery and magic of the Mammoth Hearth, and curious about this new ceremony that had been prepared.

  But first Mamut wanted to establish the presence of the spirit world, to show the heightened reality of the altered sense in which he functioned to those who knew of it only by word of mouth, or perhaps results. The group quieted. In the silence, the sound of breathing grew loud, and the crackling of the fire. Moving air was an invisible presence whiffling in through the fireplace vents, and moaning a muted howl across partially opened smoke holes. So gradually that no one noticed when it began, the moaning wind became a humming monotone, then a rhythmic chant. As the assembled people joined in, enlarging the wavering tone with natural harmonies, the old shaman began a weaving, rocking, dancing movement. Then the tonal drum accented the rhythm, and the clack of a rattle that appeared to be several armbands held together and shaken.

  Suddenly Mamut threw off his cape, and stood in front of the assembly stark naked. He had no pockets, no sleeves, no secret folds to hide anything. Imperceptibly, he seemed to grow before their eyes, his transparent shimmering presence filling the space. Ayla blinked, knowing the old shaman had not changed. If she concentrated, she could see the familiar shape of the old man with sagging skin and long, thin, bony arms and legs, but it was difficult.

  He shrunk back to his normal size, but seemed to have swallowed or somehow incorporated the shimmering presence, so that it outlined him with a glow that made him seem larger than life. He held out his open hands in front of him. They were empty. He clapped his hands once, then held both hands together. His eyes closed, and at first he stood still, but soon he was trembling, as though straining against a great force. Slowly, with great effort, he pulled his hands apart. A black amorphous shape appeared between them, and more than one watcher shuddered. It had the ineffable feel, the smell, of evil; of something loathsome, foul, and frightening. Ayla felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck, and she held her breath.

  As Mamut stretched his hands apart, the shape grew. The acrid smell of fear rose from the seated group. Everyone was sitting up straight, straining forward, chanting with a wailing intensity, and the tension within the lodge was almost unbearable. The shape grew darker, ballooned, writhed with a life of its own, or rather, the antithesis of life. The old shaman strained, his body shaking with the effort. Ayla concentrated on him, fearful for him.

  Without forewarning, Ayla felt herself pulled in, drawn, and suddenly found herself with Mamut, in his mind or in his vision. She saw clearly now, understood the danger, and was appalled. He was in control of a thing beyond words, beyond comprehension. Mamut had pulled her in, both to protect her and to help him. As he worked to control it, she was with him, knowing and learning at the same time. As he forced his hands back together, the shape grew smaller, and she could see that he was pushing it back where it came from. A loud crack, like a thunderclap, sounded in her mind as his hands came together.

  It was gone. Mamut had forced the evil away, and Ayla became aware that Mamut had called upon other spirits to help him wrestle with the thing. She sensed vague animal shapes, guardian spirits, the Mammoth and the Cave Lion, perhaps even the Cave Bear, Ursus himself. Then, she was back, seated on a mat, looking at the old man who was just Mamut again. Physically, he was tired, but mentally, his abilities were sharpened, honed by the contest of wills. Ayla, too, seemed to see with a clearer vision, and she sensed that the guardian spirits were still present. She had had enough training, now, to realize that his purpose had been to clear away any lingering malevolent influences that might jeopardize her ceremony. They would be drawn to the evil he had called up, and driven out with it.

  Mamut signaled for silence. Chanting and drumming both stopped. It was time for Ayla to begin the Clan root ceremony, but the shaman wanted to stress the importance of the Camp’s assistance when the time came for them to chant again. Wherever the root ritual took them, the sound of the chanting could lead them back.

  In the expectant silence of the night, Ayla began to beat out an unusual set of rhythms on an instrument unlike any they had ever seen. It was exactly what it seemed to be, a large wooden bowl, carved out of one piece of wood, turned upside down. She had brought it back with her from the valley, and it was surprising as much for its size as for the fact that it was used as an instrument. Trees large enough to have made such a bowl did not grow on the open, dry, and windy steppes. Even the periodically flooded river valley seldom grew very large trees, but the small valley where she had lived was protected from the worst of the cutting winds and had more than sufficient water for a few large coniferous trees. One had been struck down by lightning, and she had made a bowl from a section of it.

  Ayla used a smooth wooden stick to produce the sound. Though some variation in tone could be achieved by striking different places, it was not a musical percussion instrument, as the resonant skull drum and scapula were; it was made for rhythms. The people of the Lion Camp were intrigued, but this was not their music, and they weren’t entirely comfortable with it. The rhythmic sounds that Ayla made were distinctly foreign, but as she had hoped, they created an atmosphere to match, one with the feeling of the Clan. Mamut was overwhelmed by memories of the time he spent with them. The beats she finished with did not give a sense of closure, but rather created a feeling that more was expected, and left a sense of anticipation hanging in the air.

  The Camp didn’t know what to expect, but when Ayla threw off the cape and stood up, they were surprised by the designs painted on her body, circles in red and black color. Except for some facial tattoos of those who belonged to the Mammoth Hearth the Mamutoi decorated their clothing, not their bodies. For the first time, the people of the Lion Camp had a sense of the world Ayla had come from, a culture so alien they could not fully comprehend it. It was not simply a different style of tunic, or choice of predominant color tones, or spear-type preference, or even a different language. It was a different way of thinking, but they did recognize that it was a human way of thinking.

  They watched with fascination as Ayla filled the wooden bowl she had given to Mamut with water. Then she picked up a dry root they hadn’t noticed, and began to chew it. It was difficult at first. The root was old and dry, and the juices had to be spit into the bowl. She was not supposed to swallow any. When Mamut had wondered again if the root could still be effective after so long a time, Ayla had explained it was likely to be stronger.

  Alter what seemed like a very long time—she remembered that it had seemed to take a long time the first time—she spit the masticated pulp and the rest of the juices into the bowl of water. She stirred it with her finger until it was a watery white fluid. When she felt that it looked right, she gave the bowl
to Mamut.

  With the beating of his own drum, and the shaking of the bracelet rattle, the shaman signaled the right pace for the drummers and chanters to maintain, and then, with a nod to Ayla, indicated he was ready. She was nervous, her former experience with the root had unpleasant associations and she went over every detail of the preparation in her mind, and tried to remember everything Iza had told her. She had done everything she could think of to make the ceremony as close to the Clan ritual as she could. She nodded back, and Mamut held the bowl to his lips, and took the first drink. When he finished half the bowl, he gave the rest to Ayla. She drank the other half.

  * * *

  The very taste was ancient, reminiscent of rich loam in deep, shaded primeval forests, of strange giant trees and a canopy of green filtering out sun and light. She began to feel the effects almost immediately. A feeling of nausea overcame her, and a dizzying sense of vertigo. As the lodge whirled around and around, her vision clouded and her brain seemed to expand and grow tight in her head. Suddenly the lodge disappeared, and she was in another place, a dark place. She felt lost, and had a moment of panic. Then she had a sensation that someone was reaching for her, and realized Mamut was in the same place. Ayla was relieved to find him, but Mamut was not in her mind as Creb had been, and he did not direct her, or himself, as Creb had done. He exerted no control at all, he was just there, waiting to see what would happen.

  Faintly, as though they were inside the earthlodge and she was outside, Ayla heard the chanting and the resonant voice of the drums. She focused on the sound. It had a steadying effect, gave her a point of reference and a sense that she was not alone. Mamuts nearness was also a calming influence, though she wished for the strong guiding mind that had shown her the way before.

  The darkness shaded into gray that became luminous, then iridescent. She sensed motion, as though she and Mamut were flying over the landscape again, but there were no distinguishing features, only a sensation of passage through the surrounding opalescent cloud. Gradually, as her speed increased, the misty cloud coalesced into a thin film of shimmering rainbow colors. She was sliding down a long translucent tunnel, with walls like the inside of a bubble, moving faster and faster, heading straight toward a searing white light, like the sun, but icy cold. She screamed, but made no sound, then burst into the light, and through it.

  She was in a deep, cold, black void that had a terrifyingly familiar feel. She had been here before, but that time, Creb had found her and brought her out. Only vaguely, she sensed Mamut was still with her, but she knew he could not help her. The chanting of the people was no more than a dim reverberation. She was sure that if it ever stopped, she would never find her way back, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go back. In this place there was no sensation, no feeling, only an absence that made her see her confusion, her aching love, and her desperate unhappiness. The black void was frightening, but it seemed no worse than the desolation she felt inside.

  She sensed motion again, and the blackness fading. She was in a misty cloud again, but it was different, thicker, heavier. The cloud parted and a vista opened before her, but it had no meaning for her. It was not the gentle, random, natural landscape she knew. It was filled with unfamiliar shapes and forms; even, regular, with hard flat surfaces and straight lines, and large masses of bright garish unnatural color. Some things moved, rapidly, or perhaps it only seemed that way. She didn’t know, but she didn’t like this place, and struggled to push it away from her, to get away from it.

  Jondalar had watched Ayla drink the mixture, and frowned with concern when he saw her stagger, and her face turn pale. She gagged a few times, and then slumped to the ground. Mamut, too, had fallen, but it was not unusual for the shaman to drop to the ground when he went far into the other world in search of spirits, whether or not he ate or drank something to help him. Mamut and Ayla were laid out on their backs, while the chanting and drumming continued. He saw Wolf try to-each her, but the young animal was held away. Jondalar understood how Wolf felt. He wanted to rush to Ayla, and even glanced at Ranec to see what his reaction was, but the Lion Camp did not seem alarmed, and he hesitated to interfere in a sacred ritual. He joined in the chanting instead. Mamut had made a point of telling them how important it was.

  After a long time had passed, and neither one of them had moved, he became more fearful for Ayla, and he thought he saw expressions of concern on the faces of some of the people. He stood up, and tried to see her, but the fires had burned low and the lodge was darkened. He heard a whimper, and looked down at Wolf. The young animal whimpered again and looked at him with pleading eyes. He started toward Ayla several times, and then came back to him.

  He heard Whinney neighing from the annex. She sounded distressed, as though she sensed danger. The tall man went to see what the problem was. It was unlikely, but a predator could slip into the horse annex, and perhaps endanger the horses while everyone was busy. Whinney nickered when she saw him. Jondalar could find nothing to account for the mare’s behavior, but she was obviously spooked about something. Not even his pats and comforting words seemed to settle her down. She kept heading toward the entrance to the Mammoth Hearth, though she had never attempted to go inside before. Racer was uneasy, too, sensitive, perhaps, to his dam’s nervousness.

  Wolf was at his feet again, whining and whimpering, running toward the Mammoth Hearth entrance, and then toward him again.

  “What is it, Wolf? What’s bothering you?” And what’s bothering Whinney, he thought. Then it occurred to him what might bother both animals. Ayla! They must sense some danger to Ayla!

  Jondalar strode back in, and saw that several people were now around both Mamut and Ayla, trying to wake them up. Unable to hold back any more, he rushed to Ayla. She was stiff, rigid with tense muscles, and cold. She hardly breathed.

  “Ayla!” Jondalar cried out. “O Mother, she looks almost dead! Ayla! O Doni, don’t let her die! Ayla, come back! Don’t die, Ayla! Please don’t die!”

  He held her in his arms, calling out her name, with great urgency, over and over again, pleading with her not to die.

  Ayla felt herself slipping farther and farther away. She tried to hear the chanting and drumming, but they were like a dim memory. Then, she thought she heard her name. She strained to listen. Yes, there it was again, her name, spoken urgently, with great need. She felt Mamut move closer, and together they focused on the chanting. She heard a faint hum of voices, and felt herself drawn toward the sound. Then in the distance, she heard the deep, vibrant, staccato voice of the drums speak the word “h-h-q-ooo-m-m-m.” More clearly now, she heard her name cried out with anguish and need and overpowering love. She felt a gentle probing reach for her and touch the combined essence of her and Mamut.

  Suddenly, she was moving, being pulled and pushed along a single glowing strand. She had an impression of intense speed. The heavy cloud surrounded her, and was gone. She passed through the void in the flick of an eye. The shimmering rainbow became a gray mist, and the next instant, she was in the lodge. Below her, her own body, unnaturally still with a gray pallor, was sprawled out on the floor. She saw the back of a blond man who was huddling over her, holding her. Then, she felt Mamut push her.

  Ayla’s eyelids flickered, then she opened her eyes and saw Jondalar’s face looking down at her. The intense fear in his blue eyes changed to immense relief. She tried to speak, but her tongue felt thick, and she was cold, freezing cold.

  “They’re back!” she heard Nezzie say. “I don’t know where they’ve been, but they’re back. And they’re cold! Bring furs, and something hot to drink.”

  Deegie brought an armful of furs from her bed, and Jondalar got out of the way so she could tuck them around Ayla. Wolf came rushing over, jumping up and licking her face, then Ranec brought a cup of hot tea. Talut was helping her to sit up. Ranec held the hot drink to her lips, and she smiled, gratefully. Whinney neighed from the annex and Ayla recognized the sound of distress and fear. The woman sat up, feeling concern, and
nickered back to calm and reassure the mare. Then she asked for Mamut, and insisted on seeing him.

  She was helped up, a fur was draped over her shoulders, and she was led to the old shaman. He was bundled in furs and holding a cup of hot tea, too. He smiled at her, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes. Not wanting to unduly upset the Camp, he had tried to make less of their perilous experiment, but he did not want Ayla to misunderstand how serious their danger had been. She, too, wanted to talk about it, but both of them avoided direct references to the experience. Nezzie quickly sensed their need to talk, and unobtrusively cleared everyone away and left them alone.

  “Where were we, Mamut?” Ayla asked.

  “I don’t know, Ayla. I have not been there before. It was another place, perhaps another time. Maybe it was not a real place,” he said, thoughtfully.

  “It must have been,” she said. “Those things felt like real things, and some of it was familiar. That empty place, that darkness, I was there with Creb.”

  “I believe you when you say your Creb was powerful. Perhaps even more than you realize, if he could direct and control that place.”

  “Yes, he was, Mamut, but …” A thought occurred to Ayla, but she wasn’t sure if she could express it. “Creb controlled that place, he showed me his memories and our beginnings, but I don’t think Creb ever went where we went, Mamut. I don’t think he could. Maybe that’s what protected me. He had certain powers, and he could control them, but they were different. The place we went this time, that was a new place. He couldn’t go to a new place, he could only go where he had been. But maybe he saw that I could. I wonder if that’s what made him so sad?”

  Mamut nodded. “Perhaps, but more important, that place was far more dangerous than I imagined it would be. I tried to make light of it for the sake of the Camp. If we had been gone much longer, we would not have been able to return at all. And we did not come back by ourselves. We were helped by … by someone who had such a strong … desire for us to return, it overcame all obstacles. When such single-minded strength of will is directed to achieve its purpose, no boundary can resist, except, perhaps, death itself.”