The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [230]
The music of the flute ended on an uncomfortably unfinished note, heightening the anticipation in the anxious silence. Creb retrieved the skull bowl, then shuffled to his place in front of the magicians lined up across the mouth of the cave. At an unseen signal, the mog-urs began the movements of the formal language in unison.
“Accept your water as a token of our gratitude, O Mighty Protector. Your Clan has not forgotten the lessons learned from you. The cave is our home, protecting us from the snow and cold of winter. We, too, rest quietly, nourished by the food of summer, warmed by furs. You have been one of us, lived with us, and know we keep your ways.”
Faces blackened, and dressed in identical cloaks of shaggy bear fur, the magicians resembled a well-rehearsed dance troupe moving as one as they spoke with stately flowing gestures. The Mog-ur’s eloquent one-handed symbols that matched yet modified the others, punctuated the elegant movements and added emphasis.
“We venerate you first among all Spirits. We beg you to speak for us in the world of the Spirits, to tell of the bravery of our men, the obedience of our women, to make a place for us when we return to the otherworld. We beseech your protection from the evil ones. We are your People, Great Ursus, we are the Clan of the Cave Bear. Go with honor, Greatest of Spirits.”
As the mog-urs made the symbols for the names of the great animal in his presence for the first time, the twenty-one young men thrust their spears between the stout trees of the cage, piercing the tremendous shaggy bulk of the revered creature. Not all drew blood, the cage was too large for all the spears to penetrate deeply, but the pain enraged the nearly full-grown cave bear. His angry roar shattered the silence. The people jumped back with fear.
At the same time, Broud, Gorn, and Voord began to cut away the lashings on the door of the cage, scrambling up the trees until they reached the top of the palisade. Broud reached the top first, but Gorn managed to grab the short thick log put there earlier. The pain-maddened cave bear reared up on his hind legs again, bellowed an angry roar, and lumbered toward the three young men. His massive domed head nearly reached the tallest tree trunks of the enclosure. He reached the opening, pushed at the gate, and sent it crashing to the ground. The cage was open! The monstrous, angry bear was loose!
The hunters with their spears raced to form a protective phalanx between the provoked brute and the anxious audience. Women, fighting an urge to run, held their babies tighter while older children clung to them in wide-eyed terror. Men gripped their spears ready to jump to the defense of vulnerable women and terrified children. But the people of the Clan held their place.
As the wounded cave bear lumbered out of the gaping hole in the fence of logs, Broud, Gorn, and Voord, poised at the top, leaped on the surprised bruin. Broud stood on his shoulders, reached over and seized the fur on his face, and yanked up. Meanwhile, Voord had landed on his back. He grabbed the shaggy hair and pulled down with all his weight, tightening the loose skin around his neck. Their combined efforts forced open the cavernous mouth of the struggling animal, and Gorn, sitting astride his shoulder, quickly shoved the log broadside into his mouth. The bear clamped down as Broud let go, wedging the log fast between his jaws, impeding his breath and disabling one weapon in the cave bear’s arsenal.
But the tactic did not disarm the bear entirely. The enraged bruin swiped at the creatures clinging to him. Sharp claws dug into the thigh of the man on his shoulder and dragged the screaming young hunter into his mighty arms. Gorn’s agonized cry was cut short as a powerful bear hug snapped his spine. A long wail rose from one of the watching