The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [45]
Ayla noticed his enthusiasm. He was really looking forward to seeing them again, now that he had resolved his dilemma. But she was not thinking about meeting Jondalar’s other people. The strange light in the sky worried her. She wasn’t sure why, exactly. It was unnerving and she wished she understood what it meant, but it didn’t fill her with fear the way earthly disturbances did. She was terrified of any movements of the earth, especially earthquakes, not just because the shaking of what should be solid earth was frightening in itself, but because they had always signaled drastic, wrenching change in her life.
An earthquake had torn her away from her own people and given her a childhood that was alien to everything she had known, and an earthquake had led to her ostracism from the Clan, or at least given Broud an excuse for it. Even the volcanic eruption far to the southeast that had showered them with fine, powdered ash seemed to have presaged her leaving the Mamutoi, though the choice had been hers and not forced on her. But she didn’t know what signs from the sky meant, or even if this was a sign.
“Creb would think a sky like this was a sign of something, I’m sure,” Ayla said. “He was the most powerful mog-ur of all the clans, and something like this would make him want to meditate until he understood what it meant. I think Mamut would think it was a sign, too. What do you think, Jondalar? Is it a sign of something? Maybe of something … not good?”
“I … I don’t know, Ayla.” He was hesitant to tell her the beliefs of his people that when the northern lights were red, it was often considered a warning, but not always. Sometimes it just presaged something important. “I’m not One Who Serves the Mother. It could be a sign of something good.”
“But this Ice Fire is a powerful sign of something, isn’t it?”
“Usually. At least most people think so.”
Ayla mixed a little columbine root and wormwood into her chamomile tea, making a somewhat more than mildly calming drink for herself, but she was uneasy after the bear in their camp and the strange glow in the sky. Even with the sedative, Ayla felt as though sleep was resisting her. She tried every position to fall asleep, first on her side, then her back, then the other side, even her stomach, and she was sure her tossing and turning was bothering Jondalar. When she finally did drop off, her sleep was disturbed by vivid dreams.
An angry roar shattered the silence, and the watching people jumped back with fear. The huge cave bear pushed at the gate to the cage and sent it crashing to the ground. The maddened bear was loose! Broud was standing on his shoulders; two other men were clinging to his fur. Suddenly one was in the monstrous animal’s grip, but his agonized scream was cut short when a powerful bear hug snapped his spine. The mog-urs picked up the body and, with solemn dignity, carried it into a cave. Creb, in his bearskin cloak, hobbled in the lead.
Ayla stared at a white liquid sloshing in a cracked wooden bowl. The liquid turned blood red, and thickened, as white, luminous bands moved in slow ripples through it. She felt an anxious worry, she had done something wrong. There wasn’t supposed to be any liquid left in the bowl. She held it to her lips and drained it.
Her perspective changed, the white light was inside her, and she seemed to be growing larger and looking down from high above at stars blazing a path. The stars changed to small flickering lights leading through a long endless cave. Then a red light at the end grew large, filling her vision, and with a sinking, sickening feeling, she saw the mog-urs sitting in a circle, half-hidden by stalagmite pillars.
She was sinking deeper into a black abyss, petrified with fear Suddenly Creb was there with the glowing light inside her, helping her, supporting her, easing her fears. He guided her on a strange trip back to their mutual beginnings, through salt water and painful gulps of air, loamy earth