The Valley Of Horses_ A Novel Part 45

"Jondalar, what are you looking for?" Ayla called down from the ledge.

"I was trying to see if I could find any more firestones."

"I have hardly marked the first one I started using. It will last a long time-we don't need any more."

"I know, but I saw one, and thought I'd see how many more I could find. Are we ready?"

"I can't think of anything else we need. We can't stay too long-the weather changes so fast this time of year. It can be hot in the morning and a blizzard by evening," she said, coming down the path.

Jondalar put the new stones in his pouch, looked around once more, then looked up at the woman. Then he looked at the woman again.

"Ayla! What are you wearing?"

"Don't you like it?"

"I like it! Where did you get it?"

"I made it, when I was making yours. I copied yours to fit me, but I wasn't sure if I should wear it. I thought it might be something only a man should wear. And I didn't know how to bead a s.h.i.+rt. Is it all right?"

"I think so. I don't recall that the woman's outfit was much different. The s.h.i.+rt was a little longer, maybe, and the decorations might be different. This is Mamutoi clothing. I lost mine when we reached the end of the Great Mother River. It looks wonderful on you, Ayla, and I think you'll like it better. When it gets cold, you'll notice how warm it is, and comfortable."

"I'm glad you like it. I wanted to dress...your way."

"My way...I wonder if I know what my way is any more. Look at us! A man and a woman and two horses! horses! One of them loaded with our tent and food and extra clothing. It feels strange to be starting on a Journey so unenc.u.mbered, to be carrying nothing except spears-and a spear thrower! And my pouch full of firestones. I think we'd be quite a surprise if anyone were to see us. But I'm more surprised at myself. I am not the same man I was when you found me. You have changed me, woman, and I love you for it." One of them loaded with our tent and food and extra clothing. It feels strange to be starting on a Journey so unenc.u.mbered, to be carrying nothing except spears-and a spear thrower! And my pouch full of firestones. I think we'd be quite a surprise if anyone were to see us. But I'm more surprised at myself. I am not the same man I was when you found me. You have changed me, woman, and I love you for it."

"I, too, am changed, Jondalar. I love you."

"Well, which way do we go?"

Ayla felt a disquieting sense of loss as they walked the length of the valley, followed by the mare and her colt. When she reached the turn at the far end, she looked back.

"Jondalar! Look! Horses have come back to the valley. I haven't seen horses here since I first came. They left when I chased them and caught Whinney's dam. I am glad to see them back. I always did think this was their valley."

"Is it the same herd?"

"I don't know. The stallion was yellow, like Whinney. I don't see the stallion, only the lead mare. It's been a long time."

Whinney had seen the horses, too, and she gave a loud neigh. The greeting was returned, and Racer's ears turned toward them with interest. Then the mare followed the woman, and her colt trotted behind.

Ayla followed the river south and crossed when she saw the steep slope on the other side. She stopped at the top, and both she and Jondalar mounted Whinney. The woman found her landmarks and headed southwest. The terrain became rougher, more broken and folded, with rocky canyons and steep slopes leading to flat rises. When they neared an opening between jagged rock walls, Ayla dismounted and examined the ground. It held no fresh spoor. She led the way into a blind canyon, then climbed up on a rock that had split from the wall. As she walked to a rockslide at the back, Jondalar followed her.

"This is the place, Jondalar," she said, and, withdrawing a pouch from her tunic, she gave it to him.

He knew the place. "What is this?" he asked, holding up the small leather bag.

"Red earth, Jondalar. For his grave."

He nodded, unable to speak. He felt the pressure of tears and made no effort to check them. He poured the red ochre into his hand and broadcast it on the rocks and gravel, then spread a second handful. Ayla waited while he stared at the rocky slope with wet eyes, and, when he turned to go, she made a gesture over Thonolan's grave.

They rode for some time before Jondalar spoke. "He was a favorite of the Mother. She wanted him back."

They went a little farther, and then he asked, "What was that gesture you made?"

"I was asking the Great Cave Bear to protect him on his journey, to wish him luck. It means 'walk with Ursus.'"

"Ayla, I didn't appreciate it when you told me. I do now. I am grateful to you for burying him, and for asking the Clan totems to help him. I think that, because of you, he will find his way in the spirit world."

"You said he was brave. I don't think the brave need help to find their way. It would be an exciting adventure for those who are fearless."

"He was brave, and he loved adventure. He was so full of life-as though he were trying to live it all at once. I would not have made this Journey if it hadn't been for him." His arms were around Ayla as they rode double. He tightened them, pulling her closer. "And I would not have found you.

"That's what the Shamud meant by saying it was my destiny! 'He leads where you would not otherwise go,' were the words. Thonolan led me to you...and then followed his love to the next world, I didn't want him to go, but I can understand him now."

As they continued west, the broken land gave way to flat open steppes again, crossed by the rivers and streams of runoff from the great northern glacier. The waterways cut through occasional high-walled canyons and meandered down gently sloping valleys. The few trees that graced the steppes were dwarfed by their struggle to live, even alongside the waters that fed their roots, and their shapes were tortured, as though frozen in the act of bending away from a violent gust.

They kept to the valleys when they could, for shelter from the wind, and for wood. Only there, protected, did birch, willow, pine, and larch grow in any abundance. The same was not true for animals. The steppes were a ma.s.sive reserve of wildlife. With their new weapon, the man and woman hunted at will, whenever they wanted fresh meat, and they often left the remains of their kills for other predators and scavengers.

They had been traveling for half a moon's cycle of phases when a day dawned hot and unusually still. They had walked most of the morning, and they mounted when they saw a rise in the distance with a hint of green. Jondalar, prodded by Ayla's warmth and closeness, had worked his hand under her tunic to fondle her. They topped the hill and looked down at a pleasant valley watered by a large river. They reached the water when the sun was high.

"Should we go north or south, Jondalar?"

"Let's not do either. Let's make camp," he said.

She started to object, only because she was not accustomed to stopping so early for no reason. Then, when Jondalar nibbled at her neck and gently squeezed her nipple, she decided they had no reason to go on, and more than enough to stop.

"All right, let's make camp," she said. She threw a leg over and slid down. He dismounted and helped her remove the pack baskets from Whinney, so the horse could rest and graze. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her, reaching under her tunic again.

"Why don't you let me take it off," she said.

He smiled while she pulled the tunic over her head and undid the waist tie of the lower garment and stepped out of it. He pulled his tunic over his head, then heard her giggle. When he looked up, she was gone. She laughed again, then jumped into the river.

"I decided to go swimming," she said.

He grinned, took off his trousers, and followed her in. The river was deep and cold and the current swift, but she was swimming upstream so hard that he had difficulty catching up with her. He grabbed her and, treading water, kissed her. She ducked out of his arms and raced for the sh.o.r.e, laughing.

He went after her, but, by the time he reached the sh.o.r.e, she had raced up the valley. He took off after her, and, just as he reached her, she dodged away again. He chased her again, putting forth all his effort, and finally caught her around the waist.

"You're not getting away this time, woman," he said, pulling her close. "You'll tire me out chasing you-then I won't be able to give you Pleasures," he said, delighted with her playfulness.

"I don't want you to give me Pleasures," she said. His jaw dropped, and lines creased his forehead. "You don't want me..." He let go of her.

"I want to give you Pleasures."

His heart started beating again. "You do give me Pleasures, Ayla," he said, taking her back in his arms.

"I know it pleases you to give me Pleasures-that's not what I mean." Her eyes were serious. "I want to learn to Pleasure you, Jondalar."

He couldn't resist her. His manhood was hard between them as he held her close, and he kissed her as though he couldn't get enough of her. She kissed him back, following his example. They lingered over the kiss, tasting, touching, exploring each other.

"I will show you how to please me, Ayla," he said, and, taking her hand, he found a place of green gra.s.s near the water. When they sat down, he kissed her again, then reached for her ear and kissed her neck, pus.h.i.+ng her back. His hand was on her breast, and he was reaching for it with his tongue, when she sat up.

"I want to Pleasure you," she said.

"Ayla, it pleases me so much to give you Pleasure-I don't know how it could possibly please me more for you to Pleasure me."

"Will it please you less?" she asked.

Jondalar threw back his head, laughed, and took her in his arms. She smiled but wasn't sure what had delighted him so.

"I don't think anything you did could please me less." Then, looking at her with his vibrant blue eyes, he said, "I love you, woman."

"I love you, Jondalar. I feel love when you smile like that, with your eyes like that, and so much when you laugh. No one laughed in the Clan, and they did not like it when I did. I don't ever want to live with people who will not let me smile or laugh."

"You should laugh, Ayla, and smile. You have a beautiful smile." She couldn't help smiling at his words. "Ayla, oh, Ayla," he said, burying his face in her neck and caressing her.

"Jondalar, I love when you touch me, and kiss in my neck, but I want to know what you like."

He made a wry grin. "I can't help myself-you 'encourage' me too much. What do you like, Ayla? Do to me what feels good to you."

"Will you like it?"

"Try it."

She pushed him back, then bent over to kiss him, opening her mouth and using her tongue. He responded, but held himself in check. Then she kissed his neck, flicking her tongue lightly. She felt him s.h.i.+ver a bit, and she looked at him, wanting confirmation.

"Does it please you?"

"Yes, Ayla, it pleases me."

It did. Restraining himself under her tentative advances fired him more than he dreamed. Her light kisses seared through him. She was unsure of herself, as inexperienced as a girl who had reached p.u.b.erty, but had not yet had First Rites-and no one was more desirable. Such tender kisses had more power to arouse than the most ardent and sensual caresses of more experienced women-because they were forbidden.

Most women were available to some degree; she was untouchable. The untried young woman could drive men, young and old, to a frenzy with secret caresses in dark corners of the cave. A mother's worst fear was that her daughter would come into her womanhood just after the Summer Meeting, with a long winter to face before the next. Most girls had some experience by First Rites with kissing and fondling, and Jondalar had known it was not the first time for a few, though he would not disgrace them by revealing it.

He knew the appeal of those young women-it was part of his enjoyment of First Rites-and it was that appeal Ayla was exerting on him. She kissed his neck. He quivered and, closing his eyes, gave himself up to it.

She moved lower and made ticklish wet circles on his body, feeling her own excitement rising. It was almost torture for him, exquisite torture, part tickle and part searing stimulation. When she reached his navel, he couldn't stop himself. He put his hands on her head and gently pushed her lower until she felt his hot shaft on her cheek. She was breathing hard, and drawing, pulling sensations reached deep. Her tickling tongue was more than he could bear. He guideed her head to his outstretched rigid organ. She looked up at him.

"Jondalar, do you want me to..."

"Only if you want to, Ayla."

"It would please you?"

"It would please me."

"I want."

He felt a moist warmth enclose the end of his throbbing manhood, and then more than the end. He groaned. Her tongue explored the smooth round head, probed the small fissure, discovered the texture of the skin. When her first actions brought expressions of pleasure, she grew more confident. She was enjoying her explorations and felt her own throbbing inside. She circled his shape with her tongue. He called out her name, and she moved her tongue faster and felt wetness between her own legs.

He felt suction, and moist warmth moving up and down. "O Doni! Oh, woman! Ayla, Ayla! How did you learn to do that!"

She tried to discover how much she could hold, and she drew him in until she nearly gagged. His cries and moans encouraged her to try again, and again, until he was rising to meet her.

Then, sensing his need for her depths-and her own need as well-she rose, moved her leg over to straddle him, impaled herself on his full-girthed and extended member, and drew it into her. She arched her back and felt her Pleasure, as he penetrated deep.

He looked up at her and gloried in the sight. The sun behind her turned her hair into a golden nimbus. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, and her face suffused with ecstasy. As she leaned back, her shapely b.r.e.a.s.t.s jutted forward, her slightly darker nipples pointing out. Her sinuous body glistened in the sun; his own manhood buried deep within was ready to burst with rapture.

She raised up along his shaft, and came down as he raised to meet her, and his breath caught. He felt a surge he couldn't have controlled if he'd tried. He cried out when she rose again. She pushed against him, feeling a spurting wetness, as he shook with release.

He reached up and pulled her down, his mouth finding her nipple. After a while of drained contentment, Ayla rolled over. Jondalar got up, bent over to kiss her, then reached for both her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to nuzzle between them. He suckled one, then the other, and kissed her again. Then he relaxed beside her, cradling her head.

"I like to give you Pleasures, Jondalar."

"No one has ever pleased me better, Ayla."

"But you like it better when you Pleasure me."

"Not better, exactly, but...how do you know me so well?"

"It is what you learned to do. It is your skill, like tool-making." She smiled, then giggled. "Jondalar has two skills. He is a toolmaker and a woman-maker," she said, looking pleased with herself.

He laughed. "You just made a joke, Ayla," he said, smiling askance. It was a little too close to the truth, and the joke had been made before. "But you are right, I love to give you Pleasures, I love your body, I love all of you."

"I like it when you Pleasure me, too. It makes love fill up inside me. You can Pleasure me as much as you want, only, sometimes, I want to Pleasure you."

He laughed again. "Agreed. And since you want to learn so much, I can teach you more. We can Pleasure each other, you know. I wish it was my turn to make 'love fill up inside you.' But you did it so well, I don't think even Haduma's touch could raise me."

Ayla was silent for a moment, "It would not matter, Jondalar."

"What wouldn't matter?"

"Even if your manhood never rose again-you still make love fill up inside me."

"Don't ever say it!" He grinned, but gave a small shudder.

"Your manhood will rise again," she said with great solemnity, then giggled.

"What makes you so full of salt, woman? There are some things you shouldn't make jokes about," he said with mock offense, then laughed. He was surprised and pleased at her playfulness and new understanding of humor.

"I like to make you laugh. Laughing with you feels almost as good as loving you. I want you always to laugh with me. Then I think you won't ever stop loving me."

"Stop loving you?" he said, sitting up a bit and looking down at her. "Ayla, I looked for you all my life and didn't know I was looking. You are everything I ever wanted, everything I ever dreamed of in a woman, and more. You are a fascinating enigma, a paradox. You are totally honest, open; you hide nothing: yet you are the most mysterious woman I've ever met.

"You are strong, self-reliant, entirely able to take care of yourself and of me: yet you would sit at my feet-if I'd let you-with no shame, no resentment, as easily as I would honor Doni. You are fearless, courageous; you saved my life, nursed me back to health, hunted for my food, provided for my comfort. You don't need me. Yet you make me want to protect you, watch over you, make sure no harm comes to you.

"I could live with you all my life and never really know you; you have depths it would take many lifetimes to explore. You are wise and ancient as the Mother, and as fresh and young as a woman at First Rites. And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I can't believe how lucky I am to get so much. I didn't think I was able to love anyone; now I know I was only waiting for you. I didn't think it was possible for me to love, Ayla, and I love you more than life itself."

Ayla had tears in her eyes. He kissed both eyelids, and he held her close, as though he was afraid he might lose her.