The Boy of the Painted Cave (8 page)

Ram came out of the darkness and sniffed at the old man's sandals.

“We are happy to see you again,” said Tao. “And we are glad you are not one of the hunters.”

Graybeard smiled. “I came from above,” he said, his voice wheezing. “Only now I find I cannot climb as well as I used to.” He stopped again to catch his breath. “I go to the camp of the Mountain People and I thought to stop here for the night.”

“We have food and water,” said Tao, “and you are always welcome.”

The boy put some wood on the fire. They speared chunks of salmon on long sticks and broiled them over the hot flames. They did the same with parts of a duck that Tao had caught the day before. After their meal they ate dried ground plums and drank cockleshells full of birch tea.

When they had finished, Tao picked up the bearskin robe, uncovering the chalk sticks and the sketch of the bull. “I have seen Saxon,” he said. “I was drawing his image when you came.”

Graybeard looked at the slate stone, studying the sketch. “This image is good,” he said. “Now try again and I will watch.”

Slowly Tao picked up one of the chalks. His hand shook, and he knew it was because he was working in front of the master. He began to draw, copying from the sketch. He did well with the head and body, but when he came to the legs, his hand would not obey. Once again he felt anger and for a moment he wanted to throw the chalk against the wall.

“You must be patient,” said Graybeard. “The eye and the hand will learn to become one. But it takes time.” He took the chalk from Tao and dropped it on the floor of the cave. Then he picked up a stick of charcoal and started to draw, showing the boy how to join the legs to the shoulder and hips.

Tao watched closely.

When he had finished, the old man rubbed out the drawing with a handful of moss. He handed the charcoal to Tao. “Now start over,” he said. “The black will make a better outline, and this time do not trust your memory but let your hand be guided by the lines on your sketch.”

Tao took the charcoal and started again. Line by line he drew another picture of the bull as Graybeard looked on. The old man nodded. “Ah, yes,” he said. “That is good. You are learning. Draw as much as you can, but always remember to rub out your pictures when you are through.”

“Maybe you will teach me often?” asked Tao. “I will learn more quickly that way.”

The old man shook his head gruffly. “You press too hard, boy. I tell you again, you are not a Chosen One. I have already done more than I should.”

Tao knew he had angered the old man again. He spoke under his breath. “I did not think you believed in taboos.”

But the old man heard him. “That may be,” he snapped. “Yet even a shaman must obey the laws of the clan and accept the beliefs of the people.” He tugged at his beard. “I have given you permission to draw. I am sorry you do not think that is enough.” He rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. “Now let us sleep. Tomorrow I have a long way to go.”

Tao's face felt hot. He had not meant to, but he had offended the master.

The next morning Graybeard and Tao went out across the valley. The grazing herds of antelope and horses raced away at their approach. They walked all morning and when they came to the river the old man stopped. He looked down at the boy, a thin smile on his lips. “I have changed my mind,” he said. “Perhaps the old shaman has become a fool but I will help you.”

Tao looked up, his eyes wide.

“Yes,” said Graybeard, “I will come back and show you how to draw and paint. I will show you how to mix colors and make brushes. I will tell you how to find firestones and how to read the stars.”

Tao was dazed. He hardly knew what to say. “You would show me how to make magic?”

“Yes, and that too. But you must use it for good, never for evil.”

Tao nodded. “Only for good,” he said.

“Then I will show you. But I cannot tell you that you will ever be a Chosen One.”

Tao felt a warm glow of hope. Never did he think that such good fortune would be his.

“We must do this thing in secret,” said Graybeard. “I will find a hidden place. Then you and Ram will come.”

“When?” asked Tao. “Where will this place be?”

The old man shook his head, frowning again. “You must not push so hard. Have patience. When I am ready I will let you know.”

“But how will I find you?”

“By magic,” said Graybeard, his blue eyes shining.

Tao did not wish to anger the old man again. Yet he did not want to lose this chance. “And I will know the magic?”

Graybeard smiled. “When the time is right you will know.”

“But—?”

The old man held up his hand. “No more questions now. I have a long journey. I will go downstream and cross the river at the shallows. There you cannot follow.”

Graybeard walked away hunched over, coughing badly. Tao watched him disappear through the trees. He knelt down and threw his arm around the wolf dog's shoulder. “Think of it, Ram. Soon I will be a true image maker.”

A
full moon passed and another began and it was almost summer.

Whenever Tao left the little cave to go hunting with Ram, he looked out over the valley to be sure that Volt or Garth and the other hunters were not around. Now he looked across the verdant grassland, warm and bright in the early morning sunlight. He saw noisy flocks of dusty brown linnets fly over the meadows, settling at times to rest and feed, then rising up again like a tawny cloud.

Small bands of horses grazed alongside saiga antelopes as they wandered across the open fields. But this morning Tao saw no man, no hunter. Everything seemed quiet and at peace.

Then he saw something far off in the distance. He strained his eyes but he could make it out only as a long line of great brown bodies, moving slowly. It came out of the bottomlands, along the river, rolling ponderously onto the plains.

Tao knew it was a vast herd of animals. But he could not yet see it clearly. Sometimes it was hidden by a white haze of dust that hovered over it, moving along with it. Then it came into view again, a living thing winding its way along. It was still far away, but it was getting closer.

Tao held his hand up to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun. He looked again. He gasped and felt his heart leap. “They're here, Ram,” he cried. “The mountains-that-walk have come back.”

He picked up his spear and went down the cliff, stumbling, sliding to the bottom with Ram close behind him. Without stopping they ran out across the valley, racing through the knee-high grass, scattering the game before them. The antelopes went bounding away; the horses whinnied and galloped off.

Breathing heavily, the boy and the wolf dog plunged headlong into the swamps. Here they would be downwind from the animals. They could hide in the tall reed grass and watch in safety.

Standing in the shallow water, they waited silently as the first groups of mammoths lumbered into the open meadow. Tao pushed aside the reeds to get a better view. He could see the herd clearly now. It was made up of cows, with many yearlings and calves. As tall as the birch trees, some of the older, elephantlike animals had long, sweeping tusks that curved inward, almost crossing over at the ends. Thick, hanging mats of reddish-brown hair covered their bodies, all shaggy and disheveled from late spring shedding.

The calves wandered on either side of the herd, exploring, romping, then running back. Great black-winged vultures soared overhead, circling the herd.

Tao counted on his fingers. It was three summers since the mountains-that-walk had come through the valley. Now they were back and Tao was overwhelmed at the sight of them. Of all the animals in the valley, he loved to watch the mountains-that-walk best. They were like the earth, massive, shaggy old giants, lumbering out of the dawn.

Moving slowly, in scattered groups, the monsters plodded along, pulling up great trunkfuls of grass, bending down the willows and birch trees to get at the succulent buds and twigs.

Tao was still downwind from the animals. Never had he seen so many, never had he been so near to the gigantic beasts. They were so close he could hear the gurgling rumble of their stomachs. He could smell the musty odor of their bodies and see the clouds of blackflies buzzing around their heads.

Ram's eyes followed the slow-moving giants, a low, guttural growl coming from deep within his throat. The boy held him tight by the scruff of the neck, and the wolf dog strained until his breathing was almost choked. Tao could feel Ram's body tremble with excitement. “No, Ram,” he whispered. “They are too big. You would have no chance against the monsters.”

The mammoths kept coming and coming, and now they seemed to be everywhere. Then Tao heard sounds behind him, sounds of breaking reeds and sloshing water, sounds of heavy bodies splashing through the swamp. He was no longer downwind. He was no longer safe. They were all around him.

Suddenly one of the lead cows caught the man scent and sounded the alarm. Long, snakelike trunks swept overhead, searching for the danger. Trumpeting shrieks filled the air. Hurriedly the calves and yearlings moved into the center of the herd.

The shrieks and squeals and the thundering bodies were everywhere.

Ram tugged and squirmed, and before Tao could stop him he pulled away and dashed straight into the milling herd.

“Stop, Ram, stop!” Tao shouted. But it was too late. Already the wolf dog was leaping and snapping at the legs of the nearest beast.

Tao cried out, shouting again and again, trying to make himself heard. But his voice was drowned out by pounding feet and wild screams. He stood by helplessly as he saw the wolf dog dart from one angry animal to another, dashing between them, nipping at their legs.

With amazing quickness the big animals whirled around, lashing out, striking back at this annoying pest. Two or three times Tao saw Ram disappear into a jumble of legs and trunks, any minute expecting him to be thrown into the air or impaled on a long, curved tusk. Once the wolf dog was caught by a swinging trunk and sent sprawling into the swamp-grass. But Ram was quick. He leaped to his feet and charged again, snapping, jumping, dodging out of the way, almost toying with the enraged beasts as the boy looked on in horror.

Noises filled the swamp, reeds cracked. The great beasts were crashing through. Tao could feel the earth shake. Wild trumpeting filled his ears and he heard the slogging footsteps behind him. Slowly he started to back out of the swamp. But the reed grass grew high overhead and he could not see the angry monsters floundering all around him. He could only hear them, sloshing through the water, coming closer and closer. He waited silently, hoping they would turn back or go on their way. But the sounds only grew louder. One step at a time he backed away through the tall grass as the plodding beasts came on. With a sinking feeling, he realized that one of the big cows was following him. Tao stood perfectly still, listening to the heavy footsteps and the pounding of his heart. She's there, he thought, and she knows I am waiting.

Then he saw the reeds bend and crack and he heard the splash of water as the animal broke through the tall grass. A huge cow loomed up over him, standing like a dark shadow, water dripping from her long, reddish-brown hair. Tao's eyes were wide with fright. She was much bigger than he expected. Her great shaggy head hung over him, sharp, curving tusks glistened in the sunlight. She lifted her trunk and let out an ear-splitting scream of anger.

Tao whirled around. There was no place to run. He stepped back, recklessly trying to force his way through the reeds. The jagged edges scratched his bare arms. For a long moment the monster towered over him, a low, rumbling growl coming from deep within her chest.

The boy stumbled backward, falling into the reeds. He got up quickly, dripping swampwater from his arms and face. At that moment the mammoth charged. With a wild shriek she lunged at him, stomping, splashing through the water, kicking up showers of slime and mud.

Tao dropped his spear. He threw up his arms to protect his face as the hairy giant came on. A long trunk reached out and gripped him around the waist. It lifted him bodily up into the air, then threw him crashing into the reed grass.

With the wind knocked out of him, Tao lay in the murky water, trying to catch his breath. He felt stabs of pain. His arms and legs were cut and bleeding. Slowly he rolled over on his back as the stagnant water washed about his shoulders. He looked up and saw the tops of the reed grass waving overhead. He started to get up. Then, with a feeling of awesome terror, he saw the great beast standing above him. Her legs were like hairy logs as she lifted one giant foot and held it over him. She started to bring it down.

Tao rolled out of the way, just as the foot splashed in the water beside him. But the angry brute lifted her foot again. Tao looked up at the cracked leathery sole about to come down on his head.

Just then he saw a flash of gray fur plunge into the reeds. It was Ram, flinging himself at the raging mammoth. He badgered her, harassed her, nipping at her legs. She spun around, lashing back at him, but Ram leaped and dodged, staying clear of her swinging trunk.

Tao lay still for a moment, his eyes wide with fear. Slowly he started to get up, his fingers groping for his spear. Just as he got to his feet the mammoth turned again to face him. With a loud shriek she started to charge.

But the great beast never reached him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the wolf dog chasing her calf, which had come up behind her. Instantly, she whirled around and went crashing through the reeds after them.

Mud-spattered and tired, Tao stood in the tall reeds, waiting, listening, afraid to move. Slowly the sounds of the thundering herd rumbled off into the distance. When he was sure it was safe, Tao began washing the dirt and mud from his arms and legs, still bleeding from the cuts and scratches of the sharp reed grass. Painfully he limped out of the swamp. In the distance he could see a rising cloud of dust and he knew the great herd had re-formed and was continuing on its way.