The Chamber of the Ancients: Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness Book Two

by Roberts, Leigh

  The Chamber of the Ancients

  Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness Book Two

  Leigh Roberts

  Dragon Wings Press

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Please Read

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright © 2021 Leigh Roberts Author

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Copyright owner.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, creatures, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, creatures, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

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  Editing by Joy Sephton http://www.justemagine.biz

  Cover design by Cherie Fox http://www.cheriefox.com

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  Sexual activities or events in this book are intended for adults.

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  ISBN: 978-1-951528-23-2 (ebook)

  ISBN: 978-1-951528-25-6 (paperback)

  Dedication

  To hearts, though weary, who still find the courage to ask—

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  What If?

  Chapter 1

  Pan bolted upright. Where am I? What just happened?

  As she threw back her sleeping hide, she froze. Her father’s heavy Leader’s Staff was propped up in one of the corners. Oh no.

  She hurried directly to her parents’ quarters, rushing down the tunnel as quietly as she could because it was so early. The door was open as if inviting anyone in. She called out, and when there was no answer, entered the room and quickly scanned the interior.

  Her parents were gone.

  The sleeping mat was arranged tidily with nothing awry except that the red jasper her mother always kept by her bedside was missing. Moc’Tor had given the stone to E’ranale as a reminder not only of the divine love of the Great Spirit but also of his love for her.

  And of course, the corner where the ‘Tor Leader’s Staff always leaned was empty.

  Pan dashed from the room and down the corridors of Kthama to find her brother, Dak’Tor. She called out his name as she snatched up and slammed the announcement stone on his door. The rock shattered, and pieces flew everywhere. “Dak’Tor! Wake up, wake up. Something terrible has happened!”

  It took a moment before Dak’Tor pulled the door open and peered at her. “What is wrong? What are you shouting about?”

  “Mother and Father are gone. Their room is empty, and I had such a strange dream—” Her voice trailed off, and she did not mention the Leader’s Staff. Dak’Tor was supposed to be the next Leader of the High Rocks, not her.

  “We must find our sisters, come on,” she said.

  Shortly, all four were assembled. Pan took her siblings to their parents’ quarters so they could see for themselves. She waited, biting her tongue while the others took in the scene.

  “Where is the Leader’s Staff?” asked Dak’Tor.

  Pan hesitated. Oh no. How could she tell him their father had chosen her to lead? But she must. She hoped he would not be crushed.

  “It was in my room when I woke up,” she said quietly.

  “Mother and Father are gone, and the Leader’s Staff is in your quarters.” Dak’Tor repeated her words as if he was still not fully awake.

  “I know, but I do not want to lead, Dak’Tor. If Father is truly gone, then you are heir to the leadership of the High Rocks, not me,” Pan said.

  “But if Father left the staff in your quarters, then you have been chosen to be Adik-Tar,” pointed out her sister, Inrion.

  “I do not wish to lead. Father and I talked about it, and I was under the impression it would fall to our brother.”

  Dak’Tor finally spoke. “I have no hard feelings. I admit that you are more qualified than I. You are a Guardian, like Father.”

  Pan shook her head. It was enough responsibility that she was Guardian.

  “Why are we talking about this? Enough! We can come back to it later,” Pan said. “Did any of you also experience anything peculiar last night while you were sleeping?”

  All three nodded.

  “Tell me what happened,” Pan said.

  “It was dark, and then a ring of faces appeared,” Vel answered. “And it was more real than anything I have ever dreamed about. I do not even know where I was, only that I was watching something unfold. They did not really speak, but there clearly was a message that seemed to be for the Akassa. For some reason, I can remember it clearly.

  “‘We are Mothoc. We are keepers of the Others. What had to be done was done. But no more. Never again, the Wrak-Wavara. The Others who are our wards are now your Brothers. Learn their language. Make amends. Regain their trust. Leader to next Leader. Kthama Healer to next Kthama Healer. Only these may speak of this past. This is Rah-hora. We leave you to the future of your own making. When the Wrak-Ayya falls, the Age of Shadows, the true test will begin. We will be watching.’”

  “I had exactly the same dream,” said Inrion wonderingly as Dak’Tor nodded his agreement. “It was so powerful. And there was another message for the Sassen, similar but not quite. Both ended the same. We will be watching. That sounds as if they are still here. But where?”

  “Kthama Minor?” exclaimed Vel.

  The ‘Tor siblings quickly made their way down the winding overgrown path to Kthama Minor. But as they came around the corner to where the entrance should have been, there was no opening. Instead, a massive rock of unimaginable size was firmly lodged in the entrance. It was pressed against the towering cliff and embedded partially into the wall itself.

  Kthama Minor had somehow been sealed.

  Higher up than anyone could reach, a symbol had been carved into the front of the stone. Seeing the mark, they turned questioningly to Pan.

  “Wrak-Wavara. It is the symbol for Wrak-Wavara, the Age of Darkness,” she said.

  Faint shimmering energy bathed the entire area. Kthama Minor had not only been sealed, but its essence had been cloaked.

  Finally, Pan spoke again. “Kthama Minor is no longer ours. She and her secrets now belong to the past. The message is clear. So be it.”

  Then Pan grew silent and stilled. She reached her mind down into the vortex and harnessed the power of the Aezaitera. Deeply connected to the creative life force, she coaxed a profusion of thick woody vines to grow over the face of the huge rock, completely hiding the mark of Wrak-Wavara. The others, who had not seen her publicly demonstrate her Guardian abilities, stood in awe.

  Taking one last look at where the entrance had been, Pan said, “Come. Kthama Minor and the Age of Darkness must disappear from our history so that we are never tempted to repeat these crimes again. In our sleep, we all witnessed the Rah-hora.”

  The siblings silently turned their backs on Kthama Minor, and walked away, each lost in their own thoughts and feelings.

  I
t did not take long for the Akassa Leader, Takthan, to seek out Pan. He brought with him an Akassa female named Tensil, who had been studying under Tyria to become a Healer. Tyria had suggested that the Akassa would benefit from an additional Healer, one of their own size.

  Takthan’Tor was of direct ‘Tor descent from Ny’on’s bloodline. Many years before, Ny’on had been Moc’Tor’s Second Choice, and in support of Moc’Tor’s direction, her daughters and subsequent family females had been seeded by the Others. That line had bred true for many generations, but somehow, despite the heavy influence of the Others’ blood, the males of Ny’on’s line were the largest and most robust of the Akassa males.

  “Guardian, last night I had a strange experience. So did Tensil and many others. We need to talk to you about it.”

  Pan silently listened while Takthan told her what she already knew. When he was done speaking, they agreed to call the Akassa together. They could not pretend such a mystical event had not happened.

  Takthan understood the power of the Rah-hora, a sacred vow of honor that once formed could not be broken without severe consequences. He would faithfully carry out what had been asked of him.

  That done, Pan called a meeting of the Mothoc of Kthama. They stood crowded together around what, only the day before, had been the opening to Kthama Minor.

  All could tell that Kthama Minor had been cloaked, could feel the faintly shimmering field that would be below the Akassa’s threshold of perception.

  “It is true then,” said Nisere, looking up at the giant stone sealing the entrance. “Is this why you have called us here, Pan?”

  “Yes. Please, speak freely. Tell me what you have each experienced since yesterday.”

  The others talked openly about the dream.

  After much discussion, Pan spoke once more. “We all had the same dream. It appears that the Akassa are now charged with making peace with the Others, which leads me to believe that the Akassa are meant at some point to step into leadership. As for the past, Takthan and Tensil may speak of it rarely and only between themselves and the Akassa Leaders to come. And from now on, we, the Mothoc, must do the same, to let the past die.”

  Then Pan could no longer avoid saying the words she did not want to say, “You should know that my parents are both missing. Their quarters are empty, and we do not know where they went. Our mother was deathly ill, and whatever has happened, I believe she no longer walks Etera. As for my father, I do not know. Whatever has happened to him seems to be beyond my perception, even as a Guardian.”

  There was much murmuring before anyone spoke again. Dochrohan turned to Dak’Tor. “So you now lead Kthama.”

  Dak’Tor said nothing, but looked at Pan.

  “That is not clear at the moment,” she said firmly.

  Dochrohan stared at them but said no more about it. “So the past needs to slip from the memory of the Akassa. But that will take generations, and how do we even enforce it? Does forbidding them to speak of it not simply create more interest? We cannot stop whisperings in private.”

  “Our culture is their culture. They will not violate the Rah-hora.” Pan noticed Tyria shifting back and forth. “Do you wish to add anything?”

  “No, but I would like to speak with you alone,” she answered.

  “Very well. If there are no more questions, let us dismiss. Tonight I will address all of the High Rocks. And I must also let everyone else know that my parents are gone. Then I will reach out to the High Council to see how pervasive this experience was.”

  After everyone had left, Pan turned expectantly to Tyria.

  “I have said I had the same dream, Guardian, though we know that is not what it really was—but there is more. I was given information to be handed down only from Healer to Healer—and only by those at Kthama. I do not believe I am allowed to share it with anyone, even you, for which I apologize. The knowledge of the content could affect the future path of the Akassa.” she said. “And there is more; it seems that information was also given to Tensil.”

  “I understand, and I respect your discretion. It seems to affirm that at some point, Tensil will become a Healer in her own right.”

  Together, Pan and Tyria strolled back to Kthama.

  “How everything can change so quickly, I do not know,” Pan said as they parted company. “Get some rest; the days ahead will no doubt be trying.”

  After nightfall, all those living at the High Rocks stood assembled in the Great Chamber. Pan stood at the front with her siblings. Tyria was standing in the front row, as Pan had asked her to. It was the first time the young Guardian had spoken from her father’s place of leadership. She first scanned the sea of faces looking back at her, now clearly either Akassa or Mothoc.

  All eyes were on her as she began. “People of the High Rocks, I have asked you to come together because we have all experienced an event of mystical proportions. You understand the Rah-hora that has been put in place. You know what is required of you. I remind you of your duty to play your part. I will not speak of it again; after tonight, let no one speak of the past. What is done is done. Let us move together into the future of our making.”

  She stopped to look at the faces in the crowd.

  “There is more I must tell you. A great loss has befallen Kthama. My parents, Moc’Tor and E’ranale, are no longer with us. We awoke this morning to find their quarters empty. I cannot tell you where they are as we have no idea. You know that my mother was very ill, but whatever has happened to them may forever be a mystery. I know this is difficult, as it also is for my siblings and me. If I had answers, I would give them to you.”

  Pan watched the sea of faces ripple as everyone glanced around. “What do you mean? Where are they?” a voice called out from the crowd.

  “I do not know where they are,” Pan replied. “All I can truly tell you is that they are no longer here with us at Kthama.”

  “Why would they leave us? What does it all mean?”

  “How can they just be gone? If they are dead, where are their bodies?”

  “Is Dak’Tor Leader of Kthama now?”

  Pan looked over at her brother, who stepped forward to speak. “Pan woke up to find our parents gone and the Leader’s Staff in her quarters. She will lead Kthama.”

  “The staff is passed only to the next Leader, so that is right. It must have been Moc’Tor’s choice that Pan lead,” said another voice.

  Dak’Tor stood stoically, unmoving.

  Pan frowned at him before raising her hand to quiet them. “Takthan will lead with me. Together, we will face the future with you.

  “I realize that the loss of my parents will affect each of us differently. I will not tell you how to grieve; you must each find a way to accept what has happened and move forward. If I learn more, I will share it. Believe me on that.”

  Abuzz, the crowd took a while to disperse.

  The mystery of where Moc’Tor and E’ranale’s bodies were would lead to great speculation. Eventually, a rumor would survive that the Great Spirit had somehow, supernaturally, taken them from Etera. The same end as had come to the Guardian who served before Moc’Tor, Wrollonan’Tor.

  Once the Great Chamber was emptied, Pan approached Dak’Tor.

  “I cannot believe you said that about the Leader’s Staff,” she scowled. “We had not yet discussed it.”

  “I do not understand,” he replied. “Kthama needs a clear Leader, some stability. Whatever is meant to happen, Takthan is not ready to lead the High Rocks. The people are used to having a Guardian as Leader, so it creates continuity, and, regardless, Father decided to make you the Leader. But if you wish to take it to the High Council and have it overturned—”

  Pan rubbed her face with both hands. Their parents were probably dead, and they were arguing over who would lead the High Rocks. She turned and left abruptly; she must send word to the Mothoc Leaders and Healers of the other communities asking for them to come to High Rocks immediately. Not a High Council meeting, Pan needed to speak private
ly with only her fellow Mothoc.

  That night, Pan lay in her quarters on her sleeping mat, replaying the events of the last few years that had led up to this moment. Where are you, Father?

  She did not understand why she could not sense him. Was Moc’Tor still there somewhere, having cloaked himself even from her ability to discern? But if so, why? And what other powers did a Guardian then have of which she was not aware? Pan was confident that both her parents had gone, and Etera seemed desperately empty without them. She sighed deeply and rolled over. Overcome with grief that her parents were no more and that her father had left her to figure it all out on her own, Pan wrapped herself into a tight ball and prayed for the forgetfulness of sleep.

  Days passed before Pan received word back from the other Mothoc Leaders and the Healers. They agreed to her proposed meeting date, and eventually, she stood before them in a clearing not far from Kthama.

  The summer heat was in full force, making it uncomfortable for them with their heavy coats. Only the slight breeze gave them any relief, so they stood in the shade of a stand of towering oaks, trying to ignore the insects and the bees buzzing around. Bright red, orange, and white flowers rimmed the clearing, swaying daintily in the light wind. For the first time ever, Pan thought that immersing herself in the cool waters of the Great River might be refreshing.