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

by Roberts, Leigh

  Looking back at the circle around her, she began. “I asked you to meet here because I did not wish to risk the Akassa overhearing our discussion. As an added precaution, I have also cloaked the area from them, so you may speak freely now.

  “There is no doubt we have all witnessed a supernatural intervention, and I have called you together to discuss our plans for moving forward to the future of our making.” She used the exact words from the vision, and members of the crowd nodded their affirmation and understanding.

  As she spoke, her eyes roamed the crowd, and standing next to his father, Hatos’Mok, Leader of the Deep Valley, she found her beloved, Rohm’Mok. She denied her desire to look over every inch of him and run into his arms. Instead, she stood in her place as Guardian.

  Hatos’Mok was first to speak. “We are aware of what has taken place, Guardian. Some of us here were involved in the Ror’Eckrah, which brought this to pass. It was your father’s plan to protect the future of Etera.”

  The Ror’Eckrah; the sacred joining into the One Mind. “I see. And so you and who else were aware of this plan?” Despite her attempts to stifle her reaction, there was a distinct edge to her voice.

  Hatos’Mok replied, “The oldest of us here. Those of the communities’ Leaders who led with your father.”

  “Then you know where my father and mother are?”

  “Your father and mother walk Etera no longer, Guardian. Their bodies are sealed inside a small chamber within Kthama Minor.”

  Pan squeezed her eyes shut. Robbed even of the chance to say goodbye.

  “If I may explain,” Hatos’Mok took a step forward and regarded all four siblings. “Your father knew this would be hard on all of you.

  “Above everything else, Moc’Tor felt his responsibility to Etera. He worked hard not to let his personal feelings interfere with what he saw as his duty. He knew you were struggling in particular with the difficulties of your—your mother’s situation. Your father asked me, before the Ror’Eckrah fell into place, to give you an explanation. To spare you from feelings of guilt for taking part in their passing, he intentionally did not involve any of you. He was also concerned that, in addition to the guilt, your emotional involvement might unwittingly create interference with the process. Or that you might have tried to stop him enacting the plans for himself and your mother, plans that E’ranale also agreed to.”

  Pan looked at Dak’Tor, Vel, and Inrion, who all wore the same pained expression she imagined was on her own face. She clasped her hands behind her back and dug her nails into her palms.

  The group fell quiet, giving Pan and her siblings a moment to work through the new information. Only the rustling of the breeze through the treetops broke the silence.

  “Is this your assumption,” she challenged Hatos’Mok, “of what my father and mother were thinking?”

  “No assumption at all, Guardian. Moc’Tor told me this directly before the final steps were put in motion.”

  Pan remained silent. She could feel small drops of blood from where her nails had pierced her own flesh.

  Finally, Tres’Sar of the Far High Hills spoke up. “Guardian, we feel for the pain this has caused you, but it seems you are now Leader of the High Rocks—” He glanced over at Dak’Tor, who was standing in front with Pan.

  She pulled herself together. “I am temporarily acting as Leader.”

  “Temporarily?” asked Tres’Sar. He looked at Dak’Tor as if expecting him to speak. When he did not, Tres’Sar addressed him directly, “Do you challenge your sister for the leadership of the High Rocks?”

  Dak’Tor spoke up, “No, I do not. I believe that as she is the Guardian, her leadership will provide continuity for Kthama. But, anyway, the question of what I want or do not want is moot. As we know, the Leader’s Staff was left in her quarters. Father must have believed she was the best choice to serve along with the Akassa Leader. However, until an Akassa Leader is ready to take over, it will be necessary to keep a Mothoc Leader in place.”

  “We do not doubt the Guardian’s abilities,” said Tarris’Kahn, Leader of the small now-nameless community just up the Mother Stream from the High Rocks, the son of their Leader who had recently returned to the Great Spirit. “But—at least toward the end—it seemed a great strain on Moc’Tor to be both Guardian and Leader. However, the Leader’s choice of successor has never been overturned. Nor have we ever believed it should be.”

  “It is not my choice to lead Kthama,” Pan said, throwing a glance in the direction of Dak’Tor, who immediately looked away.

  Hatos’Mok erupted. “Enough of this! It is sacrilege. If the Staff was in your quarters when you awoke, Guardian, then Moc’Tor has handed the mantle of leadership to you. That is the end of it. The mantle has been passed to you, so accept your father’s decision, work with the Akassa to share leadership, and let us move on to the next order of business. Immediately.”

  Pan steeled herself from responding in kind. “I have asked you to come together as we must plan how to help the Akassa move forward. Takthan, the Akassa Leader of the House of ‘Tor, has come to me and said that all the Akassa received the message. It was clear that they have an obligation to the Others, whom we betrayed during the Wrak-Wavara and whom they must now refer to as the Brothers. They have been charged with finding a way to introduce themselves to the Others, learn their language, gain their trust.” She paused as heads nodded.

  “Yes, the Akassa Leader of the House of ‘Mok, and others, came forward with the same message,” Hatos’Mok said.

  All through the group, the other Leader’s acknowledged the same events in their communities.

  “We rarely had any contact with the Others,” Tarris’Kahn added. “Any future with them does belong to the Akassa.”

  Pan nodded. “I propose we schedule regular meetings to agree on the approach we will take as other matters come before us. For one thing, Kthama needs a Healer’s Helper. We are fortunate that Tyria has come to us from Kayerm and is taking the place of Oragur, who left for the Deep Valley. And we have Tensil, an Akassa, apprenticing with her. But if I had my way, each community would have more than one Healer in addition to a Healer’s Helper.”

  Oragur spoke up, Krin at his side. “I told your father I would help train a Healer when one was identified, and that offer stands if you so wish. But I do have an announcement. My daughter, Krin’Onida, is now a Healer—and she wishes to be paired.”

  Pan looked across at Krin. They were friends, and Pan had missed her deeply. She wanted to ask about Liru but could not in such a public forum.

  “That is great news,” said Hatos’Mok. “Will she stay at the Deep Valley, since you are already Healer there?”

  Krin spoke up. “I am open to moving to another community but would prefer not to.”

  Pan could not stop herself and took advantage of the discussion to look directly at Rohm’Mok, who had been trying to catch her eye since the assembly began. Her knees almost buckled at her longing to be with him, to feel his arms wrapped around her and draw comfort from his strength.

  She refocused with difficulty. “The Wall of Records has been sealed along with Kthama Minor, so we must find a new way to record pairings. However, I have to ask, is it even wise that we, the Mothoc, continue to produce offling?”

  “Guardian, if we do not continue to produce offling, what will become of Etera?” Pan’s heart warmed at hearing Rohm’Mok’s voice rise from the crowd.

  “You forget the Sassen,” she said quietly. “The preservation of Etera is passing into their hands.”

  Rohm’Mok stared at Pan as if willing her to read his thoughts.

  I know, I know, my love. They would soon enough have time alone together.

  “Are you proposing we die out altogether, Guardian?” asked one of the other Leaders.

  There was so much to discuss, and the rapidly changing topics were making Pan’s head spin. She raised her hand to silence them. She wondered if they understood the significance of losing a Guardian, he
r father, at so young an age. It was a devastating loss to Etera itself, and here they were seeming to not realize the tragedy of it.

  “Let us set this aside for another time. I am still dealing with the loss of my parents, and perhaps my mind is not clear enough at the moment. If Krin wishes to be paired, I leave it to you to find her a suitable choice. Without the Wall of Records, we will have to do our best to keep our bloodlines as clear as possible.

  “Oragur, do you have the scroll my father spoke of, the one that Lor’Onida made? The one on which she recorded the laws that were agreed upon before the division?” Pan was thinking that any new agreements should also be recorded on the scroll.

  “No. I do not know what became of it. My understanding was that the laws were also to be recorded on the Wall of Records, but as you say, we no longer have access to that.”

  Pan was dismayed at the news. No longer being able to reach the Wall of Records, the scroll would have been a unifying piece of history, for their communities.

  “We must mark them down somehow then, or at least commit them to memory,” Pan said. “I suggest that be the focus of our next High Council meeting; how we should record our new decisions, so they do not become confused or lost altogether, and how, from now on, to keep track of pairings. And unless anyone else has anything to discuss, I propose the High Council meets at the next moon.”

  Dak’Tor suddenly spoke up. “Before we dismiss, I would also like to be paired,”

  “Are you asking the High Council to pair you with someone?”

  “As I am not Leader, yes, I am asking to be paired. I would like to travel to the other communities, as you did when you were searching for a mate.”

  Pnatl’Rar of the Little River spoke up, “We have many unpaired females if you would like to visit us.”

  Pan frowned. “Brother, just remember it was agreed that only the Leader has the right to choose their own mate.”

  Then she closed the meeting, and the other Leaders and the Healers separated into small groups to continue their conversations. Dak’Tor joined one of them. Pan stood a moment watching him. He was built like their father. Only his coloring told them apart, though Dak’Tor did have a large amount of silver in his coat, covering the top of his head and flowing down his shoulders as far as his hips. Depending on how he stood, he might be mistaken for a Guardian from the back. Pan shook her head and walked off to be joined almost immediately by Rohm’Mok.

  “Pan, I need to speak with you privately,” he said as he caught up to her.

  “Not here,” she said, walking casually forward without looking at him. With everyone milling about, there were few places they could meet where they would be undisturbed, “Can you get away and come to my quarters?”

  “Yes. I will find an excuse to break away from my father. I will see you as soon as I can,” he whispered, and they parted ways.

  Before long, Pan and Rohm’Mok were alone in her quarters, tightly wrapped in each other’s arms. She let herself melt into the comfort and security of his embrace.

  “I have missed you so,” he said, looking down at her. “I have also missed you. But I am still reeling from what has happened. And I do not want to lead Kthama; I am trying to make peace with that, but I cannot. How could my father place such a burden on me?”

  Pan looked over to the Leader’s Staff, still leaning in the corner. She had not touched it, knowing that to do so would officially pass the mantle to her. She was putting off the inevitable, she knew.

  “I understand how you feel,” Rohm’Mok agreed. “But you are more than able to lead Kthama, and I am ready to stand proudly at your side.”

  “Tell me; did you know of my father’s plan beforehand? Were you among those who, along with your father, knew this was coming?”

  “No. I swear I did not. I only witnessed the message in the dream—as you did.”

  Pan buried her face in the thick hair covering of his chest and breathed deep his male scent, his warmth soothing her.

  “Yield to me, Saraste’,” he whispered. “Let me comfort you through your struggles.”

  She did not answer and gently pulled away from him. “If my brother would lead Kthama, perhaps I could go with you, and you would not have to confront your father. Oh, what am I saying? Have I so quickly forgotten my responsibilities as Guardian? My father would be disappointed in me,” she said.

  “Your father knew the struggles of leadership as much as anyone. And the Guardian bears the greatest burden. He would not be disappointed in you; he would understand the hardship you are under. You are overwrought and not thinking clearly, which is understandable.”

  “You must go soon. We cannot risk someone looking for you and discovering us here together. It is very improper, but I could not help myself.” She traced her fingers along his lips. He captured them gently in his mouth and ran his tongue over them.

  Pan sighed as a well of desire overflowed within her. Then she added, “Please, you must go.” It took all her strength to say it.

  “Only because you have asked me to. And because you are right; it is not proper that I am here. I would never want to do anything to hurt you or tarnish your reputation.” Rohm’Mok gave her a soft, gentle kiss.

  After he had left, Pan lay on her sleeping mat, enjoying the lingering feel of his lips brushing hers.

  She tossed and turned all night.

  Chapter 2

  Deep within the tunnels of Kayerm, the morning after the message delivered by the Ror’Eckrah, Nox’Tor stirred from his deep sleep and blinked his eyes, trying to awake fully. That was no dream. He lay there a moment before he eased himself away from his mate, Kyana, and went in search of Wosot and the Healer, Pagara. He found them outside Kayerm’s entrance, already engaged in conversation.

  “Where is my father?” asked Nox’Tor.

  “I am sorry. Your father left with Tyria for Kthama.” Wosot broke the news. “He will not be returning.”

  “No!” Nox’Tor exclaimed. “It is not true. He will be back. He would not just abandon me like this.”

  “I am sorry.” Wosot stepped forward to put a hand on the younger male’s shoulder.

  Nox’Tor stepped back, avoiding the gesture. “How can this be true? I am confused—and I had a disturbing dream last night.”

  “I also had a peculiar dream,” said Wosot. “But it was more than a dream.”

  The three shared their experiences.

  “So, this is what my father and his brother, Moc’Tor, had planned? To threaten the Sassen with annihilation if they approach the Akassa?”

  “The message did not threaten them if they contacted the Akassa; it only said that they are not to,” said Pagara.

  “Make no contact with the Akassa lest you yourselves be destroyed?” Nox’Tor quoted. “Sounds like a threat to me. The message is clear enough, and I can only assume it applies to us as well. We are never to contact the Akassa again. I personally have no problem with that; I am fine with letting the past die. My father already ordered us never to speak of Kthama, anyway. We must make our own way into the future now. I wonder if everyone here had the same dream? Though, as you said, Wosot, it was certainly not merely a dream.”

  He thought a moment. “I hope that, wherever they are, Laborn, Salus, and the rest of their traitorous band also experienced it.”

  Nox’Tor and the others soon learned that all the Mothoc and Sassen at Kayerm had experienced the vision and that none of the Sassen could remember the location of Kthama or Kthama Minor. The next day, he met again with Wosot and Pagara the Healer, also choosing to include his mate, Kyana.

  The warm, humid air drifted up off the Great River. Nox’Tor had led them to a favorite spot—a secluded alcove in the river’s bend, protected by an outcropping of rock and nicely shaded by the huge locust trees that rimmed it. But the rich abundance of the area was lost in the turmoil created by the strange dream they had all experienced.

  Nox’Tor pushed down the anxiety rising within him. I am left alone t
o lead, without Father’s counsel. What if they do not follow me? What then? He decided he must be strong like his father and give them no choice. So he gritted his teeth and began.

  “It is time for change. Our people have been in turmoil since Ushca’s death and Ridg’Sor’s execution, so I will be calling an assembly. Now that my father is gone, there is even more upheaval. Worse, with the loss of the rebel band members, our numbers are reduced. Looking back will not help us; we must move forward. Therefore, as part of the announcement about my father’s departure, I see no other course but to reverse the decree that females can only be mated by one male. For the moment, I will leave it to the females to choose, but no female may remain unmated, and eventually, every female must mate with more than one male if she is not seeded.”

  “With all due respect,” said Wosot, “I served at your father’s side for many years, and he accepted my counsel. I hope that you also will. Considering the enormity of what has just taken place, is this the most important thing to focus on? And what about the bloodlines? Our people split over the need to mix our blood with the Others. We are a small community, and indiscriminate pairings will only worsen the problem of a small population, not fix it.”

  “You can now refer to me properly, Wosot, as Adik’Tar.” The new Leader looked Wosot up and down. “Our bloodline will not survive at all if it does not happen. We can make wise choices, but we can no longer afford to mate only one female to one male.”

  “What are you saying?” asked his mate Kyana, touching his arm. “Are you telling me you are going to find another female with whom to mate?”

  “No, I am saying you are to find another female for me to mate. I said it would be the female’s choice,” Nox’Tor replied.

  Kyana looked down, obviously fighting tears. “I do not understand. I agree with Wosot; why this drastic change and why so soon? I thought I was enough for you. I thought you loved me.”