Pan kept her eyes straight ahead, not daring to look at Rohm’Mok.
“I have no objection,” said Tarris’Kahn. “If the Guardian later finds it is too much, we can make other arrangements.”
“If you agree with this, please stand. Those who oppose, please remain seated,” said Hatos’Mok. The majority stood.
“Alright, Pan— Overseer,” he continued. “What else do you anticipate that the High Council needs to do to move us forward?”
“Just as we now discussed. Agreements are entered into, but memories fade. Surely there is someone among us, like Lor Onida, who can scribe ideas into some type of record keeping. Someone who helped with the Wall of Records? I would start with that person or group.”
“The keeper of the records who helped Lor Onida was—is—Varos,” said Tarris’Kahn.
“Please bring him to future meetings. He must work with us to record what we decide, so all remains cohesive,” Pan answered. Perhaps Varos knew what had happened to the scrolls. Why had no one thought to ask him?
She spoke again. “I also suggest we need some common structure of leadership in each community. My mother was a great help to my father, and I know he also turned to Oragur for counsel. So my suggestion is that each community form an inner advisory consisting of the Leader, the Leader’s mate, and the Healer. This will bring balance to the decision making, though ultimately it is still the Leader’s responsibility to make decisions.”
“Your father often said how much of a comfort and guide your mother was to him, but what if the relationship between the Adik’Tar and his First Choice is not so satisfactory? Having the Leader’s mate in a position of influence may not always be wise,” put in Hatos’Mok.
“Like it or not,” Pan said, “the Leader’s mate is already in a position of influence. My advice would be for the Leaders to choose their mates wisely. Perhaps officially recognizing their influence will ensure that kind of decision-making,” she said.
The rest of the afternoon was spent discussing how to move forward according to the Rah-hora. When they were finished, it was time for evening meal.
Pan waited as everyone filed out, hoping to speak with Rohm’Mok. Hatos’Mok had left the room but then stopped to wait for his son.
“Go on, Father, please. I will be along shortly,” Rohm’Mok said.
Hatos’Mok looked at them both for a moment before turning and leaving as his son had asked.
Rohm’Mok turned to Pan, “My father is pressuring me to take over leadership of the Deep Valley. I think the loss of your mother has made him consider whether he wishes to continue with the stress of leadership while his personal life takes second place. I have not told him about us yet. But I must tell him soon so he can start preparing my brother. I am ready to leave the Deep Valley and be your mate.”
“I understand. And it has worked out well that you did not tell him yet. I am not ready right now; there is too much going on. We have had a fragile start with the High Council, and I cannot risk fracturing it by creating a fight between the High Rocks and the Deep Valley.”
“You are talking about my father resenting you if I leave the Deep Valley to be your mate?”
“Yes.”
“Pan, I do not have all the answers; I only know that I want to be with you. And if you want to be with me, we must work it out.”
“I certainly want to be with you. Just give me a while longer.”
Rohm’Mok looked around before taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. “As you wish. But please do not make me wait forever. You will outlive me as it is,” he joked. “Now, I must catch up with my father. I will see you tomorrow.”
Pan watched him leave, and his words went through her like a knife. Her memory flashed back to the day in the meadow with her father when he had slipped and said that, as a Guardian, she would outlive everyone she loved. Rohm’Mok was right. She would outlive him. By centuries. Everyone she loved would die before she did, even their offling—unless one was also a Guardian.
The council continued to meet over the next few days. Pan and Rohm’Mok found time to meet in secret, but each bit of time they shared alone only made it that much harder to part again.
Just as another session of the meeting was wrapping up, Dak’Tor returned from his trip. He entered the meeting room with a small, lighter-colored Mothoc female.
“You are back. Who is this with you, brother?” Pan asked.
“This is Ei’Tol,” he said. She is from the Little River. I have chosen her as my mate.”
Pan’s jaw dropped, but, catching herself, she closed her mouth quickly.
“You have chosen her? The High Council is in charge of pairing. Or are you saying you have changed your mind and are here as the new Leader of the High Rocks and hence have the right to choose your own mate?”
“Was that decided? When was it decided that we could not choose our own mates?”
Exasperated, Pan turned away, clenching her teeth.
Hatos’Mok addressed Dak’Tor, “It was decided some time ago that only Leaders and the Guardian would be allowed to choose their own mates. But I do not believe you were part of those discussions.”
“He may not have been present for that discussion, but at our last meeting, he asked to be paired.” And Pan turned to face her brother again.
“You asked to be paired; you asked to travel to meet some potential mates from which the High Council would choose the best match. And now you appear with your own choice?”
Dak’Tor skimmed the room as if for help. Ei’Tol shifted on her feet and looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there right then.
“It was a misunderstanding,” Dak’Tor said.
Tyria stood to speak. “This is what the Guardian has been trying to make us realize. We must find a way to record our decisions. Without a record, there will be a chance of misunderstandings. Distortions.
“However, considering the circumstances, my opinion is that we allow the pairing of Dak’Tor of the High Rocks and Ei’Tol of the Little River.”
Pan glared at her brother. A misunderstanding.
“All in agreement, rise,” she said irritably. A majority stood.
“Alright, as Overseer, I will pronounce you paired before the High Rocks after the evening meal.”
Pan shot one last look at her brother and dismissed the High Council meeting. She called Dochrohan over and asked him to make sure that any items Ei’Tol had brought with her were delivered to Dak’Tor’s quarters.
That evening, when the Great Chamber was at its fullest, Pan walked to the front of the room to make the announcement.
“Though we are still adjusting to the loss of Moc’Tor and E’ranale, life must move forward. My brother, Dak’Tor, is taking Ei’Tol of the Little River as his mate.”
She waited a moment for the chatter to die down and signed for Dak’Tor and Ei’Tol to come forward and stand on either side of her.
* * *
The same rhythmic chant rose from those present and echoed off the chamber walls. Then everyone fell silent, and placing her hands behind her brother and Ei’Tol, Pan drew them around to face each other.
She turned to Ei’Tol, “Do you choose Dak’Tor over all others?”
Ei’Tol placed her hand over Dak’Tor’s heart and said, “I, Ei’Tol, daughter of the House of ‘Dor, choose you over all others.”
Then Pan turned to her brother and asked, “Do you accept Ei’Tol as your own, over all others?”
Dak’Tor laid his hand on Ei’Tol’s head and said, “I Dak’Tor, son of the House of ‘Tor, choose you over all others.”
“May you enjoy long life together.” At that, Pan could not help herself; her eyes raked the crowd to find Rohm’Mok.
Well-wishers came forward, and as quickly as she could, Pan excused herself and left the Great Chamber, hurrying to the solitude of her quarters. It did not take long before that solitude was broken.
At the clacking of the announcement stone, she practically ran t
o the doorway. “Rohm!”
She stopped short as she saw Tyria waiting for her. “Oh.”
“I am sorry, Guardian. I— I should not have been so bold as to come to your personal quarters,” and she swung around to leave.
“Wait, please,” Pan stepped forward and reached out to the Healer. “Please do not leave. Please come in and talk to me. What is it you need?”
Tyria stepped inside haltingly and looked briefly around. Pan walked her over to a seating area with several large boulders, and they sat down.
“Why have you sought me out? Is something wrong?”
“Yes. Again, I am sorry for intruding.”
“I am glad you are here. I need someone I can trust. I need a friend,” Pan said softly.
Tyria reached out and touched Pan’s hand, “You can trust me, Guardian. I will do nothing to harm you, nor will I let harm come to you if I can help it.
“I want to say openly, yes, I am staying at Kthama. I know you made mention of it earlier, and I did not answer, but I have no desire to return to my own community. There was bitterness within my family when I left to follow Straf’Tor.”
“Thank you; I am very glad you are staying.” Then Pan covered her face with her hands as she tried to stop herself from breaking down. “I have made a terrible mistake, Healer. I have let myself become involved with Rohm’Mok from the Deep Valley. You heard me call out his name when I came to open the door,” she said.
“It is not a mistake to love someone. Does he not care for you in return?”
“Yes, he does. I know he loves me as I love him. But I am torn because he wishes to be paired soon, as I did, but now is not the time for him to leave his home. As you know, I cannot leave Kthama, so Rohm’Mok would step aside, and his brother, Bahr’Mok, would take over as heir.”
Tyria sighed. “You are worried about relations between the High Rocks and the Deep Valley.”
“In part, yes.
“—But you came to my quarters to ask me something. Please, tell me what I can do for you?”
“Are you sure you do not want to talk about it? I know you must be so hurt by everything that’s happened.”
“No, please. There is nothing I can do about anything right now, and changing the subject will help. So, do tell me.”
“I wanted to ask you please to reconsider forbidding Healers to pair and have offling. I understand that you have your reasons, but to prevent us from the greatest joys a female can know seems unfair.”
Pan looked at Tyria for a few moments. “I will consider it because I trust you, and I know that I must have the counsel of others in order to make the wisest decisions. I will not mislead you; my feelings in this regard are strong. But I am glad you came by and that you spoke of this.”
“Remember, your secret is safe with me. I will not betray you,” Tyria said softly and stood to leave. “Get some rest. I do not mean to be unkind, but you look very tired. It is not normal for a Guardian to look so. Your father looked the same before he left us.”
Pan watched the Healer leave and returned to her own thoughts. Today I have found a friend. She got up and walked over to the smooth polished portion of the wall to look at her reflection. Tyria was right; she was tired. She needed to engage the Aezaiterian flow, but that also meant the Order of Functions. Pan was not ready to submit to the Great Spirit. Not yet. In the end, you will win, but for now, I hold myself back from you. The Great Spirit had taken her father and mother, and she was not ready to forgive that.
Chapter 4
The members of the rebel band led by Laborn continued their journey to find a new home. Because one of the sentries had sensed an intensifying magnetic current to follow, they were no longer wandering aimlessly and made good time. In addition, they were mostly passing over level terrain. Laborn made sure they stopped to rest frequently. Some of the females were seeded, and they had a few elderly in their band, parents of some of the younger rebels, who had left with them not wishing to be separated from their offling, and one older female, Useaves, who was the closest to a Healer they had.
One evening around a late fire, Kaisak observed, “The current is growing stronger the farther we follow it. That is good news. My hope is that we find a suitable cave system near the wellspring.”
“That would be a blessing—if I believed in such things any longer,” Laborn answered.
Kaisak let the Leader’s comment go. “With the rate at which the current is increasing, I believe we are close.”
Several weeks passed, and then, off in the distance, they could see a large range of mountains. The greenish tint on the lower elevations promised trees, cover, wildlife, water sources. Laborn felt hope rise in his heart and immediately staved it off. Hope was for offling who needed protection from the truth of life’s hardships.
As before, he ordered sentries ahead to scout out the area in closer detail. The rebels had gathered and hunted on the journey, but their stored supplies were nearly depleted, and they needed to set up a permanent location before cold weather. Even though it was easier on them with their heavily-haired bodies, time was running out.
Kaisak took three other males with him and went on ahead as Laborn had ordered. Running, and stopping only briefly, they reached the range by twilight. They had passed a decent-sized stream as they approached the rise, but they would wait to explore until dark when any night predators would have left their den. Then, the males would have time to explore without disturbing anything. With orders to call out if they found something promising, Kaisak sent Drall in one direction and the other two males another way while he took the straight-on approach.
They all scattered. Some time passed before Kaisak heard a whoot call. Both he and the other two sentries moved in the direction of the signal.
Drall stood in front of a fairly large opening that was nicely sheltered by a large overhang.
“What have you found?” asked Krac.
“Come and see for yourself. There are no inhabitants, from what I can tell.”
The three entered the opening and looked around. Could they be this blessed, Kaisak wondered.
The ceiling of the entrance was not as high as Kayerm, but it was sufficient. The opening necked down a bit but on exploration opened into several branches a little way in. The four looked at each other.
“Split up, be back here shortly, though. And step heavily so you can follow your tracks back,” Kaisak said.
“The vortex is strong here. Not as strong as the stories of what was below Kthama, if they were true, but still—” Drall said before they parted.
Time passed, and they eventually met up again.
Drall spoke first. “I saw no problems the way I went. The walls are solid; there is little moisture and plenty of other passageways. We can always carve out separate living spaces if there are not enough alcoves already.”
“The tunnel I explored quickly took a sharp turn and then fell off to a very steep downhill grade,” said Krac. “It would not be safe to use; we would have to block it off.”
“Easily done,” said Kaisak. “There is more than enough rocky material here.”
“The center branch goes deep,” observed the fourth male, Org. “Plenty of opportunity there. Of course, it gets darker the deeper it goes, but we would not need to use all of it unless our numbers grow considerably.”
“Let us return to the group,” said Kaisak. “It will need further exploration, but it is warranted. At least there is hope for our people now.”
Laborn was awake early and saw the sentries approaching. Kaisak waved, and theypicked up their pace.
“You are back sooner than I expected.”
“Good news,” said Kaisak. “We have found a promising cave system. Our initial exploration finds no issues that cannot be fixed.”
“Fixed? Such as?”
Krac explained about the tunnel with the drop-off. Laborn nodded. “Any nearby water sources?”
“Yes,” Kaisak answered, pleased with their finding. “A
good-sized stream just before the incline starts. If it is still running this late in summer, I would say that it does not dry up. This is good news, is it not?”
“We will see,” said Laborn. “As soon as we are able, you will lead us there. We will lodge outside overnight until we are confident it is safe to move in.”
Laborn’s males thoroughly investigated the cave system over the next few days. They immediately blocked off the dangerous tunnel, piling up as many large boulders as they could roll into place so no one could mistakenly use it and get hurt. When they declared it safe, the group was allowed to move in.
The females were happy with the nearby stream, and though the initial entrance was a little tight, the interior was dry and hospitable. Some went to the stream and set to fashioning enough spears for fishing. Efforts were underway to gather up food stores to winter over as well as carving out storage gourds and gathering bedding materials. Though the season was ending, several of the older offling set out to look for late-bearing berry bushes. Spirits were high; they were happier than they had expected to be and nearly everyone felt blessed to have found such a suitable new home.
At Kayerm, Kyana was still struggling to make peace with Nox’Tor’s taking of a Second Choice. She tried to keep her spirits up, but most at Kayerm could see that it had hurt her deeply. Many of the other females worried that their mates would soon be asking for the same arrangement, and they began competitively eying the unpaired females.
Kyana had begun rising before first light to walk down to the Great River to take solace from the never-ending rush of water flowing by. She usually sat on the bank and splashed her feet in the shallows.
That particular morning, her solitude was broken when Pagara joined her unannounced.
Kyana turned when she heard footfalls swishing through the soft grass leading down to the river bank.
“Good morning, Healer,” she turned to say.
The Chamber of the Ancients: Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness Book Two Page 5
