“Males have made far more drastic choices for love than that. Look at Moc’Tor.”
On the other side of the Deep Valley, Rohm’Mok absentmindedly walked the corridors, deep in thought. They had received no word from Pan, and he and others were to travel to Kthama soon. But the clouds forming above-ground threatened harsh weather. They could travel in shelter along the Mother Stream, but in the past, Hatos’Mok had been reluctant to leave Awenasa in times of bad weather.
Rohm’Mok felt a compelling need to spend time with Pan, to convince her to put herself first for a change so they could be paired. And I still need to speak with my father, whether she is seeded or not. Hatos’Mok would be angry and needed time to accept the new situation and prepare Bahr’Mok to take over as Leader.
As he was deep in thought, Rohm’Mok passed by his father, who put out a hand to stop him. “I would have a word with you.”
“Yes, Father?”
“It is time to pass leadership on to you while I am still here to help you discover your strengths and shortcomings as a Leader. A wise Leader knows his weaknesses and when to rely on the judgment of others. This can only truly be learned once the mantle is accepted.”
“Must it always be the first son to takes over?” Rohm’Mok asked. “At Kthama, it is not Dak’Tor who leads, but his sister.”
“An uncommon turn of events, it is true, since Moc’Tor chose his daughter to lead in his son’s stead. Dak’Tor was never very strong. His father and I were friends of a sort; I do not know if you realized that. He confided in me once that Dak’Tor coddled his own weaknesses instead of pushing himself to build on his strengths. Clearly, in the end, Moc’Tor doubted he would be able to overcome this shortcoming and chose his daughter to lead instead.”
Oragur approached as they were speaking, “I am sorry to interrupt. The sentries report that the clouds are gathering, the birds are alighting, and the other animals are bedding down—a serious storm front is coming. For our people’s assurance, perhaps we should not leave at this time for a Council Meeting. And Krin is seeded, so I do not wish to leave her.”
“What is your opinion?” Hatos’Mok asked his son.
“Putting myself in the Healer’s position, I would not choose to be away either.”
“Then, while the route is still clear, I will send a messenger to say we will not attend this time.”
When Oragur had left, Hatos’Mok turned to his son. “What is behind your statement, your question whether it is always the first son who is chosen to lead? You are not willing to lead? But I have groomed you for this nearly your entire life.”
“I am capable; you have said so yourself. But my heart is elsewhere.”
Hatos’Mok eyes narrowed, and he set his jaw. “You do not want to lead Awenasa because your heart is elsewhere? Are you talking of a female? No, if it were a female, it would not be a problem. The females always come to the Leader’s community. Unless—” Hatos’Mok leaned forward and locked eyes with his son, demanding the truth.
“It is true. It is the Guardian. We are in love and wish to be paired.”
“Bacht. You are in love. What does that matter compared to the glory of leading the Deep Valley?”
Rohm’Mok stopped and stared at his father. “Do you not love Mother?”
“I love your mother, but my feelings for her do not drive my every decision. Love is a construct; it is a passing mood, enjoyable while it lasts. Pairing is to produce offling. If you choose wisely, the female you select will provide a path for your influence to reach into the future by giving you many healthy offling. And since the Akassa will not step up and lead themselves, you will have to be the next Leader here. But if you have any sense at all, you will realize that one female is fairly similar to another. Choose wisely, for a wrong choice can make your life krell. But keep it in perspective. A wise male does not give up his heritage as Adik’Tar for love.”
“I thought you wanted to pass on the leadership so you could enjoy your remaining time with Mother.”
“Oh, that,” the Leader waved his hand. “It pleases females to hear such things. But the truth is, I am tired. I would like to watch someone else guide the community and bear up under these tumultuous times—without being in the middle of the storm. Besides, a new Leader should take over while there is still time to receive the counsel of his father to help him grow into his position.
“Now, put aside this nonsense of the Guardian and prepare to take your place. You will find a suitable female and one in whose shadow you will not always be standing.”
Rohm’Mok glared at his father, seeing a callousness he had never known existed. Something did not seem right, almost as if his father was hiding something from him.
At the hesitation, Hatos’Mok scowled. “Come on, son. Do you really wish to be the consort of a Guardian? Please. And if being the Guardian were not enough, she is also Kthama’s Leader and the High Council Overseer. Are you prepared to be satisfied with only the scraps of influence and admiration that fall from her table?”
“You are being disrespectful and unfair,” Rohm’Mok practically snarled. “And my life does not rise and fall on the admiration of others.”
“No. I am being honest and truthful. You just do not like hearing it.”
“I will be with her father. You had best prepare Bahr’Mok to take over leadership of the Deep Valley. For I will not be here much longer.”
Hatos’Mok whirled and slammed his fist into the wall, and small shards of stone flew off. “Rok! You cannot be serious. I could not have raised such a fool as this!”
Down the passage, others were gathering, hearing the commotion.
Suddenly, Deparia was coming toward them. “What is this?” she demanded to know, looking her mate and her oldest son up and down. “Everyone can hear you arguing. What is this about? I have never known you two to fight like this.”
Hatos’Mok peered down at his mate. “Your son wishes to abandon his future right to lead Awenasa, for a female.”
She turned to Rohm’Mok. “Is this true?”
“It is true. Father is upset that I have chosen a different path than the one he has decided for me. He refuses to acknowledge it is my right to direct my own life apart from his ambitions for me.”
“And she cannot come here and stand by your side? I do not understand.”
“The female he wishes to abandon his responsibilities for is the Guardian,” Hatos’Mok snapped. “Pan, daughter of Moc’Tor, who has responsibilities of her own as Leader of the High Rocks and Overseer of the High Council. Oh, and future mother of his offling. Apparently, that can be added to her list of responsibilities. She is not willing to shirk her commitments to be with him; however, she asks that he set aside his own.”
Rohm’Mok took a step closer to his father. “That is unfair. She made it clear at the beginning that she could not leave Kthama.”
In turn, Hatos’Mok stepped toward Rohm’Mok, and their faces were now very close together.
“You are right. She did. So you are at fault here. You pursued her, knowing that she would not leave her High Rocks. You went into this willingly, knowing the price of this union would be paid for by your people here. People who have grown up believing that you would in time step up to your responsibilities and become their Adik’Tar.”
“Enough!” Deparia shouted and squeezed herself between the two giants. She put one hand on each chest and pushed them apart. They grudgingly surrendered to her will and stepped away from each other.
“I have heard enough of this.” She turned to her mate, “I know you well. You are not a romantic. You are and always have been practical to the core. Never one to let your heart guide you.”
She turned to her son. “And you. So unlike your father, you always followed your heart and expected your reason to somehow make peace with its decisions. You two could not be more different. It is no wonder neither can understand the other’s position.”
“Tell me. Do you love her?” she demanded of h
er son.
“I would rather die than not be with Pan.”
She turned to her mate. “Like it or not, this is what will be. I should have seen this coming. I saw the signs back when the Guardian first came to the Deep Valley, but when nothing seemed to come of it, I dismissed it as my imagination.
“Rohm’Mok is of pairing age and old enough to make his own decisions. And no amount of your bullying or my objecting is going to make him change his mind. I suggest you get on to preparing Bahr’Mok and bury the future you had imagined. There is no battle here for you or me to win. All we will do is drive a wedge between ourselves and our son. A bitter wedge, which will only widen with time.”
Hatos’Mok looked at his mate, so fiercely standing between him and Rohm’Mok.
“I leave you then,” he stared at his son, “to the future of your own making.” And Hatos’Mok stormed off.
Deparia turned to the crowd that had assembled, transfixed by the heated exchange.
“Please, leave us to work out our family matters in private. We are no different than you; we long for the same as you—to love and be loved. To belong. To find our place in the world.”
The gathering slowly dispersed. Deparia and Rohm’Mok waited for the corridor to empty before they spoke.
“I am sorry, Mother.”
“From the moment Pan came to the Deep Valley and I saw you two together, I noticed that look. As I have known from the beginning, your Father never felt that way about me, but I have seen that look on the faces of others. To find one’s true and only mate is a sacred blessing and one that does not come to many. I certainly do not want you to leave home, but if that is how you feel about her, then do not let her slip from your hands, Rohm. No matter what the cost.”
Rohm’Mok put his arms around Deparia, comforting her and taking comfort in return. “I need to go to her soon. Despite the foul weather, I believe she needs me now, more than ever.”
Pan received the message with alarm. The Deep Valley will not be attending the High Council meeting? She would not see Rohm’Mok, but even more critically, Tyria’s offling was due, and they had no other Mothoc Healer.
“Thank you for the message, Dochrohan. Is the messenger still here? If so, send a message directly back. Tyria is soon to deliver, and I need Oragur here.” Her voice shook in spite of herself.
“The sentry is still here, Guardian. I will send your message back with him directly.”
This could not happen again. No; never again. Despite there being no signs of trouble, Pan was adamant that Tyria should not deliver her offling without another Mothoc Healer there.
She sought Tyria out and found her resting in the Healer’s Quarters. When she had been invited in, Pan tried to calm herself, not wishing to betray her alarm.
Tyria was not fooled. “What is wrong?”
“The Deep Valley sent a message that they do not wish to meet as planned due to potential bad weather.”
Though the Mothoc were able to travel in virtually any weather conditions, the Leaders knew that in times of great strife, it comforted their communities to have them present. Anxiety and fear were not always logical, and during those times, the Leader would make a point of mingling with his people, letting them see his own confidence that all would be well.
“And you are concerned over my condition.”
Pan nodded.
“Come and sit here.” The Healer patted her sleeping mat. “I am fine, Pan. There are no signs of any trouble; I have no pain, I have no early contractions, I have gained a reasonable amount of weight. There is no history of problems in my family line that any of us know of. My mother had no trouble delivering any of her offling, and like hers, my hips are widely set. Everything indicates that we will be fine. Tensil, the Akassa Healer, will be with me, and if it makes you feel better, we can have some Mothoc females available to follow her instructions.”
“It is not enough. We need someone here in case something does go wrong.” Pan shook her head and rubbed her face. “I asked for a Healer’s Helper, and so far, one has not been identified. When we meet again, this must be a priority. In the meantime, I have sent a message to the Deep Valley, asking Oragur to come.”
It was a few weeks later; the storm had come in and still not abated. Oragur had not come from the Deep Valley. Instead, Tensil was with Tyria, and several Mothoc females were also in attendance in case, for some reason, the Akassa Healer needed their strength.
Pan paced outside the Healer’s Quarters until, finally, she heard the newborn’s cry and let out a huge sigh.
Tensil opened the rock door. “You can see her now.”
Pan hurried to Tyria, who was resting with her son cradled in her arms.
“Everything is fine, Pan, as I said it would be. Meet Fahr.”
Pan looked into the offling’s eyes and immediately knew that he would one day become a powerful Healer. Another Mothoc Healer. She gratefully looked over at Tensil, glad that there had not been any complications. The Akassa Healers had to rely more on education about the different uses of the herbs, flowers, roots, and barks than on the healing insight that came from the Mothoc connection with the Great Spirit.
She remembered her father’s unfaltering faith—that despite appearances, things would unfold as they should. A pain of guilt flared at her neglect of the Aezaiteria and entering the Order of Functions.
Were they? Were events unfolding as they should? Or had her neglect of the Order of Functions allowed paths to be deflected from their intended directions?
Pan knew she must see Rohm’Mok somehow. She did not think she could continue to bear this alone.
Chapter 5
Toniss stood watching Nox’Tor and Lorgil as they strolled together down the path from Kayerm and disappeared around the bend, leaving deep tracks in the fresh white snow.
Having confirmed that they would not soon return, she sought out Kyana, who was in one of the back rooms lashing together a new hide curtain.
“May I join you?”
Kyana looked up to see Toniss and dismissed her daughters, who had been helping her.
“Please, yes,” she said, beckoning.
Toniss sat next to Kyana on one of the seating stones. “My son has hurt you deeply. I see it. His Second Choice sees it. Everyone sees it but him. Or perhaps he sees it and does not care.”
“I do not know if it is as you say—that he sees it but does not care. But at this point, I suspect that is true.”
“Why do you stand by him?”
Kyana’s eyebrows rose. “That seems to be a peculiar question coming from his own mother.”
“Oh, I know I am too blunt. I have been accused of being cold-hearted. Perhaps it is true; I do not support my offling unconditionally. When I see they are failing, I offer a correction—and Nox’Tor has failed miserably in making this decision. I do not wish to add to your hurt, but I am not convinced it was made for the good of our people. The females do not wish to return to the old ways but now feel they must.”
“You think he is that selfish, Toniss?”
“In the past, I would not have believed it possible. But he has let his father’s disappearance harden his heart. In who he is now, I see little of the son Straf’Tor and I had together. Whether that hard shell can be broken, and he can return to his former self, I do not know.”
“As for why I put up with it,” Kyana answered, “I suppose it is out of respect for our community and for our offling. Everyone has suffered so much change, and change seems to be very hard for us. Though there is little left between your son and me, my station as his First Choice remains intact. I would be loath to deprive our offling of that foundation, even though my heart strongly wishes to do just that. But there is no place for me to go. And should I publicly reject him, to live here with further tension between us would only make matters worse.”
“What is the new curtain for?”
“The opening to my living quarters. The last time Nox’Tor came to my bed and again found me s
leeping, he finally realized I was intentionally refusing him. In his anger, he ripped the dividers apart and threw them on the floor. That was some time ago, and I am just getting around to replacing them.”
Toniss got up to leave, her reason for seeking out Kyana satisfied. “Shall I send your daughters back in?” she asked.
“No, let them have their leisure time, but thank you. And thank you for talking to me. In the end, it seems it is from the counsel of other females that we draw our strength.”
Toniss nodded, “It is true, is it not? We are fortunate to have such strong males to walk our paths with us and to provide for us. But in many cases, they do not seem to be able to help shoulder our emotional burdens.”
Kyana returned to her living space and hung the new curtain. She gasped as Nox’Tor suddenly came into the room.
“Why are you here?” she asked, since they had little to do with each other any longer.
“It has been long enough,” he said and walked over to the sleeping mat.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he seated himself.
“You are always asleep when I come to you at nighttime. You are not asleep now.”
Kyana’s eyes opened wide. “Nox—” she stammered.
“What is it now? Too cold? Too hot? Too busy?”
She found her voice. “I— I do not wish you to mount me.”
“Now?”
“Ever.”
“What? Never? You cannot be serious. Why not?” He jumped to his feet.
“You seem to be oblivious to how much your taking of a Second Choice has hurt me. You see only your own needs and wants and none of anyone else around you.”
“You make me out to be some kind of selfish monster.”
“Not a monster, but, yes, selfish,” she said more quietly.
The Chamber of the Ancients: Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness Book Two Page 7
