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

by Roberts, Leigh

  There were no more questions, but Toniss asked to speak.

  “I was—am—Nox’Tor’s mother. Nox’Tor was a good-natured child; he got along with others, he learned easily. In all respects, he seemed to be the same as any of us, except that he had little confidence. I did not realize then what effect that would have on him as he grew up. You all know when his father died, Nox’Tor changed drastically. I believe it was because he did not know how to lead and so mimicked Straf’Tor’s heavy hand without the experience and wisdom to temper it. Simply put, he made a mess, and he knew no other way to fix it than to continue to dominate and dictate without consideration for others.”

  Toniss looked out across the crowd. Everyone was listening intently.

  “You all know me. I am not the most demonstrative female. I am sure some even say behind my back that I am cold. I have moments where I can express tenderness, but it is not my natural reaction. Perhaps, had I been a more openly loving mother, Nox’Tor would not have handled his problems so cold-heartedly. No mother wants to lose her son—or any of her offling. But as I look back at my son’s path, I have to say that it seemed this would, at some point, be the likely outcome, whether by Wosot’s hand or another’s.”

  The mothers in the crowd felt an affinity with Toniss, fully understanding the self-blame that comes when one’s offling has difficulties in life.

  Breaking the silence, Beala asked to speak.

  “We have all been through so much. Ushca’s death, Straf’Tor’s disappearance, and even before that, our exodus from Kthama and the other communities. Leaving homes we grew up in and were all we knew, leaving family and friends—and all over a divergence in philosophies. The laws are there to guide us, and on the surface, the law does not seem to excuse Wosot’s actions because he was not defending himself. But there is also the sixth law: Protect Those In Need. I do not think any of us doubt that Nox’Tor was capable of killing Kyana and Lorgil. The fact that he hit Lorgil, trying to harm her and her offling, is proof of that.”

  She turned to Yager. “You are young and untested. And it was not an unfair question to ask if Wosot wanted to kill Nox’Tor. In the heat of the moment, seeing a huge male attacking a female, with or without offling—I am sure many here would have the same reaction. But do not confuse the desire to stop a wrong with the justification for doing so.”

  There was silence as Beala’s words hung in the air.

  After everyone had a chance to speak, Norland, Teirac, and the three others walked off to discuss their decision in private.

  Kyana went over to Wosot and placed her hand on his heart. “You did what you had to do to protect us, and I will always be grateful to you for that.”

  Wosot placed his hand over hers and looked into her eyes; there were so many things he wanted to say to her. But then, those making up the tribunal came back.

  One of the three community members spoke. “We have come to a decision. Having heard from the witnesses the story of what happened as well as the discussions among those present, we have decided that Wosot acted properly and there will be no punishment for the killing of Nox’Tor.”

  A sense of relief seemed to pass through everyone there. Though not necessary, Norland added, “This decision is binding on all. Anyone found acting aggressively or punitively against Wosot for Nox’Tor’s death will be judged for his or her actions. Wosot, you are free to continue your life’s path.”

  Kyana let out a long breath, until then not even realizing she had been holding it.

  Chapter 10

  Pan stood before the Mothoc High Council, Rohm’Mok at her side.

  “Greetings. Today I speak to you of a matter of great importance. Perhaps the matter of most importance since my parents left us. When Kthama Minor was closed, we all received the same message.”

  The crowd murmured at her mention of Kthama Minor.

  “Hear me now. The future belongs to the Sassen and the Akassa. We know it. We know it has to be this way. But that does not mean the Mothoc will perish from Etera. We must continue to serve the Great Spirit, yet our leadership of the Akassa is an impediment to that end.”

  Those facing her, the Mothoc Leaders from the other communities, murmured among themselves.

  Pan raised the Leader’s Staff and brought it down onto the chamber floor with a resounding crack, and heads snapped back to face the front.

  “Look around at your own communities, and you will realize the wisdom of my words. Our people are split. Through the ages, the division has become complete, and there exist now the Mothoc and the Akassa. But we are not equals, no. Not only do the Akassa defer to our leadership, our judgment, but they act as if they are subservient to us. Their Leaders do not even attend these meetings any longer. The Akassa step out of our way as we walk down the hallways. They take their meals at other times or at opposite sides of the chamber. They sweep their offling from our path. You all know this to be true. In all manner of behavior, they are showing us that they do not see themselves as our equals. And if they are not our equals, then they will always defer to us and will never lead themselves.”

  The others nodded, agreeing that what she said was true.

  “What is your suggestion?” asked Hatos’Mok. The harsh edge to his voice was gone, mellowed by the passing of his mate.

  “The Akassa need our help,” said Pan. “We must step back; we must force them to assume leadership over themselves—demand that they do. The Akassa received the Rah-hora. They know what is laid before them, to make amends with the Others and to call them their Brothers. To learn their language and gain their trust. You know who these Leaders are in each of your communities, and you know they are not participating in leading. Think about what I have said, and we will continue this discussion at the next High Council Meeting.”

  “Thank you, Guardian.” Tres’Sar of the Far High Hills spoke up. “Your wisdom is great. You have spoken that which I believe we all know in our hearts to be true. We have seen it demonstrated in our own communities. I, for one, acknowledge your inspired guidance in this matter.”

  “I want to raise a point, but not as a challenge, Guardian,” said Tyria.

  “Speak, Healer,” Pan answered.

  “The Akassa do not have our abilities. They do not seem to be as aware of the magnetic current that webs throughout Etera. Neither do they have as robust a seventh sense as we do. A few, mostly females, have more abilities here and there than others, but it is nowhere near as developed as ours, and it seems to have little correlation to their bloodlines. So, how will their Healers be chosen? And who will choose?”

  “If I understand you, you are saying that a Healer’s abilities are not being carried through a particular bloodline?”

  Tyria nodded, “Yes, that is the quandary. If we cannot depend on the bloodlines to produce the Healers, then how will they manifest?”

  Rohm’Mok spoke up. “You have said their seventh sense is not as developed as ours, but that does not mean it is nonexistent, just that it is weak by comparison. Yet that is all they have known; to them, there is not a deficiency. Think about Tensil. You told me yourself, she came to you because she felt called to it, despite not having as strong a seventh sense as any Mothoc. It is possible that the Akassa Healers will have to rely more on feeling a calling and on the understanding of natural remedies. If so, then instruction above intuition will be their mainstay.

  “Just as we know the abilities of those within our community, so will the Akassa learn the gifts and strengths of their own. It will fall to them to watch for signs of an emerging Healer and select that person regardless of bloodline. They may not have as strong a seventh sense as we do, but it is not entirely lacking.”

  Pan nodded her agreement and waited for replies, scanning the faces before her.

  Once the meeting was dismissed, Rohm’Mok and Pan took sanctuary in their private quarters.

  “What you told them was not all of your plan, was it?” Rohm’Mok chuckled.

  “You know me s
o well already?” She smiled and stepped into his embrace.

  “So what else are you thinking?” he asked, kissing the top of her head.

  “There is so much to be done. But the changes must take place in their own time. There is more than I told the High Council; you are right. The Akassa, we intimidate them. We are separate from them, and unfortunately, in their estimation, are superior in most ways. My fear is that they will never lead themselves as long as we walk among them.”

  A chill passed through Rohm’Mok as the meaning of his mate’s words reverberated through his soul. They were to leave the Akassa? It would not be enough for only a few Mothoc to leave. It must be all or none. But when? And where would they go?

  Pan interrupted his thoughts. “Your relationship with your father? Is it repaired?”

  “I believe so.”

  “My father trusted him, and I feel we must too. I need his support for what is to come,” Pan said.

  Pan, her mate, and Hatos’Mok stood sequestered in a private room.

  “I will be blunt. Father trusted you, and I need to know now if I can do the same?” said Pan.

  Hatos’Mok glanced at his son, hoping for some hint of what this was about. Finding none, he turned back to the Guardian.

  “You have my support. Whatever issues there were between us were due to my ignorance. I promise that you can count on me from now on.”

  “Who is your most skilled watcher?”

  “Skilled in what way?”

  “Skilled in attunement to the vortex. To the magnetic currents that web through Etera.”

  Hatos’Mok looked at his son, “Asolp.”

  Rohm’Mok nodded and turned to Pan. “I agree.”

  “Is there a second?” Pan asked.

  “Yes. B’Hit,” Hatos’Mok answered.

  “Can they be trusted? The future of Etera may rest on the success of what I am about to ask of them.”

  Hatos’Mok spoke. “Yes, Guardian; they can both be trusted.”

  “When you return to the Deep Valley, send them out into Etera,” instructed Pan. “Have them follow the magnetic lines. I need them to find the strongest vortex aside from the one here at Kthama. Once they find it, have them locate a livable cave system and resources necessary to establish a community as close to the vortex as possible. Then they are to return to you with the location. It does not matter how far away it is. It does not matter how long their journey. Wherever this mission takes them, and for however long it may be before they return, it will be as it must. Do you have any questions?”

  “No,” Hatos’Mok replied. Then he added, “Guardian, no matter our past differences and your current doubts, you are the Leader High Rocks needs.”

  “Thank you. Now, please, return to your home. I will await the news you will bring me at the appointed time.”

  After his father had left, Rohm’Mok turned to his mate, “You look tired. Though still beautiful,” he added quickly.

  Pan chuckled. “Apparently, being the Guardian and trying to solve all of Etera’s problems while creating a new life within me is more taxing than I anticipated.”

  Rohm’Mok laughed and pulled her into his embrace. “I believe you are divinely led by the Great Spirit. If anyone can lead us through this, it is you. Way-shower,” he affectionately teased her about the meaning of her name.

  Pan hugged her mate tightly as a shot of guilt ran through her soul. Could she? Would she really? She had turned her back on that which her father had relied on the most—the Aezaiterian flow and the Order of Functions. Perhaps, after all, it was time to set aside her resistance to her destiny.

  Over the upcoming few months, Pan and Rohm’Mok continued their private discussions about the future of the Akassa. They laid out a detailed approach, which, at the next High Council meeting, they would share with the Mothoc Leaders and Healers as a strategic plan for shifting leadership to the Akassa.

  Pan’s offling continued to develop within her. Tyria assured Pan that she still believed all was well, even though there was little movement from the tiny being.

  “There has never been a female Guardian,” the Healer explained. “But I see little reason to believe your experience should progress any differently than any other female. Please try not to worry—though I know it is difficult and easier said than done.”

  “What concerns me are the duties as Guardian that I have neglected. After my parents’ death, I have hardened my heart against the Great Spirit. I am ashamed to tell you this.”

  Tyria remained silent, waiting for her friend to continue.

  “I have not engaged with the Aezaiteria since my father’s death. Nor have I engaged the Order of Functions, but now that I am seeded, I fear the effect it may have on my offling.”

  “If it is of the Great Spirit, how can it be detrimental to your offling? It seems it would only be beneficial.”

  “The Aezaiterian flow, perhaps. But the Order of Functions—it is an experience I struggle to explain. It is as if you are being taken apart, bit by bit—even to your consciousness—and stretched across eternity. Then, just as you cannot bear it a moment longer, you are brought back to yourself. At first, when I entered the Order of Functions with my father, it was only for brief visits because of how excruciating it was. As time went on, I was able to bear longer and longer stretches.”

  “It hurts?” Tyria asked.

  “Not in a physical sense. In a soul sense. Like being on the precipice of non-existence. At first, it is quite frightening. Over time, as I knew what to expect, my fear decreased. But in no way would I ever describe it as pleasurable. At its best, it is only barely tolerable. After joining with the Order of Functions, we then reconnect with the Aezaiterian flow. The healing and loving presence there immerses us and helps us recover from the painful experience of entering the Order of Functions.”

  “What is the longest you have stayed there? —I hope you do not mind my questions?”

  “Not at all. It helps to have someone to share it with. I do not know how long. Sometimes when we returned, we would find that much time had passed here. Other times, it was only moments.”

  “Where do you think you go when you enter the Order of Functions?”

  “I do not think I go anywhere. If anything, it is not anywhere but everywhere. And nowhere. Again, words fail to serve this,” Pan replied.

  “Will you let me know ahead of time when you are going to engage in these fields?”

  “That is an interesting term. Fields. What made you think of that?” Pan asked.

  “I do not mean a field as in a meadow, but as in the vibrational lines of the vortex. The magnetic vortex winds its way throughout our world, yet it does not exist as such in a physical manner. Your description of your experience just somehow reminded me of that. But please, back to your plans—”

  “There is a specific place allocated for this purpose; I am sure you have heard talk of it. When a Guardian executes his or her duties, guards are placed to protect the area from intrusion. Also, while I am in these fields, as you call them, my body remains in repose on Etera, unguarded and vulnerable.”

  “I see. Would you allow me to attend to you when you do this? By your own admission, you do not know how long you will be gone when you are engaged this way. I would like to stay by your side, just in case, and I will be there when you return to your body to let you know how much time has elapsed here.”

  Pan paced the room before answering. “I trust you, Tyria. I will accept your help. It comes not only from concern for the welfare of both my offling and me but also from your wisdom.”

  “You forgot the most important piece of it,” Tyria said.

  Pan looked at her.

  “Love. Love is always the most important element. I care about you, Pan. You are the Guardian, our Leader, but you are also my friend. I would do anything to protect you,” Tyria said softly.

  Pan stood up, walked over, and pulled Tyria into her embrace. She leaned her head on Tyria’s and said, “Thank yo
u, my friend. I love you in return.”

  Having made her decision to fulfill her obligation as Guardian of Etera, Pan began preparing herself. She sought the Great Spirit in prayer and supplication. She repented of her stubbornness and refusal to accept the mantle of Guardianship. She spent long hours resting in the comfort and protection of Rohm’Mok’s arms, trying to dispel the nearly constant exhaustion she endured. Until the day came when she felt it was time.

  Accompanied by her mate, the most trusted guards, and Tyria, Pan made her way to the meadow above Kthama. It was late summer, and the sky was a deep blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds. The tall grasses and wildflowers rimmed the perimeter, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. Pan admired the beauty for a moment, guilt also once more rising at her neglect of her duties.

  With the guards and Rohm’Mok in position, and after one last embrace with her mate, Pan left them at the perimeter, went into the sacred place within the center of the meadow, lay down in the soft grasses, and quietened her mind. Only Tyria was allowed to attend her and sat a short way from Pan’s side.

  As her father had taught her, Pan closed her eyes and sent her awareness down through her body, past the rich loam, the various striations of rock, down into the earth’s magnetic core and into the rich vortex that was Etera’s lifeblood. The moment she made contact, she was once again joined with joy itself, and indescribable pleasure coursed through every speck of her consciousness. It had been so long—too long. But this time, her father was not with her on this journey. In the past, she would find his consciousness and draw strength from his presence. But this time, there was no one. Basking in the delightful joining with the Aezaiteria, she reluctantly willed herself to move past the bliss of the creative life current to the place where her soul would be stretched apart and dispersed to the edges of infinity. She willed the strength to bear what came next when her very consciousness would be broken up and flung across eternity in a million bits. A place where solitude echoed down every corner of existence. Pan created her intention to enter the Order of Functions and accepted her mantle of service as the Guardian of Etera.