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

by Roberts, Leigh

  If time existed in the Order of Functions, in the next split-second, Pan learned that there were worse things than death. Far worse than the non-existence that the Order of Functions seemed to threaten to deliver at any moment. A fate worse than annihilation; in annihilation, at least there would be peaceful non-existence.

  Tyria startled and jumped, rushing to Pan’s side as the Guardian bolted to an upright sitting position, her eyes wide open and staring blankly, releasing a scream that echoed through the meadow and hillsides of Kthama and left Tyria chilled to the core of her soul.

  The guards came running next, with Rohm’Mok at their side. He pushed past them and raced to Pan. “What is it? What is it?” he shouted as he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Her eyes stared, unseeing, and he shook her again, “Pan, please, please. Come back to me. What is wrong?” he shouted at her, trying to make her hear him through the barrier of whatever had captured her mind. Perhaps even her soul.

  In the next second, Pan looked into Rohm’Mok’s eyes and then collapsed. Tyria came back to her side and tried to rouse her. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Pan opened her eyes again. She looked up at Rohm’Mok and then at her friend, the Healer, and broke down.

  Rohm’Mok pulled her to him and encircled her with his arms. She clung to her mate, burying her face against his chest, and let out deep, wracking sobs, the depth of her heartache scarring their souls.

  “By the love of the Great Spirit, what is it?” He was beside himself with panic. “What is wrong? What happened to you?”

  Pan looked at him, her eyes bottomless wells of pain.

  “Father,” she gasped. She sobbed again, and Rohm’Mok held her tighter. The others silently waited for her to continue.

  “Father did not return to the Great Spirit. He will never be reunited with my mother, my brothers, my sisters, or me. I tried. I tried my best. But I was powerless to free him. My father is trapped in the Order of Function for all eternity.”

  Chapter 11

  Life at Kayerm slowly returned to normal. With Nox’Tor gone, thoughts turned to how to make the best of their life there. Under Norland’s kinder leadership, trust slowly started to develop between the males and females. A few more females chose mates, which was a cause of great celebration.

  In the background, Kyana and Pagara continued to stay by Lorgil’s side as much as they could. Lorgil steadfastly followed the Healer’s prescription for complete bed rest until the offling was delivered and was very grateful to her friends for their care.

  “We must also thank Wosot, who provides for us all,” said Kyana. “Without his provision, we would have to be out foraging and would not be able to tend to you as we have.”

  “Wosot is a kind and gentle protector,” Lorgil replied, looking directly at her.

  Kyana said nothing.

  “You could not ask for a better mate,” Lorgil pressed on.

  Kyana squeezed her eyes, shutting off the tears that had started to well in her eyes. Her thoughts returned to how carefully Wosot had carried Lorgil. How tender he was, with so much strength in that great frame and such a caring heart. In spite of her worry for her friend, she was jealous of how Lorgil had been so tenderly cradled in his arms. In that moment, she finally admitted to herself that she loved him.

  “What is stopping you?” Lorgil brought herself up on one elbow. “I truly want to know. I have seen the way he looks at you and the way you look at him. We all have. If you are waiting for more time to pass since Nox’Tor’s death, I assure you no one cares about that.”

  Kyana rubbed her hand over her face. “I do love him; I do,” she admitted.

  “Then what are you waiting for?” Lorgil asked again. Then her expression changed to shock. “Are you waiting for me to have my offling? Is that your concern? Are you afraid to enjoy happiness because of a fear about what might happen to me?”

  Pagara looked at Kyana. “Is that it, Kyana? Please tell us.”

  Kyana covered her face with both hands and began to rock herself back and forth. Finally, she looked up and said to Lorgil, “How can I reach out for happiness for myself when yours, you who have become my dearest friend, hangs in the balance?”

  The Healer moved closer to Kyana and put an arm around her.

  “You must not let my challenges rob you of a chance for true joy in your life,” Lorgil said. “Please do not do that. We each deserve to be happy, and the troubles of one should not keep another from finding her own joy. Please, do not keep your silence any longer. For one thing, Wosot is not getting any younger!”

  Lorgil’s remark was just what they all needed, and they laughed.

  “There is more to it, though. I am troubled by confusion over my relationship with Nox’Tor. After he came to me that night at the fire and promised to try to win me back, I thought he had changed. It seemed he had. Perhaps, had I encouraged him more, we could have found our way back to one another.”

  Pagara and Lorgil looked at each other, and both frowned.

  “I did not see a change in him,” said the Healer. “From what I could see, he continued in his selfish ways. He made no effort to win you back. He was often sulking somewhere or else holed up in his quarters. I do not once remember him engaging with your offling. His words were just empty sounds in the wind.”

  “I did not see it, either,” said Lorgil.

  “Maybe you did not. But he did show kindnesses. Many times, when I returned to my quarters at the end of the day, I would find a special gift. Sometimes a freshly caught and prepared longfish, other times a pile of recently picked acorns. Now and then a pretty stone—and they were always my favorites. The colors I love most. He was showing me that he still cared and that he knew me well enough to know what pleased me.” Kyana’s voice dropped as she finished her story.

  Pagara shook her head slowly, looking at Lorgil.

  “Those gifts were not from Nox’Tor,” Lorgil said, reaching out to take Kyana’s hand. “It was Wosot who left them for you.”

  “What?” Kyana frowned. “No. Why do you say that?” She pulled her hand away.

  “Because I saw him doing it, “said Lorgil. “I caught him many times giving those items to your daughters to place at your bedside. Sometimes I helped them by keeping watch for your return; if you doubt me, ask Lai. Seeing your happiness brought him joy. It does still. So, if that is what is confusing you—these kindnesses that you wrongly attributed to Nox’Tor—please, know that they came from Wosot.”

  “But I mentioned them to Nox’Tor, and he did not deny leaving them—” Then Kyana closed her eyes again. “Of course.” She answered her own question. “Of course he would not. Nox’Tor would do just as he did, in silence take credit for them.”

  Kyana opened her eyes and looked at the two females who had become family to her. “My friends, my friends. What would I do without you?”

  Lorgil smiled, “So what are you waiting for? Go and find him!”

  Norland had gathered those whom he trusted most. In his circle sat Wosot, Toniss, and Trak. Had Pagara and Kyana not been busy, they would have been included.

  “I am pleased that some of the females are selecting mates,” he started off. “Perhaps we are on the path to healing as a community. And so perhaps the time has come to tend to matters of a more practical nature.

  “Before our people left Kthama, there was agreement on the Sacred Laws. Rules to which we would all adhere to the end of enjoying a peaceful and ordered existence. Those laws must be kept alive; they must be freely spoken of and passed through the generations of our community, so they never pass from our memory. Let us discuss them now to confirm our agreement about what these laws were.”

  “I remember them well,” said Toniss.

  Silence fell as she recited the laws: The needs of the community come first, before the need of any one individual. Honor females and do not subjugate them. Show humble forbearance for the failings of others. No hand must be raised to another except for protection or defense. Use
the least amount of force necessary in conflict. Protect, heal, and shelter the sick, helpless, and those in need. Offling are our future and are sacred. Never take more than you need. No contact with outsiders, and never without consent.”

  “Those are the same I remember others reciting as well. I am relieved they live in our memory, intact. There was a story that the great Healer, Lor Onida, had recorded them on a scroll. I can only assume it is somewhere at Kthama,” Norland added.

  “In all our turmoil, I wonder how well the Sassen know these laws. Have they been ingrained in their memory as they are in the Mothoc’s?” Trak asked.

  “That is a good question,” Norland replied. “One to which we must find the answer.”

  At Lorgil’s urging, Kyana was out looking for Wosot and finally spotted him walking back toward Kayerm accompanied by Toniss, Trak, and Dotrat. Her heart pounded as she watched them come toward her. They were talking among themselves as they walked and had not noticed her. Then, Wosot lifted his head, and with each further step, he kept his eyes locked on hers.

  Kyana felt her heart racing more quickly. She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to relax. He was just a male; why was she acting like this? Oh, but he was not; he was not just any male.

  Within a few moments, the group had caught up to her. As it was obvious what was passing between Wosot and Kyana, the others moved on, smiling, and left the two to each other.

  “I— I— Lorgil is resting, and I thought I would take a walk,” Kyana managed to stammer.

  Wosot took a step closer to her—uncomfortably close. “Is that what you were doing?”

  Kyana could see him looking down at her, from her eyes to her lips, and back up to meet her gaze.

  “Out for a walk?” he repeated, then reached up, and his hand grazed the side of her face; she could feel her cheeks burning.

  “Yes. No, I— I am glad to see you. I wanted to thank you for saving us from Nox’Tor back there. If it were not for you—”

  He was so close; the heat from his body was inflaming the longing she felt for him. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and press her lips to his.

  He gently raised her chin with his hand. “Never doubt that I will care for you and that I will protect you and your offling until my last dying breath.”

  Then he leaned down enough to kiss her sweetly on her forehead. “I must be off to my duties. Meet me at the evening fire tonight, if you can?”

  As he walked away, Kyana steadied herself. Her knees were suddenly weak.

  That night, after making sure her daughters were settled down, and Lorgil was cared for, Kyana went to join the others at the evening fire.

  The scent of the burning wood mingled with the night air was comforting and so pleasant. The twinkling stars in the clear sky overhead reminded them of the glory of creation and the loving hand of the Great Spirit, who had created it all.

  Wosot was sitting next to Norland, deeply immersed in storytelling while the others around the fire listened intently. Kyana stayed back, not wanting to interrupt. At the end of the story, everyone laughed outright and slapped each other on the knees. As the laughter faded, Wosot noticed Kyana standing there and waved her over to sit next to him.

  He looked at her briefly, smiled, and handed her his stick so she could poke at the fire. She laughed and playfully gave it a try, sending embers floating skyward.

  “I am glad you came,” Wosot said. Then he reached his arm behind Kyana and pulled her closer until she was pressed up against his side.

  A shockwave went through her. “Oh.”

  Wosot looked at her and smiled, then looked at her lips again and back up to meet her gaze.

  “You are teasing me,” she whispered, smiling.

  “Well, I am certainly trying to.” He smiled in return.

  She looked down and took his hand, and laced her fingers through his. Wosot brought their hands up and kissed the back of hers lightly, allowing his lips to linger a moment.

  He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “When you are ready, and only when you are ready, I will still be waiting for you.”

  His warm breath on her neck sent a chill through her, and she felt her insides twist with desire for him. Suddenly, she remembered that they were not alone. She opened her eyes and looked around to see the others at the circle grinning at both of them, some nodding and casting glances at each other.

  Embarrassed at their public display but pleased to see that the others appeared approving, she excused herself and went to her quarters. Careful not to wake Lorgil or her daughters, she slid quietly onto her sleeping mat.

  But sleep was not to come that night; Kyana could not get thoughts of Wosot out of her mind.

  Back at Kthama, Pan lay in the Healer’s Quarters. She had not spoken since her words in the meadow, after which Rohm’Mok carefully carried her back and placed her in Tyria’s care. He stayed by her side as much as possible.

  They all waited for Pan to come out of her silence.

  In the hallway outside the Healer’s Quarters, Rohm’Mok asked Tyria if there was nothing more she could do.

  Tyria shook her head; her heart was breaking. “I love her too. If there were anything else I knew to do, a secret to unturn, I would move the mountains that cradle Kthama. She will not eat. She still does not speak. Honestly, I fear for her life and for the life of your offling.”

  Filled with despair, Rohm’Mok leaned against the rock wall. He felt beaten, lost, powerless to save her as the love of his life faded in front of his eyes.

  “It is out of my hands,” Tyria continued softly. “I am afraid that only the mercy of the Great Spirit can save Pan.”

  Rohm’Mok looked at her. “Thank you for all you are doing. I never meant to imply I doubted you.”

  Rohm’Mok made his way to the sacred meadow above Kthama. The place where Pan and all the Guardians before her engaged the Aezaitera. The same place where Pan had just discovered that her father was trapped in the Order of Functions.

  Rohm’Mok walked to the spot where he had last held his beloved, just before she slipped into unconsciousness, and dropped to his knees. He lifted his eyes to the clear blue sky overhead and spoke into the sudden silence of the meadow.

  “I have come to this sacred place, the place of my mate Pan and her father before her. The place where every Guardian who has protected Etera and served you has come to carry out their service to you. Please, Great Spirit, hear my prayer.

  “Through the years, I longed to find love. Many females sought me out; you know this. But I waited, standing on the promise you placed in my heart—that there would be one who would return my love in the way that the legends say Moc’Tor loved E’ranale. And then, finally, you brought Pan to me and me to her.

  “I am not a Guardian. I am not even much of a Leader. I am just a male who is bowed here before you, begging you to return to me the one I would exchange my life for. I know I have no right to enter this sacred meadow. But I am here, on my knees. I am begging you not to take the one who means everything to me. I need her. Our offling needs her. And Etera needs her.”

  Silence still filled the meadow. Overhead, a single black crow looked down, tilting its head back and forth as it watched the Mothoc male kneeling in this most sacred place of the Guardians.

  Rohm’Mok returned to the Healer’s Quarters to find Tyria sitting on the edge of Pan’s sleeping mat.

  “Please, tell me she is going to be alright,” Rohm’Mok said—again.

  “The next day or so will tell us. She is nearly at a point of no return. If her current direction does not change, she may lose your offling. Or we may lose them both. At this point, it will take a miracle.

  “I will leave you alone with her, but I will check back in a while. Maybe if you stay here, it will help.” And Tyria left to make arrangements for a sleeping mat to be placed next to Pan’s.

  While Tyria was gone, Rohm’Mok sat next to his mate. Yet again, he picked up one of her hands in his, “I know you c
an hear me. You must live. You must live for me; you must live for our offling. You must live because you are the Guardian, and you are Etera’s only hope. I love you so much, and I cannot bear to lose you. Please, please fight to stay with me. Please.”

  He stretched out next to Pan, and snuggled her up next to him with her head resting on his shoulder. He pulled the cover up and held her gently, praying again to the Great Spirit not to take her from him.

  In the Corridor, E’ranale turned to the magnificent, shimmering male standing next to her. The same male who had spoken to Pan’s father before he returned to the Chamber of the Ancients and entered the Order of Functions.

  “It is time to bring her to me,” she said.

  Pan looked around. She found herself back in the sacred meadow above Kthama. Only it was far more than that. She frowned, trying to understand what was happening. Everything looked the same, yet it was imbued with a concentration of life she had never before experienced. The colors were so vibrant, the birdsong in the background sweeter, more lilting than any she had ever heard. The grass beneath her feet seemed to welcome her as if it were holding her in its embrace. It was a place of unspeakable glory and grace beyond understanding. Where am I? Am I dead? Have I left Etera to join with the Great Spirit?

  A light began to appear in front of her. Slowly, it took form.

  Pan’s jaw dropped, and her eyes opened wide as she recognized the figure materializing. “Mother! Mother!” she exclaimed. “Is it really you?”