E’ranale stopped and turned to face Moc’Tor. She reached over with both hands and grabbed fistfuls of the thick hair behind his hips, pulling him to her.
“Then do not think about it.”
Moc’Tor recognized her invitation and immediately fell to taking advantage of the opportunity. Obstructed by a fallen log was a small clearing to their left, and he broke from her long enough to heave it out of the way, opening up a secluded nook. Kicking aside the rocks and leaves, he laid her down on the soft soil and took her readily, then and there. Knowing she was already seeded and he would not be adding further to the overpopulation allowed Moc’Tor fully to surrender himself to the relief she offered. For a moment at least, he was freed of the burdens of leadership, lost in the pleasure of claiming his First Choice.
Chapter 2
Time passed. Crews went out in series to the newly found cave system, each spending several days there to make it more habitable before coming back for additional supplies. Females whitewashed some of the interior to provide more light to the inner recesses, though everyone’s night vision made much of it unnecessary. Moc’Tor named the new location. Kayerm.
He, Drit the Fixer, and First Guard Dochrohan were enjoying Moc’Tor’s favorite leisure occupation—sitting in front of a pleasing fire on a starry night. Moc’Tor was still struggling with implementing his idea that the males should mate with only one female. As if that part were not hard enough, getting the males to accept the second part—letting the females choose them—seemed even more of an impossibility. He poked at the fire with a stick as Oragur joined them.
“Moc'Tor, I am getting alarmed," Oragur said. "More are getting sick. I am not sure what to think of it, and nothing I do is helping." He paused. "Rathic returned to the Great Spirit today."
Moc'Tor put down the stick. "Rathic is gone?"
"Yes."
"He was one of our Elders, but still— And my father?"
"So far, he has not come down with it."
Moc'Tor sighed. He needed to spend more time with his father; he knew it. Though Sorak'Tor had handed over the leadership ages ago to help mentor and guide him through being a new Leader, the Guardian was not ready to lose his father. "How many of us have it now?" he asked.
"Almost half. It is worse in the males than the females, and I fear it is a punishment from the Great Spirit."
"For what?"
"For what you told us some time ago. That we were being irresponsible with our mating."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because it is affecting the male's seed packs. Not all, but in many of them, the seed packs are painfully swollen. To try and limit the spreading, we have placed all the sick in one of the lower rooms, but it seems to have no effect. But it would not if it is retribution—"
Moc'Tor had lived long enough that he was not sure he believed in such punishments from the Great Spirit. Still, even a loving father corrected his offling. "Keep me informed, Oragur."
He turned to his first guard. "Dochrohan, send a sentry up the Mother Stream to the other communities and see if they are also affected by this."
Over the next few weeks, Moc'Tor watched helplessly as a fourth of the males returned to the Great Spirit, and it was not restricted to those in their senior and twilight years. A dark pall hung over Kthama. Eventually, the sickness tapered off, but anguish remained.
Moc'Tor lay with E'ranale in the privacy of the Leader's Quarters, his worry drawing him to her. "I need to address the community. What is left of us, that is."
"There is nothing anyone could do, Moc'Tor."
"Oragur says it is a punishment from the Great Spirit."
"But you do not believe that."
"I do not know what I believe anymore. I have lived a long time, E'ranale, and in the end I have more questions than answers. Who is to say?"
"I can see why Oragur would believe it; he is the Healer for one thing, and it did come after you had admonished the community for overbreeding. Except, the sentries said it is impacting all the communities up the Mother Stream."
E'ranale was starting to show, her waist thickening and her breasts enlarging. It was noticeable even under her thick hair. Moc'Tor rested his hand on her expanding belly.
"Since we have been talking about it, I believe more and more that we males need to control ourselves. Even despite our losses." Moc'Tor sighed. "I must address the community. It is time."
The next morning, he called an assembly. In contrast to when he had last spoken with them, the Great Chamber was not packed with bodies side-by-side. It was a sobering demonstration of their depleted numbers.
Moc'Tor moved to the front and looked out into a crowd of dark, somber faces. The females were clearly in mourning with lowered eyes and slumped shoulders. Angry scowls and clenched jaws prevailed among the males able to attend.
"I remember that the last time I stood before you, my message was one of concern for our overcrowding and our lack of self-control in our mating. As I look out now and see our depleted numbers, I am deeply saddened and somewhat ashamed.
"Oragur believes that this sickness is a punishment from the Great Spirit for being disrespectful of the bounty that was given us. For eons, our people have been blessed to live here in a land rich with supply. But that does not give us the right to squander what we have been given by overbreeding. So perhaps Oragur is right."
Someone shouted from the crowd, "You believe this is a punishment?"
"I believe it is possible."
"If we are being punished, what are we to do now?" called out another voice.
"If Oragur is right, then we need to change our ways while there is still time. By reducing our numbers, perhaps the Great Spirit is giving us a second chance. But if we do not change, then we invite further correction."
"But what about finding Kayerm? Is that not a blessing?"
"Yes. It truly was—and is. I do not have all the answers; perhaps Kayerm is not a blessing for this time but for a time yet to come. At any rate, there is now no need to split what is left of us. We have already ceased work there and closed off the entrance."
Moc'Tor stood silently and let them speak among themselves. He spotted Oragur in the crowd and motioned for the Healer to join him at the front.
"Oragur, are we being punished?" called out someone else.
Oragur made it clear that he had no doubts. "We are being corrected. We have been wasteful and let our numbers increase past that which even this great abundance could bear. Now we have suffered the consequences of our folly. Why else would the Great Spirit inflict a sickness that so targeted the source of our own demise? You have seen for yourselves the effects on the males who became sick and did not fully recover. Whether we listen or not will decree what happens to us next. Earlier, this room was packed to capacity; now there is but a portion of us left."
Moc'Tor did not completely agree with Oragur, but he saw the opening he needed and took full advantage of it. "Whether it is because we have been punished, or that the sickness is a result of our own foolishness, we have to change our ways. It will not be easy, but neither was what we have recently been through."
His Leader's Staff firmly in hand, Moc'Tor took a deep breath before continuing. "It is time for change. We males have had our way since the Great Spirit formed us from the dust of these walls. We now see where that has gotten us. We can no longer breed at will like the animals of the forest. We must be more than that because our future depends on it. From now on, the females will be the ones to choose whose seed to accept."
A gasp rolled through the crowd. The females stared at each other in amazement.
"Furthermore, the females will choose one male with whom to mate for the rest of both their lives. That is it. It will be the female's choice of who and how often. The males have had control for too long. Now it is time to let our females have their way."
"Are you sick yourself, Moc'Tor? You want us to wait for them to decide to mate? And let them choose who with?" asked a male
named Norcab.
Moc'Tor had known there would be resistance and anticipated that it would start with Norcab. The Guardian stood taller, took a confident step forward, and stared down at the angry male. "Do you have another solution? You see where we are. If Oragur is right, our numbers have been reduced because of our inability to control ourselves. As I said, mating at will is beneath us; we must be better than that. I will give the females five nights to select their mates. Once this has happened, I expect you to honor their selection. If a female does not wish to pick a mate, that is also acceptable. Females are not to be taken without their consent. Not any more. Never again."
"I have never forced myself on any of them. Neither have any of the other males!" Norcab challenged the Leader.
"Have you not? Perhaps not physically forced, but have you ever considered whether the female you selected wanted to accept you into herself? Let alone to be seeded by you? They have given in because it was expected of them. Since we failed at treating them as equals, they are now elevated above us. Anyone who does not agree with the new order is welcome to leave—now."
Moc'Tor's answer was a bedlam of voices. The females looked worried. The Guardian glanced at E'ranale and beckoned for her to join him. She frowned and remained where she was.
He motioned again, and this time she complied. Tentatively making her way through the crowd, E'ranale joined Moc'Tor on the platform. Then she suddenly realized that he wanted her to take the lead in following his order.
"People of Kthama."
The room silenced immediately at the unfamiliar voice—a female voice—speaking from the place of leadership where only males had ever stood.
"You have known me as Moc'Tor's First Choice. Now it is my choice as to whom I want to mate."
Utter. Abject. Silence.
For a moment, Moc'Tor actually felt afraid she was not going to choose him.
"I choose Moc'Tor," E'ranale whispered. Then, more loudly, she said, "I have always chosen Moc'Tor." She placed her hand in his, then turned back to the crowd. "I have exercised my right to choose. Females, I urge you to consider well and choose wisely for yourselves. We are fortunate to have a Leader who seeks wisdom and understanding. Through adversity, great change has come; Moc'Tor has given us a position of equality, even reverence. My prayer is that we live up to the mantle that has been placed upon our shoulders."
All eyes followed E'ranale as she led Moc'Tor from the stage. He squeezed her hand as they left and murmured just loud enough that only she could hear. "Perfect."
The couple moved to the back of the room and watched the outcome of their display. Oragur stayed near the front and answered questions as some of the audience pressed forward.
"I need to be with the females tonight, Moc'Tor."
"I understand. Though now that you have freely chosen me, I regret that we cannot spend our first night together."
"I will make it up to you, I promise."
"Go and be with them. I agree; they need your leadership now, E'ranale. I have done all I can."
She took her leave of Moc'Tor and went into the crowd. After gathering the females, she led them to the meeting cavern in their own cave system, where she could hear their concerns without the males being present.
E'ranale had already prepared the females for what she believed was coming, so the idea of choosing who they wished to mate with was not a total surprise. The development was a boon for them, but still, the idea was not met without resistance.
Moc'Tor's former Second Choice, Ushca, spoke first. "The males are not going to accept this."
"They have little choice, Ushca. Moc'Tor has handed us the power to receive who we wish, and it is ours to accept or to give up. None of us has been pleased with the way things were."
"But I do not know how to choose," Ushca said.
"I think you do." E'ranale spoke gently. "What is really holding you back?"
"What if I choose someone who does not want me?"
"Doubtful. I have seen how he looks at you," said E'ranale.
Ushca lowered her eyes, thinking of her long-burning desire for Moc'Tor's brother, Straf'Tor.
"Moc’Tor and I discussed this at length,” E’ranale continued. “This is the way it must be. If left to the males, we will only continue to have too many offling; you know this is true. When one female is seeded, the male goes on to the next even if she does not wish to be mated.”
“We are not disagreeing with you, E’ranale. We just have no idea how to choose,” said Toniss.
“You do not know how to choose, or you do not know who to choose? There is a difference.”
The females exchanged glances and shifted uncomfortably.
“That is a good question,” said Toniss after a moment. “Given the choice—”
The other females waited for her answer. They knew Ushca favored Straf’Tor, but that he frequently chose Toniss. Ushca and Straf’Tor stayed away from each other, but only because Ushca was Moc’Tor’s Second Choice.
“—I would not choose Straf’Tor.”
Ushca frowned, “You would not choose Straf’Tor?”
“No. I am not sure why he even chooses me. Our mating is ritual and uninspired because he seems to burn for you, Ushca. Sometimes, I feel he is thinking of you when he is mounting me.”
Ushca felt as if a fire had been lit within her at the thought that Straf’Tor might desire her as she did him.
“Well, this seems to be working out,” E’ranale said. “Is it going to work out perfectly for each of us? No. But it is far from perfect the way it is now. We have been given power, and we have to try it. If you do not wish to choose now, do not. Wait until you know.”
E’ranale let the females chatter among themselves for a few moments. Another question surfaced.
“If I know who I want, how do I know if he wants me?”
E’ranale now realized how truly out of balance the situation between the genders had become. And when things tilted too far, the Great Spirit made a correction. She leaned toward Oragur’s interpretation that this was indeed a punishment from the Great Spirit in an attempt to set things right. But it was sad that the females knew little about how to entice a male because the choice had always been made for them.
E’ranale answered, “Now that the males know they cannot mate any of us whenever they want, they are also going to be more selective. It is very simple. It is not so much choosing as offering. If you offer yourself to him and he does not move forward, then you have your answer.”
“That makes it easier, E’ranale. Thank you.”
“You do not have to be blatant about it. Brush up against him. Look at him, stare at him if you need to. Smile. Go slow. Believe me, he will be looking for the invitation. Just make sure he is the one you want before you make a move, as the odds are that unless he has a connection with another female, whoever you pick will accept you. Realize it is also hard for them.”
The tension was easing, and E’ranale was exhausted. “Think about it for a while. There is no need to rush; we have five nights, and the males need time to adjust just as we do. Now I need to sleep. Tomorrow we enter a new age of control over whose seed we allow to be planted within us. A new age of choice.”
Back in Kthama proper, Moc’Tor was dealing with the males, who were not taking the news as well as the females.
“Our numbers have been reduced, Moc’Tor. Why is this now even necessary?” asked one of the larger males.
“Trasik, if Oragur is right, it was a serious correction from the Great Spirit. If we do not heed this one, who knows how much worse the next correction might be?” said Moc’Tor. “I am not willing to take the risk.”
“This is krellshar!”
“What exactly is bothering you about it, Trasik?” asked the Guardian.
“I no longer have the choice.”
Moc’Tor scoffed. “I know your tastes, Trasik. You mated indiscriminately with anyone and everyone. You have never been selective to begin with, so what does it m
atter who chooses you? I doubt it is your loss of choice that you are complaining about. I suspect it is the control.”
“Exactly. Now you have given them all the power,” Trasik responded.
“They should have had it anyway. It does not mean you cannot approach them. But if you do, and one female accepts you, then you must limit yourself to her. It is very simple. One is the same to you as the other; I do not see your problem.”
“We do not all feel that way, Moc’Tor,” another voice spoke up.
Moc’Tor did not catch who had spoken, but he replied firmly. “I know this to be true. Some of you have been more selective in who you mated. If you admit it, many of you have your preferences.”
It was time for Straf’Tor to come forward. “Moc’Tor, E’ranale has chosen you. Are you to be content with mating only her?”
“I have been content for a long time, Straf. I seldom mated Ushca or Ny’on.”
“What about you, Straf? Will you choose Toniss?” asked Trak, an alpha male of proportions equal to those of the huge Straf’Tor.
“I no longer get to choose; have you not been listening to my brother’s words?” growled Straf’Tor in reply.
“You have mounted her in the past!”
“As have you! Not that who I have mounted is any of your business.”
“I am making it my business. Do you want Toniss?”
When Straf’Tor did not answer, Trak stepped forward and snarled, “It is a simple question, Straf. Even a PetaQ such as you should be able to understand it. Answer me.”
Tension flared as the two giants squared off. Moc’Tor had expected this, though not from his brother.
Straf’Tor pushed Trak in the chest, knocking him off-center. Trak lunged in return and succeeded in knocking his opponent to the ground. Dust flew as each struggled to gain a stronghold over the other, rolling into rock slab tables and benches as they fought. Trak pinned Straf’Tor by his shoulders, but Straf’Tor wrapped his huge muscled legs around Trak’s midsection and flipped him over.
The Age of Darkness: Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness Book 1 (The Etera Chronicles Series Two - Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness) Page 3
