The Age of Darkness: Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness Book 1 (The Etera Chronicles Series Two - Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness)

by Leigh Roberts

  “I am, but some of the visiting females have taught me a few tricks for times such as this.”

  “Tricks?”

  E’ranale chuckled.

  “You will see. Just lie back and close your eyes. And no matter what happens, keep them closed. Then afterward, I have something related that I need to share with you, also learned from those females who are visiting us.”

  Moc’Tor stretched out and let out a huge sigh, waiting for her to straddle him. But within seconds of closing his eyes, they flew wide open. “E’ranale! What the—” He partially sat up and looked down at her.

  “Sssh, relax. Trust me, Moc’Tor, you will find this enjoyable. And I promise I will not bite.”

  Moc’Tor did as she asked and received one of the biggest and most pleasurable surprises of his life.

  The Guardian did not realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up. E’ranale lay beside him, still asleep. He sat up for a moment and then allowed himself to flop back down, enjoying the relief from stress that his mate had so generously provided him.

  Unfortunately, he was robbed of the moment by someone arriving at the entrance to their quarters.

  “Who is there?”

  “Drit, Leader. They are re-assembling; I thought you would want to know.”

  “Thank you. I will be right there.”

  Moc’Tor reached over and roused his mate. She should be in attendance when the meeting reconvened.

  She blinked and finally looked up at him.

  “We need to go. We both fell asleep.”

  “Alright, I am coming.”

  “E’ranale.”

  “Yes?”

  “Before we go, I do not know what to say. What you did to me—I thought I had experienced everything.”

  E’ranale smiled, pleased she had satisfied him.

  “You are happy because I just proved your point, Guardian, that an exchange of ideas is a good thing!”

  He laughed, and her eyes lit up at seeing the stress leave his face, even for a moment.

  “Later, we will talk more about what you did.”

  E’ranale chuckled and rose to leave with her mate.

  Moc’Tor could feel the agitation in the room as he entered. Groups of Leaders and Healers were standing grouped together in discussion. Others had taken a seat and were talking to their neighbors. Moc’Tor checked his senses again. No, not agitation. Excitement. Perhaps even a tinge of hope.

  His confidence renewed, he called for their attention.

  “Let us return and focus. Now that we have had a break, does anyone have anything to add?”

  Solok’Tar stood to speak. “I cannot speak for the others, but I support your idea, Moc’Tor. However, I think we need a smaller circle to work out the details.”

  Moc’Tor looked at the faces staring back at him. Many of them showed approval, but many were blank. He could not tell how much overall support his idea had. “Take a position so we can see where we are. Everyone who supports the idea of exchanging mating-age young, please stand up.”

  The vast majority of those in the room stood. Moc’Tor suppressed a smile of relief.

  “I agree with Solok’Tar of the Great Pines,” Cha’Kahn said. “We need a smaller group to determine how to put this into motion. Who among us has a mind for detail? If we do this, we must keep records. We will have to find a way to mark down our decisions.”

  “You mean like the marks on the Keeping Stones?” queried Moc’Tor. Each individual was given a stone at birth, upon which was recorded the significant events of their life.

  “Similar, but more detailed. So we know who has mated with whom from which family.”

  There was a nodding of heads, and several looked as if they would volunteer.

  “It is a good idea. Anyone interested in working on it, meet me after we have finished this discussion. Now, are there any other questions or observations?”

  “How do we quiet the females?”

  Moc’Tor recognized Tarris’Kahn, son of Cha’Kahn, from the tiny community of Khire immediately up the Mother Stream. “They are demanding their right to reproduce. They are saying that the males caused the ire of the Great Spirit. That we were punished with the sickness that took so many of us and fouled our seed. But they do not believe they should be denied offling because of our sins.”

  “What exactly are they asking for?”

  “An abomination, Guardian. They are asking for permission to commit an abomination.”

  “Great. That is great news, Tarris’Kahn,” Moc’Tor replied.

  “Va, Moc’Tor! You did not hear me! I said they are asking for us to participate in an abomination against the Great Spirit.”

  “I heard you perfectly, Tarris’Kahn. But what you are calling an abomination may be the solution we are looking for. Regardless of the merits of their idea, this may be just what we need. We must learn to think in new ways. Try new things, be open to what we would never accept before, or that would never occur to us if our backs were not against the wall. Perhaps even ideas that we consider an abomination, because at the root of them may be an inspired idea that will bring us to the perfect solution. Now, just what is this abomination the females are proposing?”

  “They want to mate with the Others.”

  Moc’Tor blinked. He rubbed his chin and then crossed his arms over his chest. He looked at E’ranale, who raised her eyebrows and nodded at him.

  “Excuse me,” he said, holding up one finger as he stepped over to speak with his mate. “You knew about this and did not tell me?”

  “I was going to.”

  “Then why did you not?”

  “You fell asleep.”

  Moc’Tor cleared his throat. “Oh. Alright. Well, we will talk about it later then.”

  He returned slowly to the front of the room. It was not unheard of; some races had been known to interbreed. But he doubted the Others would go along with it. And what would it mean to Mothoc culture? What would the offling look like? It would have to be a male Other with a female Mothoc. Impossible. But Moc’Tor had just chastised Tarris’Kahn for not having an open mind; he could not shut the idea off without considering it.

  “How serious are they about this, Tarris’Kahn?”

  “Dead serious.”

  “You cannot truly be considering this idea, Moc’Tor!” shouted someone.

  “And why not? Do you have a better one? I know your objection. The Others are our wards. It is our responsibility to watch over them, provide for them just as we do for Etera. Our people drive deer to their hunters. We keep the waterways open. We gather flint and leave it where they can find it. We move the weather, flare the vortex to increase the harvest when we expect a harsh winter. They are unaware of our protection and care.

  “Maybe what the females ask is an affront to all the males here. But remember whose fault it is that we are in this situation? We have had our way with the females for eons, never considering their wishes nor the burden of keeping them in a continual state of being seeded. And then it was us, not them, whom the Great Spirit punished with the disease that destroyed the vitality of our seed packs. Perhaps it was a message; perhaps it was the Great Spirit driving us in this direction anyway. We do not know. So to abandon any ideas out of ignorance or because they threaten our personal sensibilities is going to doom us. Is that what you prefer?”

  Moc’Tor walked across the platform. “Now, who wants to meet with the females on this idea?”

  “Surely they do not mean for one of the Other males to mount them? Is that not what Trestle tried and was condemned for?”

  “Of course not. I do not know what they have in mind, but I do know that the Healers have ways of which we are not aware. Perhaps they already have a workable concept. Now, who will consider this idea on its merits?”

  Tres’Sar’s Healer, one of the few females in the group, rose to her feet. “May I speak, Moc’Tor?”

  “Yes. Please state your name.”

  “I am Lor Onida, fro
m Amara—the Far High Hills. I am of the Onida Healer bloodline.”

  Moc’Tor nodded for her to continue, taking in her small frame.

  “As a Healer, I can assure you that there are ways of accomplishing this with the male Others. And as a female, I can assure you that we are, as Tarris’Kahn said, deadly serious about this solution. You males ruled over us for as long as time remembers. You showed little concern for our needs or our preferences, mating us at will and assuming that one of you was the same to us as another. All the while having your own preferences about who you mounted, yet never considering we might also have preferences.

  “And then you moved on to the next, never caring how shackled we might be with too many offling to care for, or how tired and worn out our bodies might be from the strain of constantly sustaining the seed you indiscriminately planted within us.

  “We were created to bring life into this world. It is the right given to us, woven into the very fiber of our beings. But you can no longer give us what we need. And now that you can no longer perform your part of the process, you expect us to accept it and be punished along with you? We will not tolerate that. We are bringers of life. We serve the Great Mother; we have our own role, and we demand the right to satisfy our obligation to her as life-bringers, channels of the Aezaitera.”

  “But what if the Other males will not cooperate? Surely you do not expect them to—”

  “Moc’Tor, so what if they will not cooperate? We need their seed, not their cooperation. Were we not taken by you males against our will for generation after generation? Bearing your offling whether we wanted to or not? But now the idea of taking what we need from a male—whether Mothoc or Other—without his consent is an affront? Please.”

  Moc’Tor stood in silence, amazed at the power of this small female, Lor Onida, of the Far High Hills. She had chewed up and spat out every objection they could come up with.

  “No harm will come to them,” she continued. “Unbeknownst to the Others, we have protected them, provided for them silently through the ages. Now we need something in return. But there is no way to ask them, no possible way of making our intentions known. Even trying to explain would terrify them.”

  Moc’Tor felt the energy in the room shift as cracks in long-established beliefs opened under Lor Onida’s assault. The longer he listened, the more Moc’Tor believed that her words were inspired by the Great Spirit.

  The room had fallen almost silent, and Moc’Tor was about to adjourn when one last voice spoke up.

  “How do you know this is the will of the Great Spirit?”

  Lor Onida turned to look at the speaker. “How do you know it is not?” Her dark eyes flashed. “If we do not do this, the Mothoc will disappear from Etera entirely—as the Guardian has said himself. And then what?”

  Silence.

  Moc’Tor stepped forward, and all eyes shifted back to him. “It is late. I can see the weariness on your faces. We will reconvene after first light. Those of you who are willing to work with us, please stay for a moment so we can determine who we are. The others of you, I bid you good rest and thank you for your willingness to be here. Having our ideas challenged, even threatened, is uncomfortable. But if we do not change, if we do not open our thinking onto a new path, even one that goes against what we have believed so far, then our future—and I assure you it will be brief—is carved in stone. Thank you.”

  And Moc’Tor stepped away from the platform to await those who would join him.

  At first, the pockets of those open to change were small and few. But Moc’Tor met tirelessly with each group. One wanted to focus on the process of pairing up members from the communities. They met into the early hours, discussing ways of marking and recording the pairings. Drit joined this group, and his keen mind was a rare combination of embracing both innovation and structure. Not to Moc’Tor’s surprise, Oragur joined Lor Onida’s group, as did many of the other Healers. Straf’Tor and his mate, Ushca, also joined. And E’ranale. Small steps, Moc’Tor kept reminding himself. Small steps will still carry us forward.

  Moc’Tor let the groups continue to work together over the following day. As the day ended, they would all reconvene to hear the thoughts and ideas of the working groups.

  As he walked among them, he realized that they might not think it so now, but they were the Leaders of a new age. This handful of visionaries would be the ones to guide their people through the difficult unknowns into a future of uncertainty. But at least there would be a future.

  At the end of the day, the Leaders of the workgroups came to speak with Moc’Tor.

  Straf’Tor spoke first. “We believe we can make this work, but it will require a great deal of record keeping. We will need a large area on which to mark the pairings. Only the wall of the Great Chamber is big enough, but it is part of our general community. We need something private, not open to everyone’s eyes.”

  Moc’Tor nodded.

  “But there is more. Even at best, with the numbers we have, we will only be able to vary our bloodlines across a few generations. Then we will be back where we are now.”

  “Do you have a solution?”

  “We have a suggestion,” Straf’Tor said.

  “Speak, brother. You may not bear the title of Leader, but I recognize you as ‘Tor, and I trust your wisdom.”

  “The two groups must work together. We must incorporate this idea of pairings with that of crossbreeding with the Others. Only if we have a complete plan will this work. We see no way around bringing the Others’ seed into ours.”

  Moc’Tor turned to the Leader of the second group, the Healer Lor Onida.

  “We agree with that,” she responded. “We will work together. But we have suggestions of our own.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “The first requirement is that how we accomplish this must be confined to the Healers. There is no need for everyone to know. This is partly to control the process but also to reduce backlash. As Healers, we have a more detached view of what has to take place. We cannot trust the general population to understand.”

  “Who are you proposing should know?”

  “Only those of us working together and moving forward; only Healers.”

  “I must know, Lor Onida,” put in Moc’Tor. “As must some of the other Leaders. It is not just macabre curiosity about how you will accomplish it. I cannot be expected to blindly sanction this, no matter how much I trust you.”

  “Perhaps a small circle of Leaders, then,” she reluctantly conceded. “But it must remain a closed group, Moc’Tor. Our efforts cannot stand or fall on the ground of public opinion.”

  “Very well, then. I support the two groups working together. Decide among yourselves what you wish to share with them. But I expect to know all your plans down to the last detail and to be kept informed as you move forward.”

  Both Leaders nodded and returned to join their groups.

  “E’ranale, Straf’Tor, Ushca, Oragur, Drit, Dochrohan—come and find me here just before twilight. And bring Lor Onida with you.”

  Moc’Tor sat with his small hand-picked group, those he trusted most among his community. The only stranger was Lor Onida, the strong-willed spokesperson for the females.

  “I asked you to come here to discuss the need for your work to continue undisturbed, away from the eyes of the general population. And to make a proposal as to how this can be accomplished. Ours is the largest underground community in the region. Kthama stretches great lengths back into the mountain and reaches down several levels. But there is also the adjacent cavern. It is where the females reside. It shares the Mother Stream as this system does. We have always kept the genders separate, but perhaps now is the time for that to change as well. With dissent brewing between the males and females, it would serve two purposes to merge them.”

  “Bring the females here to live among the males?” asked E’ranale.

  “Yes. There is more than enough room. It would serve two purposes. First of all, it will force us to be
come one community instead of being separated gender groups. Secondly, it will free up the females’ dwelling for the purposes of recording. There is a separate entrance, so you will be able to control access.”

  “There is only one entrance?” Lor Onida asked.

  “Yes. Though both share the Mother Stream, the other side enters underground and is not accessible.”

  Everyone but Lor Onida was nodding approval. She frowned. “This means we will have to operate from Kthama.”

  “We have the largest population. It makes sense,” said Oragur. “And locally, there is a large village of the Others. As we go down this path, we will need to expand to the other populations, but here there is the basis for a strong start.”

  Lor Onida sighed and added her consent.

  “Let us keep this group together for counsel,” Moc’Tor suggested. “Lor Onida, are you willing to stay here, at Kthama, for a while?”

  “How can I ask others to leave their community to join another if I am not willing to do so myself? I concede that it is the wisest choice.”

  “You are welcome to stay in my quarters,” offered Oragur.

  Lor Onida shot him a look that would have killed a lesser male.

  “I am sorry,” he hastened to say. “I meant that if you wish, I will vacate the Healer’s Quarters for your use. They are spacious and have all you would need. They are also a good place for a small group to meet, if you wanted. There is more room than I require.”

  With the fire leaving her eyes, Lor Onida backtracked. “That is generous of you, Oragur. I will consider it. I imagine staying in Kthama Minor would be lonely.”

  “Kthama Minor?” asked Moc’Tor.

  Lor Onida turned to the Guardian. “I apologize. I am too headstrong; Tarris’Kahn is always reminding me. If this is the main system, then to me, this is Kthama Prime. And then it seems that the caves we will be using should be called Kthama Minor. Unless the females already named it?”