“It is a feeling. A deep-seated unsettling. A knowing that something is off. It is beyond the pleasure of entering the Aezaiterian flow. It is a need to engage the Order of Functions. And the longer you wait, the greater the need grows until it actually turns to discomfort.”
“Why do I not feel this discomfort?” she asked.
“Because I am strong enough to bear the full load. You have been shielded from it.”
“Is that why you look so tired? Why is it wearing on you?” she asked, frowning.
“Now is a time of great change. Great challenges require me to return to the Order of Function more often, with fewer breaks in between.”
“So, it is different from the feeling of being one with the Aezaitera?”
“Yes. It is different. And I will not lie to you, Pan, because to do so would be unfair. I must tell you that your first time will be terrifying.”
“Terrifying?” Her eyes were wide. “But being connected to the Aezaitera has always been so pleasant. So intensely good that it is all I can do to leave it.”
“I know. That is why you must be prepared; this will not be like that. But the good news is, it becomes less frightening each time you experience it. You must trust me, for when it begins, you must remember my words and cling to them. You will survive this. You will return to Etera. And that this is what you were born to do.”
Pan was clearly shaken. “I am afraid.”
“I know. That is why I am speaking so bluntly. If you do not know beforehand that it is going to be uncomfortable, and you do not understand, regardless, how critical it is, you would never willingly go through it a second time. And if the Guardians had not, Etera’s systems, like the unbalanced tower of rocks, would have toppled very long ago.”
Pan sat quietly before saying, “When do we have to do this?”
“If you are ready, we will do it now. Those standing guard are among my most loyal males and are aware of our need for privacy and protection. They will not allow anyone to approach this place when they know I am working.”
Pan was silent for quite a while. Finally, she said, “I am ready now, Father.”
Moc’Tor told her to lie flat on the ground. “Get comfortable. And just as when you were learning to enter the Aezaiterian flow, you must never attempt this alone until I say you are ready. You must also always immerse yourself in the Aezaiterian flow before and after engaging the Order of Functions. Do you understand?”
Pan nodded.
“Say it. I need you to proclaim it.”
“I understand.”
“I will be with you the entire time, though you may not realize it once you engage the Order of Functions. No matter what happens, focus on the truth that you will come out of it, and you will return unharmed. That is all I can say, Pan. Beyond that, there are no words to describe what you are about to undergo.”
Pan tried to hide her trembling.
“Now. Close your eyes and reach down to the vortex below Kthama and enter the stream as you have before. Once you have done so, I will join you and lead you from there.”
Pan closed her eyes and sent her awareness down through her body as her father had taught her, down to the rich vortex deep within Etera. The moment she made contact, indescribable pleasure overtook every spark of her consciousness. She was joy itself. There was nowhere else to go, nowhere else to be. It was everything her soul longed for, and her only desire was to be joined with it forever.
After a moment, she felt her Father’s presence. It was difficult to describe; she was separate from him and yet not. And then suddenly the distance was closed, and he was leading her somewhere, somewhere deeper, and the bliss of the creative life current was receding. She steeled her will to surrender to her father’s guidance. With a jolt of searing pain, Pan suddenly felt as if she were being torn apart—as if each cell in her body was being disassembled and spread to the edges of eternity. Terrible anguish and burning coursed through every part of her consciousness. Stretched beyond bearable, the distance between her thoughts became infinite. And in that space, there was nothingness. Every part of her felt disconnected, spread to the corners of the universe, and then split apart again into an unimaginable number of disconnected pieces. She was nowhere and everywhere at once.
Then, just when she could not stand it a moment longer, she started to reassemble. The infinite number of shards of what had been her were drawn back to themselves. Piece by piece, her consciousness re-formed. The pain started to fade, and she could feel the current of the Aezaiterian flow just out of reach. And her father’s presence was back, this time leading her to the current, back into the lifeforce of the Three-Who-Are-One. Unbearable fragmentation was replaced with indescribable peace, belonging, and joy. And it was all the sweeter for the horror of what she had just been through.
Slowly, she felt herself re-enter their own realm and once more became aware of her breathing and the weight of her body lying on the soft grass. Fresh air filled her lungs, and she inhaled sharply. As soon as she was fully returned, she rolled over and curled into a fetal position, sobbing.
Moc’Tor immediately pulled her up and started rocking her. On Etera, he alone understood what she had just experienced. “I know, I know,” he soothed her. “Listen to me; it will never be that bad again. Never. You have been through the worst. And now that you know what to expect, it will only get easier.”
“How could that have been of the Great Spirit? That was worse than annihilation. I would rather not exist than go through that again,” she sobbed. “Oh, Father.”
Moc’Tor let Pan cry it out. Right now, his daughter needed comfort, not another speech on what an honor and gift it was to be a Guardian. He kissed the top of her head and committed to holding her for however long it took.
After some time, she raised her head and wiped her tears with her arm. They glistened on the silver-white hair. “I know you want me to be strong. I know you want me to tell you I can do that again. But I do not think I can.”
“You can, Pan. You can, and you will. I promise you, it will never again be that bad. And each time, it will get easier. And it will also not seem to last as long.”
Taking in what he had just said, Pan looked around. “It is twilight. How can that be?” she asked. “It felt as if only moments passed.”
“Time behaves differently once we engage the Creator’s realm.”
Pan sat up properly. “How often do I have to endure this?”
“It depends. You will learn to ‘feel’ when it is time for you to enter the Order of Functions.”
“The Order of Functions. It is so different from the life current. I will never understand how it can be so painful when the life current is so pleasurable, and they are both of the Great Spirit.”
“You know how the lines of sinew we use can become tangled?” said Moc’Tor. “And sometimes impossibly so?”
“Yes.”
“And the only way to untangle them is to stretch them out as far as possible and then unknot and separate them from there.”
Pan nodded.
“That is similar to what happens when we engage the Order of Functions. Through being fragmented, dissipated, and then re-assembled, we are put back together in alignment with the divine pattern.”
Pan shook her head. “Having been through it, I can understand what you are saying. Had you told me this before today, I would have avoided it. But even now, I was afraid. Even though you told me you would be with me, I have never felt so alone and so frightened.”
Moc’Tor nodded. “I promise it will get easier. It will never be enjoyable, but you will know that because of your sacrifice, you are bringing the proper order back into Etera.”
“What would happen if there were no Guardian?” Pan asked.
“If there were no Guardian, then the Aezaitera would become poisoned by the build-up of negativity, and in time Etera’s lifeforce would become sick, much as our bodies do if toxins are not eliminated. And without our engaging with and re-estab
lishing the Order of Functions, the systems, which work together to make Etera the paradise she is, would falter. In time, different aspects would fall out of balance and degrade. Negative forces would grow in power. It might take eons, but at some point, without the Mothoc blood facilitating the flow of life entering and leaving Etera, without our cleansing of the Aezaitera and aligning with the Order of Functions, Etera would become a barren, toxic husk.”
Moc’Tor could see from her stillness that Pan was taking in at the deepest level of her soul everything he was telling her.
Finally, she asked, “Can we get stuck in the Order of Functions and not be able to leave?”
“No. There is no risk of that because it takes our will to stay as it is so unpleasant. And you will learn that shorter, more frequent visits are easier to bear than putting it off and having to stay longer. But the longer we stay engaged, the greater the benefit to Etera.”
Pan thought for a moment. “When we return to our bodies, is that what re-aligns the Order of Functions here on Etera?”
“No. Our souls are the link. Returning to our bodies does not re-establish divine order. Our engaging the Order of Functions does that,” he answered.
Pan put her head in her hands. “I need some time to think about this.”
“Of course,” said Moc’Tor. “But first, we must return to the Aezaiterian flow. Remember, you must always end with returning there.”
After they were finished, he stood and pulled Pan to her feet. “Let us go find something to eat. I am always famished when I have completed this duty.”
E’ranale was waiting for their return. “Where have you been? I was getting worried. And where is Pan?”
“Today was Pan’s first introduction to the Order of Functions. She got through it, but she needs time now to heal from the experience.”
“Should I go to her?”
“No. Let her come to you. Solitude is the best medicine for her right now. She has a lot on her shoulders, and she must find her own way to accept the burden that has been placed on her, one for which she did not ask.”
“What will happen if Pan refuses to accept the mantle of the Guardian?”
“She will not. No Guardian ever has. She may struggle with it, but she will accept it. It would be as impossible for her to refuse as it would be for you to refuse to love and care for your offling. It is who you are. It is who she is.” Moc’Tor went to the sleeping mat and stretched out. “I need to rest.”
He was asleep within moments.
Chapter 7
Several days later, having moved in most of the Mothoc males and having sized up Ridg’Sor’s group and decided who the troublemakers would be, Straf’Tor sent for the remaining Mothoc males and the Mothoc females and offling. He and Wosot stood watching as they nervously filed into Kayerm. The newcomers’ attention was drawn to the six huge Mothoc rebels lining the entrance and whose gazes seemed to lick the females all over.
The paired females were immediately claimed by their mates, who had been waiting for them, and with the offling were taken to their new living quarters. To the unpaired, Straf’Tor said, “There are larger group quarters on the second level. Together, you will be safe there.” He shot a warning glare in Ridg’Sor’s direction, and Wosot’s males helped the last females with their belongings and escorted them down the tunnels.
“I want you to keep Salus and Laborn away from the females,” said Straf’Tor, his eyes fixed firmly on Ridg’Sor. “I will be watching them both, and so will the other males. As far as Ser’Hun is concerned, he seems harmless enough, though it is obvious he is the worse for wear from having been so long without a female.
“I also want you to put together a schedule of hunting parties. Since you know where they are, you will need to show Wosot the best places. Also, put together a list of any repairs that must be done. You have been here longer than we have, you must know.”
Ridg’Sor nodded. At least Straf’Tor seemed to be entrusting him with assignments. Perhaps I can appear to make peace with it—for the time being. “What are your plans for retaking Kthama?” he asked.
“I have no plans to retake Kthama.”
“Surely you do not mean to scrape out an existence here while they live in incomparable luxury? We are far stronger than they are; it would be a quick battle.”
“I left willingly, for the sake of us all; Mothoc, Sassen, and Akassa.”
“Sassen? Akassa? What are those?”
“A great deal happened after you left Kthama. More are there now than just the Mothoc. My brother and I agreed that the females should be seeded by the Others. It was either that or have the Mothoc blood perish altogether. The Akassa have more of the Others’ blood in them. The Sassen do not have as much.”
“What kind of abomination is that? How in the name of the Great Spirit was such a horror achieved? And you are bringing them here?”
“Just the Sassen, and you will treat them with respect, or I will deal with you as Moc’Tor did Norcab and Warnak. This is home to all of us now, and you had better get that straight,” snarled Straf’Tor. “Forget about Kthama. Put it from your mind. The sooner you make peace with the fact that we are never going back, the sooner we can move forward into making this place more comfortable.”
He is insane, thought Ridg’Sor. Just like his brother. But Ridg’Sor knew he must be patient and bide his time to build up strength, and hopefully, numbers. He was certain that not everyone in Straf’Tor’s camp could be in full support of what had been done.
The new arrivals quickly sized up Kayerm. It did not have the deeper levels of Kthama, and there was no life-giving Mother Stream running through its lower levels. The walk to the Great River was not far, though more taxing for the Sassen than the Mothoc. Straf’Tor would have preferred that Kayerm was farther away from Kthama, but they had neither the time nor the resources to scout out another location.
Straf’Tor left to fetch the Sassen males, females, and offling, and when he returned with them to Kayerm, the tension was palpable. To their credit, the Sassen ignored the stares and whispers of Ridg’Sor’s group. All Straf’Tor’s Mothoc would be keeping their eyes on Ridg’Sor’s band to make sure the Sassen were not mistreated.
Later that day, Straf’Tor’s mate, Ushca, approached him.
“Something is on your mind,” he said.
“The unpaired females are nervous,” she told Straf’Tor.
“I have seen how Ridg’Sor’s males look at them, so I do not blame them for being afraid. But no matter how much his males want to mate, I doubt they will risk the penalty of forcing themselves on anyone. Unfortunately, in our group, there are more unpaired females than there are males. Some of our females will have to pick mates from Ridg’Sor’s group or give up on having offling. Another concern is that the females will be going out to gather what they can for the coming months. But they will be accompanied by more than a few of our largest males, you can be assured.”
“If you wish, I will help organize the gathering,” said Ushca. “We will need more strong storage baskets; I do not believe we brought nearly enough. As for Ridg’Sor and his group, perhaps they will soften over time. They will soon find that if they wish to attract any of the females, they will have to change their ways. They cannot cling to the old customs; it is the female’s right to choose now.”
Then she rose. “I am turning in. Please do not be long. I need to feel your arms around me.”
Ushca looked around their barren room. A good chalk washing would help. Perhaps after she and the other females had gathered berries and roots, and reeds for more baskets, they could pick some flowers to bring some life into Kayerm. And maybe some fluorite rocks because of their beauty at night. There were no light-bearing channels to charge them under, though. Everything did seem harder at Kayerm.
She gave the sleeping mat a good stir to fluff it back up. She would ask one of the males to carve out a channel in the floor for it to rest in. Perhaps more soft mosses and leaves to go unde
r the sleeping mat would cushion it more. We should have brought more hides with us; the floor and walls of Kayerm seem so cold compared to Kthama. Her mind was racing. So much to do!
Eventually, Ushca curled up on the sleeping mat and closed her eyes. Life was much harder at Kayerm, and Straf was right; she must get used to it and stop thinking about Kthama. She was never going back. It was time to focus on what they could do to make Kayerm feel like home—for everyone’s sakes, and more personally, for the sake of Straf’Tor’s offling, who Ushca still prayed she would someday bear.
Time passed. Back at Kthama, Lor Onida once again sat perched on the birthing stone. Because he was a Healer, her mate, Oragur, was present, as was their oldest daughter, Krin, who was apprenticing to become a Healer. Time passed as everyone waited for news of the birth. Too much time. In the hallways outside, rumors spread up and down that things were not going well, and Lor Onida was in trouble.
E’ranale and Pan were waiting in the eating area, trying to give them privacy. There was enough commotion already, and though they were very concerned, they did not want to add to the congestion.
“Mother, I fear the worst.”
“Is that a premonition, Pan, or just concern over one of our community?” asked E’ranale.
“It is both. I believe it is Lor Onida’s time to return to the Great Spirit. Even though she is far too young.”
Just as they were speaking, Lor Onida’s oldest daughter, Krin, came running up to them.
“Something terrible has happened,” she panted. “We have lost my Mother. There was something wrong; we could not stop the bleeding.”
E’ranale sprung up and put her arms around Krin, and held her while she sobbed.
After a few moments had passed and Krin stopped crying, Pan softly asked, “The offling?”
Krin turned her head from E’ranale’s embrace to answer. “The offling seems to be well.”
The Age of Darkness: Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness Book 1 (The Etera Chronicles Series Two - Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness) Page 12
