“Welcome, Guardian. We have been awaiting your arrival,” the first one said. “Come this way.”
The entrance was similar to the High Rocks and, in fact, looked so much like Kthama that she was immediately at ease. Within moments, Hatos’Mok had arrived.
“Welcome to Awenasa, Guardian,” said Hatos’Mok. “Rohm here will show you around and help you settle into your quarters. At the evening meal, you will meet the males I have selected. If you wish to rest until then, I will send for you when it is time.”
Pan nodded and followed the tall male whom Hatos’Mok had referred to as Rohm. He chatted with her as he led her through the eating area and then through the general layout. He seemed to be taking a long time to show her around, but he was interesting and kind, and despite how tired she was, Pan found she was enjoying his company. For her to get her bearings, he finally led her back to where they had started and then down a nearby tunnel to a fairly large living area. He stood at the doorway and motioned for her to enter.
She looked around and could see it had been prepared for her visit. Dried flowers hung suspended over the eating area. A ventilation shaft had been pierced through the roof to the surface to let in light and fresh air, just as was done at Kthama. When she had finished looking around, she turned to Rohm. “Thank you. It is very pleasant and comforting. Will you be coming to get me later”?
“I do not know, Guardian. I hope so,” he said. “If there is anything you need, just let anyone know.”
After he left, Pan thought how peculiar his response had been. She wondered what he meant by I hope so.
Pan poked around the room a bit, looking in each of the woven baskets lined up along the wall and those placed on the work surfaces. The baskets were both decorative and functional, some holding dried fruits and nuts. She could see they had made an extra effort to be welcoming. Her curiosity satisfied, Pan stretched out on the large sleeping mat. It smelled of lavender and mint.
Within what seemed like moments, she was awakened by someone clacking the announcement stone on the outside wall. She rubbed her eyes and rose to find Rohm standing in the passage.
“Are you ready?” he asked. “Or do you need a few moments?”
“Yes, please. I will be right with you,” she said.
She smoothed down the top of her head and the rest of her ruffled silver-white hair. She was nervous. I wonder if I am an attractive female? I know my silver coat is striking, but what about the rest of me? She had never thought about it before.
Pan stepped out into the hallway and Rohm led her to the eating area. All heads turned as she was escorted in and over to a table where Hatos’Mok and several others were waiting.
As she approached, the Leader stood, “Welcome, Guardian. I hope you were able to rest. Let me introduce you to the others. On my right is my First Choice, Deparia. Then her sister, Alewar. You will be seated on my right, and next to you will be Zyhot, then Raksar, and then Ondram.” Then he turned to Rohm and said, “Also joining us tonight will be my son, Rohm’Mok.”
Son? This Rohm is Hatos’Mok’s son?
The meal was pleasant enough. Pan did her best to be polite by eating some of it but found that her nervous stomach left her with little appetite. She joined in the conversation, finding Hatos’Mok’s mate to be delightful and charming. As far as the males were concerned, her attention was drawn to Rohm more than all the others presented to her. More than once, she caught him watching her, and he smiled warmly each time. But she did not know if he was a candidate or just joining his family for the evening meal. She still wondered about that remark, I hope so. Did that mean he was interested in being considered? Oh, I wish Mother were here to ask her advice.
When the meal ended, Hatos’Mok asked Zyhot to escort Pan back to her quarters. As Zyhot stood, Rohm’Mok interrupted. “I will take her, Father,” and he extended his hand to Pan.
Pan stood to leave, “Thank you, everyone, for your hospitality. And the living quarters are beautiful. I appreciate your efforts to make me feel welcome. Will I see you at morning meal?”
Deparia said, “Of course. We will send someone at first light.” Pan nodded and left with Rohm.
He made conversation on the way. “So, how did you feel about the males you met tonight?” he asked as they walked.
“It is a huge decision. Clearly not one to be made in one evening,” she answered.
“True. And you must take care that whoever you pick is not just enamored with your stature as Guardian.”
Pan nodded.
“How long will you be staying?”
“Two to three days, I imagine. Then I am on my way to the Far High Hills,” Pan answered. “I may stop in again on my return to Kthama.”
“I hope you will. If you find yourself bored tomorrow, send for me. I know some great berry-harvesting places this time of year. I would love to show them to you.”
Pan nodded, and Rohm’Mok left. She stood in the doorway, watching him walk down the tunnel. He did not turn back before he rounded the corner and she found she was disappointed.
Why would they have him escort me if he were not for consideration? But he was Hatos’Mok’s son and possibly heir to his leadership. If he was the heir, he could not leave the Deep Valley. It was best that she put him out of her mind.
The next morning, Pan was ready for the clacking of the announcement stone. When she went to the door, her face fell. “Oh. Good morning Deparia. Thank you for coming to get me. Where is your son Rohm’Mok, might I ask?”
“He is with his father, discussing whatever it is they discuss,” she laughed.
“I see,” Pan answered quietly.
“He did send a message, though. He said if you are interested in berry picking, to meet him down by the Great River after you have eaten. Apparently, you discussed this last night? I have to admit, he does know the best places,” she smiled.
“Deparia. I feel I can talk freely with you. May I?” asked Pan.
“Of course, Guardian. What is it you wish to know?”
“Was Rohm’Mok assigned to escort me so I could get to know him better than the other—males?”
Deparia tilted her head. “No. He was assigned to escort you as a matter of respect for your station.”
“I see.” She looked away, her voice devoid of any lilt. “Thank you for clarifying,”
“Oh, I am so sorry, Guardian. I did not think how it might appear. Rohm’Mok is heir to the leadership at Awenasa, and whoever you select would be expected to live with you at the High Rocks; that was made clear. His place is here. I apologize that we have created confusion,” she said softly.
“Thank you for your honesty. Please let Rohm’Mok know I will not be joining him this morning, though I appreciate his thoughtfulness.” Pan put her head down and then collected herself. “I am ready if you are.” She forced a smile.
They walked together in silence. On the way, Deparia stopped to speak with one of the sentries, who left immediately to deliver the message to Rohm’Mok.
Pan forced herself into conversation with the males who had joined them at the table. Her thoughts kept drifting to Rohm’Mok, and as many times as she brought them back to the moment, they returned to him again. She was being rude to Zyhot, Raksar, and Ondram. I hope they cannot tell I am distracted.
At the end of the meal, Hatos’Mok asked, “How would you like to spend the rest of your day?”
“I think, Adik’Tar, with your forgiveness, I will continue on my travel to the Far High Hills. But I will stop back on my return to Kthama if that meets with your approval.”
Hatos’Mok nodded and gave a slight bow. “Of course, Guardian. We look forward to your return.”
Pan nodded to Deparia, Zyhot, Raksar, and Ondram. “Until later, then,” she added and made her way to Awenasa’s exit.
She found herself hurrying down the path, almost desperately looking for the entrance back down to the Mother Stream. When she was almost there, someone called out to her.
�
��Oh!” she exclaimed, turning to see Rohm’Mok running to catch up.
“Rohm’Mok. What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Mother told me you were leaving early. I am sorry to hear that. I came to ask if it was anything I did?” he said, skidding to a halt.
“No. No, of course not. You have been nothing but welcoming and kind.” She felt color come into her cheeks, and she knew that with her light skin, it was noticeable.
“Will you stop on your return as you said?”
“Of course,” Pan replied. “If you like.”
“Pan—may I call you Pan?”
She looked up into his soft dark eyes and nodded.
“I am disappointed you are leaving so soon. I had hoped to spend some time with you. Forgive me for saying this, but I hope you do not select a mate at the Far High Hills,” he said softly.
Pan shook her head. “I have to go.” She stepped around him and disappeared.
Once out of sight, she ran the rest of the way to the entrance to the Mother Stream. When her feet hit the rock floor of the tunnel, she stopped to lean against the cool wall. Why did he say that? He had acted as if he was interested in her. But he could not leave the Deep Valley; his own mother had confirmed it. Perhaps he was like other arrogant males who thought they could convince a female to their way of thinking. Perhaps he thought that if he was charming enough, she would leave Kthama to join him. If that was the case, then it would be better if she did not stop at the Deep Valley again. Her confusion was enough without adding more to it.
Pan remained lost in thought as she continued traveling towards the Far High Hills.
When she arrived, she was greeted by Tres’Sar. Soon she found herself settled in another set of living quarters, equally as well-appointed as those at Awenasa. She sat on the stuffed sleeping mat and put her head in her hands.
This was not working out. Perhaps she should forget about all the nonsense of finding a mate. But she was there now, so she would go through the motions. She hated to disappoint whoever Tres’Sar had lined up; it was just that her heart was not in it any longer.
At the evening meal, Pan did her best to make conversation. As it had been at the Deep Valley, the Leader, his mate, and some of their family were at the table, along with the males for her consideration. She found herself merely passing the time and waiting for the solace of the quarters in which she was staying. At the morning meal, she announced she would be returning to Kthama. She could see the disappointment on everyone’s faces.
Because she had promised, on her return home, Pan stopped again at the Deep Valley, but she hoped to avoid Rohm’Mok if at all possible. The sentries let Hatos’Mok know she had returned, and he and his mate met her at the entrance to Awenasa.
“You are not staying?” asked Deparia.
“No,” Pan replied. “I feel a need to get back. I am missing Liru more than I anticipated.”
Just as she finished, a voice from behind startled her.
“How is she?”
Pan turned around and stared into the face of Oragur, the father who had rejected his own offling.
“She is fine. She is clever. She is a happy soul, into everything now.”
Behind Oragur stood Krin, and Pan pushed away the desire to hug her. “How are you doing? We miss you at Kthama.” Pan could see that Krin had tears in her eyes.
“I have taken a new mate,” Oragur blurted out. “She is willing to raise Liru.”
Pan stared at Oragur. “What are you saying?”
“I want my daughter. We will give you a few days to get her ready before we come for her.”
Pan twirled and looked at Hatos’Mok and his mate. Deparia’s eyes were soft, and she shook her head as she mouthed, “I am sorry.”
“How do I know you will not change your mind again?” Pan asked.
“Guardian, I know this must be very hard for you,” said Deparia, stepping toward Pan as if to touch her.
Pan stepped back, avoiding her. She glared at Oragur and tried to calm down. “I will have her ready,” she said finally.
Once again, she was grateful for the privacy of the Mother Stream. She made her way to one of the little alcoves and sat down to let herself cry.
It was not fair; Oragur had given Liru up. He had not wanted her. She was Pan’s. Oh, Great Spirit, how is this happening? The whole trip had been a mistake and Pan wished she had never come. If she had not been there, she would not be thinking about Rohm’Mok, and she would still have Liru—at least for a while longer.
Pan stayed there until she had calmed down, then slowly made her way back to Kthama. She gingerly re-entered the lower level and sneaked to her quarters as quietly as possible, thankful that she had managed it undiscovered. She was not ready to talk to anyone.
Chapter 9
After having lived at Kthama, the Sassen’s progress in adapting to life at Kayerm had moved slowly. There were some positives. Tyria, a young Mothoc female, had nearly completed her Healer training with the Healer, Pagara. And many of the young offling, who had not known life at Kthama that long, were adapting quickly.
However, the older females still reminisced about the conveniences at Kthama, the biggest being the Mother Stream running through the lower level. Daily trips to retrieve fresh water from the Great River below Kayerm’s entrance were time-consuming and had quickly become a burden. The males had to establish new hunting areas, and there was no rich vortex of energy pulsating below Kayerm to help guide them. They had to pick up the weaker fields and rely on visual cues to learn their way around, although, in time, they succeeded. But the most troublesome was the division between Straf’Tor’s people and the rebels, which was not showing any signs of narrowing.
Wosot came to give his daily report to Straf’Tor. “Ridg’Sor continues to meet frequently with his group. I am convinced he believes you do not know about these gatherings. Some of our people have reported his followers mingling among them, making statements about how difficult life is at Kayerm and creating more dissatisfaction with life here. Clearly, he is trying to create trouble.”
The Leader threw down the stick he was toying with. “I have been more than patient; it is time for this to come to a head. Call an assembly.”
That afternoon, Straf’Tor stood before his people. To his right stood his beloved mate, Ushca, and next to her was his son by Toniss, joined by his mate, Kyana, who was holding their youngest offling. The crowd stood murmuring, wondering what it was about.
“As I was waiting to begin, I looked around and saw many of these same faces I have looked upon for so long now. Years ago, we came together to Kayerm to build a new life. With the exception of Ridg’Sor and his followers, it was the choice of each of you to follow me. And it has been your choice every day since to continue living at Kayerm. Yet, despite the passage of time, I am aware that many of you have still not made peace with it. You are consumed by looking back at the life you left at Kthama instead of focusing on making the best life here.”
He walked forward, closer to the crowd. “I know life is harder here, but it is not unbearable. The land is still rich with blessings. However, as long as you are looking back, those of you who continue to mourn Kthama, you are not discovering the many ways in which to move forward and make your lives here more comfortable.”
“So I am asking all of you, and especially those who have offling, to stop speaking of Kthama. Stop romanticizing life there. Do not nurse in your offling the dissatisfaction you feel here. This is their life now, and you rob them of their happiness by passing on your bitterness. To what end, I do not know, as we are not leaving Kayerm. This is our home now; there is no place else to go.”
He stopped and looked directly at Ridg’Sor, his eyes never leaving the rebel’s. “I am also aware there is a faction that has never accepted the arrival of those of us who came from Kthama. Even after all this time, dissent rumbles in the background. And that faction serves only to inflame your dissatisfaction here.”
“That
is not true!” Ridg’Sor shouted from the back, fist raised.
“And now we see the source of your discontent,” said Straf’Tor, gesturing in his direction. “Ridg’Sor, what have I said that is untrue? Let us have it out here and now.”
“It is not true that we have nowhere to go. Why should we suffer here when there is a perfectly good place, probably not even being used, where the females used to live. It is only because of the stubbornness of you and your brother that we were exiled here.”
“That is true in part, as you were indeed exiled from Kthama when you joined Norcab’s band and tried to usurp Moc’Tor’s power. Moc’Tor killed Norcab, but he spared you and your followers. As punishment, you were all banished from Kthama, and you are fortunate we allowed you to stay here at Kayerm. But the rest of us who came from Kthama, we left willingly.”
“You should have fought to stay at Kthama,” shouted Ridg’Sor. “But instead of standing up to him, you kneeled to your brother’s authority. And even though you have not seen him in an age, he still subjugates us. Why do we scrape and suffer here when there is a perfect solution—one that has the Mother Stream running through her lower levels just as at Kthama—the adjacent cave system where the females lived, the one that people speak of as Kthama Minor!”
Faces turned to each other, and Straf’Tor saw some nodding heads.
“Kthama Minor is not open to us.” Straf’Tor’s voice was strong. “We have moved on. It is up to us to create our lives here. There is no going back.”
“Maybe not for you. But why should we all suffer because you and Moc’Tor disagreed? There is no reason not to return. What are they to do? They may outnumber us, but my guess is that we are far greater in strength. I have heard stories about how frail they are. And I imagine that, by now, their latest offling are even more pathetic. When they see our superior power, they will give way.”
Ridg’Sor had done his job well. Slowly, year after year, at every opportunity, he and his followers had strewn discord among Straf’Tor’s people. With a word here, a statement there, they had kept alive the longing for the easier life at Kthama. Whenever possible, they pointed out the hardships at Kayerm. They drew attention to the toil required to live there. They called up memories of Kthama’s huge expanses, the vast numbers of rooms for spacious living quarters, and always the rich blessing of the Mother Stream. They had turned the idea of Kthama into a legend, the solution to all problems.
The Age of Darkness: Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness Book 1 (The Etera Chronicles Series Two - Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness) Page 15
