At that moment, Straf’Tor realized his greatest enemy was not Ridg’Sor. He had not been fighting a flesh and blood adversary. That he could have defeated. No; all this time he had been fighting an idea. The idea that life at Kthama was perfect and that life at Kayerm would never be satisfying. He had misjudged the battle. Ridg’Sor fed the discontent, that was his part, but the real enemy was the idealization of life at Kthama.
As long as they yearn to return to life at Kthama, they will never make peace with living here.
“Listen to me. There is no going back. You cannot turn back time. You do yourselves and your offling a disservice by continuing to compare life here to what we knew at Kthama. You rob them of a future of happiness here, of the real chance of embracing their lives here. From now on, there will be no further mention of Kthama. The name must never be spoken again. Nor will we speak of the Akassa. The past is gone. You cannot go back. And any talk of trying to take Kthama Minor must stop here, now, as well.”
“Now go back, and once and for all, commit to your lives here. Stop listening to the voices of dissent; Ridg’Sor does not have your best interests in mind. Our people have been through enough, and he would drag you into a war with the Akassa, falsely believing that will open the way to happiness. The Akassa are not our enemies; they are our brothers, sisters, cousins. We share the same blood, the same history. Etera needs both of us to survive. It is cowardly to blame the Akassa for our troubles.
“You have heard me. Vow today to put Kthama from your thoughts. The time for looking back has passed. Now, be on your way,” and Straf’Tor stood tall as he waited for the crowd to disperse as ordered.
Some of the group left immediately. He could have said ahead of time which they would be. But more stayed than had left, which told Straf’Tor that Ridg’Sor’s influence was stronger than he had realized.
He looked at Ushca close by and saw her furrowed brow. He could sense concern coming from his son, Nox’Tor.
“Not now; later. We can all talk later.” Straf’Tor put his hand on his mate’s back, and he and Nox’Tor escorted her down the hill and through the crowd toward the entrance, forcing them to part to make way for him. As he walked past the rebels, Ridg’Sor said to him, “You have already lost. You just will not admit it.”
Straf’Tor stopped and turned to Ridg’Sor. “I spared your life against the advice of many. Despite every chance I have given you, you have chosen to create trouble. But why? That is what I want to know,” he said.
Ridg’Sor glared at the Leader and stepped closer. Straf’Tor motioned to his family to keep going without him.
“You and your brother have destroyed the Mothoc,” said Ridg’Sor. “Your leadership has led to our ruin. There is little left of the greatness we had. Mothoc blood may still course in the Sassen’s veins, but they are a pale comparison to what we truly are. You had the power to take Kthama from your brother and those pathetic creatures he calls his people. And instead, you led your followers here to scrape out an existence in this krell-hole—while those Soltark crosslings live in luxury at Kthama.”
Straf’Tor pushed Ridg’Sor backward and snarled, “You were barely grown when you joined Norcab’s group. A spindly male with no mind of your own. A senseless follower of that traitor you thought was a Leader. You have squandered your life on bitterness and resentment. I tell you, this path will take you to your own destruction. You have a mate now. And for reasons unknown to me, she seems to care for you. Some day you will have offling of your own. I do not want to kill you; Etera needs every Mothoc who walks her. This is your last chance. I will banish you and your followers if you do not stop this now.”
“My followers and I found and claimed Kayerm after your brother exiled us,” Ridg’Sor shouted. “Then you came and took over. I will not rest until you and your brother have paid for your crimes. If I had the power, I would wipe every last Sassen and Akassa off the face of Etera.”
Straf’Tor grabbed Ridg’Sor and jerked him around until he had him in a headlock, one arm twisted painfully behind his back. The smaller male was no match for Straf’Tor. With his free hand, he clawed feverishly at Straf’Tor’s arm, to no avail.
“Now you listen to me,” Straf’Tor snarled into Ridg’Sor’s ear. “I am one thought away from snapping your neck and ending your foolishness here and now. But I believe Etera needs every drop of Mothoc blood she has. For that reason, and that reason alone, I am sparing your life. You have until the new moon to gather those who will go with you and leave together. I am being generous because you and your rebels have taken mates and I do not wish hardship on them. I hope they abandon you and stay at Kayerm. How you ever won Tyria is beyond me—you do not deserve the greatest blessing there is, the true love of a loyal mate.”
Straf’Tor released Ridg’Sor, who fell to his knees, choking. “If you threaten anyone again, including the Akassa and the Sassen, I will kill you. That is a promise.”
He stormed off, leaving Ridg’Sor on all fours in the dirt, trying to recover.
Straf’Tor passed by several of those who remained in the area; they had heard everything, but he did not care. He caught up with Ushca and the rest of his family, who had stopped to watch the altercation, and led them back to Kayerm.
Back in their living area, Straf’Tor comforted a shaking Ushca. Then he put an arm around his son Nox’Tor and drew both into the huddle. He tousled his son’s head, a fatherly gesture from centuries ago when Nox’Tor was much younger.
“Shhh. Harden yourselves. It will be over soon. Make no mistake, if Ridg’Sor threatens anyone again, I will follow through on my threat. And just as Moc’Tor did when he dispatched Norcab, I will make it as public as possible. If fear and death are the only things that can convince his rebels to stop this war, then fear and death are what they will get.”
E’ranale was surprised to find her daughter back at Kthama. “Pan, what are you doing back so soon? When did you get home? Why did you not let your father and me know you had returned?”
Pan had finished selecting some morning foodstuffs. She was walking toward her customary seating area in the Great Chamber. “I am sorry, Mother. I was not up to talking to anyone. I needed to be alone for a while.”
E’ranale followed her daughter and sat next to her. “Tell me what happened. Obviously, something went wrong for you to have returned so soon. We were not expecting you for days.”
“Oragur told me he wants Liru back. He and his new mate are coming in a day or so to collect her,” Pan said softly, her eyes averted.
“Oh, no. I am so sorry. I know how much you love her. No wonder you are upset.” E’ranale bit her tongue; she would not remind her daughter that it had always been a risk. This was not the time for a motherly lecture. So she hugged Pan instead.
“Yes. It is breaking my heart to think of giving her up. And how do I know he or his new mate will not change their minds again?” After a few moments, Pan said, “There is more. I met someone.” Her face was a picture of misery.
E’ranale sat patiently, eyebrows raised.
“At the Deep Valley.”
“Is that not a good thing? Why are you distraught?” asked her mother.
“He was not supposed to be one of the eligible. He is the son of the Leader, Hatos’Mok. His parents assigned him to be my escort out of consideration for my position. I know I am not wrong; he was pursuing me, even though I made it known I would not leave Kthama to be paired.”
“And he is heir to his father’s leadership?”
“Yes. I spoke with his mother, and she said he would not be able to leave the Deep Valley. That is when I decided to leave early. I went on up to the Far High Hills but could not get Rohm’Mok out of my mind. I had promised to return to the Deep Valley on my way back. I did not want to, but I had said I would. Luckily, I did not see Rohm’Mok again, but that is when Oragur approached me and said he was coming to get Liru.”
“Oh, my sweet daughter. I am so sorry. Two heartbreaks so close together. I
understand why you wanted to be left alone,” E’ranale said.
“I am going to spend as much time with Liru as I can until they come to get her. I know she is too young to remember me. But at least I will remember her.
E’ranale felt her own heart breaking to see her beloved daughter in so much pain.
The next day, the sentries received word that Oragur was on his way. Pan sat holding Liru. “I love you so much. I did not know I could love someone this deeply. I know you will not remember me, and that hurts even more. I thought you would be mine forever. I have already pictured teaching you to fish, to weave baskets, to make tools. I saw us going on walks around Kthama, enjoying the spring flowers. Teaching you the calls and the names of the birds. Now, none of that will ever happen. And I will worry about you and wonder if you are happy and if I shall ever see you again. I wish I could make you understand that I will think of you and miss you every day of my life.” Pan let her tears fall, unable to hold back. Liru looked at her with wide eyes as if trying to understand.
Before long, there was a clack at the door. Pan wiped the tears from her eyes, set Liru on her hip, and went to greet whoever was there. “Oh, hello, Mother. Have they arrived?”
“Yes. They are waiting for you in the Great Entrance.”
Pan picked up a basket with the things she had made for Liru, soft hide toys, cuddly wraps, and the fur coverlet from her nest. She walked with her mother to meet Oragur.
Moc’Tor was waiting just before the Great Entrance.
“Pan,” he said and put his arm around her. “I am so sorry.”
“I know, Father. I am trying to be strong, but it is not working.”
Moc’Tor and E’ranale escorted their daughter the rest of the way. As they entered the Great Entrance, Pan gasped.
“What is it? Is it Oragur’s new mate?” asked her mother.
“He brought others with him,” she replied, her body stiffening.
E’ranale frowned, thinking that was to be expected.
“It is him,” Pan whispered.
“Who?” asked her father, now concerned.
“Him. Rohm’Mok, Hatos’Mok’s son,” she answered.
“Oh. The one I told you about,” E’ranale whispered to Moc’Tor.
“Ahhhh,” Moc’Tor let out a sigh.
Why did he have to come? This is hard enough as it is, thought Pan.
“Come on, dear, best to get it over with. Breathe deep,” said E’ranale, and she placed a hand on Pan’s back to guide her forward.
Pan avoided looking at Rohm’Mok, knowing she was not composed.
“Greetings, we welcome you back Oragur, Krin, even if only for a visit.” Moc’Tor turned to the female he did not recognize. “You must be Oragur’s new mate?”
“Yes. I am Neilith. You are Moc’Tor, Guardian, and Leader of the High Rocks. You are a legend, Adik’Tar,” she said and bowed slightly.
“Legends can be good or bad. I hope history will remember me kindly,” he replied. Then he turned to the striking male standing next to her.
“I am Rohm’Mok, son of Hatos’Mok of the Deep Valley. Thank you for your hospitality. This is not my first visit to Kthama; I have attended several of the Leaders’ Council meetings,” he answered.
Silence.
E’ranale broke the awkward pause. “Liru is ready. My daughter gathered her belongings so you can take them with her. Just small items she made for Liru,” she said softly.
* * *
Pan carefully handed little Liru to Neilith, and the offling looked back at her, astonished. Though her heart was breaking, Pan did her best to control her emotions.
“Thank you,” said Oragur, “but if you do not mind, we would like to stay a few days. My mate has never seen Kthama, and Krin would like to spend time with her old friends. Is that acceptable to you?”
“Of course,” said Moc’Tor. He signaled for Dochrohan. “Please have suitable quarters prepared for our guests. We will need one for Oragur, his mate, and his daughter Krin. Another for Rohm’Mok, heir to Hatos’Mok’s leadership at the Deep Valley. They will all be staying several days.”
He continued, “Oragur, you know the layout here. I will skip the formalities of a tour. I am sure you can show your mate around.”
“I would appreciate a tour,” said Rohm’Mok. “I have only been to the Leaders’ council meeting room, the quarters arranged for me then, and the eating area. Perhaps your daughter Pan could be my escort?” he asked.
Pan looked at her mother, silently pleading for help. Before E’ranale could intervene, though, her father replied, “Of course. Let us get you settled and then you can both discuss the tour.”
Pan glared at Moc’Tor and looked to her mother, who shook her head slightly.
“While you are all waiting for your quarters to be prepared, come with us to eat,” suggested E’ranale.
As she watched Neilith walking away with Liru, Pan held back because she could not stop her tears from falling. She knew she would spend many, many days grieving over the loss of the little offling she loved so much.
Moc’Tor and E’ranale led the guests to the Great Chamber. Pan seemed to be doing her best to keep as far away from Rohm’Mok as possible, but he waited for her.
“I am glad to see you again,” Rohm’Mok said as they walked.
Pan looked everywhere except at him. “I had no idea you were coming.”
“I thought it would be a great chance to spend some time with you. They wanted an escort, so I was glad to volunteer.”
The two lapsed into awkward silence.
Having overheard, Moc’Tor sighed and moved ahead to speak to Oragur. “This is an indelicate question. But since your departure, we are without a Healer. Is there any chance you and your family would return to Kthama?” he asked.
“I have made a life for myself at Deep Valley. I will never return,” Oragur answered curtly.
“But Krin has friends here, and Pan has become very attached to Liru. Perhaps during your stay here, you could reconsider,” Moc’Tor added.
“Perhaps. But it is best you do not get your hopes up, Moc’Tor,” Oragur answered. “Or your daughter’s.”
Moc’Tor gritted his teeth and said no more. Oragur has always been brusque and stubborn. But Moc’Tor realized that, in the Healer’s situation, perhaps he would react in the same way.
He looked back at Rohm’Mok, still walking silently next to Pan. He would apologize later for agreeing that she should escort the visitor, but he could have done no less. It would have been a terrible insult to refuse the request because, even though his daughter was a Guardian, Rohm’Mok was the next in line to lead the Deep Valley and also deserved consideration.
Maybe it could work out. Rohm’Mok had obviously volunteered to come, and he was clearly interested in Pan. Perhaps Rohm’Mok’s parents are in for a big surprise after assuming their son would never leave Deep Valley. Unfortunately, that might create a rift between Hatos’Mok and me. But Moc’Tor had seen before how the Great Spirit worked these things out, and he would not let politics stand in the way of his daughter’s happiness. If Rohm’Mok loves her as I love E’ranale, he will also let nothing stand in his way.
In the Great Chamber, Moc’Tor guided them to his table. Having been told guests were coming, several of the females brought a selection of food items to them, spreading everything out on the rock slab.
Rohm’Mok took a place directly opposite Pan, and she squirmed in obvious discomfort.
Moc’Tor shook his head. He is not even trying to hide his interest in her. Was it some type of game? Pan had suffered enough, and Moc’Tor would have to take Rohm’Mok aside and ask him to make his intentions clear. He would not stand by and let some young buck hurt her further.
When they had finished eating, Moc’Tor stood and addressed Rohm’Mok. “May I have a word with you?”
“Of course, Adik’Tar,” he said, standing up to follow the Guardian.
Moc’Tor led the young male down a tunnel to
the closest empty meeting room. “Please. Come inside.”
“To what do I owe this honor, Moc’Tor? I have been to some of the Leaders’ Council meetings but have never had the opportunity to speak with you directly.”
“As you have attended meetings,” replied Moc’Tor, “then you know by now that I quickly get to the point. My daughter is clearly enamored with you. She has asked to be paired, yet it was stated very clearly that she would not leave Kthama. You seem to be pursuing her company, yet I know you are heir to the leadership at the Deep Valley. I will not stand by and watch you break my daughter’s heart by leading her on when you have no intention of joining her at Kthama.”
Rohm’Mok replied, “I understand your position as her parent, as Leader of the High Rocks, and as the Guardian. I am glad she has such a protective father who cares so much for her welfare. I am not usually as blunt as you are, but I will follow your lead.
“Adik’Tar, when your daughter stood before the Leaders’ Council and said she wanted to be paired, my heart jumped. It was the first time I had met her, and I immediately knew that she was the one for me. I could not get her out of my mind. If you have experienced anything like this, you will understand. The moment I saw Pan, it was as if our souls were joined somehow, and from that moment on, she has consumed my thoughts.”
He continued, “When Pan said she was coming to the Deep Valley, I made sure to know when she would arrive. I approached my father and suggested that out of respect for her station as Guardian, it would be appropriate for me to be her escort. To my delight, he agreed.”
The Age of Darkness: Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness Book 1 (The Etera Chronicles Series Two - Wrak-Wavara: The Age of Darkness) Page 16
