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

  Chapter 4

  Centuries later, the Great Chamber and corridors of Kthama were once again full of life. Moc’Tor still ruled with E’ranale by his side, but his subsequent generations of offling and those of his brother, Straf’Tor, had taken very different paths. Moc’Tor continued to pursue the introduction of the Others’ bloodline, whereas Straf’Tor was steadfast that they dare not dilute the original Mothoc blood any further. The differences in ideology were creating dissent.

  “Oragur and Lor Onida believe the differences will now be self-sustaining,” said E’ranale to her mate.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that those who wish to breed with others of their kind inside the community will produce offling true to their parents. We no longer need to introduce the Others’ seed into our females for the changes to be handed down.”

  Moc’Tor breathed a sigh of relief. “How is this one doing?” he asked E’ranale, placing his hand on her swollen belly.

  “She is quieter than the others. There is a sense of peace about her.”

  “Her? How can you know it is a female?”

  “I do not know. But I strongly feel that she is.”

  “Have you thought of a name?”

  “Yes. If you approve, I would like to name her Pan. Way-shower.”

  Moc’Tor thought a moment before answering. “Way-shower. For some reason, it strikes me as the perfect name. But then she comes from the perfect mate. I could not love you more, E’ranale. How you have stood beside me through all this.”

  She placed her hand alongside his face and stroked his cheek with her thumb. After a moment of silence, she asked, “Moc’Tor, do you really think the Others do not know we have been taking their seed?”

  “I cannot say, E’ranale. On the one hand, it seems they must know something is going on. Maybe they do not want to admit any knowledge for fear of causing a direct confrontation. It is perhaps, as the females said, that the dreams are pleasant, but as a forbidden aberration in their pleasure practices, the males are reluctant to share them. It is possible there is no group disclosure. After all, we have taken what we needed as peacefully as possible, doing them no harm. They know we could easily overpower them if we wished, although it is perhaps an unspoken understanding. But then again, there is nothing about the dream that gives us away as the source.”

  “Since you gave the females the right to refuse a male, how easily we have set aside one of our most sacred tenets; Never Without Consent,” sighed E’ranale. “I do not believe we are quite at the end of this path yet, but we do need to remember everything we have learned so far—that which is truly important.”

  “I am not following.”

  “Laws, Moc’Tor. I think the High Council needs to establish laws that we can all agree on. Laws that will direct and guide us in the future.”

  “That is a good idea, and I agree with you. I will present it to Straf’Tor and the other council members. If we can come to a consensus, such laws could unite all our communities.”

  The High Council had grown out of the original band of Leaders, back when Moc’Tor first proposed cross-breeding with the Others. He had become the official Overseer, and the group met regularly to get updates on the progress that Lor Onida and Oragur were making with the other communities. Kthama Minor served as the central location of Lor Onida and Oragur’s work.

  Lor Onida and Oragur had since paired and were living at Kthama Minor. Deeper inside the system, the inner walls of the largest chamber were covered with markings. These represented the original pure Mothoc males and females, along with the chart of their pairings and offling—either offling with mates of their own communities or with those born of the Others’ seed. When the Others’ seed had been introduced, the Mothoc decided to trace the genetic line through the females until that line started breeding true and the Other’s seed was no longer required. This, however temporary, bothered a fair number of the males, who resented that more and more power continued to be granted to the females.

  Moc’Tor was deep in thought when the Healer interrupted him. “I bring you joyful news, Adik’Tar,” said Oragur. “E’ranale has delivered your offling. It is a female.”

  “Is E’ranale alright. Is the offling healthy?” he asked, turning to face Oragur.

  “Yes, both are fine, and yes, she is healthy. And—” He hesitated. “She is a Guardian.”

  Moc’Tor raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

  “There is no doubt about it.”

  Moc’Tor thought of his other offling by E’ranale, Dak’Tor, his son, and his daughters Vel and Inrion, none of whom was a Guardian, though Dak’Tor sported a large amount of silver hair. “A double blessing,” Moc’Tor replied, “though a surprise.” According to legend, seldom had there been more than one Guardian walking Etera at the same time. Moc’Tor wondered if it meant that the Great Spirit planned to cut short his time on Etera.

  “I know what you are thinking,” said Oragur. “Whether it portends an early demise for you, Adik’Tar, or is indicative of times of great need coming, I do not have the insight.”

  Moc’Tor shook his head and chuckled. “Never one to mince words, were you Oragur. No matter, the same thought had just occurred to me. I always found it a bit tiresome that Guardians are practically eternal. At some point, it just feels natural to move on.”

  He sighed. “No matter. Since there is no way of knowing, only time will tell. May I see them yet?”

  “Yes.”

  So the two giants made their way back down the rocky path into the Great Entrance of Kthama.

  Lor Onida, Oragur’s mate, stepped aside when they entered, providing a view of E’ranale sitting up comfortably holding her offling. Her eyes twinkled when she saw Moc’Tor.

  “We have a third daughter,” she said softly, looking down at the tiny creature cradled in her arms.

  Moc’Tor went to her side and crouched down so he could see the little face. He reached out and caressed it gently, at which the offling gurgled contentedly. Then she opened her eyes, and father and daughter exchanged their first look.

  All the Mothoc possessed the seventh sense. The sixth was the ability to connect with the magnetic currents of Etera and pull from them not only information about their geographic position on Etera but also draw in the Aezaitera—the creative life force from the Great Spirit that was continually entering and exiting their realm. The seventh sense was their ability to know outside of the first six senses. At the moment in which Moc’Tor looked into his daughter’s eyes, he knew that events both great and challenging awaited her on her life’s path.

  “What is it?” E’ranale asked, her eyes scanning his face. “What did you just see?”

  “Only that this one— This one will be an even greater blessing to Etera than any who came before her, Saraste’,” he answered.

  “How is that possible, Moc’Tor—"

  “Hush,” he cut her off, taking her hand in his. “I feel your fear. But we are living in extraordinary times. Her birth does not necessarily signify my early transition. We should both have learned by now that what has been before is not necessarily the shade of what will be. We both know the turmoil enmeshing our people. Perhaps her coming is only the Great Spirit sending us additional help. This is a moment of great joy; a second Guardian will now help protect Etera.”

  E’ranale kissed the head of their new daughter. “Pan,” she softly addressed the offling.

  “A strong name. You have chosen well,” said Moc’Tor. Pan, he thought, meaning way-shower.

  Moc’Tor smoothed his mate’s hair back from her forehead. “If there is nothing you need, I will leave you now and let you rest. I will be back by twilight unless you want me to return earlier.”

  “Pan and I will be fine. Oragur and Lor Onida are taking very good care of me, I promise. “And no doubt, soon Dak’Tor and his sisters will be here to see little Pan.” E’ranale took his hand and kissed it.

  Irisa, who had been sent by Lor Onida, po
ked her head through the doorway. Straf’Tor waved her all the way in.

  “I come bearing news. E’ranale has delivered her offling. It is a female, and she bears the Guardian’s markings.”

  Ushca and Straf’Tor looked at each other before he spoke. “Give them our blessings. I am sure they will let us know when E’ranale is ready for visitors.”

  Krin nodded and retreated, leaving them to their sudden concern.

  “Come, Ushca,” said Straf’Tor, “lie with me and let us forget all our troubles for now.” He led her to the sleeping mat and took comfort in their lovemating.

  Word spread quickly that a second Guardian had entered Etera. Oragur’s hands had been full with quelling everyone’s fears, and he was currently addressing a large gathering.

  “We cannot lose Moc’Tor,” said Toniss, mother of Straf’Tor’s first offling. “We are not ready. We are still in the midst of all this change. What does it mean, Oragur?”

  “Like most mysteries, it can mean nothing, or it can mean everything. We simply do not know. I understand the concerns of all of you—that the appearance of a second Guardian has always portended the transition within centuries of the current one. But these are unprecedented times. We should all know by now that what has been in the past does not necessarily dictate what will happen in the future.”

  Oragur’s words did little to quiet their fear. His mate, Lor Onida, stood by, also feeling helpless in the presence of so much emotion.

  “Guardians are practically immortal. Moc’Tor has not walked Etera anywhere near long enough for his time here to end,” stated Toniss.

  Lor Onida found the words to reply. “Look at Moc’Tor. He is as robust as ever. He stands tall. His stride is without falter. His mind is sharp, his wit even sharper, and he holds Kthama in the palm of his hand. His steps will guide ours for centuries to come. There is no waning in Moc’Tor’s power. Fear is difficult to master, but you must use your reason to look at the facts of the situation instead of listening to the voice of panic that threatens your peace of mind.

  “As always, Moc’Tor needs our support; do not let your belief in him waiver. He has gotten us this far, and he will take us the rest of the way through what lies ahead.”

  “The fact that a second Guardian has entered Etera should be received as a great blessing, not as a harbinger of doom.” All heads turned to see Straf’Tor, who had entered the assembly from the back of the room.

  The large dark-coated male strode confidently to the front.

  “Now, go about your lives. Try to focus on the positives of the situation and keep your thoughts from running away from you.”

  Though he was not the official Leader of Kthama, Moc’Tor’s brother spoke with an authority that was recognized by all.

  Straf’Tor, Oragur, and Lor Onida stood on the speaking platform, watching as the crowd slowly dispersed. Where once the assembly would have consisted of giant dark hair-covered bodies nearly identical to each other, they now saw a variety of heights, builds, body coverings, facial structures. Straf’Tor watched with a heavy heart.

  The division he had feared was not coming. The division was here.

  Pan turned out to be a delightful child, full of wonder and joy. She looked at everything through eyes of appreciation and gratitude. She took care of every orphaned creature and had to be stopped from feeding the mice that found their way into Kthama. When she was not allowed to feed them, she negotiated that they must be caught and safely returned to the outside. Kthama was dotted with various contraptions designed to capture the little creatures without hurting them. Pan would also sit quietly for hours, watching the birds and studying their calls. She quickly found her way into the hearts of everyone at Kthama, regardless of the faction they favored. All offling were precious and cherished, but there was no way to dispute the special place Pan held in everyone’s hearts.

  Breaking the mold of many Mothoc fathers, Moc’Tor spent hours with Pan from when she was a tiny offling, just as he had with her older sisters and her brother, Dak’Tor. And while she would learn hunting and marksmanship, the turning of the seasons, the patterns of the stars, and everything else Dak’Tor and her sisters had learned, Pan’s training would include even more. She must be taught her role and responsibilities as a Guardian of Etera.

  The day finally came when it was time for Pan’s indoctrination into the duties of a Guardian. It was time for Moc’Tor to start teaching her how to use the Aezaiterian current that moved through her body. And in time, he would teach her how to engage the Order of Functions.

  “Is it not too soon? asked E’ranale. “She is still so young.”

  “It is an honor to be a Guardian,” Moc’Tor replied, “but it is also a burden. She needs to learn now to accept the mantle. The longer I wait, the more difficulty she may have embracing it.”

  Father and daughter stood outside in the lush meadow above Kthama. The meadow was off-limits to anyone but Moc’Tor. Sentries monitored the two paths that led there, ensuring his privacy for however long he visited. A small stream meandered through the meadow, which was ringed with trees, flowers, and thick grasses. The spring blooms would soon burst open, announcing the return of new life to Etera.

  Pan was mesmerized by the beauty of the place and its energy—the loving, calming energy that was like nothing she had experienced before.

  “Today starts your training as a Guardian,” said Moc’Tor, breaking her out of her reverie. “We will begin with connecting with the Aezaitera. The Aezaiterian flow is the very creative life force of the Great Spirit; it is the breath of life entering and exiting this realm. All Mothoc are connected to this current, and though it flows throughout Etera, there are places where it is particularly accessible. Are you listening to me or watching that deer and her fawns?” he asked.

  “I am sorry, Father.”

  “Very well.” Moc’Tor started again. “Underneath Kthama is a great vortex of this current. We do not know, but we surmise this is why Guardians are only born of the ‘Tor seed line. We have a connection to this physical location. It is more than the great practical blessings Kthama offers—the expansive cave system, the Mother Stream, which brings fresh air, water, and richness through all the levels—our very souls are connected here.”

  Pan nodded.

  “Alright. Enough talk; we will begin,” he said. “Close your eyes and make sure your feet are firmly planted on the ground.”

  Pan did as her father had said.

  “Now, reach into the core of Etera. Send your awareness down through your body, through your feet, and straight into the vortex beneath us. You will know when you connect directly with the Aezaitera. The moment you do, come back to your body immediately.”

  Pan stood silent, and then a small shudder went through her frame.

  “Father—"

  “Shhhh. I know. You will have to build up your ability, but bear all that you are currently able to.”

  “Ahhhhhhh—” a moan escaped her lips. “I cannot—”

  “Break it off, Pan. Come back to your body.”

  Pan became deathly still. She stopped breathing, though she remained standing.

  “Pan! Open your eyes!”

  Her eyelids fluttered, and she staggered. Her father reached out to steady her and gave her a gentle shake. Finally, she opened her eyes but was staring blankly ahead. Moc’Tor crouched down so that she had to look at him.

  “You did not listen to me. You must build up the ability to bear the Aezaitera’s current.”

  “I did not want to let go.” She looked at her father with wide eyes.

  “Of course you did not. Connecting with the Aezaitera puts you directly within the creative current. That is life itself. It is pure joy and pure creative love. While we bear an overwhelming responsibility, a Guardian is blessed to be able to experience the power of the Great Spirit in a way no other creature on this side of the veil can.”

  “I want to reconnect.”

  Moc’Tor laughed. “You are so
like your mother. Ready to take life head-on. We will practice again tomorrow. But you must never engage the Aezaitera alone. It will be a long time before you are strong enough to withstand it without getting lost. For now, you will always be standing up when we engage with it. That way should you lose yourself, the fall will most likely bring you back. In time, when you are able not to lose yourself in it, we will enter the Aezaitera lying down. But not until then, as the temptation to stay immersed is too strong.”

  Pan nodded her understanding.

  “I am glad you are anxious to learn. But trust me, Pan, you have nearly an eternity here to fulfill your role as Guardian.”

  “What do you mean?” she frowned.

  Moc’Tor sighed and looked up at the sky. Quat. I had not meant that to come up yet. “Go and find your mother. It is time for midday meal. I will explain later.”

  “No, father. I want to know now,” she said, standing firm. “What do you mean an eternity?”

  “All right. We may as well sit down; this is going to take a while.” Moc’Tor led his daughter to a soft grassy spot.

  “The Mothoc live very long lives on Etera. Many, many years longer than all the other creatures here.”

  Moc’Tor put an arm around Pan’s shoulders. “You are a Mothoc, but you are also a Guardian. As a Guardian, you play a specific role on Etera. Life is always entering and transitioning out of Etera—what we call being born and later returning to the Great Spirit. This life force, the Aezaitera, is continuously moving in and out of our realm, just as we are continually breathing in and out. This movement, the coming and going of life in our realm, happens at different speeds based on the lifespan of each creature; but it is always in motion. So you may think of the life and death cycle on Etera as the life force—the breath of the Great Spirit entering and leaving our realm with the taking on and shedding off of physical form—the birth and death of every living creature here. Now, what happens to us if we quit breathing?”