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

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if a male wants to mate, we have no choice but to comply. That is the way it has always been.”

  Moc’Tor sat in silence for a moment. I never looked at it from their viewpoint. It did not occur to me they might want to refuse.

  “The females do not want to mate?”

  “It is not that we do not want to mate, but we get tired of being seeded all the time. And we do not necessarily want to mate with just any male. We have preferences, too, just as you do. I am grateful to be able to accept only you.”

  Moc’Tor released his arm from around her, stood up, and paced back and forth. “What if it were the female who got to choose?”

  “Got to choose what? To mate?”

  “Not only whether to mate, but with whom to mate. What if it were the female’s choice who to mate with—or not?”

  E’ranale blinked a few times. “Oh, Moc’Tor, that would be such a relief. But I doubt you can sell that idea to the males. And what if more than one male favored the same female?”

  “It would be the female’s choice; that would be the end of it because we cannot continue as we are. I will think about this some more.” He lay down again.

  “Are you sure you do not wish to mate?” she smiled.

  Moc’Tor let his eyes wander over his First Choice; her warm scent was inviting. He felt his response to her offer. “E’ranale. If it were up to you, would you choose me?”

  “I would always choose you, Moc’Tor. And only you.” She smiled again and pulled him closer.

  Afterward, E’ranale kept thinking about Moc’Tor’s idea and could not get to sleep. Having a say in who they mated with would be a great relief to the females. Some of them had feelings for particular males, and it was the same way for many of the males. If those who wished to limit their mating to only one other were given the choice, many hard feelings would be alleviated. But she would say nothing to the females yet for fear of getting their hopes up.

  Because the females and offling lived in a smaller cave system adjacent to the males’ larger one, their total numbers were deceiving. However, the assembly that day with all the males, females, and offling had shown just how overgrown their population was. In her head, E’ranale went through the females one by one, trying to figure out just how many would prefer to be paired to one specific male. She decided it was about three-quarters of the population. However, she could see conflict erupting when more than one male favored the same female, even though it would be the female’s choice.

  Morning came and found Moc’Tor thinking over his idea. Change came hard to the Mothoc, but if they were to survive, change they must.

  E’ranale rolled over and found him sitting next to her. “Good morning. Have you been awake long?”

  “Yes. I have been thinking about what we discussed. As I announced, I am going to travel along the Mother Stream to the Deep Valley and the Far High Hills and talk to their Leaders. I will take the Healer with me.”

  Moc’Tor and Oragur followed the Mother Stream to the next population, a small establishment of only a handful of Mothoc. Past that was the Deep Valley, a day or so’s travel further along the Mother Stream. Although visits to other communities were rare, many years past, the Mothoc had worked on the passageway along the route, carving out places to stop and rest, even to sleep. They had also created markings on the walls along the path to indicate to the traveler how far it was to the next community. Along the route, there were exit points to the surface, though they were few and far between. With a constant supply of fresh water, it was not difficult to travel, though being cut off from the topside for considerable stretches sometimes made it hard to tell day from night.

  Moc’Tor and Oragur surfaced and checked the area for the tree breaks, the markers used by their people to signal the way to the small community named Khire. They quickly located them and traveled in the direction indicated. Before too long, they sensed the presence of the other Mothoc.

  “I am Moc’Tor, Leader of the People of the High Rocks,” he called out. “And this is Oragur the Healer, also from the High Rocks. We would like to speak with whoever you acknowledge as Adik’Tar.”

  As if by magic, three shapes stepped from the shadows. At seeing Moc’Tor, they exchanged glances before greeting him and Oragur.

  “We will take you to him, Guardian,” said the tallest, his face revealing his concern that a Guardian would be paying them a visit.

  After traveling through the brush and up a slight incline, they came to a concealed opening—a small entrance compared to that of Kthama. A fire was being tended just inside, adding a warm glow to the otherwise gloomy interior. Before long, a shorter, stocky male approached, hobbling somewhat.

  “I am Cha’Kahn. I am the highest rank here. Welcome to Khire. Visitors are an infrequent occurrence, and a visit by a Guardian even less frequent. What is your business?”

  “I am Moc’Tor, and this is Oragur. We live downstream at the High Rocks. I am traveling to other tribes to seek counsel.”

  “Come, sit by the fire,” said Cha’Kahn.

  The two joined him around the dancing flames, which were welcome after the time spent in the dank tunnels along the Mother Stream. In the back reaches of the cave, both Moc’Tor and Oragur could see a number of females tending to figures stretched out on sleeping mats. Another female approached with a gourd and gave each one something to drink, one after another.

  “Are you hungry?” asked Cha’Kahn.

  “Thank you, but we are fine. Our problem is difficult to solve, Adik’Tar. We are outgrowing our mother caves. Are you facing the same problem?”

  “We were, but we solved the problem by putting limits on mating.”

  “That has been my thought. But how did you get them to agree?”

  As Cha’Kahn spoke, Moc’Tor’s gaze kept shifting to the activity at the back of the cave. “It was difficult at first. Those who were unhappy left to find other communities. Since then, we have not had this problem, but I made the decree before it got out of hand.”

  “I am afraid we are past that point already,” Moc’Tor sighed.

  “I have heard of your community. Yours is the largest known.”

  Moc’Tor sat for a moment. While he was thinking, another figure was brought in and laid on the mats. Some females bent over solicitously, apparently trying to soothe the obvious discomfort.

  “Would you be willing to meet with the other Adik’Tars?” asked Moc’Tor. “We could help each other with such problems if we band together.”

  “I would not object to that. The mantle of leadership borne alone is sometimes heavy.”

  Not able to ignore it any longer, and since Cha’Kahn was not going to volunteer the information, Moc’Tor had to ask. “You seem to have quite a few who are ill.”

  “Yes, but it is just a low fever and a bit of pain. We do not know what is causing it.”

  Moc’Tor tried to quell his unease over the number who were sick, but he felt a need to leave as soon as possible. After a bit more talk, he thanked Cha’Kahn, and he and Oragur continued on their way to the Deep Valley.

  “Did you notice the number being cared for back there?” asked Moc’Tor as they walked.

  “I found it a little disturbing, yes. They likely ate something the essence of which had long before returned to the Great Spirit, but I did not want to pry.”

  As Moc’Tor and Oragur arrived at the Deep Valley, the Guardian noted that the surroundings were even lusher than those at Kthama. His father had once told him this was the second-largest underground cave system, next only to that of the High Rocks. Those who lived there enjoyed a life of relative ease and plenty. As they approached, watchers greeted him and Oragur just as those at Cha’Kahn’s settlement had done. Before long, they were engaged in a similar conversation with Hatos’Mok.

  “I have no answers for you, Guardian,” said the Leader of the community of the Deep Valley. “I believe you will find that all our people strug
gle with the risk of overpopulation. We have practically no natural enemies. Other than an occasional accident, most of us live out our natural lifespans until it is time to return to the Great Spirit.”

  Moc’Tor sighed. “I suspect I will find the same response at the Far High Hills.”

  “I know the Leader there; his name is Tres’Sar. Yes, you will find similar overcrowded conditions.”

  Moc’Tor noticed a parade of young females walking slowly through the area close to where he, Oragur, and Hatos’Mok were talking.

  “It appears you can have your choice of females, Guardian,” Hatos’Mok remarked, his eyes on the attractive maidens who were not even trying to hide their fascination with the Guardian.

  “I have three to mate; they are all I need for my satisfaction. And I do not wish to add to the surplus population. But from what I can see, I will say that your maidens are particularly attractive.”

  Hatos’Mok nodded. “There are also three in my pod, though I find I have my favorite.”

  “I am considering bringing the leadership together to see if we can find solutions,” Moc’Tor said. “If you are open to that, I will send a messenger when we are ready to convene.”

  Hatos’Mok agreed and offered Moc’Tor and Oragur lodging for the night.

  The next morning the travelers left for the Far High Hills and met with Tres’Sar, garnering his support for the idea of coming together to solve their problems.

  The sentries had returned by the time Moc’Tor and Oragur made it back to Kthama.

  “Moc’Tor,” said the head sentry, Ras’Or, “We have located a set of caves not all that far away from here. It is not as large as Kthama, but it is well-concealed and looks serviceable. We almost missed it because the opening was so well-hidden by bittersweet vines. There is a stream not far away, and there is plenty of cover.”

  “Do you believe it will suit our needs?”

  “It will not be as comfortable as Kthama, but we can improve it—although it will take some time.”

  “How many do you think could live there comfortably?”

  “Perhaps a fourth of our population.”

  “Are you sure there are no others?” asked Moc’Tor.

  “None that we can find, and we have been diligent in our search.”

  Moc’Tor considered what Ras’Or had just said. Not entirely big enough, but it will buy us some time. Now he would have to decide who must leave Kthama. “Please take me there; I must inspect it myself.”

  That evening, after telling E’ranale he was leaving again and would not be back for several days, Moc’Tor gathered his hunting spear, collected Oragur and Drit, and set out with Ras’Or.

  Darkness being no hindrance to them, they traveled with few rests and arrived just before first light on the next day. Ras’Or was right; the new cave system was virtually undiscoverable.

  Moc’Tor set aside his hunting spear and pushed aside the covering that blocked most of the entrance. Later they could decide what to leave in place and what to cultivate further. Though they had few natural enemies, concealment provided some level of comfort.

  The opening expanded into an entrance similar to that at Kthama, though on a smaller scale. From the main cave, tunnels extended in multiple directions. Moc’Tor chose the narrowest and set out along it with Drit and Oragur in tow.

  The air was cool but not as humid as at Kthama. Moc’Tor knew from the dryness that there was no central stream running through the caves, though off in the distance on the way there, they had spotted the river mentioned by Ras’Or. The Mother Stream made life at Kthama convenient. Not only did it bring water, oxygen, and nutrients into their home, but it carried an easy supply of protein in the fish that swam through. It was a shame that the Mother Stream did not also run beneath this underground cave system.

  Moc’Tor followed the narrow tunnel with its familiar smooth rock walls. At its end, the passageway opened into several other caves. He turned to Drit, “Go back and take the next tunnel over. Oragur, you take the farthest. Walk about the same distance as we have here, then meet me back in the central area with a report. Look for signs of water, other exits, current or former inhabitants—anything good or bad. I will see you again shortly.”

  The two males did as ordered. Before long, they were all reassembled in the front cavern.

  “The next tunnel was essentially the same as the first,” Drit reported. “It wound around with several smaller caves along the way. There would be room for many single or shared quarters. I do not see an easy way to separate the females from the males, though.”

  “We would not want to send only males or only females here,” mused Moc’Tor. “It has to be a mix like at Kthama. Oragur, what did you find?”

  “Though Drit’s tunnel does not sound suitable for both males and females, the route I took forked into two tunnels a short way back. I did not have time to explore both, but there may be a way to separate them by using that split.”

  Moc’Tor nodded. “Very well. Any signs of inhabitants?”

  Both males shook their heads. It was no problem for the Mothoc to remove any creature already living there, but they would not wish to deprive any of the Great Spirit’s creatures of a home.

  “I want to see the river,” Moc’Tor said, and with that, they left the caves and headed toward the water.

  It was clearly part of the Great River that also wove past Kthama. Moc’Tor felt a sense of continuity, the two locations connected by the same rich source of life and provision. In addition, this place was not as high up as Kthama, so there were none of the rocky outcrops that made travel around Kthama treacherous. Mature trees provided a canopy of shade, and the breeze from the river brought with it the smell of the rich soil along the riverbanks.

  The three males stood for a while, connecting with their seventh sense to feel if the place welcomed them. Though this was not as strong in them as it was in the females, they could still feel the whisper of the Great Spirit speaking to them. Each searched for a sense of foreboding or a warning of any sort.

  Moments passed.

  Moc’Tor exhaled. He opened his eyes at the same time the others did. The three nodded to each other, intuitively knowing it was settled. This would be their next home; the Great Spirit had once again provided.

  “There is no rich magnetic vortex here as there is below Kthama,” conceded Moc’Tor. “But it will do. Let us stay the night; we can easily spear some fish and make a small fire. It will be our ritual of gratitude for this gift from the One-Who-Is-Three.”

  Before long, Drit had a warm fire going. With their bellies full, the males looked up at the wash of stars overhead. In the morning, they started out on their return to Kthama.

  E’ranale was anxiously awaiting her mate’s return. She smiled at the sight of Moc’Tor coming up the rocky path to home.

  “I was just going out to gather some berries.”

  “I will walk with you,” said Moc’Tor, handing his spear to Drit and signaling for the other males to go on without him.

  He went ahead, brushing the branches out of the way for E’ranale, a courtesy more than anything as she was certainly capable of making her own path.

  “What did you think of it, Moc’Tor?” she asked.

  “It is a blessing to find something so relatively close. It is large enough and has quite a few branches for separate quarters. For gatherings, much like here, there is one large cave at the entrance, and the Great River passes close enough. Life will not be as easy there as it is here, with the Mother Stream passing through Kthama’s lower level. But it will be serviceable. The hardest part will be deciding who stays and who leaves.”

  “Will the males and females be separated as they are here? Is there enough room?”

  “There will not be separate entrances as far as I can tell. But within the recesses of the system, yes, they can be separate to a point.”

  That will be a big change, thought E’ranale. Hopefully, by then, Moc’Tor’s directive for males an
d females to mate selectively would have taken hold, if that is what he decides we should do. She wondered if her mate had thought that through any further. In the next moment, she knew he had.

  “E’ranale, do you know if Ushca and Ny’on favor any of the other males?”

  E’ranale cocked her head, “You are asking if they have a preference for a mate other than you?”

  “Yes, I am asking that.”

  E’ranale was not sure how to respond. She decided she should answer carefully, not wanting to hurt Moc’Tor’s pride if that were possible. “I do know that Ushca favors someone.”

  “Who? Which male?”

  E’ranale sighed and stepped into it. “Straf’Tor.”

  “My brother?”

  “Yes.” She sighed again.

  Moc’Tor looked off into the distance. E’ranale surmised that he realized this might not be as easy as he had thought.

  “Hmmph,” he said, then continued. “Have they mated? As far as I know, Straf’Tor favors Toniss.”

  “I do not know if they have mated. I believe they would think it disloyal to you, Moc’Tor, even though there is no prohibition against it.”

  E’ranale felt a twinge of jealousy that it bothered Moc’Tor if his Second Choice was interested in another male.

  Moc’Tor ran his hand through his crown.

  “What about Toniss?”

  “Toniss mates with Straf’Tor because he chooses her. But she does not prefer him.”

  “This is getting complicated.”

  “It probably seems so to you, and I mean no disrespect. But you rightly do not spend as much time with the females as I do. I believe there would be less strife than you think. Given a chance, I believe that your brother and Ushca would choose to be together. I see them stealing glances at every opportunity.”

  “I am glad you know all this, but thinking about it makes my head hurt.”