“Lorraine,” Sandu called to her. “We need your blood.”
She turned and hurried back. Ferro was swaying with weariness. His body was pale. There were tiny beads of blood on his forehead, and her stomach lurched. He was feeding from Sandu’s wrist. She didn’t look—she couldn’t. She kept her gaze on Andor.
“Can you save him?”
She felt the impact as Ferro’s eyes jumped to her face. She still didn’t look at him because she knew he continued to take blood from Sandu’s wrist.
“Ferro says he is very bad. Three of the wounds should have killed him outright. Two more are borderline. One he would have been able to heal.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything.”
“It tells you it’s going to be a very long night. I’m going to take your blood so I can provide for the healer. Then I will go hunting to find another source.”
None of it sounded good, but at least she wasn’t alone with Andor, trying to save him when it would have been impossible.
5
Andor was cold. He had never been so cold in his life and he couldn’t seem to regulate his temperature. He tried opening his eyes. Everything was dark, bleak, bitterly cold. He was blind. His heart should have reacted with a jump. Something. He couldn’t hear his heartbeat. He wasn’t deaf. He knew that. He could hear voices. Musical. Chanting. They had chanted often in the monastery. Perhaps he was there. He opened his mouth to call out. No sound emerged.
Andor stayed very still, analyzing what was happening to his body. He was blind and couldn’t speak, but he could hear. There was no heartbeat that he could detect, yet he was aware. He felt the cold. The voices were soft but persistent and he listened, trying to discern what they said. Which chant they were using. He could join in. Silently, maybe, but the words would ground him. He was Carpathian. He belonged to the Earth. Chanting aided his people in many things. He could be of some use in spite of his strange situation.
Ot ekäm ainajanak hany, jama. My brother’s body is a lump of earth, close to death. Me, ot ekäm kuntajanak, pirädak ekäm, gond és irgalom türe. We, the clan of my brother, encircle him with our care and compassion. O pus wäkenkek, ot oma śarnank, és ot pus fünk, álnak ekäm ainajanak, pitänak ekäm ainajanak elävä. Our healing energies, ancient words of magic and healing herbs bless my brother’s body, keep it alive. Ot ekäm sielanak pälä. Ot omboće päläja juta alatt o jüti, kinta, és szelemek lamtijaknak. But my brother’s soul is only half. His other half wanders in the nether world. Ot en mekem ŋamaŋ: kulkedak otti ot ekäm omboće päläjanak. My great deed is this: I travel to find my brother’s other half.
Andor heard the words of the chant and recognized the Great Healing Chant of his people. A soul was lost to them. A warrior of great importance and a healer risked his life to follow his brethren down the great tree of life into the other world to bring him back. He knew that others would be gathered in a circle around the fallen warrior chanting to help aid the healer.
It was a great risk to follow the fallen into the other world. Both souls could be lost. It was only when that individual was needed, or when his lifemate . . .
He shivered, something important moving in his mind. He needed to get warm. His body felt like a block of ice. He couldn’t quite catch the thought that pushed at the back of his mind so persistently, so he concentrated on the words of the healing chant. His native language was only spoken among Carpathians, and it was rare for the words to be interpreted into another language, yet English was added so someone non-Carpathian could understand what was said.
Rekatüre, saradak, tappadak, odam, kaŋa o numa waram, és avaa owe o lewl mahoz.
We dance, we chant, we dream ecstatically, to call my spirit bird, and to open the door to the other world. Ntak o numa waram, és mozdulak, jomadak. I mount my spirit bird and we begin to move, we are under way. Piwtädak ot En Puwe tyvinak, ećidak alatt o jüti, kinta, és szelemek lamtijaknak. Following the trunk of the Great Tree, we fall into the nether world. Fázak, fázak nó o śaro. It is cold, very cold.
Andor heard those words. Fázak, fázak nó o śaro. It is cold, very cold. He shivered again. He couldn’t call out, even now when he recognized the voices chanting. Two of his brethren. Who? He tried to think. Sandu for certain. Sandu had a beautiful singing voice. The other? Ferro. That surprised him. Ferro was a born leader. He could have been a gatekeeper had he not been so far gone. He could stop a vampire just with his voice alone. It was that compelling. He never raised his voice. He didn’t have to. The urge to obey when Ferro commanded was too strong to ignore, even for the undead.
He shivered again. Ice seemed to pierce through his body. Hundreds of shards. Ice surrounded his heart so that he finally knew why his heart couldn’t beat—it was frozen. He was the warrior lost in the nether land. A great warrior was risking his life to retrieve him. That was the only answer to the glacier-cold. Who had risked his life? And why?
Juttadak ot ekäm o akarataban, o sívaban, és o sielaban. My brother and I are linked in mind, heart, and soul. Ot ekäm sielanak kaŋa engem. My brother’s soul calls to me. Kuledak és piwtädak ot ekäm. I hear and follow his track.
His soul, however, was lost. They all knew that. He had been locked behind massive gates with safeguards woven by eight of the most ancient of all Carpathians. Why would they retrieve him when he finally was seeking peace? The need had to be great. But there was no way to find his soul. The warrior risking his life would be lost as well.
He listened intently, all the while trying to call out with his voice. It suddenly occurred to him to use telepathy. These were his brothers. They knew him. They knew his mind. They could find him, tune to him in all the darkness.
I am here, he called to them. Shivered. The ice grew colder.
Something moved again in his mind, brushing the walls gently. So softly. The touch was barely there but strangely intimate. He felt instantly comforted as if he was no longer alone. The touch had been disturbingly feminine, and he knew he should recognize it.
Can you hear me?
If his heart wasn’t a block of ice, it would have gone into overdrive. He knew that voice, from long ago, somewhere far away. He knew her. He forced every bit of strength and discipline he had acquired over the years to open his mind. He didn’t have a body, but his mind was working—somewhat. Slowly. Everything was difficult.
If you can hear me, Andor, sielam sieladed—my soul to your soul—find me. Reach for me.
The more the voice called to him, the more he felt her in his mind. She had found him in this ice-cold, dark place. He was blind, but he could reach for her. He was speechless but determined to find her. My soul is tattered and split. There is nothing left.
I am left. Én olen hän ku pesä sieladet—I am guardian of your soul. You are not alone.
The feel of silky hair brushed over his face. He felt her. Breath to breath. Inside. Along the walls of his mind. She was there with him in that freezing, dark place and she shouldn’t be. Everything he was rose up to protect her. He knew her. She was truly the guardian of his soul. She held the light to his darkness.
Lorraine. He whispered her name. A talisman. You cannot be here.
There was no other way to find you. My soul sought yours. He is here. The warrior, the healer who will bind himself to you.
The warrior/healer would bind himself to Andor’s soul and fight for him to come back from the land of the dead, but that would mean he would bind himself to Lorraine as well. The other man was there, pouring into his mind with Lorraine. He was strong. As ancient as Andor or Ferro. Andor still couldn’t place him, but the healer was extremely powerful.
Voices called to him now. They came from below him. From either side, as if a great circle of warriors were surrounding him. All male. Ancient. Long gone.
The most powerful voice came into his mind, blending with those ancient warriors chanting in their singsong vo
ices. Saγedak és tuledak ot ekäm kulyanak. Encounter I the demon who is devouring my brother’s soul.
Andor felt the terrible wrenching in his body. The pain was shattering. Lorraine cried out, a soft protest that was heartbreaking. He tried to reach for her, but he couldn’t move his body. He could only shiver and try to swallow the pain. Devour it. Take it in and embrace it. There was no other way or he would have abandoned his woman, the hän ku kuulua siela—the keeper of his soul—and let go, although the abyss called to him.
Nenäm ćoro, o kuly torodak. In anger, I fight the demon.
The pain worsened, and Lorraine cried out a second time. His chest was on fire. His belly twisted and burned. She felt that terrible agony with him. He tried to shield her, but he could do nothing. His power seemed to be gone and he was left helpless while his lifemate suffered.
You must go, Lorraine. Be safe.
My soul keeps your soul. It is the only way we can hold you to us, Andor. I know there is pain. There were tears in her voice, and it was far more torment than the pain tearing at his physical body. He couldn’t hold her in his arms. He’d never held her. He’d never had the chance to comfort her. All those long years he’d waited, and now, in the end, he hadn’t had his chance with her. She needed, and he hadn’t provided.
You comforted me more than any other. Hold fast, Andor. Stay with me.
He took a breath, and all that came into his lungs was piercing cold. Ice. Freezing him from the inside out.
The voice in his mind continued. O kuly pél engem. He is afraid of me. Lejkkadak o kaŋka salamaval. I strike his throat with a lightning bolt.
The warriors surrounding him chanted louder, their song adding to the strength of the great healer fighting for his life. He fought now as well. He couldn’t leave Lorraine. She had the courage to bind her soul to his and follow him down the great tree of life to the nether world where he would be judged, risking her own life. The healer had also risked his life by binding his soul to theirs.
Molodak ot ainaja komakamal. I break his body with my bare hands.
If he could have, Andor would have screamed at the pain crashing through his body. It felt as if the vampire had succeeded in eviscerating him. His internal organs seemed to be wrenched from his body, torn in two, ripped and shredded. He couldn’t scream, but Lorraine did. At once he focused on her rather than the agony of torture he endured.
Sívamet, you must let go of me. I do not want this for you. I command this of you.
There was a moment of silence. Something velvety brushed along the walls of his mind. A caress. The beauty of it was in such stark contrast to the ugliness of the torment he suffered. He felt her there with him. To his shock, there was amusement.
You can’t command modern women, Andor. We don’t obey. I made the choice to bind our souls together. Ferro, Sandu and Gary explained exactly what would happen and how once we were tied together, our fates would be the same. I knew what I risked.
That made her—extraordinary. He hadn’t bound them together. There were no blood exchanges between them. He’d taken her blood, but not given his in return. She didn’t know his world, yet she accepted him. She chose to save his life at the risk of her own. If the healer couldn’t repair his wounds enough to retrieve him, she would die as well. So would the healer.
Then we will live. He decreed it. He would never allow her into this land without him by her side.
Yes, we will. She breathed her decree.
The healer’s voice slid into his mind once again. This will not be easy. You have to endure this last before the fight is finished.
I can endure.
Lorraine? The healer made the inquiry.
I can endure. She repeated Andor’s exact words.
Once started, I cannot stop, the healer warned.
I will not let go, she assured.
The healer didn’t wait. Toja és molanâ. He is bent over, and falls apart.
Fire spread through Andor, a terrible storm burning every part of him. Every organ. Burning him up. He could almost see the ashes in his mind, whirling with that force that rushed through him. Lightning, white and hot, crashed through him, striking his flesh repeatedly, each lash worse than the last. The whips of lightning tore open skin and muscle to strike his insides, those deadly wounds, burning away the dead and stimulating new growth.
There was no way to endure without sound. Without his silent gasps and groans. Without adding silently to Lorraine’s screams. She felt every lash with him. That terrible fire. The force breaking him apart and the tornado-like wind whipping around him in an attempt to stimulate his body back to working.
Hän ćaδa. He runs away.
There was a sudden silence. Andor took another breath. This time he pulled air deep into his lungs—lungs that felt raw and burning as if they hadn’t had air for a very long while. He was no longer so cold, yet he felt the night air touching his bare skin. He tried once again to open his eyes and to his shock, his lashes lifted.
The first face he saw was Sandu’s. His brethren looked tired and pale, as if he hadn’t fed in many long nights. Sandu gripped his forearms. “Én jutta félet és ekämet—I greet a friend and brother. You have been long gone from us. You need blood. Take what I freely offer.” He cut a long line over his wrist and pressed the drops of blood welling up to Andor’s mouth. “It was a hard-won battle. Gary is more of a healer than I have seen in all my long existence.”
Andor didn’t think Sandu could spare the blood, but he was starved and knew he wasn’t nearly healed. Gary had saved his life, but the wounds still needed attention. He still needed blood. More of it. So did the others. His gaze shifted around, looking for one person. His heart clenched hard in his chest. Lorraine lay between his body and that of Gary Daratrazanoff.
He jerked Sandu’s wrist from his mouth. Sandu shoved it back to his mouth before he could speak. Is she alive? What is wrong with her?
“She is fine. Exhausted. It took a good deal of the night to get you back. She is strong, that one.”
Andor could hear the respect in Sandu’s voice. Sandu and the others, Andor included, respected few people. He jerked his chin toward Gary. The healer had been a question mark for all of them. They knew his history. Unlike the brethren, Gary had been born human. He had dedicated his life to the Carpathian people, working to come up with a solution to the problem of their women being unable to reproduce. In doing so, he’d fought alongside the Carpathians over the years he was with them, changing as he did so from all the blood exchanges and the knowledge he’d acquired. Still, all that hadn’t made him into what he was now.
The healer had been mortally wounded aiding another great warrior. Gregori Daratrazanoff, the prince’s bodyguard and healer of their people, had befriended Gary years earlier and refused to allow him to die. The human male was taken deep into their most sacred cave where they could call to their ancestors. If Gary were accepted by them, he would become a true Daratrazanoff. The ancient warriors had poured their memories and fighting skills into that single body. The toll on him was tremendous, yet the prince had asked that he take up the role of protector and bodyguard to Tariq Asenguard, the prince’s choice to lead in the United States.
He is bound to Lorraine.
For the first time, Sandu’s steady gaze slipped away and touched the two lying side by side. “That is true. It was the only way to find you. Gary went into the other world repeatedly, but you were too far gone. Had she not gone after you, Andor, you would have been lost to us.”
Who told her of this possibility and taught her the words of our language? He kept the question mild and made certain his face remained expressionless, but for the first time in centuries, he was truly upset. Whoever had told her a lifemate could bind souls and find him had knowingly risked her life.
“It was necessary.”
You? You risked my lifemate? Do you know wh
at she’s suffered?
“He didn’t.” Ferro was there, looking as dangerous as ever. Like Sandu, he was pale, although not quite as much. He nodded to Sandu. “Go feed. If necessary take animal blood. The others should join us by tomorrow night. They are on the way.” His strangely colored eyes bored into Andor, making him uncomfortable. “We have been unable to wake you for several risings.”
Several risings? He glanced again toward Lorraine’s sleeping figure. She’d been alone with his brethren and Gary for several risings. She looked exhausted. Had they been giving her their blood? Taking hers? He had to get up, get his strength back. Heal.
Andor politely closed the wound on Sandu’s wrist before letting go. He started to sit and instantly realized it was impossible. Most of his body was covered in soil. More, he was far too weak. He glared at Ferro.
“You had no right to risk her.”
Ferro shrugged. “She asked if there was another way when the healer returned and made it clear you were lost to us. There was another way, and she wanted to try it. We fortified her as best we could. She was brave and would have made a great warrior. Do not take that from her, Andor.”
“She lost her entire family. She was committing some form of suicide.”
“She was not. Do you think any of us, Sandu, Gary or I, would have allowed such a thing? She thought only of you when she made her decision. I took a vow and I will keep it. She was safe. We bound our souls to hers as well. Sandu and I, at your request, made certain your woman was safe. We would have pulled her free of that land.”
“She doesn’t know what the two of you did,” he guessed.
Ferro shook his head. “We had little time. She needed to learn the language.”
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