Mikhail brought his palm down over the tip of the column so that it pierced his flesh and droplets of blood coated the top of the column. “Our blood mingles and calls to you. Heed our summons and join with us now.”
13
Mikhail’s blood mingled with the long dead warriors. At once the crystals were illuminated, throwing off colors, deep emerald, rich ruby red swirling and banding throughout the room and over the walls. The display was much like the aurora borealis, many colors dancing through the chamber.
The swirling colors actually hurt Fen’s eyes. He was used to gray and white and sometimes the duller colors the wolf could distinguish until Tatijana had given him back the ability to see such things, but he wasn’t used to it yet. Still, the display was extraordinarily beautiful. Their native language was comforting to him and made him feel a part of his people after so many centuries of being alone.
Fen glanced at his brother. Dimitri was tall with broad shoulders and a face that could have been etched from stone. He was handsome, but aloof, a man apart. He had a lifemate he couldn’t claim. She had restored his emotions and color to his world, but that made hunting vampires all the more difficult. Now he had to contend with a wolf prowling inside him, battling for supremacy. Fen hoped that the sacred chamber would ease his suffering just a little.
The columns hummed, each with a different note, a perfect pitch so that the totems with faces appeared to be chanting musically. The colors swirling over them gave the faces life and expression. Fen had been careful not to swear allegiance to the prince. It was important to make certain he didn’t put Mikhail into the position of having to go to war to defend him. But . . . There was MaryAnn and Manolito. He knew Zacarias De La Cruz. Zacarias was pure hunter. He was pure Carpathian. Top of the food chain. Uncivilized. Untamed. The real thing. No one would touch his family without swift and brutal retaliation. He would be relentless, and he would never stop until he annihilated anyone or any group who targeted his family.
Fen knew Zacarias had found his lifemate, but he would bet his life that the eldest De La Cruz hadn’t changed much. Fen was a hunter. He knew no other way of life. Zacarias would be the same. That meant Mikhail would have to protect the couple from the Lycans.
If Tatijana were to become like him, and eventually she would, he wanted the Carpathian people to protect her. The same with his brother. Dimitri was well on his way to being Sange rau. They had given one another blood in the past, over the last few centuries when they had hunted together, and now Dimitri was feeling the effects of his wolf.
Centuries ago his blood had been added to the column of warriors, when he had sworn his allegiance to a prince long dead. Adding his blood again would allow the warriors to weigh in on the decisions Mikhail would be making. They would know what it was like to think and feel as a Sange rau. He was not ashamed of who and what he was. He had lived as honorably as he could. He had engaged the enemies of Lycan, human and Carpathian every time he came across one.
“You do not have to swear allegiance,” Mikhail said. “But if you are still hesitant because you fear you will force a war between Lycan and Carpathian, I can assure you, I will never agree to indiscriminately hunt those Lycans referred to as Sange rau. Any Carpathian who has this extraordinary and difficult gift will be referred to as Hän ku pesäk kaikak, or Paznicii de toate, which translates in either language to Guardians of all, and I will not give up any of them.”
Mikhail’s voice was compelling. Mesmerizing even. He could persuade most anyone to do anything he wanted with his voice, yet he was careful to keep his tone neutral.
Hän ku pesäk kaikak, Guardian of all. Mikhail Dubrinsky saw him that way, or he wouldn’t have bestowed such a name on what he was. Fen couldn’t believe what a difference such a small thing meant. He had been the hated Sange rau, and yet with just one small declaration, the prince had elevated him to Guardian of all.
Mikhail gave him and others like him purpose and status.
He was definitely born to lead, Tatijana whispered into his mind. Just changing the name changes the feel of who and what you are.
I can see why you gave him your allegiance.
Don’t do this for me.
I wouldn’t. This has to be a personal choice, and I choose to be part of his world.
Fen didn’t hesitate further. It had been too many centuries where he was a man without a country. His people were Carpathian no matter what his blood had become. He loved the Lycans and respected them, but his heart was here, with his people. He wanted to be part of the Carpathian community again. He wanted to ensure that Tatijana was always accepted.
He glanced at his brother. Dimitri was a respected warrior among the Carpathian people and held in great esteem. Whatever changed inside of Dimitri, whatever the wolf brought, it would benefit the Carpathian people, not take away from them; Fen was certain of that.
Fen stepped up to the bloodred crystal. He lowered his palm slowly. Before he ever reached that sharpened tip, he felt power emanating from the large crystalline column. He knew it was a calculated risk. If his ancestors rejected him, Mikhail and certainly Gregori might reject him as well, but it was a chance he felt he had to take.
He allowed the totem of minerals to pierce his flesh and draw his blood. At once his blood mingled with the blood of those who had gone before. His soul stretched and called to the warriors who had gone before him. He felt them, so many, their presence strong, ringing him, filling him, making him feel a part of a community that dated back to ancient times. The flood of camaraderie and belonging, of acceptance, was overwhelming.
Every cell in his body responded. He became aware of everything, the smallest detail. He heard the steady drip of water, drumming like a heartbeat deep within the chamber so that his own heartbeat took up that collective rhythm. The ebb and flow of blood in his veins, in the veins of those surrounding him, matched the endless flow of the ancient’s blood within the crystal. Deep below the chamber floor, hundreds of feet below the forest of giant columns, he felt the pool of magma feeding the heat throughout the labyrinth of multilevel caverns.
He heard whispers, ancient words spoken in the Carpathian language, warriors greeting him. Bur tule ekämet kuntamak. He could hear old friends, calling to him—well met brother-kin.
He whispered back in his mind, reaching for them . . .
Without warning the entire atmosphere of the chamber turned somber and sorrowful. The low humming in the chamber took on a completely different melody—a death chant—the dirge unmistakable although ancient. It was a melody reserved for a fallen warrior held in extremely high regard, a man of legend.
Fen found himself holding his breath. The ancient warriors were paying tribute to him—the highest tribute a fallen warrior could receive—but he wasn’t dead. The column went from dark red to a darker, somber purple, a color of sorrow for a fallen comrade. The flickering flames on the candles lowered, throwing more shadows into the room, adding to the feeling of sadness.
It was the last reaction Fen expected—to have his ancestors mourn and give tribute to him as if he’d died in battle. He kept his features absolutely expressionless, but Tatijana had merged her mind with his and the instant his heart felt heavy, she stepped up behind him and circled her arms around him, laying her head against his back to comfort him.
The moment she pressed close to him, her arms encircling him, the mournful humming came to an abrupt, confused halt. There was a startled silence as if the ancestors didn’t know what to think. The crystalline column began to pulse a deep rich red through the dark purple. The voices whispered greetings and encouragement.
Fen put both hands over Tatijana’s, pressing her palms into his waist. He wasn’t certain what to think. One moment the ancient warriors had been mourning as if he’d died in a great battle and the next moment they were calling to him in camaraderie again. It was very confusing.
It’s your Drag
onseeker blood they sense, he told his lifemate.
It mingles with yours. They should have sensed it before I came near them, Tatijana said with a little sniff of disdain.
They call to you, sister-kin. Fen still wasn’t quite certain how to react. He told the simple truth. She is Tatijana—keeper of my heart and soul—hän ku vigyáz sívamet és sielamet.
Murmurs of approval hummed through the chamber. It wasn’t as if they rejected Fen, in fact just the opposite. The ancient warriors embraced him, but they thought him gone from the world until Tatijana had surrounded him with herself.
The display of lights given off by the stalactites above their heads changed colors, throwing lavenders and pale pinks, with bursts of soft greens and blues. All of the colors, Fen was certain, represented his Dragonseeker woman. The stalagmites, great sculpted columns with faces and eyes swirling through them, came to life again, staring openly at Fen and Tatijana.
Why are they so surprised? We’re lifemates. Can’t they see that?
Fen’s eyes met Mikhail’s. What did it all mean? Only the prince might be able to decipher the meaning of the mourning and then the change.
“Can you tell me why they thought I had passed?” Fen asked, not entirely certain he wanted to know.
It doesn’t matter what they think, Tatijana insisted, circling around to stand protectively in front of him, placing herself between Fen and the short column used for communication with the ancients long since passed.
It matters, my lady, Fen said gently. We have to know the consequences of becoming Sange rau before any other Carpathian decides with the misguided notion that he will help to save his species from extinction, or just from the worst of monsters that we’ve faced by becoming a mixed blood.
Not Sange rau. You are Hän ku pesäk kaikak, Guardian of all, Tatijana disputed firmly.
Fen found his heart doing a strange, slow somersault. Even his belly felt that same peculiar roll at her fierce protective streak. I am lucky in my lifemate. He meant every word. She had changed his life and would always be at the center of it. She made him feel alive and gave him his first taste of joy and real laughter.
“The ancients greeted you warmly because they recognized your heart and soul as Carpathian, Fen,” Mikhail said. “Some of them knew you and celebrated that you kept your honor throughout such a long and difficult journey.”
Fen nodded. He had felt them welcome him and the camaraderie had made him feel as if he were part of a much larger circle. After having been alone for so many centuries, Fen felt connected to his ancestors. He would have given anything to feel that way before he met and claimed Tatijana. He had needed that connection, but once she had poured into his mind with so much fluid grace and light, he found he really didn’t need anymore. She had given him peace.
He had come here with the idea that he needed and wanted acceptance, not only for him but for his brother and any other who shared the same mixed blood, but now that he was in the sacred cave of warriors, he felt comforted by the traditional rituals, but it was Tatijana that made him feel complete, not the warrior circle itself.
“What happened? Why would they think I had died?” he asked curiously.
“When your blood first touched the sacred stone, they felt what they expected to feel. I woke them with the invocation. But as they processed it, as your blood touched their blood, they realized it was far different and you, as a Carpathian, were no longer there. They had already judged your heart and soul and knew you were honorable and that you’d fought long and hard for our people, so they awarded you the warrior’s highest honor as they mourned your death.”
“They believed he was dead because his blood is different?” Dimitri asked, wanting clarification. “Or they named him dead to the Carpathian people?”
“They believed him dead,” Mikhail explained. “Couldn’t you feel their genuine sorrow? Your blood, Fen, must be completely different at this point from that of a Carpathian.”
“Yet I can give blood to anyone just as a Carpathian can,” Fen said.
“You said the transformation happens in stages. Probably had you come here in the beginning stages, there would have been enough of a resemblance to Carpathian blood that few would notice the difference,” Mikhail said.
“But then they sensed Tatijana. Her Dragonseeker blood is powerful.”
“Yes it is. And already, because you’re lifemates, that strain must be in you as well. But I felt something else, something equally as powerful. Not your Lycan—his presence was formidable—but something very subtle and equally as dominant.”
Mikhail looked from Fen to Dimitri and then back at Fen, speculation in his eyes. “Tatijana is Dragonseeker, one of our most powerful lineages. She has a strong connection to Mother Earth, but this still feels different, as if it isn’t her connection but yours.”
“Tatijana does have a very strong connection to Mother Earth,” Fen admitted.
Mikhail shook his head, his piercing, intelligent gaze moving back to Dimitri. “Aw. I see now. Young Skyler. We do underestimate that girl. She helped to heal you. How is that possible from such a distance? Isn’t she in London?”
“I believe she is,” Tatijana answered for both men.
“And yet you know her and can speak to where she is,” Mikhail said. “How is it that a young girl, a child really, a human at that, can cross over two thousand kilometers and reach out to heal someone near death?”
Tatijana shrugged her shoulders. “It must have something to do with her being part of the Dragonseeker lineage. You said yourself it is a powerful line.”
“Have you been able to do such a thing?” Mikhail asked.
Tatijana hesitated. She shook her head. “No. Both Bronnie and I tried to reach our niece when she escaped the ice caves, but the distance was too great.”
Mikhail raised an eyebrow at Gregori.
Gregori shook his head. “I’ve never covered that distance. I’ve come close, but I doubt I could sustain it long enough to heal someone.”
Dimitri remained silent. His expression never changed. Fen touched his mind. His brother was crazy in love with Skyler, but he hadn’t claimed her, respecting their decision to wait until she felt ready. He would not give her up, not even to the prince and his enquiries in the sacred cavern.
Dimitri had been his own man for centuries. He might be Fen’s younger brother, but he had hunted the vampire on his own for centuries. He was respected and held in some circles as a legend. His relationship with Skyler was private. He rarely spoke of her. Fen had gotten more information about her from their brief healing encounter together than in all the years Dimitri had given him safe havens to rest and heal in.
Mikhail seemed to be more amused than upset that none of them were forthcoming about Dimitri’s young unclaimed lifemate. He simply nodded his head. “I’m certain that young woman somehow managed to seal both Fen and Dimitri to Mother Earth, a privilege to say the least.”
“Did the ancients accept Fenris as he is?” Dimitri cut to the heart of the matter.
For the first time Mikhail hesitated. He let out a soft sigh. “I can’t give you the exact answer you’re looking for, or that I was looking for, Dimitri. The ancients acknowledge Fen as a great warrior who has lived with honor, but his blood is no longer the blood of a Carpathian.”
Dimitri didn’t flinch, but Fen was close to him and felt the inner blow like a punch to his gut. Mikhail had raised questions both men needed to think about. Tatijana was already tied to Fen and she would accept their fate together as his lifemate. It was different with Skyler. She was young, a human at that. Did Dimitri have the right to sentence her to a life so unknown, surrounded by enemies at every door?
“How long does it take before a hunter has the speed you have?” Gregori asked.
Fen shook his head. “It took me nearly a year to begin to merge with my wolf. I think you’d
get a better answer from Manolito De La Cruz. You said he was recently changed. You have to remember when this happened to me we didn’t even realize the cause was the blood. I’d been bitten numerous times in battles with rogue packs and the Sange rau we were chasing. In those days, no one knew about genetics. I recall the wolf and then gradually merging with it.”
Fen shrugged. “Over the years, when Dimitri sometimes joined with me in battle, we gave each other blood when one of us was wounded as Carpathians do. Again, that never raised a single red flag.”
Vikirnoff, who had remained silent throughout the ritual of the ancients, stepped forward to offer a greeting. “I gave you blood after your battle with Abel and even after what I saw, I didn’t think anything of it. Giving blood is part of our everyday lives. No one would have considered not saving a fellow Carpathian.”
“Or Lycan,” Fen agreed.
“The Lycans stayed away from us because they didn’t understand how the process of becoming a Sange rau worked all those centuries ago,” Mikhail ventured. “If this started centuries ago then what you say about ingrained prejudice has to be very true.”
Fen nodded. “Each new council renewed their decree to avoid Carpathians when possible. To fight alongside them when needed and there should be no animosity toward them.”
“Why did you choose to live as a Lycan and stay close to their packs rather than come home?” Vikirnoff asked.
“In the beginning I wanted as much information as possible,” Fen said. “But then I realized when I allowed the Lycan to be more dominant, it wasn’t as difficult to fight the temptation of darkness swallowing me.”
Gregori sent him one look from slashing silver eyes. “You said it was much more difficult to resist the call of the vampire.”
“Much later,” Fen said. “Not in the beginning. In the beginning the wolf at first protected me from the temptation, and later while I lived in the packs as a Lycan I realized the darkness wasn’t as oppressive. Over the centuries it really aided me as I hunted. I was very . . . active as a hunter.”
Dark Lycan (Carpathian) Page 25