Dark Lycan (Dark #24)(64)
Author: Christine Feehan

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 ekamet 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 Dragonseeker 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-han ku vigyaz sivamet es 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 Han ku pesak 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."