Nicolas studied his stern face. The Dragonseekers were one of the most powerful lineages in all of the Carpathian community. He was tall with broad shoulders and metallic green eyes, a legacy of his clan, eyes of seers, changing color with mood or in battle. In the last battle to save Mikhail and the Carpathian race, he had suffered severe burns across his shoulder, down one arm, up his neck to one side of his face. The scars were there if one looked closely, faint evidence of the horrific charring of his flesh. Strangely, the scars added to his aura of danger. His green gaze took in everything, then settled on Natalya for a brief moment.
Dominic strode over to Mikhail. Gregori moved to intercept, reminding Nicolas that Dominic was one of the ancients who had not sworn his allegiance to Mikhail. He had served Vlad in the old days, but had only returned recently. He had fought beside the prince, even offering his life to save him, but there had been no sworn blood oath. Jacques moved into position on the other side of his brother to insure protection. Nicolas found himself moving into fighting range just in case. No one could afford to take chances with the prince's life anymore than they could with their women.
Dominic bowed slightly. «En jutta felet es ekamet. I greet a friend and brother,» he said as he clasped Mikhail's forearms.
«Veri olen piros. Blood be red, Dominic,» Mikhail returned formally, the greeting literal, meaning he hoped Dominic would soon see in color.
Dominic's shoulder shrug was eloquent. He had not found his lifemate in all the centuries of his existence and he wasn't holding his breath.
Julian Savage, a tall, heavily muscled, unusually blond Carpathian with golden eyes strode in with Barack, another male at his side. «I bring regrets from my brother, Aidan,» Julian greeted. «He and Alexandria have returned to the United States. He would have come had he been within hailing distance. Dayan is on the way. He is checking the skies for the taint of the undead.»
Falcon came next, with two tall, unknown Carpathians at his side. One looked familiar, an ancient Nicolas was certain he had come into contact with other the years, and the other completely unknown to him. He had spent a great deal of his time in South America, away from his homeland and out of touch with the Carpathian people. Excitement surged in him at the thought of being among the great men of his time, once again standing solidly shoulder to shoulder as they had in the old days.
Dayan, guitar player for the Dark Troubadours and father of one of the few female children, arrived with Traian and his lifemate, Joie. Nicolas crossed his arms over his chest, biting back his disapproval. He saw some of the others glance at the women and shake their heads. He wasn't alone in his belief that the lifemates of the women should take charge and insist on safety before anything else.
Others arrived, some in pairs, some alone. Nicolas recognized a few of the men, but most were strangers to him. The Carpathian Mountains were no longer his home, although his homeland spoke to him, the soil rich and inviting. And he had missed this sacred place and the call of brothers to council.
The last to arrive was a tall man with a face that could have been carved in stone. He entered quietly and stood a little apart from the others. Nicolas recognized the signs of aloofness, a man who had seen countless battles and knew many were to come. A man without a lifemate, driven by the madness of the dark spreading across his soul. He was Dimitri, guardian of the wolves, and he stood straight and looked other warriors in the eye, but he stood alone.
The Carpathians gathered into a loose circle. Gregori waved his hand to light the candles placed along the curved walls of the chamber. Instantly the giant crystals burst into life, radiating muted colors. This was the one sacred place a hardened warrior could go, one who skated the edge of madness, and still feel a semblance of peace. Perhaps it was the hallucinations close proximity to the crystals combined with the intense heat produced, but once the candles were lit and the hallowed rituals begun, the hunters close to succumbing to darkness were revitalized for a short time.
Some warriors claimed the barren gray world was more difficult to endure after the brief reprieve, but Nicolas had always found the warriors' cavern a world of comfort that made sense in the craziness they lived. In long centuries that often ran together, the rituals were comforting, the old, traditional ways reassuring.
«We have much to discuss,» Mikhail said. «Thank you all for coming. Nicolas has brought us news that will help us understand the mindset of our enemies.»
The heat of the cave seeped under Nicolas's skin, in spite of his ability to regulate his temperature. Already he felt the crystals working on him, healing the small wounds in his body, providing clarity to his mind. Everything became sharper, much more focused, and the feeling of camaraderie deepened, so that he wanted to hear each warrior's opinion and could listen with an open mind to all views.
Mikhail moved to the center of the crystal circle, standing beside a large bloodred column of crystal minerals. Rising from the floor nearly to Mikhail's shoulder, it was one of the smallest in the room, but came to a point as sharp as a razor. He held his hand over the point of the crystal and the room grew instantly quiet, the Carpathians almost breathless in anticipation. When he spoke, he used the ancient language of his ancestors, the language still spoken by all their people.
«Blood of our fathers-blood of our brothers-we seek your wisdom, your experience and your counsel. Join with your brother-warriors and lend us your guidance through the blood bond. We pledge to our people, our unwavering loyalty, resolve in the face of adversity, swift and deadly retribution, compassion for those in need, strength and endurance through the centuries and above all, we will live
with honor. Our blood connects us.»
Mikhail dropped his palm over the point of the crystal and it cut through his flesh easily. Rich, red blood immediately coated the top of the column. «Our blood mingles and calls to you. Heed our summons and join with us now.»
As the blood of the prince mingled with that of the warriors who had gone before, the crystals were illuminated, throwing off lights and color like the aurora-swirling reds lit the room, emerald green banded in waves across the wall. The ever-changing spectacle pulsed with life, recognizing the prince of the Carpathian people.
A low murmur rose into a strong chant as the gathered Carpathians began their age-old ritual. «Veri isaakank-veri ekaakank. Veri olen elid. Andak veri-elidet Karpatiiakank, es wake-sarna ku meke arwa-arvo, irgalom, han ku agba, es wake kutni, ku manaak verival. Veri isaakank-veri ekaakank. Verink sokta; verink ka?a terad. Akasz enak ku ka?a es juttasz kuntatak it. Blood of our fathers-blood of our brothers. Blood is life. We offer that life to our people with a blood-sworn vow of honor, mercy, integrity and endurance. Blood of our fathers-blood of our brothers. Our blood mingles and calls to you. Heed our summons and join with us now.»
Gregori stepped in front of Mikhail and dropped to one knee. «I offer my life for our people. I pledge my loyalty to them through our blood bond.» He dropped his hand on the crystal point, allowed the precious gift to mingle with Mikhail's blood, with the blood of every ancestor who had gone before. Then he offered his hand to Mikhail.
«As vessel of our people, I accept your sacrifice.» Mikhail solemnly answered the pledge, taking the blood offered so that he could always find Gregori wherever he might be, any time, any place. It made the hunter vulnerable. Should he choose to give up his soul and turn vampire, he could be more easily tracked. Many chose not to participate, knowing the consequences. Gregori had often urged Mikhail to make the ritual mandatory, but Mikhail believed in free will.