Dark Wolf(87)

"Fen és Dimitri arwa-arvodkatak Tirunulak sarnanak hän agba nókunta  ekäankal, Zev Hunter, hän ku olenot Susiküm, kutenken olen it Karpatii.  Torot päläpälä Karpatiikuntankal és piwtät és piwtä mekeni sarna kunta  jotkan Susikümkunta és Karpatiikunta. Saγeak hänet ete tekaik."

"Fen and Dimitri from the noble house of Tirunul claim kinship with our  brother, Zev Hunter, once Lycan, now Carpathian. He has fought side by  side with our people and has sought to bring an alliance between Lycan  and Carpathian. He is of mixed blood like those who claim kinship. We  bring him before you."

There was no mistaking the translation. Mikhail had definitely called  his name and indicated that Fen and Dimitri claimed brotherhood with  him. He certainly had enough of their blood in him to be a brother.

The humming grew in volume and Mikhail nodded several times before turning to Gary. "Is it your wish to become fully a brother?"

Gary nodded without hesitation. Zev was fairly certain that, like him,  Gary hadn't been prepped ahead of time. The answer had to come from  within at the precise moment of the acting. There was no prepping. He  didn't know what his own answer would be.

Gregori and Darius, with Gary between them, approached the crystal  column, now swirling a dull red. Gregori dropped his hand, palm down,  over the tip of the formation, allowing his blood to flow over that of  the prince's.

"Place your hand over the sacred bloodstone and allow your blood to  mingle with that of the ancients and that of your brothers," Mikhail  instructed.

Gary moved forward slowly, his feet following the path so many warriors  had walked before him. He placed his hand over the sharp tip and allowed  his palm to drop. His blood ran down the crystal column, mixing with  Gregori's.

Darius glided just behind him in the same silent, deadly way of his  brother, and when Gary stepped back, Darius placed his palm over the tip  of the bloodstone, allowing his blood to mingle with Mikhail's,  Gregori's, Gary's and the ancient warriors who had gone before.

The hum grew louder, filling the chamber. Colors swirled, this time taking on hues of blue, green and purple.

Gary gave a little gasp and went silent, nodding his head as if he heard  something Zev couldn't. Within minutes he stepped back and glanced over  to the prince.

"It is done," Mikhail affirmed. "So be it."

The humming ceased, all those beautiful notes that created a melody of  words only the prince could understand. The chamber went silent. Zev  became aware of his heart beating too fast. He consciously took a breath  and let it out. The tension and sense of anticipation grew.

"Is it your wish, Luiz, to become fully a brother?" Mikhail asked.

Zev took a long look at Zacarias and Manolito. The De La Cruz brothers  were rather infamous. Taking on their family as kin would be daunting.  Only a very confident and strong man would ever agree.

Luiz inclined his head and walked to the crystal bloodstone on his own,  Zacarias and Monolito behind him. Clearly Luiz had not been wounded. He  was physically fit and moved with the flow of a jungle cat.

Zacarias pierced his palm first, allowing his blood to flow down the  stone, joining with the ancient warriors. At once the hum began, a low  call of greeting, of recognition and honor. Colors swirled around the  room as if the ancients knew Zacarias and his legendary reputation. They  seemed to greet him as an old friend. There was no doubt in Zev's mind  that the ancient warriors were paying tribute to Zacarias. Many had  probably known him.

When the humming died down, Luiz stepped close to the stone and pierced  his palm, his blood flowing into that of the eldest De La Cruz. Manolito  came next and did the same so that the blood of all three mingled with  that of the ancient warriors.

At once the humming of approval began again and the great columns of  both stalagmites and stalactites banded with colors of white and yellow  and bright red.

Luiz stood silent, very still, much as Gary had before him, and just as  Gary, Luiz nodded his head several times. He looked up at Zacarias and  Monolito and smiled for the first time.

"It is done," Mikhail murmured in a low tone of power that seemed to fill the chamber. "So be it."

Zev's mouth went dry. His heart began to pound. He felt tension gather  low in his belly, great knots forming that he couldn't prevent. There  was acceptance here-but there could also be rejection. He wasn't born  Carpathian, but Fen and Dimitri were offering him so much more than  that-they stood for him. Called him brother. If these ancient warriors  accepted him, he would be truly both Carpathian and Lycan. He would have  a pack of his own again. He would belong somewhere.

The feeling in the great chamber was very somber. The eloquence of the  long dead slowly faded and he knew it was time. He had no idea what he  would do when asked. None. He wasn't even certain his legs would carry  him the distance, and he wasn't going to be carried to the bloodstone.

"Is it your wish, Zev, to become fully a brother?" Mikhail asked.

He felt the weight of every stare. Warriors all. Good men who knew  battle. Men he respected. His feet wanted to move forward. He wanted to  be a part of them. He was physically still very weak. What if he didn't  measure up in their eyes?                       
       
           



       

You aren't weak, Zev. There is nothing weak about you.

Her voice moved through him like a breath of fresh air. He hadn't  realized he was holding his breath until she spoke so intimately to him.  He let it out, braced himself and made his first move. Fen and Dimitri  stayed close, not just to walk him to the bloodstone, but to make  absolutely certain he didn't fall on his face. Still, he was determined  it wouldn't happen.

With every step he took on that worn stone floor he seemed to absorb the  ancients who had gone before him. Their wisdom. Their technique in  battle. Their great determination and sense of honor and duty. He felt  information gathering in his mind, yet he couldn't quite process it. It  was a great gift, but he couldn't access the data, and that left him  even more concerned that he might be rejected. Somewhere, sometime, long  ago, he felt he'd been in this sacred chamber. The longer he was in it,  the more familiar to him it felt.

As he approached the crystal column, his heart accelerated even more. He  felt sheer raw power emanating from the bloodstone. The formation  pulsed with power, and each time it did, color banded, ropes of various  shades of red, blood he knew had been collected from all the great  warriors who were long gone from the Carpathian world, yet who, through  the prince, could still aid their people. Mikhail understood their  voices through those perfectly pitched notes.

Fen dropped his palm over the tip of the stalagmite. His blood ran down  the sacred stone. The colors changed instantly, swirling with deep  purple and dark red. He stepped back to allow Zev to approach the  column.

Zev wasn't going to draw it out. Either they accepted him or they  didn't. In his life, he couldn't remember a single time when he cared  what others thought of him, but here, in the sacred chamber of warriors,  he found it mattered much more than he wanted to admit. He dropped his  palm over the sharp tip so that it pierced his skin and blood flowed  over Fen's, mingling with the one who would be his brother, and with the  great warriors of the past.

His soul stretched to meet those who had gone before. He was surrounded,  filled with camaraderie, with acceptance, with belonging. His community  dated back to ancient times, and those warriors of old called out to  him in greeting. As they did, the flood of information through his  brain, adhering to his memories, was both astonishing and overwhelming.

Zev was a man who observed every detail of his surroundings. It was one  of the characteristics that had allowed him to become an elite hunter.  Now, everything seemed even sharper and more vivid to him. Every  warrior's heart in the chamber from ancient to modern times matched the  drumming of the earth's heart. Blood ebbed and flowed in their veins,  matching the flow of the ancients' blood within the crystal, but also  the ebb and flow of water throughout their earth.

Dimitri dropped his palm over the crystal and, at once, Zev felt the  mingling of their blood, the kinship that ran deeper than friendship.  His history and their history became one, stretching back to ancient  times. Information was cumulative, amassing in his mind at a rapid rate.  With it came the heavy responsibility of his kind.

The humming grew loud, and he recognized now what those notes  meant-approval, acceptance without reserve. Colors swirled and banded  throughout the room. Those ancient warriors recognized him, recognized  his bloodline, not just the blood of Fen and Dimitri who claimed  kinship, but his own, born of a union      not all Lycan.