Read Online Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm by authors_sort - Free Book Online
Authors: authors_sort
Tags: english eBooks
Ads: Link
vibrations of energy in the rock and air and thus “see” his surroundings.
Those vibrations whispered across his skin, as he woke fully from his healing slumber,
his body shifting and stretching in the heated soil. Parting the soil with a wave
of his hand, he rose from his resting place into the empty magma chamber above. Cracks
in the hardened black rock revealed glowing orange lava bubbling restlessly in pools
below that lit the chamber with a dim orange light.
The earth rumbled beneath his feet, and the ground gave a sudden lurch that nearly
knocked him off balance. Steam vented from the glowing orange cracks in the chamber
floor, and with it came the familiar, decaying stench of evil.
Dax’s muscles clenched. He’d grown used to the rumblings and movement of the volcano
over the years, but this was different. The volcano was awakening. And Mitro was the
one waking it.
Another wave of pressure slammed into him, throwing him to his knees. The ground shifted
and rolled. Dax steadied himself and sent feelers stabbing into the soil, trying to
locate his ancient enemy. But the clinging, oily miasma of the vampire’s decay had
saturated everything inside the volcano, making it impossible for Dax to track the
evil back to its source. Mitro was here, working to break free of his bonds and use
the explosive force of the volcano to free himself.
For too many years, Mitro Daratrazanoff had fought to escape his prison. Dax had pursued
him through the caverns and tunnels of the volcano, hunting, tracking, fighting to
destroy him. And for the same amount of years, first Mitro spurned his lifemate Arabejila
and then her descendents, who had come to the volcano once every five years to strengthen
the bonds of Mitro’s prison and keep him contained until Dax could finally kill him.
Without Dax constantly hunting him, fighting him, and without Arabejila and her descendents
continually renewing the strength of Mitro’s prison bonds, the vampire would long
ago have escaped to wreak his unimaginable evil on the world.
Unfortunately, over the last few decades, the power woven by Arabejila’s descendents
had been growing weaker. Their renewal rites no longer imparted the same adamantine
strength to the bonds as before. And with the weakening bonds, Mitro’s attempts to
escape had come increasingly closer to succeeding. The last three times, Arabejila’s
descendent had arrived just in the nick of time, renewing the bonds only scant days—even
hours—before Mitro broke through.
Worry crept down Dax’s spine. Judging by the volcano’s increasing turbulence, Mitro
had already found enough of a chink in his prison walls to work his influence on the
outer world. It did not bode well. Mitro must have woken much earlier than Dax this
time. He’d grown stronger—too strong.
Concerned, Dax sent his senses out, searching for that frisson of awareness that alerted
him to the presence of another Carpathian. He’d been able to use that awareness over
the years to track the progress of Arabejila and her descendents when they came to
the mountain. His senses soared out, passing through rock, soil, into the sky above
the volcano, then across the dense, tropical jungle.
After several long minutes of searching, he found her. Arabejila’s descendent. She
was approaching the mountain as she had once every five years for the last who-only-knew
how many centuries, but she was still hours away. She was not going to get here in
time. The woman was too far out and Mitro had grown too strong.
Dax had been considered the greatest hunter of the entire Carpathian race, yet still,
fight after fight, Mitro had eluded him. Being locked in the earth for so long without
blood to sustain them should have weakened them both, possibly even killed them. But
just like Dax, Mitro had found a way to survive and grow stronger. The intense pressure,
heat and harsh environment of the
Those vibrations whispered across his skin, as he woke fully from his healing slumber,
his body shifting and stretching in the heated soil. Parting the soil with a wave
of his hand, he rose from his resting place into the empty magma chamber above. Cracks
in the hardened black rock revealed glowing orange lava bubbling restlessly in pools
below that lit the chamber with a dim orange light.
The earth rumbled beneath his feet, and the ground gave a sudden lurch that nearly
knocked him off balance. Steam vented from the glowing orange cracks in the chamber
floor, and with it came the familiar, decaying stench of evil.
Dax’s muscles clenched. He’d grown used to the rumblings and movement of the volcano
over the years, but this was different. The volcano was awakening. And Mitro was the
one waking it.
Another wave of pressure slammed into him, throwing him to his knees. The ground shifted
and rolled. Dax steadied himself and sent feelers stabbing into the soil, trying to
locate his ancient enemy. But the clinging, oily miasma of the vampire’s decay had
saturated everything inside the volcano, making it impossible for Dax to track the
evil back to its source. Mitro was here, working to break free of his bonds and use
the explosive force of the volcano to free himself.
For too many years, Mitro Daratrazanoff had fought to escape his prison. Dax had pursued
him through the caverns and tunnels of the volcano, hunting, tracking, fighting to
destroy him. And for the same amount of years, first Mitro spurned his lifemate Arabejila
and then her descendents, who had come to the volcano once every five years to strengthen
the bonds of Mitro’s prison and keep him contained until Dax could finally kill him.
Without Dax constantly hunting him, fighting him, and without Arabejila and her descendents
continually renewing the strength of Mitro’s prison bonds, the vampire would long
ago have escaped to wreak his unimaginable evil on the world.
Unfortunately, over the last few decades, the power woven by Arabejila’s descendents
had been growing weaker. Their renewal rites no longer imparted the same adamantine
strength to the bonds as before. And with the weakening bonds, Mitro’s attempts to
escape had come increasingly closer to succeeding. The last three times, Arabejila’s
descendent had arrived just in the nick of time, renewing the bonds only scant days—even
hours—before Mitro broke through.
Worry crept down Dax’s spine. Judging by the volcano’s increasing turbulence, Mitro
had already found enough of a chink in his prison walls to work his influence on the
outer world. It did not bode well. Mitro must have woken much earlier than Dax this
time. He’d grown stronger—too strong.
Concerned, Dax sent his senses out, searching for that frisson of awareness that alerted
him to the presence of another Carpathian. He’d been able to use that awareness over
the years to track the progress of Arabejila and her descendents when they came to
the mountain. His senses soared out, passing through rock, soil, into the sky above
the volcano, then across the dense, tropical jungle.
After several long minutes of searching, he found her. Arabejila’s descendent. She
was approaching the mountain as she had once every five years for the last who-only-knew
how many centuries, but she was still hours away. She was not going to get here in
time. The woman was too far out and Mitro had grown too strong.
Dax had been considered the greatest hunter of the entire Carpathian race, yet still,
fight after fight, Mitro had eluded him. Being locked in the earth for so long without
blood to sustain them should have weakened them both, possibly even killed them. But
just like Dax, Mitro had found a way to survive and grow stronger. The intense pressure,
heat and harsh environment of the
Similar Books
