Song of the Ancients (Ancient Magic Book 1) by Sandy Wright Page A

shaman's powers to communicate with the spirits. But she also asked him to fight, to redefine his prior beliefs. She said he could predict the future, so surely he knew what was coming and would help her stop the Dark Ones, Los Oscuros.
    He had turned her away.
    Instead of accepting his decision, his guides now sent another woman, young and naïve. She would be twice as much trouble as the last. But he could no longer ignore the message.
    He sensed the darkness approaching, something bigger and older than the tourist restaurants and white-washed art galleries working their way up every slope. This darkness felt malevolent. Ancient. Older even than the bones of the ancestors buried beneath his feet.
    It wanted him. It wanted his power. It saw a weakness in him, a weakness he hadn't recognized until now.
    He had isolated himself from his own tribe to live with his wife's people. When she died, childless, he climbed this butte with her relatives to release her spirit to join her ancestors. Afterwards, he felt only loneliness, and a bitter, angry solitude.
    His own people believed when a man died, a portal opened between the worlds, so the dying person could enter the realm of the Spirit. But if the man had unfinished business in his world, he would be unable to step though this portal, for he could not carry his worldly identity into the beyond. His channel must be clean, free of resentments, guilt, shame, anger and self-pity.
    A stone was lodged in his spirit, preventing him from being pure. He would have to remove it, cleanse and cauterize the wound. Without purity he would fail. Without purity his spirit—and his power—would remain on Earth with his body, unprotected and vulnerable. And then the dark beast would eat him. And laugh.
    He sank back onto the soft furs piled in the center of the ring next to the fire. It was time to pluck that stone.
    * * * * *
    Sinclair grew drowsy. The inward journey began, a quick acceleration, and suddenly his spirit rushed upward, leaving his body behind.
    Darkness enveloped him, leaving only the stars to indicate direction. He found Orion's Belt, Tayamni, and traced it to Sirius, the wolf's tail, brightest in the heavens this time of year. Wakan Tanka. All that has been, and all that is. The image flooded into his mind, overwhelming his consciousness as he descended deeper into the trance.
    On Earth below he saw the sacred area where his mate's ancestors were buried, and the circle of stones where his own inert body now lay.
    The needed connections are there; the Old Ones are awaiting the call. You have the support needed.
    But she is wasicun, his mind protested. Not Lakota. Not even of the People.
    W hat happens with one realm affects all others, the Wolf Star replied. We are all joined: the People's medicine men, other priests, witches, animals, even the beings beyond and outside the material realm. The stars themselves are the eyes of the Watchers in the night sky. We are all caretakers for the Mother.
    Sinclair felt his limp form drop softly to the ground below and sink into the earth. Down, down until his body began to disintegrate. He surrendered to the feeling, thinking, if this is what you want.
    His flesh began to peel off. A mother wolf ripped flesh from his bones, feeding it to her pups. We all used to eat each other, share the marrow of our bones, our nutrients and our very essence with each other. This is how we are related on the deepest of levels.
    A blue-black raven hopped over for an easy meal, watching him with one obsidian eye. As you cleanse your spirit, your body also becomes pure. You will be sterile meat for the beast and will not fulfill its hunger, will not make it stronger. The scavenger pecked at Sinclair's head, pulling out three long silver hairs and dropping them on his chest.
    The medicine man sank lower still into the earth, to its seething volcanic core. His remains liquefied and were pressured into molten magma. Riding the blazing red river upward, it shot