Chapter 18
“Idinna ken what to do.” Taggart stood in the nursery, eyeing the remaining eggs on the pedestal.
He flexed his fingers, forcing himself to relax and focus.
He stared at the eggs, urgency and frustration growing the longer nothing happened.
“Kill that feckin’ music! By all that is holy, I need silence to accomplish this impossible task.
” The delicate strains of violins disappeared.
“Now it feels a tomb.” Gearlach’s loud grumbling bounced off the polished gray walls and echoed around the cavern.
“Nice and warm thought,” William said. “And smell the pretty flowers?” He lifted his snout, snorted in a loud breath, then sneezed.
Teeth clenched, Taggart closed his eyes.
The youngling was right. The delicate scent of the moon lilies calmed him as the fragrance stroked his senses.
Sweet and clean, like Hannah. His beloved Hannah, who had accepted him for the monster he was and still opened herself to him, body and soul.
And with every hope he possessed, her heart too.
He shook himself free of her intoxicating memory and forced himself back to the present.
“Septamus, remind me of the rite to bring them forth? Help me, I beg ye.”
Septamus shook his head while circling the platform.
He gently ran a gnarled claw across each of the softly glowing eggs.
“We need your mother. She helped with the last hatching, even though it proved less than successful. She would know for certain what you need to do to free them from their shells.”
“The hatching moon is almost here. Why dinna they just come out?” William tapped a claw against the side of an egg, jumping when Gearlach thumped him on the back of his horned head.
“Stop that! Are ye daft?”
William tucked both forepaws behind his back and ducked his head. “I was just trying to help.”
“Well, stop it,” Gearlach snapped. “Ye’re behaving like me and are supposed to be smarter than that.”
“I will not summon Mother.” Taggart studied the eggs.
He’d had no contact with Mother since Mia spurned him right before their matrimonial rites.
And today was not the day for her overbearing attitude of I told you so.
She had warned him repeatedly against aligning with Mia’s house.
Mother had despised that bloodline for centuries and detested Mia personally.
He had lost count of her lectures advising against the match.
She had threatened to spell him if he didn’t listen.
“Just because your mother was right about Mia does not mean she will gloat. Especially not today and with our Guardian’s life at stake.
” Septamus returned Taggart’s narrow-eyed scowl.
“Fine. She would not mention it over much. Probably just remind you to listen to her the next time she offers advice.” Septamus shooed William away from a cluster of moon lilies with a flip of his tail.
Much his hybrid arse. Taggart knew better.
Mother never missed an opportunity to lecture him on every error he had ever committed.
How gullible did Septamus think he was? If they summoned Mother, the first words out of her mouth would be that she had warned him repeatedly about that—what was it she used to call Mia?
—useless herb-wielding trollop. He shuddered.
Mother’s tirade that Mia was not fit to wipe the slime from her grandchildren’s behinds still echoed clearly in his mind.
“We will do this without her.” Taggart eased the nearest egg into his arms and cradled it as though it were a child.
He stroked the pebbled surface. Concentrated on the pulsating light.
Listened to the steady heartbeat. He wished the tenets had been more explicit.
They could have at least recorded the steps.
He had to accomplish this. For Hannah’s sake.
They must storm Erastaed before it was too late.
The egg warmed, and the play of its inner light sped to an excited frenzy.
The wee beastie’s movements increased until the egg bumped against his chest. Taggart held his breath.
A cracking sound echoed through the chamber; then frantic scratching inside the shell grew louder as the little beast struggled to be free.
“Help him, Taggart. The magic binds the shell tight around us. That’s why Mother had to help me.” William tapped him on the arm, pointing excitedly to a piece of the shell rising then falling back as though firmly glued in place.
“What did Mother do to help ye, William? Do ye remember?” Taggart kept his concentration focused on the egg as he lowered it to William’s level.
With a flutter of his small wings, the youngling nodded at the undulating shell and touched it with a hesitant claw. “She peeled it away and called out to me. Called me by name and told me not to be afraid. Said she wanted to meet me.”
“It cannot be that simple.” Septamus edged closer, peering down at the hatchling fighting to emerge.
“Let us find out,” Taggart said. After a moment’s hesitation, he rubbed his fingertips together, then took hold of the fractured edge and gave it a tug. A powerful jolt traveled up his arm, burned across his shoulder, then exploded with searing white fury through his chest.
“Holy Hades!” The pain knocked him back a step and nearly made him drop the egg.
“Wow.” William sounded duly impressed. “Must be the protective magic.”
Fingers still tingling and arm aching, Taggart glared at the little Draecna. “I would say it works verra well. Any other suggestions, William?”
“Ye forgot to call him by name, remember? Before Mother pulled my shell away, she said my name.”
Eyes closed and struggling to remain calm, Taggart reminded himself William was not only extremely young, he was also Hannah’s pride and joy.
He must be patient with the lad. Hannah loved William like her own child.
“I thought she named ye after she drew ye from the shell. When I walked into the nursery, she lifted ye into the air and I distinctly remember her saying she would call ye William.”
William shook his head. “Nay. Ye heard wrong. She said she thought William was a fine name. She had already called me by it before she pulled the shell away. She knew me before I was born. I remember it now. ’Tis the only way the magic knew ’twas safe to release me into her arms.”
“How are ye supposed to know their names?” Gearlach asked as he looked out across all the remaining eggs.
“Listen to their whispers.” William nodded toward the egg in Taggart’s arms. “Can ye not hear him? He’s crying out to ye even now.”
Taggart frowned at the youngling, then eyed the rumbling egg. He heard nothing other than scratching, a series of thumps, and hissing growls. He held the egg higher and tilted an ear almost close enough to touch the shell.
“Nostradamae,” said the growling whisper from inside it.
“Nostradamae,” Taggart repeated, readying himself for another shock as he grabbed the bit of shell and pulled. The painful jolt didn’t come. Instead, he found himself nose to nose with a moist, green snout.
The struggling hatchling pushed his head through the membrane with a pop as the rest of the shell gave way. Nostradamae purred and rubbed his slimy muzzle against Taggart’s chin after clambering the rest of the way out.
“See? All ye had to do was call his name. Now ye’ve only got eighteen more to go.” William bobbed his head, bouncing excitedly around the other eggs.
“William, hush!” Septamus drew closer and examined the newly hatched young Draecna Taggart held. “He must also meld with each of them. They must taste of his DNA to speed up their maturity.”
“Taste his what?” William eyed the hatchling as it squirmed in Taggart’s arms, then tugged on Septamus’s wing. “How?”
“I do not need the additional commentary. Silence, if ye please!” Taggart shot them both a withering glare. Septamus knew better. He was an upper-level Draecna. Had even served in Mother’s court as an advisor.
Septamus bowed his head and silenced William with a thump on the tip of his snout. “Forgive us. Please continue and we shall watch with the peace and quiet you require.”
With a roll of his shoulders to rid himself of as much tension as possible, Taggart shifted to his Draecna form. Nostradamae trilled and flapped his damp little wings, his glowing eyes growing wide at the sudden metamorphosis.
“I willna hurt ye little one. Ye will soon be as big as I.” After seating the wee youngling back on the pedestal, Taggart unsheathed a single silver-tipped claw and cut a gash in his palm.
He held his bleeding fist over the hatchling and allowed three drops to fall between Nostradamae’s horns in the center of his tiny, wrinkled forehead.
With a silent prayer for the melding to work, Taggart placed his other hand firmly atop the blood and concentrated on the last seven hundred years, sifting through his memories.
As his hand warmed then glowed, the blood soaked into the hatchling and disappeared as though it had never been there.
Nostradamae’s physical size increased in a matter of minutes until he stood as large and muscular as Taggart.
Once Taggart broke the connection, the fully matured Draecna opened his eyes. His deep voice rumbled from the depths of his broad, sparkling chest. “I am ready to battle at your side, Father. When do we leave for Erastaed?”
Taggart blew out a relieved breath. Thank the gods and goddesses. The melding worked and no sign of mental poisoning shone in Nostradamae’s eyes. The tension eased as he gave the powerful young Draecna a nod of approval. “As soon as I awaken the rest of yer siblings, we leave for Erastaed.”