Chapter 24
The stench burned her eyes and made them water.
Hannah blinked hard and tightened the black scarf hanging over the lower half of her face.With her lips clamped shut, she took shallow breaths while belly-crawling through the darkness to the back of Sloan’s tent.
They had erected his elaborate shelter at the edge of a grassy hillside.
Arrogant bastard. The look on his face when she showed up with her dagger would be priceless.
The undulating hillocks adjoining the open hillside made perfect channels to hide her midnight run.
The moonless sky assisted her journey; the cloak of its shadow proved to be her friend. She glanced up at the roiling storm clouds blocking the stars and relaxed even more. Karma seemed to be on her side. She would end Erastaed’s misery tonight.
When she reached the flat stretch of ground making up the last few yards to the back of his tent, she paused. The campsite seemed as silent as a graveyard. There wasn’t any movement around any of the tents. Her heart hammered up into her throat.
Squinting through the darkness, she spotted dazzling crystal obelisks mounted beside the stakes of the tents. They periodically fired into the darkness, revealing no obvious source of power that she might disconnect. Their brightness fluctuated with the steady rhythm of a slowly beating heart.
A movement near the tent caught her attention.
She held her breath as a lizard the size of a small dog slithered out of a stand of grass.
The unsuspecting reptile meandered into the barrier between the obelisks.
The firing rhythm of the stones synced and a blinding line of white light reduced the lizard to nothing more than a puff of smoke.
Hannah flinched. Poor lizard. If only he’d had better timing, he might have made it.
No wonder there wasn’t any movement outside the tents; the crystal sensors worked better than any guards.
Now, what was she going to do? She couldn’t stay here forever.
With her chin propped in her hand, she studied the obelisks as they fired another beam of light around the tent.
She hated technology. At least sometimes she did.
The laser disappeared just as quickly as it connected the sentries into a glowing arc.
She sighed and settled more comfortably into the hillock and studied the sensor’s process three more times.
If she timed her entry just right, she could be under the tent flap before the beam detected her.
She edged closer to the tent, waited a few seconds, allowed the sentries to fire again, then rolled under the edge of the canvas right into Corter’s hairy leg.
“Well, looky here at the little piggy that just rolled into me feet! Looks like I’ll be gettin’ to gut you after all!"
“I made it, Taggart.” William flipped the tent flap aside with his snout and stopped just inside the door.
Taggart’s head snapped up. “And Hannah? Where is your mother, William?” He didn’t care for the way the young one avoided looking him in the eye. What had she talked the poor unsuspecting lad into this time?
William stared at his feet and worried with the end of one of his wings.
“William.” Taggart gripped the edges of the table until his knuckles cramped. “I am going to ask ye one more time. Where is Hannah?”
“We spied on Sloan’s tents on our way here.” The youngling drooped his head lower and dug a hole in the dirt with his biggest toe.
“And?” Taggart prompted. The lad had best spill the rest of his story soon or he was going to strangle him.
“When she saw what he did to Gearlach, she decided to sneak up on him tonight and kill him herself.” William clutched his wings around himself like a cloak.
“She decided what?” Taggart threw the table out of the way and lunged for the youngling.
William scrambled just out of his reach, his eyes flaring wide as Taggart shifted into his Draecna form.
“She told me she was going to visit Sloan. But I know what she is truly planning. She thinks I am just a baby and that I can’t figure things out.
She said it would be okay and that I should just come and get you. ”
“That woman is going to drive me insane!” Taggart released a frustrated roar while destroying the side of his tent with a furious swipe of a claw. He turned back to William and shook a clenched fist. “Did I not tell ye to watch her, boy? Did I not tell ye to keep her out of trouble?”
“She doesna bear watching easily. Have ye ever tried doing it?” William unstrapped the bags Hannah had forced on him, threw them to the floor, and shot Taggart a bullish glare.
“Sounds like someone is finally growing up,” Septamus observed from his seat in the corner.
With his eyes narrowed to venomous slits, Taggart whirled and snarled at them both.
“It is well past midnight. I have no time for your snide observations. I fly to Sloan’s tent on the winds of the storm.
Follow me if ye dare.” With his wings spread, he launched himself into the sky through the gaping hole in the tent.
Fueled by fury, he faced into the bitter wind, praying he would reach his lady love in time.
“I truly appreciate you making it so easy for us.” Sloan graced her with a sadistic smile as he poured a glass of wine. “Now I won’t have to hunt you down for your crucifixion at Tiersa Deun.”
Hannah tested the ropes binding her wrists behind her back before answering.
Not that tight, and they hadn’t found her dagger tucked against the small of her back.
Good. Possibilities abounded. She merely had to keep him distracted while she worked her hands loose.
“Glad I could help. You seemed to need it.”
Corter kicked her to her knees. “Mind your tongue! Show some respect to your betters.”
“Now, Corter.” Sloan clucked like an overfed hen as he sauntered across the length of the tent. “We mustn’t be cruel. Not just yet. Help her to the settee and undo her hands so she might join us in a glass of wine.”
Corter yanked her to her feet. He sliced through the ropes with a short, stubby knife then shoved her closer to Sloan.
After sizing up his blade, she hazarded a glance around the room and noticed no other weapons.
Good. Corter’s paring knife was no match for her Draecna dagger.
Adrenaline fueled her quickening heart rate as a plan unfolded in front of her.
While staying focused on Sloan and Corter, she eased a hand behind her back and slipped her dagger out of her waistband.
As Sloan poured her wine, the blade melted into her hand and snuggled against her wrist as though it understood exactly what she needed.
She made a show of rubbing her wrists as though they ached from the bite of the ropes when both men looked her way.
“You do like wine?” Sloan held up a crystal decanter.
“Oh, absolutely,” she said. She wouldn’t miss this glass of wine for the world.
Her heart raced as Sloan filled the glass.
Her stomach churned, eager for the kill.
She focused on Sloan’s chest as he sauntered toward her, ignoring his victorious leer as he prowled closer.
She would aim for the soft spot just below his breastbone.
Her hand flexed around the bejeweled haft of her dagger as she envisioned the killing thrust.
“Your wine, beloved Guardian,” he sneered, extending the glass.
“Your death,” she countered as she buried the dagger to the hilt. With a satisfied grunt, she twisted it up under his rib cage. She locked eyes with him as she rotated the blade.
Sloan sputtered a series of short, choking gasps.
His mouth opened and closed as he stared down at her hand.
The wineglass slowly slipped from his grasp and shattered.
Shuddering, he coughed out a spray of bloody air.
As he reached for her throat, she twisted the knife again.
The jewels in the dagger's handle hummed and radiated a visible energy field around them as Sloan sagged to the floor.
“Sloan!” Corter barreled out from behind the wine cabinet with his short blade ready. “You vile wench! You might have killed him, but you won’t be killing me.”
She yanked her dagger free and slashed at Corter’s face. “Come on. I’ll carve you like a Christmas ham.”
The front section of the tent exploded into flames.
Sloan’s gaudy oil paintings hanging from their golden cords along the tent poles burst into blazing squares.
Wine bottles exploded and metalwork melted into dripping, orange molten curls as the heat intensified into an uncontrollable inferno.
The white-hot blaze incinerated all it touched.
“I am gonna kill you!” Corter lunged toward her.
She danced to the side, slashing as she did, and opened a long gash down the side of Corter’s belly. The fiend rounded, slapped his hand to the wound, and rushed at her again. Just as he bore down on her, she dove straight at his short, stubby legs, slashing his knees as she rolled.
Corter stumbled, his bloody limbs churning as he lost his footing. He lurched to the side and landed in the burning wall of canvas. His scream split the air as the material melted into his flesh, entrapping him in a blanket of flames. She turned her face aside and backed away.
“Hannah!” Taggart’s bellow rang loud and clear through the raging inferno eating the canvas.
He burst through the wall of fire, his wings outspread, like an avenging angel straight from the depths of Hell.
He gathered her close, gently touching her face as though he feared she wasn’t real.
The longer he gazed into her eyes, the fiercer his scowl grew.
“When I get ye back to my tent I am going to turn ye across my knee and fair beat ye until ye learn to do as ye’re told! ”
She pressed deeper into the sheltering curve of his outspread wing and smile. “Promise? After all, we never had our wedding night.”
With his wings outspread, Taggart slowed their descent, touching down in the center of the dusty encampment.
Hannah’s heart fell at the sight of the barren ground beaten to a pulp by the constant marches of the Draecna guards.
If Erastaed had farmers, they would have to work hard to get anything to grow here again.
The overpowering smell of Draecna scat filled the air, making her smile.
It reminded her of her first impression of the shores of Taroc Na Mor.
Even though the night had traveled well past the twin moon’s zenith, all the Draecna stood gathered in the middle of the village of tents, standing until Taggart returned. The sight made her proud. This was his heritage. His place. His destiny. Taking care of his people.
“It is over,” Taggart announced as he eased her feet to the ground. “Sloan is dead. His tent city smolders, fully burnt to the ground. His and Corter’s bodies were cremated within.”
Isla stepped forward. “Are you certain? Truly certain? Your brother and his executioner are both finally dead?”
With a smile, Taggart pulled her forward into the circle of the firelight.
She held up her dagger. The blood on the blade reflected a purple-red haze in the flickering light of the fire. “Sloan is dead and so is Corter. I shared this precious gift given to me just days ago.”
The Draecna lifted their snouts and shot flames high into the ebony darkness of the sky as Taggart hugged her close. “Erastaed is free. We can rebuild and now the people can live their lives without fear.”
A pushing and scuffling deep in the group worked its way to the front of the clearing. Several of the younger Draecna soldiers nearest Taggart parted, smiling and nudging each other as Dasim pushed through them.
“Might I see the precious blade?” he asked, his eyes darting from side to side as he extended a shaking claw.
“Of course, Dasim.” She smiled and placed it in his grasp. Isla had explained that Dasim was special.
He turned the knife over and over between both his claws, his horns twitching as he shook his head. “This is Sloan’s blood on this knife?” he asked while tapping the blade. “He is truly dead?”
“Aye,” Taggart said quietly. “Sloan is finally dead. That is his blood.” He smiled at the bewildered Draecna squinting at the knife.
“Then I must mix it with yours.” Dasim lunged and buried the blade deep in Taggart’s chest and twisted.
“No!” Hannah screamed and jumped on Dasim's back. She pounded and beat him across the head while he whipped his neck to shake her free. “What have you done?” she sobbed, trying to claw at his eyes. “Stop!”
The other Draecna surged and pulled him off, knocking her to the ground. Septamus caught Taggart by the shoulders and gently lowered him to the ground. The gemstones encrusted on the dagger’s hilt vibrated and glowed just as they had when Sloan’s life force left him.
Hannah crawled over to him, crouching over him as the knife hummed and whirred in his chest. Terror clenched at her heart.
She grabbed the knife and tried to pull it free.
It repelled her with a shocking jolt. “No!” she screamed again as she caught hold of it again and pulled.
She didn’t care if it burned away every bit of her flesh.
Taggart could not die. The blade refused to budge.
“Hannah,” he whispered, resting his hand on hers. “It is no use. Only the one who inflicted the wound can remove it. It is the tenet.”
“You promised me you could not die. Tell me what to do to save you.” She cradled his head in her lap, her entire world crumbling as his eyes fluttered open and closed.
A faint smile played across his mouth as he struggled to speak.
“Only another Draecna could take my life, my dearest love. The odds of that happening seemed verra slim indeed. But now it seems my time has ended after all. I am so verra sorry, my beloved one. But I canna stay with ye as long as I once thought.” He lifted a hand to her face and stroked her cheek. “Can ye forgive me?”
“I can forgive you anything if you will just live. Please?” A sob escaped her as she hugged his hand to her face.
“I fear I canna do that, my love. But know this, my love doesna die with me. It lasts for the eternity I promised ye.”
“You cannot leave me, Taggart. You promised you would never leave me!” She buried her face against the cooling flesh of his throat. This could not be happening. He already felt so cold. “I need you, Taggart. Please. Please don’t leave me. You can’t expect me to live forever without you.”
“I am so sorry, my Hannah.” He shuddered with a gasping cough. “Please forgive me, my love. Ye know I will be forever . . . yours. Call out to me, m’love. I promise I will always hear.”
An explosion of flames burst in the clearing in front of them, followed by a piercing howl. William had finally found his first blaze and with it, killed Dasim.