Eternity's Mark (13 page)

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Authors: Maeve Greyson

BOOK: Eternity's Mark
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The log shifted as Taggart joined her, causing Hannah to lurch against his side. Scrabbling her way to the other end of the teetering seat, she glared at the mischief flashing in his eyes. He did that on purpose. He delighted in baiting her. Did he want her to split his lip again? Hannah gritted her teeth. “Are you going to tell me where you are from or not?”
“Erastaed is the name of my world. Cair Orlandis is the Royal House or the bloodline from which I descend.” Taggart folded his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. “Ye reach my world through the portal located at Taroc Na Mor. There is a powerful gateway there permitting passage to many wondrous worlds, or dimensions. Gearlach and his kind are the conductors of the portals. Without the awesome power of the mystical Draecna, the gateways would cease to function.”
Royal bloodlines, portals to other worlds that needed mystical beasts to power them? Hannah closed her eyes and massaged her temples. He'd said he was the eldest son. Hannah opened her eyes. “If you're the eldest son of a royal house, then why aren't you back at the castle leading your people or something? Or isn't that how it works in your world?”
A groaning sigh pulled Taggart's face into a troubled scowl. Rising from the log, he stoked the fire until the flames licked even higher toward the winking stars piercing through the darkness. Lifting his face toward the pinpoints of light, he turned a slow circle as though searching for a particular set. “The hour grows late, Hannah. Pull your pallet close to the fire and try to get some rest. There will be time for more answers tomorrow. I promise. The longer we're at Taroc Na Mor, the more you will come to understand.”
Hannah's head snapped up in disbelief. Did he actually presume to send her to bed? Was he serious? Taggart's face glowed by the light of the blaze as he stared down into the depths of the coals.
“I am not tired,” Hannah retorted. “I want information. I think it's important I know more about you before I go any further.”
“Please, Hannah,” Taggart begged without pulling his gaze from the snapping flames. “I'm weary and I'm askin' ye. Please leave it until tomorrow.”
Something in his voice wrenched at her heart. Hannah heard utter bleakness, a deeply felt sorrow; she sensed a sadness sifting into his tone. Taggart sounded defeated. She didn't like it when he went belly up. It just didn't fit his protective nature.
Rolling her aching shoulders as she rose from her seat on the stump, she headed over to fetch her pallet. Another glance at his drawn, weary face stayed the questions on the tip of her tongue. No. She'd bide her time. Find out more when Taggart was ready. After all, there wasn't any need to cause him pain. Hannah scooped up the blankets and hugged them to her chest. “Well, maybe I'm more tired than I thought. Good night, Taggart. We'll talk about it in the morning.”
“Sleep well, Hannah, and thank ye.”
C
HAPTER
F
OUR
“W
hy did you leave her after I specifically asked ye to watch over her?” Taggart risked a glance back over his shoulder at Hannah as Gearlach fidgeted in place before him. Good. She still slept. At least while she snored beneath the mound of blankets, she didn't batter him with questions he wasn't prepared to answer.
Gearlach hung his head and worried a splintered claw around one of his crooked horns. He wrinkled the mottled skin on his great, greenish snout as he stubbed the foreclaw of his right foot deep into the soft earth. “I heard something prowling about in the wood and I thought I should go have a look-see.” He fretted and scraped an odd-shaped symbol in the dried silt he'd knocked loose from the limestone shelf extending around the base of the cliff. He balanced himself with stubby forearms held akimbo; his scaled body swaying back and forth as he scratched jagged glyphs deep in the darkened soil with the curved claw on his biggest toe.
“Stop that, Gearlach! Ye know that symbol will call up a storm and I am sick and tired of getting soaked.” Taggart rubbed out the markings with the toe of his boot as he shoved against the sulking Draecna's chest.
“Well, if ye would go ahead and mate with the snippy lass, ye wouldna have to keep dousing your cock in every bit of icy water ye can find.” Gearlach shoved back, knocking Taggart across the clearing into a thicket of newly sprouted rowans.
Rage surged through him as he disentangled himself from the weave of silvery branches. With teeth clenched, Taggart stumbled out of the brush and knocked broken branches off his sleeves. He'd strangle that insolent, oversized lizard. With a glance over at the motionless mound of blankets by the fire, he bit back the response he longed to roar. Hannah still hadn't moved. Thank the fires of all Erastaed; the longer the woman slept, the better. He dreaded all the questions she'd launch at him as soon as those accusing eyes popped open.
“It—is—forbidden,” Taggart hissed through gritted teeth. “And ye know there are several reasons why.”
Gearlach rolled his golden eyes as he stretched out a tip of his hooked wing and scratched behind his scaly pointed ear. “Do ye truly think she will mind the fact ye are a Draecna hybrid and ye've hidden your form in that human shape she seems to favor so much? She seems to be the sensible sort. After all, she didna mind me. She didna even scream.”
“Ecnelis!”
Taggart snapped with a nod of his head. “Ye will be silent until I decide ye have found the wisdom to know what information should be spoken aloud and what should not be shared with any who happen to be in your presence.”
“What is all the yelling about?” Hannah's muffled growl emerged from the depths of the blankets piled beside the fire.
“God's beard,” Taggart groaned. “Now look what ye've done. Ye've awakened the raging beastie herself.” Taggart shot Gearlach a withering glare as the Draecna fixed him with a sharp-toothed grin and returned to cleaning the dirt from underneath his claws with the pointed tip of his tail.
“I heard that,” Hannah snapped, throwing back the covers as she rolled to her knees. She wrestled her way out of the wad of blankets and stumbled toward the dwindling fire while rubbing her lower back. “Why did you let me sleep so long? We should've been up and going hours ago.”
“Ye needed your rest,” Taggart grumbled. He wasn't about to tell her the real reason. He cringed and waited for the arsenal of questions he knew perched on the tip of her tongue.
Shaking out the blankets, Hannah winced with a roll of her shoulders and folded the blankets against her chest. “I guess I was pretty tired. Jet lag must've nabbed me after all. But we really need to get moving. Instead of bothering with a campfire breakfast, can we just eat some of that dried trail mix while we ride? Where's the bottled water? If you don't mind, I'm not all that up on drinking water out of that spring.”
Taggart cut a glance over toward Gearlach, who merely tapped a claw across his pale green lips and returned a wink before ambling off into the woods. “Ye don't even want some of that noxious coffee ye favor so much? I have a coffeepot in the pack. I can have some of the black wicked brew ready for ye in no time at all.”
Hannah rolled the blankets into a tighter bundle and belted them behind her saddle. “As tempting as that generous offer sounds, I'm anxious to see Taroc Na Mor. I'll just wait until we get there for my first cup of the day. I'd rather we got going if you don't mind.”
The minx plotted something. He'd bet Gearlach's oversized arse in gold. Did she think him some sort of fool? Taggart scratched the stubble peppering his face while he admired the temptation of her fine, round backside as she bent to shove gear into another bag. She hadn't mentioned a word about last night. Not one prying question or comment about anything they'd discussed. He'd been certain she'd launch a verbal assault as soon as those fiery green eyes popped open. She had to be setting some sort of trap. “Aye, perhaps that would be best. The sooner we get ye settled at Taroc Na Mor, the sooner ye shall see what a fine place ye have come to call your own.” Taggart kicked dirt on what was left of the night's fire and smothered out the orange, glowing coals.
As they rode down the trail, Taggart rolled his shoulders as though feeling an itch he couldn't reach. Hannah's stare burned through the center of his back. Her mind hummed at him with questions she longed to ask. Dammit to hell, the woman electrified the very air with everything she wished to know. She fair ticked aloud like an activated bomb set to detonate at any minute. Taggart slowed his horse and turned in the saddle to face her. “Hannah, for heaven's sake, by all that is holy. Just ask me what ye want to know.”
Hannah arched a brow and stared back at him, her hands folded atop the horn of the saddle. “Wow. Aren't we a little tense this morning?” She popped another handful of raisins and nuts in her mouth as she rocked to the rhythm of the horse's gait.
With an irritated growl, Taggart swung back around in his saddle and urged his horse to a faster trot. The woman bordered along the edge of impossible. He knew she wanted to ask him questions. Why didn't she just do it?
“I learned a long time ago no man is going to tell me anything until he's quite good and ready. I figure when you're ready to talk, you'll tell me everything I want to know.”
The little minx. Taggart pulled on his reins and brought his horse to an abrupt stop. He turned in the saddle just in time to catch Hannah's grin. “Last night ye asked me why I wasn't the leader of my people since I am the eldest son of a royal line? Do ye remember that, ye wicked woman? Never ye mind, dinna answer that.” Taggart arched a brow well into his hairline while his hands tensed into a strangle hold on the reins. He wasn't about to give her the opportunity to answer, knowing Hannah would just piss him off. “I guess ye could say my father found me to be bit different. So, he chose my younger brother in my stead.”
Hannah shifted, leaning forward in the saddle and scrutinized him up and down. “What do you mean different? Is it your magic? Grandma always told me to keep quiet about the magic. You know people fear what they don't understand.”
Her observation almost choked him as he swallowed a bitter laugh and shuttered painful memories back in their tightly kept closets. If only magic was all it was. Taggart nearly snapped the reins in two. Better she believe it was just the magic. She need never know the entire truth. If all went well, Hannah would never see his true form.
Taggart jerked his head forward with an acerbic snort. “Not everyone on Erastaed is capable of magic. Especially, the
abilities
I possess. Many fear it, which seems to be a universal trait. As ye said, people fear what they dinna understand.”
Hannah studied him as she laced strands of Lisbet's black mane between her fingers as though she wove a tapestry. “So you lost your birthright just because you were born gifted? I'm so sorry, Taggart. I don't understand how a father could do that to his son.”
A stab of uneasiness clawed at his bowels. Taggart hated a half-truth as much as a lie. But he couldn't help it. He wasn't prepared to reveal all of Taroc Na Mor's secrets, not just yet. He hadn't won Hannah's complete loyalty and trust; she still teetered on the edge. He couldn't risk losing her now, not when they'd come this far. “Don't worry yourself o'er much about it, Hannah. I've adjusted and am quite satisfied with my life. After all, I'm the protector of the guardian of Taroc Na Mor. I'm most pleased watching over ye and helping ye settle in to your new life.”
Hannah waggled a warning finger over Lisbet's head as she eased the horse into a comfortable swaying gait up the narrow trail hugging the side of the mountain. “I told you I'm here on a trial basis only, remember? Now swivel around in your saddle there, cowboy, and let's get on our way to this heaven on earth you've promised me.”
 
A chill wind howled around the skirting wall, whistling its way in from the churning sea. An early-evening mist swirled atop the chopping waves battering against the base of the gray, jagged cliffs. Hannah shivered as she scanned the black, weather-worn stones of the castle. She hugged herself, tightening her jacket closer as she rubbed the tingling skin at the back of her neck. Wow. All this place needed was some eerie organ music, a howling wolf, and the rattle of chains echoing in the background.
And that smell.
Whew
. The air reeked with an unbearable fog. Hannah choked back a gag. Heaven above, what caused that stench? Something pungent and acrid, like a cross between rotten eggs and singed hair, battered against her senses. Hannah wrinkled her nose and covered her face with one hand as her eyes watered until tears streamed down her cheeks. The memory of lab experiments with smoking sulfur came to mind, but something indescribable layered along with the noxious vapor ... decayed fish, maybe?
“Taggart, what is that god-awful smell?” Hannah mumbled behind her fingers.
Taggart lifted his head and sniffed. “I dinna smell anything unusual in the wind. What does it smell like to ye?”
Hannah squinted more water from her eyes and prayed the tears would relieve the ferocious burning caused by the toxic ammonia-like fumes cutting through the air. She tightened her grip on her nose and gasped a quick intake of air through her mouth. “I caddot belieb you caddot smell dat. It sbells like sodedody's filled a hair bag with chidden shid and sed id on fire!”
“What did ye say?”
Taking another quick breath through her mouth, Hannah released her nose and repeated, “I said I cannot believe you cannot smell that. It smells like somebody's filled a hair bag full of chicken shit and set it on fire!”
“Oh that.” Taggart nodded. “That's Draecna scat. Dinna worry. When the tide comes in it will cleanse the feces from the rocks below and the odor willna be nearly as offensive.”
Hannah stared at him and clamped her hand back over her face. Did he just tell her she smelled Draecna shit? This enchanted wonderland that was supposed to sweep her off her feet reeked so ripe it nearly burned her eyes out of their sockets. “Can't you teach them to shit out to sea? Or will it destroy the ecosystem in this part of the ocean?”
“Ergonomics,” Taggart replied with a shrug. “They canna fly and shit at the same time.”
Hannah swallowed hard and fixed him a narrow-eyed look. Surely he didn't expect her to believe that load of bunk. Even a common sparrow could drop a load while soaring overhead. “Let's just go inside.”
With a wicked grin, Taggart shouldered open the double oak doors gracing the front of the keep. The blackened hinges creaked and groaned, protesting at being disturbed. Their footsteps echoed throughout the hub of the main entryway and into the honeycomb of tiled hallways shooting off in every direction. Enormous supporting beams stained black with age staggered across the vaulted ceiling like the ribs of some prehistoric beast. Hannah slowed until her steps came to a sliding halt and she found herself open-mouthed in the center of what appeared to be some sort of welcoming room.
Hannah spun in a slow circle, entranced by the elaborate furniture, the exquisite artwork, and the sculptures gracing the halls.
Mouth shut,
she reminded herself as she craned her neck and stared at the massive architecture of the interior of the castle. Taggart would think her some kind of fool walking around the keep like a slack-jawed tourist. The heart of the castle appeared to be the perfect opposite of the dilapidated exterior. Glancing toward the doorway, then back at the room, she almost wanted to go back to make sure she hadn't lost her mind. While outside, the castle had seemed a beaten-down Scottish keep, neglected and ravaged by the winds of time. Once inside the door, she felt like she'd taken some sort of potion and found herself the size of a tiny doll within a giant's house.
This room consisted of flooring inlaid with gold-streaked marble and vaulted ceilings supported by satin-finished granite pillars. Burnished mahogany formed the panels of the walls and gleamed along the curved banisters of the winding stairways. The finest inlays of ivory, silver, and gold, as well as metals Hannah couldn't identify, decorated every surface. Tracing her fingers along the sumptuous velvet of a chair, Hannah fingered the ornate tassels of an overstuffed pillow and let the satin threads tickle across her palm. The furnishings amazed her. Pristine antiques strategically adorned the heavy-legged tables scattered through the halls. Love seats and settees clustered about in cozy seating areas. Hannah's jaw dropped at their gargantuan proportions. The comfort of giants appeared to be the clear intent the designer of the home had in mind.

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