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Authors: Maeve Greyson

Eternity's Mark (27 page)

BOOK: Eternity's Mark
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I love ye,
he mouthed with a slight nod of his head.
Hannah shivered. It was the first time Taggart had actually said the words.
I love you too,
she mouthed back. A warm glow released throughout her body.
“Are ye ready, Guardian?” Esme cleared her throat.
“I hope so, Esme.” Hannah took a deep breath as she turned her full attention on the young female. Esme seemed so determined and sure of herself. Hannah hoped she knew what she was doing.
“It will be fine, Guardian. Ye must trust me.”
“I do, Esme. Or I wouldn't be here,” Hannah replied. “Please do whatever it is you're going to do.”
Esme took a deep breath; her tiled chest expanded and shimmered beneath the torchlight flickering in the hall. Then she exhaled and enshrouded Hannah's body in a cloud of silver-white flames, keeping them burning brightly as Isla's voice echoed off the crystals scattered throughout the room.
“By the power of blaze, by the power of flame, death shall no longer have any claim.”
Inside the circle of flames, Hannah squinted against the brilliance of the light, reaching out to touch the flickering tongues of the fire around her. The flames licked through her fingers, but she felt no heat from the yellow-white tongues of fire. How odd to watch something that should be so painful and not register the normal feeling at all. But she felt
different.
She couldn't quite place it; a strange coursing of energy pulsated through her body. Turning, Hannah raised her arms in the enveloping light, lost in the miasma of brightness surrounding her. Warmth seeped through her, like a sip of brandy as it burned down her throat and coursed through her entire system. Her hand to her chest, Hannah frowned and concentrated. Had she died? She pressed a finger to her wrist. She couldn't detect the beating of her heart. She pressed down hard against the general area of her jugular vein. Wait, there it was. Finally, she felt it. Her heart had slowed to a rare beat every now and then. She exhaled and looked down at her hands. With a smile, she noticed the skin had smoothed to a lustrous eerie glow.
The flames gradually withered away and everyone's smiling faces came into view.
“Ye see, Guardian? I told ye I would not
crispy-critter
ye, as ye so succinctly put it,” Esme stated with a disgruntled sniff.
Reaching out to clasp Esme's front claws between her hands, Hannah bowed her head. “Thank you, Esme, for this precious gift, and I'm very sorry if I offended you.”
“Your gratitude and your apology are accepted.”
With a cough, Septamus stepped up to the platform with a curved dagger clutched in one claw. “Allow me to present this gift to ye, Guardian, from all your beloved Draecna. Ye now have the lifespan and the sight to see through the Waerin's glamour. Unfortunately, there is no way to arm ye with the holiness of the Draecna fire. The claw of an ancient Draecna crafted this sacred dagger. It possesses the magic he controlled while he lived. Always keep it connected to your body. It will protect ye when others cannot be there for ye.”
Hannah hefted the knife in her hands, amazed how it immediately molded itself to her palms. It bonded to her as though it lived. She raised her head to meet Septamus's thoughtful gaze.
“It will protect ye, Guardian.”
“Thank you, Septamus.”
“And now for the joining,” Isla's voice rang out once again. “Taggart and Hannah, please face each other.”
Esme took the knife out of Hannah's hand and tucked it into the back of Hannah's dress. “It must always be touching your skin to keep ye safe. Ye must always keep it with ye.”
“Thank you,” Hannah murmured as she fixed her bodice and turned to face Taggart.
“Taggart, reveal the mark for everyone to see.” Isla nodded to her son as she stood in front of Hannah and Taggart.
Reveal the mark? What mark?
Hannah arched a brow at Taggart. She didn't know if she liked the sound of that or not. Glancing around at the expectant faces, Hannah backed up a step from Taggart. “Reveal what mark?”
“Shh, easy now, love. Watch.” Taggart smiled down into her eyes as he caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Bending closer, he blew a warm breath down the base of her throat and bare décolleté, tracing his fingertips along behind it.
In the path of his touch appeared dark whirls and icons of an intricate ornate script. A tattoo of sorts, a black-patterned writing, started at the base of Hannah's left ear, flowed down her throat and collarbone, and ended right between her breasts.
Hannah bent her head, staring down at as much of her chest as she could see. Catching her breath, she blinked twice at the detailed tattoo trailing down her body. “What is that?”
“It is my mark,” Taggart replied, opening his shirt to reveal an identical symbol on his chest.
“I don't remember seeing that on you before.” Hannah ran her fingertips across her skin, frowning at the raised edges she felt running along her throat.
“It is only visible if we wish it to be, like today,” Taggart explained.
“Hannah, the mark is Draecna tradition. It is how Taggart implanted his DNA in your system so all know you to be his mate. It is irreversible. There is no question of fidelity with Taggart.” Isla expanded her chest with pride and nodded toward her son.
“It was just a bit of a surprise,” Hannah said, shooting Taggart a look that said he should've told her about it before he'd done it. At least with her extended lifetime, now she had an eternity to discover all his secrets.
Taggart just smiled.
Isla looked over the couple's heads to the gathered Draecna. “Do ye accept the proof of Taggart's mark?”
In unison, each Draecna in the room raised his snout and blasted a short burst of flames into the air.
“Taggart of the bloodline of Cair Orlandis, your proof has been accepted.” Isla nodded in Taggart's direction and raised a golden brow when he failed to move. “Taggart?”
“William!” Taggart hissed to the young Draecna sitting on the pew closest to the platform.
“Now?” William jumped as though Gearlach had just elbowed him in the ribs.
“Yes, William, now,” Taggart groaned.
William stumbled up the steps and planted a good-sized rock into Taggart's hands. “Sorry,” he mumbled, turned back around, and tripped back to his seat.
“Poor William,” Hannah whispered as she watched his scales flash a bright shade of red. Her poor little Draecna, younger and more innocent than all the rest, he was having such a hard time growing up.
Crumbling the rock between his hands, Taggart revealed two polished bands of a dark, lustrous metal. Sliding one of the bands over Hannah's ring finger, he exhaled as it slid perfectly into place. “Draecna steel. Indestructible and pure. Just like my love for you.”
The metal warmed around her finger and sent a surge of energy pulsating through her veins. Her fingers trembling, Hannah blinked against the tears stinging her eyes as she reached for the other ring to slide onto Taggart's finger. As she felt the ring settle in place, she raised her gaze to his. “I never thought I'd be happy again. I don't know how you found me. But I'm so very glad you did.”
Taggart bent to accept the gift of Hannah's kiss just as the ceiling exploded.
Taggart pushed Hannah to the floor and covered her body with his. “Septamus!” he roared as chunks of the cavern rained down all around them. He couldn't see for the clouds of exploding crystals dusting all around them. Another blast shook the platform beneath them as Taggart transformed to his Draecna form. Spreading his wings, he shielded them both from the shards of gemstones pelting through the air.
“How did they get through to the caverns? I thought we were safe in here?” Hannah shouted, cringing and covering her eyes as debris bounced off Taggart's wings and rattled to the floor beside them.
Taggart flinched as a larger clump pegged him squarely between his wings. Anger roared through his veins like liquid fury. So, Sloan had chosen today as the day of reckoning.
“I canna tell ye how he found the stronghold or why he chose this day,” he ground out between gritted teeth. Raising his head, he released his blaze and welded the loose gemstones against what was left of the ceiling. “That should hold long enough for William to lead ye out of this room and get ye both to the shelter.”
“I'm not leaving you.” Hannah shook her head as she wriggled her Draecna dagger out from the back of her dress. “That son of a bitch ruined my dress and my day. Do you think I'm leaving here without a fight?”
“William!” Taggart bellowed, not taking his eyes from the enraged gaze of his hardheaded mate. By all the gods, she would go to that shelter with young William even if he had to paralyze her with a catatonic spell and toss her over William's back.
“I am here,” William panted, ducking as a boom echoed from a lesser cavern deeper to the north. “I will not fail ye, Taggart. Tell me what ye will have me do.”
Pulling Hannah's wrist into William's front claw, Taggart closed it around Hannah's hand. “Take your mother to the shelter, William. Do not come out until I come for ye.” Taggart paused and stared down at Hannah's tiny hand swallowed up by William's clawed hold. His heart clenched at the sight of her delicate arm, so pale and fragile in William's grasp. She had to be safe. He couldn't comprehend living a moment without her. “Keep her there, William. One of us will come for the two of ye. Make certain ye do not open the door for anyone unless ye know ye can trust them.”
“The others have gone to fight the intruders.” William nodded toward one of the tall narrow doors dangling halfway off its hinges.
“I know, William.” Taggart nodded. “I'm glad ye stayed here as ye were taught. Ye did well and this is why. 'Tis your duty to lead the Guardian to the shelter. I must go and join the others to fight off the intruders.”
“William, I want you to go to the shelter, but I'm going to stay and fight at Taggart's side. Now let me go. Uncurl your claw. I promise I'll be just fine.” Hannah squirmed and tried to pry her hand from William's clenched claw as she spoke, frowning when William shook his head.
“No. Taggart has given me a direct order, Mother, and it sounds as though it's for your own good.” William tugged on her arm and encircled her with his wing as he edged them toward a curtained off alcove toward the side of the room. “Come on, Mother. The shelter is safe. We must make the passage before another volley hits and seals off the corridor.”
“Dammit, Taggart! I said I am
not
going!” Hannah planted her feet and grabbed the tip of his wing with her free hand. “I can stay and help you fight. I'm an immortal too now, remember? I'm not leaving here without you.”
Touching her forehead with the tip of his claw, Taggart rendered her limp as a child's rag doll. “I love ye, Hannah,” Taggart whispered as he caught her up in his arms and settled her across William's back. Smoothing her green eyes closed, he pressed his lips to her temple. “I will come for ye when it is safe. Until then, ye must stay with William.” He hated to leave her, but he couldn't bear the thought of her facing Sloan.
With a nod to William, Taggart rose up and spread his wings. “The spell will render her motionless, and
silent,
for three days, lad. Hopefully, I shall be back to save your poor hide before she recovers and regains her tongue.”
C
HAPTER
T
WELVE
“H
ow many still live?” Sloan pressed his finger along the top of the crystal, relishing how much the squeal of the glass mimicked the cry of a victim in pain.
“Gearlach is the only confirmed Draecna kill, my lord. The Waerins have placed his head on a spike outside the tents. I havena bothered to count the villagers. I didna think ye gave a damn about them.” Corter ran his thick tongue across his bulging lower lip as he ogled Sloan's glass of wine.
Swirling the blood-red liquid in the long stemmed glass, Sloan frowned as he pondered Corter's report. “Ye mean to tell me, we've only killed one of those infernal beasts? What the hell seems to be the problem?” They'd been blasting the caverns for nearly three days. They should've mangled a few more of those monstrosities than that. “Are the vermin that difficult to kill?”
Corter didn't answer. He stood hypnotized by the ruby-red temptation swirling in Sloan's glass.
“Corter!” Sloan splattered the wine in the man's face. “There. Now that ye've had your wine maybe you can answer my question. Why is Gearlach the only Draecna casualty?”
Swiping at his face with the back of his hand, Corter sputtered and licked his lips. “Draecna are not the easiest creatures to kill. Their lives can only be taken by one o' their own. 'Tis something to do with that friggin' magic flowing through their bloody veins.”
“I was promised the power of the Waerins was great. I was assured their abilities would secure the safety of my throne.” Sloan tired of this bothersome game. His castle lay in ruins. During the battles, he'd taken to following the skirmishes in this less-than-adequate tent. He enjoyed his luxuries and grew bored with the constant noise and grime of this utter foolishness. It was high time they all gave up and died so he could return to his accustomed standard of living.
“A Waerin's no match for a Draecna, m'lord.” Corter backed closer to the flap of the tent and ducked as Sloan lobbed the wineglass directly at his head.
“Then ye'd best be figuring out a way to trap more Draecna to use against each other. Must I tell ye every step to take? Why the hell do I allow ye to live?” Sloan paced across the length of the tent, scuffing his slippered feet against the thick carpet. “I'm bored with this battle. I want Taggart gutted and I want the guardian's body impaled on the poles in front of Tiersa Deun.”
With a nod, Corter edged his way under the heavy flap of the tent. “Aye, Sloan. I'll see that it's done.”
 
She opened her eyes to suffocating darkness. What was different? Hannah turned her head and strained all her senses. Then she knew what had changed. The darkness rendered nothing but total deafening silence. The bone-jarring echo of exploding blasts had finally come to a halt. All that shattered the stillness of the shelter was the steady rhythm of William's breathing spiked with the occasional snore. Hannah tried to move her leg. With a start, she realized her leg had moved. That meant the three days had passed. Taggart had said the spell would lift in three days. If she could move, that meant they had at least passed the third day or possibly even more. She shifted and tested the other leg. With a bit of protest, that leg obeyed as well.
Sitting up, Hannah winced as her muscles let her know in no uncertain terms she'd been idle for entirely too long. If Taggart still lived by the time she found him, she'd wring his neck herself.
“William!” Hannah croaked out into the darkness. “William, wake up!” How in the world could he sleep at a time like this? It sounded as though he'd gone into hibernation for the winter.
Hannah massaged the feeling back into her legs and arms, willing her muscles to come to life. “William, WILL YOU PLEASE WAKE UP!” Good lord, if shouting didn't work, she'd have to crawl over there and beat him.
“I've been awake. I'm guarding you, remember?” William released a loud, creaking yawn with a great smacking of his jowls. “Is Taggart back yet?” Shuffling sounded in the darkness to Hannah's right, followed by a series of popping farts.
“No. Not yet.” Hannah swallowed hard and forced herself to ignore the dread gnawing in her chest that told her something was deadly wrong. “William, can you make a flame yet? Even a small one to create some light?”
“I'll try,” William mumbled, not sounding too confident as he scuffled around in the dark.
Hannah heard him inhale a great rumbling breath and then exhale with a mighty gush. Nothing happened. Velvety darkness weighed in all around them like a dense, eternal blanket.
“Dammit,” William muttered.
“It's all right, William. One of these days, your flame will come. It's just not ready yet.” Hannah reached out, found the young hatchling's side, and gave him a reassuring pat.
“It's not just that, Mother,” William sniffed as he rustled around in the darkness beside her. “The glowing stone Gearlach gave me to use in the night doesna work anymore.”
Feeling her way up the wall to stand, Hannah edged her way toward where she thought the door might be. “Well, maybe once things settle down, he'll be able to give you another.”
“Ye don't understand, Mother.” William's voice cracked as though he struggled to speak through emotions clenching at his throat. “If the magic has faded from Gearlach's stone, it means Gearlach is dead.”
Hannah leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Denial closed off her throat and tears stung the back of her eyelids. Surely, William had to be mistaken. “Maybe the stone just got damaged in one of the blasts, William. We mustn't give up hope.”
“The stones cannot be damaged, Mother. What I tell ye is one of the tenets Taggart drilled into my head. I promise ye, Mother, I know this for certain.”
Hannah raised a shaking hand to her face and cradled her head. Gearlach gone. What else had happened in the three days of her incapacitation? She dreaded finding out. “I know you're certain, William. I'm so sorry. I guess I just don't want it to be true.”
“I know, Mother.” William's sniff echoed through the shadows. “Gearlach always played the fool... .” William coughed and rumbled into the darkness. “But he made the very best sort of friend.”
Hannah wilted against the rough gemstone walls, the ache in her heart piercing more painfully than the unpolished crystals cutting into her back. She closed her eyes tight against the heat of tears and forced the rising hysteria back into its tiny box at the back of her mind. Now wasn't the time. She had to find Taggart. As far as she knew, he still lived and would know what they needed to do. She had to operate under that theory.
Taking a deep breath, she swallowed hard and twisted to slide her dagger out of the back of her dress. “William, I know you're hurting. I am too. But we've got to save our grieving for Gearlach for later. We've got to find our way out of this pit of darkness and join the others.”
“But Taggart said to wait until one of them came for us.”
“I'm not waiting any longer. Now, you can either come with me or sit here alone where you can't see the end of your nose. Which is it?” Hannah knew what William would choose. He feared the darkness and being alone more than anything else.
“Which way do ye think we should go? I don't remember the way we came in. We've been in here too long.”
Biting her tongue to keep from screaming, Hannah reminded herself William was very young. It had been three days since he'd carried her into the shelter and he'd probably curled up and gone to sleep as soon as he'd dropped her into the pile of pillows.
“William, this is a shelter. Do you remember seeing anything in this room we could use to find our way out? Do you remember seeing tables with lanterns or anything before the lights went out? Candles with Draecna flints lying beside them? Anything?” She could strangle Taggart and curse him with his own catatonic spell! He'd closed her eyes after he'd paralyzed her and she'd faded in and out of consciousness for the duration of the spell. She vaguely remembered the sounds of the bombing, but that was about it.
She heard William shuffling about. He sounded like an oversized rat; his rear claws scraped on the slate floor and then thumped as his feet thudded onto a carpeted area. A crash sounded, then a louder clunk and screech as William collided with what sounded like a solid piece of wood furniture.
“I found the table, Mother.”
Hannah clapped her hands together. “Good job, William!” She just hoped he hadn't cleared it of the contents whenever he'd
found
it.
She heard him pawing the top of the table; his claws clattered as he tapped the surface of the wood. “Careful, William. If you knock anything off onto the floor, you'll never find it in this darkness.”
A warm, yellow glow illuminated the darkness as William struck the shutter on a Draecna lantern. “Look what I found, Mother.” He tapped the cone-shaped top of the crystal cylinder and gave Hannah a toothy grin.
The light eased the tension in her chest. Hannah rewarded William with a laugh. The darkness fed the demons of her mind and the brightly burning lantern held the terrors at bay. “Excellent job, William. Now let's get out of this hole and try to find the others.”
 
They broke through the rubble blocking the passage and shoved their way into the main hall. Grunting, William heaved aside a collapsed column and held Hannah back while he looked to the ceiling to make sure the passage itself wouldn't implode.
Hannah ripped another strip of cloth from the bottom of her dress to wrap around her bleeding hands. The shattered gemstones and crystals scattered throughout the caverns were razor sharp and sliced her flesh every time she steadied her hands against a wall.
William helped her tie the latest rag, shaking his head as he cleaned more blood from higher up on her arm and shoulder. “Ye need Draecna hide, Mother. Ye're going to be ripped to shreds before we get out of here.”
“I'll be fine, William.” Hannah winced; some of the shards embedded themselves deeper into her flesh like tiny slivers of glass. She'd worry about it later. There wasn't time now. They had to find the others.
A movement in the debris beside the hearth caused another stalactite of crystals to crash to the floor. As the echo of the crash faded off into silence, a distinct moan filtered up through the wreckage.
Picking their way through the rubble, Hannah and William slid across the gem-scattered floor. Hannah shook her head at all the rubies, amethysts, and carnelians winking in the light of the Draecna lantern. The jeweler of Jasper Mills would've gone into sensory overload. Hannah swallowed a bitter laugh. She hated gemstones. They were slippery wicked little beasts that tripped you when you walked and ate your flesh whenever you touched their jagged edges.
Hannah grabbed William's wing as she lost her footing and stumbled in a rockslide of the treacherous debris. “Dammit!”
“Get on my back, Mother. It will be better if I carry ye. With my weight, I do not slide as ye do.”
With a sigh, Hannah relented. “Just until we get over to whoever that is that needs our help.” Grabbing hold of his wings, she pulled herself up on his shoulders and wrapped her arms around his muscled neck. “Okay, William. Let's go see if we can dig them out.”
William plowed through the wreckage as though he were a bulldozer. Hannah held on, clamping her arms around his neck and onto his wings as he lurched from side to side.
“I think it's Gilda, Mother.” William wrinkled his nose and raised his snout higher into the air. “Take a whiff, she always smells like swamp water.”
“William!” Hannah hissed as she slid off his back. “That's not a very nice thing to say.”
“Well, it's true.” William raised his nose again. “All ye need to do is take a big whiff. Dinna ye smell something like a bit of mildew?”
When this was all over, she was going to have a long talk with William about speaking his mind and how his words affected others' feelings. “Okay, William. I'll take your word for it. Let's just see if we can get some of this wreckage off her and see if she's all right.” Hopefully, Gilda wasn't conscious enough to have heard what William said.
William hefted the column pinning Gilda against the hearth and scooped away the crystals burying her head. “Gilda? Can ye hear me? It's William and Hannah.”
“The goddess,” Gilda whispered.
Hannah knelt beside Gilda's head and used cloth ripped from her dress to brush crushed crystals from the Draecna's mouth and eyes. “We haven't seen her, Gilda. You're the first one we've found so far.”
“No.” Gilda struggled to shake her head, her eyes closed as a frown creased the brow line between her horns. “The goddess has sifted to the heart of the battle. Her son, your mate, is in grave danger.”
Hannah closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness threatened to topple her from her feet.
Breathe.
She had to breathe. She had to think. Now wasn't the time to panic.
BOOK: Eternity's Mark
8.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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