Eternity's Mark Read online

  “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 ti
me 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.

  “Did she tell you where, Gilda? Did she say where the heart of the battle was located?” Hannah forced herself to choke back the bile burning in the back of her throat. She wanted to scream. She couldn’t lose Taggart. She would not contemplate life without him.

  “The Baelaon Fields,” Gilda whispered as she wet her trembling lips.

  “The Baelaon Fields,” Hannah repeated using William’s wing to pull herself to her feet. Hugging her bleeding arms to her sides, she released a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. The name of the place sounded like death. Her sixth sense tingled at the base of her brain. A feeling of dread gnawed at her gut; a sense of loss already hammered at her heart.

  “Dig her out, William,” Hannah instructed as she stared off into space. “Settle her somewhere with food and water while I try to find some provisions to take with us. But hurry. We don’t have much time. We’ve got to get to the Baelaon Fields.”

  “I want to know the traitor who killed him!” Taggart raged with his wings outspread. He glared at them all standing below him. It could’ve been any one of them. Which one had betrayed his beloved friend? Taggart paced the short length of the rock ledge he’d chosen as his podium to address his gathered Draecna troops. Fury raged through every fiber of his tensed body as he flexed and stretched his wings. From this vantage point, he could just make out Gearlach’s head where it dripped on a pike outside of Sloan’s tent. Taggart sheathed and unsheathed his silver-tipped claws, wishing Sloan stood in front of him so he could rip him open from his throat to his gonads. “I expect an answer!” Taggart thundered, his voice echoing across the valley.

  “Do ye actually think the traitor is foolish enough to confess?” Isla shimmered into focus on the ledge beside him.

  “Now is not the time, Mother,” Taggart hissed.

  Isla bowed her head, glanced at the troops, and lowered her voice so only Taggart could hear. “I know ye are in pain, my son. But ye know in your heart this is not the way to find Gearlach’s murderer.”

  “They must all realize the danger they are in now that Gearlach is dead. As long as there is one Draecna out there killing for Sloan, none are safe.”

  With a nod, Isla folded her arms across her stomach and her image started to fade. “I agree. Ye need to warn them as I am now warning ye. Hannah and William are on their way. Your spell has run its course. Hannah fears for ye and she comes to save ye.”

  Taggart closed his eyes. By all that was holy, the three days had passed. There would be no stopping Hannah now. He should’ve paralyzed her for a year. He could’ve reversed the spell once the war had ended. He didn’t need this. He had a traitor in his midst and now Hannah in the middle of the fray. Opening his eyes, he returned his gaze to the gathered troops still standing at attention. Which one of them could be the traitor?

  Septamus appeared by Taggart’s side as though he knew he was about to be bidden. “What are your thoughts?”

  “Ye know my thoughts, Septamus.” Taggart snorted with a bitter huff. The old Draecna knew him better than he knew himself.

  “Until we find which Draecna the Waerins have turned, we cannot act. All plans to attack will be reported to Sloan and thwarted.” Septamus stroked his claws through the strands of his silver beard as his eyes narrowed into speculative slits.

  “There is another complication.” Taggart drew a heavy breath and clicked his claws against his armored face. Gads, how had things managed to get so out of hand?

  Septamus shot Taggart an exasperated look and heaved a disbelieving sigh. “More complicated than a traitor in our midst?”

  “Hannah and William are on their way to see us.”

  “Well, that’s just lovely now, isn’t it?” Septamus swept the ledge with his tail and waved his claw at the troops. “Report to your stations and stand at the ready! I want to be notified of anything out of the ordinary.” Turning back to Taggart, he fixed him with an irritated glare and poked him in the center of his chest with his claw. “That is exactly why I never mated! They are entirely too much trouble!”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Taggart returned Septamus’s irritated look. “Weren’t ye the one telling me to sleep with the woman? To get on with my life? I think I should hold you partially responsible for this mess.”

  “I told ye to bed the lass! I didna tell ye to keep her for life.” Septamus turned his back to Taggart and climbed down from the ledge. “I canna help it if ye didna listen to me properly.”

  The cold, barren ground scraped rough against her belly as she wormed her way to the edge of the cliff. Here under the scrub, beneath the trees, she could remain unseen and still see what went on below. Hannah wished she had her pair of binoculars from back home. But this vantage point and her twenty-twenty vision would just have to do. The wind rustled in the trees, blowing leaves and dust into her face. Thank goodness, she’d landed upwind of the battle.

  Curious, Hannah sniffed, wondering if it would do any good. After all, with the gift of immortality, they said she’d received the gift of seeing Waerins for what they truly were. Perhaps she’d also been given the Draecna’s heightened sense of smell. Sulfur,
decayed leaves, refuse of some sort, and whew—rotted meat. Hannah covered her nose and gagged. Craning her neck, she scooted around a bush, wincing as a stick poked her in the side. What stood in front of that tent? She couldn’t quite tell. Something perched on a pole. Inching farther over the edge of the cliff, she hung on to the bush as she focused harder on an object crawling with flies.

  “Oh my God.” Hannah collapsed against the side of the cliff and vomited into the scrub.

  “Mother!” William grabbed her around the waist with his tail and yanked her back up the side of the cliff.

  “Don’t look, William,” Hannah gasped as she rolled to the ground at the top of the cliff.

  “I already saw him,” William replied, offering Hannah a drink of water from one of the skins hanging around his neck.

  “That must be Sloan’s tent,” Hannah rasped. She shuddered as the vision of Gearlach’s flyblown head battered at her mind. Sloan had to die. She’d never considered herself capable of murder until now, but it was kill or be killed. Sloan wouldn’t expect Hannah. He’d be too busy fighting Taggart and his army of Draecna. Her fingers curled around the haft of the dagger melded to her waist. She could do this. She could do this tonight.

  “What are ye thinking, Mother? Taggart says ye’re dangerous when ye get quiet.” William shuffled back and forth in front of Hannah, peering down at her with a worried look on his face.

  Hannah broke from her daze and glared up at William. “Oh, he does, does he?” Standing up, she dusted herself off and reached for the bag she’d hastily stuffed with clothes while William settled Gilda with food and water in a portion of the cavern left intact. “Don’t you worry about it, my fine Draecna son. I’m going to change into my darkest set of clothes and as soon as the sun sets, I’m going on a little visit to Sloan.”