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 shemight 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. “Shetoldme she was going tovisitSloan. 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 appreciateyou 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 handflexed 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.
