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 theraging 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 theebony 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.”
