“You cannot leave me, Taggart. You promised you would never leave me!” She buried her face against the cooling flesh of his throat. This could not be happening. He already felt so cold. “I need you, Taggart. Please. Please don’t leave me. You can’t expect me to live forever without you.”
“I am so sorry, my Hannah.” He shuddered with a gasping cough. “Please forgive me, my love. Ye know I will be forever . . . yours. Call out to me, m’love. I promise I will always hear.”
An explosion of flames burst in the clearing in front of them, followed by a piercing howl. William had finally found his first blaze and with it, killed Dasim.
25
The builders paused, lowered their tools, and bowed their heads. Hannah forced a calm facade she didn’t feel and dipped her chin in approval at the elaborate funeral pyre. They had erected the structure inside the largest cavern of the Goddess Isla’s stronghold. The crystal enclosure would protect the ashes from the slightest gust of wind during the ceremony.
As she inspected the craftsmen’s progress, she lightly caressed the urn she cradled in her arms like a newborn. It was a gift from the artisans of Erastaed. The ivory box, as iridescent as the finest opal, contained intricate panels, carved with scenes, regaling how Taggart gave his life to save Erastaed from Sloan’s evil rule.
A shuddering sigh escaped her as she hugged it tighter. No tears remained for her to cry. All she had left was a cold emptiness, a steady ache that would never go away.
“Mother?” William’s soft nudging interrupted the painful void that refused to release her.
“What is it?” she whispered, not bothering to take her gaze off the uppermost level of the pyramid.
“What are yer plans after the ceremony?”
She clutched the ivory box so tightly, the inlaid lid dug into her.She ignored the pain. It was nothing compared to the agony in her heart. “Why do you ask? What does it really matter?”
“The people need to know.”
Head bowed, she closed her eyes. Had the people not taken enough from her? “Septamus and Isla are handling everything. It doesn’t matter what I do. Erastaed will be just fine.”
“I am not a child anymore, Mother. Please dinna speak to me as if I am.” He stepped in front of her, blocking her view and the path so she couldn’t walk around him.
She lifted her head and saw her sorrow mirrored in the depths of his great dark eyes. “Forgive me, William. You are absolutely right and I shall try to remember that in the future.”She gave a weary shrug. “After the services, I haven’t decided what I am going to do. There is one option I am considering. But if I choose it, it would be major. So I haven’t settled on anything just yet.”
“Septamus wondered if ye planned to go back and leave us forever.” He nudged her with his wing while giving her a look that thoroughly convinced her that her baby Draecna was indeed grown.
“Are you talking about me behind my back?” She nudged him back with her elbow. “That is rude, you know?”
“I am not.” He managed a toothy grin. “As heads of Erastaed’s new council, Septamus and Isla met to discuss what they thought ye might do and how it would affect the country.”
“If I go back,” she began, then paused, mulling over what words to use. “Isla can only send me back alone and she can never bring me back to Erastaed. You realize what that means?” She wanted him to understand he might have to go on without her. She loved her Draecna son with all her heart, but Jasper Mills would be hard-pressed to accept him as one of their own. Of course, she could always make her home at Taroc Na Mor. William would always fit in at his birthplace if the gateway ever became stable again.
William nodded. “I understand.” As he strolled along beside her with his claws clasped behind his back, he scowled down at the floor. “But Septamus and Isla both remarked the portal is being repaired.Eventually, the gateway to Taroc Na Mor will be restored. Then I could see ye again.”
“Eventually?”
“Give or take a few hundred years.”
“I see.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed the corners of her gritty eyes. With her curse of immortality, a few hundred years was merely a blink of an eye.
“I would miss ye, Mother,” he said softly.
“I would miss you too, my son.”
A crimsonshroud was draped over Taggart’s body as six young Draecna carried him on their shoulders. Each of the bearers wore golden circlets around their arms and horns. They marched in unison, swaying in perfect step, as though their burden weighed nothing. Heads held proud, eyes straight ahead, they carried their respected leader to the top of the one-hundred-and-thirteen-step funeral pyre and lowered him to his honored resting place.
Hannah walked beside them, her unblinking stare locked on her beloved Taggart’s face. Her heart begged him to open his damn eyes. She wanted this to be some cruel joke. Some magic spell someone had cast to spoil their joining ceremony. But no, he remained motionless, his strong, handsome features frozen in the eternal mask of death.
Isla floated along on the other side, her great luminous eyes filled with the stark pain of a mother who had lost her last child. Septamus limped along behind them, closing the processional march. The ancient Draecna looked as though he felt each one of his three thousand years on this terrible day.
He hitched his way over to her side and gave her a sympathetic shrug of his wings. “They . . .” He nodded toward the throng crowded inside the cavern. “They would hear you speak if you are able. Are you so inclined, beloved Guardian?”
She swept her gaze across the sea of followers; her mind whirlingat the swarm of colors milling all around them. “I cannot,” she whispered. But as Septamus turned, she stopped him, resting a hand on his side. “Please tell them Taggart loved them more than he loved his own life. And he would be honored at how they supported him through everything.”
