Seen (Heartstone Book 2)

by Frances Pauli

  “It is possible, sir.” Raig kept his cool. Admirable, considering Tchao was planning an execution. “We can’t establish contact without a new sequence.”

  “No.” Tchao stood again and lifted his personal comm to his lips. “Don’t bother.”

  “Sir?”

  “Dovali!”

  The comm brattled. “Yes?”

  “Can she be moved?”

  “She can,” Dovali said. “But if the sedatives wear off, she’ll be less pliable.”

  “Fine.” Tchao had no doubt he could keep her pliable. She’d done nothing to resist him since his beast nature had migrated into her body. “Bring her to the shuttle dock, Dovali. As soon as possible.”

  Tchao lowered the comm and eyed the battle unfolding. The Uraru girl could get him in. He would have to detonate the thing himself, but thankfully he could be in two places at once. “Mr. Pr…Raig, get us lower. I want the Lightstrike as close to Choma as you can manage.”

  “Sir?”

  “Make it happen, Mr. Raig, and you’ll have your own province.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Tchao would take the shuttle in. He’d bring Dovali, keep the girl doped up until the last minute. Then, he’d send her in to detonate the Shevran’s bomb. Her people would welcome her home, and his beast would use her to destroy them all. If he was lucky, he’d be rid of the girl, the temple, and his own beast in one swift strike.

  *-*-*

  Mr. Prill's Tolfarian ship moved like lightning. It left the Shrouded transport in the dust, piloted by Mofitan and a skeleton crew of non-Shrouded employees. Mofitan was the only one qualified to fly the transport. He could follow at top speed, continue to hail the Summit for assistance, and arrive long after the contest was decided. Shayd and Haftan hitched a swift ride to Choma on Mr. Prill’s stolen vessel.

  Prill himself was an accommodating, if somewhat formal, host. He’d allowed the Shrouded to join him on the bridge, but had his hands full with his crew, many of whom had little understanding of their situation. The Tolfarians followed orders without asking questions, but Shayd suspected that some of them resented Mr. Prill’s command, that many disagreed with his mutiny. He was thankful for Haftan’s diplomatic presence, though he might have felt safer with Mofitan’s strength beside him.

  For now, however, the Tolfarians obeyed Prill, and he had cut their travel time to Choma in half. They needn’t bother with Dolfan’s rendesvous coordinates. The mercenaries, Shevrans, and Tolfarian army had already moved on. Mr. Prill’s ship, Dartfire, would get them to Choma on the heels of Tchao's invasion, and for the first time since they’d left Eclipsis, Shayd felt a flicker of hope alongside the nervous complaints of Rowri’s Uraru. He also experienced the beast’s impatience, and it took the full of his Seer conditioning to keep from pacing across Mr. Prill’s bridge.

  Prill ran one hand across his console and scowled at the display. “We’re nearing Choma, and she looks busy. Mr. Joyd, patch that on screen, please.”

  The schematics blinking at the front of the bridge faded. They’d been nonsensical to Shayd anyway. The Tolfarian script consisted of blocky shapes and dots that barely registered as words to Shrouded sensibilities. The scene that replaced it made only slightly more sense. Choma, a green jewel of a prime-sized planet hung behind a mosaic of exploding weapons and maneuvering ships.

  Despite the planet’s low-tech status, a sizable fleet now defended her against the invading Tolfarians. The blocky, but much larger, cruisers had formed a last stand before the sleeker Tolfarian vessels, the enormous mercenary transports, lightning fighters, and even a handful of Shevran trade liners.

  The transports, at least, would not serve Tchao until he’d made planetfall. For now, two of those hung back while a third spat the dart-shaped fighters toward the enemy.

  “Those are Summit ships,” Haftan whispered. “They must have received our news.”

  “Full speed, Mr. Joyd. Get us close to Tchao’s flagship, please. Prepare to fire on my command.”

  “Sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are we firing on the General?”

  “Are you questioning my command of this ship?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then proceed, Mr. Joyd.”

  Their ship closed in on the battle, and Haftan nudged Shayd’s shoulder. Battle hadn’t really been on the table when they’d snagged their lift on the Tolfarian rebel’s stolen ship. Now Prill flew them directly into the midst of it. They angled past the rear lines, the transports and the largest of the Shevran cargo ships and shot straight for the biggest of the Tolfarian starships.

  “We’re being hailed by six separate ships,” Joyd reported. “From both sides.”

  “Wait!” Prill held up one, blinking hand. “There! Magnify Tchao’s ship, segment six.”

  The view changed again. This time, they enjoyed a close up of the Tolfarian flagship. Though Tchao fired a steady barrage at the nearest Galactic mammoth, his vessel had a surrounding layer of mercenary fighters. Nothing could touch him through that, not with the mercs hammering away at anyone that tried.

  “Where’s he going?” Prill stood up and fingered the lever at the front of his console. “Magnify that.”

  The back of Tchao’s ship gaped open on one side, a docking bay had been released, and from it a ship smaller than even the merc fighters slipped. It cruised at a sharp angle down, and three of the fighters moved to flank and defend it.

  “What is it?” Shayd felt the cold hand of fear at the back of his neck. The hairs there lifted and his arms prickled. “Who is that?”

  “It seems our commander intends to land on Choma.” Prill said. “Mr. Joyd, follow that contingent and, if you don’t care to fire on the general perhaps you can focus our attention on keeping the rest of them from firing on us?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  They banked hard and Shayd fell into Haftan’s side. The nose dipped forward into a dive and Mr. Prill only put a hand on his railing and watched as space tilted and rolled on the view screen. It made Shayd’s stomach spin, and he had to look away, found Haftan appearing as green as he felt. In his mind, the cat that belonged to his heartmate yowled and pushed at him to be doing.

  Rowri. Rowri’s Uraru in his mind, and he didn’t have a clue if that linked them together, of if it meant she was alone and defenseless. Living with the beast as a constant counterpoint to one's thoughts would take control, and he had a new admiration for all the Choma-uraru. More pressingly, however, he thought how wretched one of them might become if that presence were taken away.

  He’d already used the strength of the animal more than once. It was power, a force he could get used to, and it felt like her. It didn’t make him feel any better, however, to know that the beast shared his concern for its master. They both snarled for her, for Rowri, and held on tight while the ship rocketed toward a home she might never see again on the tail of a man who had had days to do what he would with her.

  “Brace yourselves, gentlemen.” Mr. Prill sat in his chair at last. “Strap in. This is going to get dicey.”

  Shayd searched for his harness until he saw Haftan pulling his from a slot in the wall. He managed to get the thing unrolled and around himself before the shooting started. By the time he’d latched it back to the wall on his other side, the ship shuddered and rolled and he was tossed against the restraint and against Haftan as well.

  On the screen, all he could make out were long, ragged streaks of light. A few blossomed into stars. The skies rolled and rolled and behind it all Mr. Prill’s rock steady voice chanted.

  “Increase angle. Don’t lose them, Mr. Joyd. Watch those fighters. Fire…We’re going in.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Commander Tchao’s personal shuttle flew like a jet once it successfully entered the Choman atmosphere. They’d had a time getting that far, a few close scrapes and one near miss when Mr. Prill’s stolen cruiser appeared out of nowhere behind them. Tchao’s mercenaries had deflected the attack, and t
he second they’d skidded into the atmosphere where the larger ship could not follow, he’d ordered the merc fighters to leave him and focus on bringing down the traitor.

  “Land us near the Temple, at the distance specified.” The ship only had a three-man crew. With the addition of Dovali and his beast-girl, Tchao barely had room to stand, let alone pace. “There’s a ravine just past the west gates.”

  “You want to run?” The girl’s laughter pounded against his nerves. He couldn’t tell if it was his beast talking or if she’d regained lucidity, but either option set his teeth grinding together. “Let’s run, Tchao.”

  “Keep her quiet, Dovali.”

  “I have limited supplies,” the doctor snapped at him, forgetting his place and the consequences for it. “You rousted us with no warning. You’re lucky she’s even conscious.”

  “Lucky?” Tchao buried his knuckles in the fabric covering his seat. “Would you like to rephrase that, doctor?”

  “Sir!” His pilot spun from the console and interrupted Dovali’s reprimand. “They’ve got her. The Dartfire is going down.”

  Maybe he was lucky. “Visuals?”

  The view changed. Instead of the Choman jungle, he looked up to the heavens. The flaming streak of something too large for entry crossed the blue of Choma’s daytime sky. So much for Mr. Prill’s rebellion. So much for anyone who crossed Tchao Rimawdi. He watched the ship falling, observed the fire trail lengthening until the pilot spoke again.

  “We are nearing the Temple district, commander. I’ll need to adjust.”

  “Yes. Do what you must.” The view returned to the dense foliage below. Tchao’s shuttle streaked over the top of one of the most bio-rich areas on the planet—the jewel, so to speak, in the Choman crown. And at its brow, the monumental Grand Temple—he watched the horizon line, leaned forward, and waited for the first glimpse of those white domes.

  “Fire.” Behind him, in Dovali’s arms, the girl whispered. “Smoke and fire in the sky.”

  “There is a higher than reported carbon content in the atmosphere,” his sensor officer said. “Consistent with the damage reported from the Southern volcanoes.”

  “Ignore it,” Tchao said. “Can you get us in behind the temple?”

  “There’s not much clear space.”

  “Run,” the girl whispered. “Let’s run, Tchao.”

  “Shut her up, Dovali.” Tchao pulled at the fabric again. He tapped a rhythm on the railing to the front and twisted a kink out of his neck. “Find us a place to land!”

  “Almost there, commander. I can set her down on the far side of the ravine. There’s a level shelf and the vegetation is—”

  “Do it!”

  “The sedative is wearing off,” Dovali said. “If she regains full control she might refuse to cooperate and your—”

  “Put the pack on her.” Tchao kicked the belt pack to them and let Dovali worry about the girl. He’d loaded it with a comm unit and set the thing to broadcast the detonation sequence on proximity. All he had to do was chase the girl into the temple, should the beast fail in controlling her after the drugs faded. “Do you have anything else you can give her?”

  “I used the last dose when we reached altitude.”

  Tchao felt the growl surface and bit it back before he could voice it. Either his blood’s taint was returning as the girl regained control, or something outside, something about the planet itself, was affecting him. He knew the old rage again, and though he’d missed its force, the timing could have been better. He needed control now, precision, and a girl who would do whatever he told her.

  The ship rocked hard to the right and then leveled out. Tchao snarled at the pilot, and heard his failure in the sound. “What was that?”

  “The other ship impacting the surface.” The pilot shook his head. “Half the district away. We’re nearly there, sir. Preparing to set down.”

  “Is she ready, doctor?” He let the pilot, Mein, handle the landing, and focused on the two figures sandwiched in behind him. Dovali held the girl in his arms, and she stared up at him. Her eyes still looked glazed, but they moved more, and her whole body had a more alert, tense quality than it had under the effects of the sedatives. “How much time do we have?”

  “Just enough. Can you control her?”

  “That is for me to worry about.” Tchao clutched his chair as the ship dove forward. “Provided we survive Mr. Mein’s landing.”

  “Sorry, sir.” Mein didn’t look up from his controls, and Tchao could see the sweat beading on the man’s bald head. “The vegetation.”

  The ship shook again, and Tchao felt the slapping at the hull, the thumps that might or might not leave them lift-worthy after the fact. They had full shields, and he’d calculated the blast radius carefully, but there would still be the chance of airborne debris. Taking out half the shields on landing was not an option. “If we could land intact, Mr. Mein, it would be preferable.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  The engines whined, but Tchao could hear the crunching of branches even over the sound. Their nose came up. The ship shuddered and banked hard to the left. Then, Mr. Mein leveled them out and sat them, gently, straight down into the thick of the jungle. The crashes and scrapes said there would be no landing in a clearing. He just needed to know if they were on the far side of the ravine, or in it. In it would provide some shelter, but also bring them closer to the blast.

  Provided the stupid girl would obey. If not, their location hardly mattered.

  “They’re going to know we’re here,” Mein said. “The other crash, the fighting.”

  “Yes.” He’d expected that. As it happened, it served his purposes. “Let me worry about the Chomans, Mr. Mein.”

  That was where the girl came in.

  “Get us stabilized,” Mein commanded and worked his own consoles at the same time. “Level us out and vent pressure.”

  They settled farther into the foliage. Tchao’s chair lurched to one side, and he shrugged it off, unfastened his restraint, and let it retract. “Dovali—”

  “She’s ready.”

  “Will you run with us, Tchao?” The girl’s voice had grown more beastly by the moment. She snarled at him now, and he could not strike down what might be his own voice speaking.

  “No.” He stood and backed up, turning as he did to face Dovali and the woman. She’d slid from the doctor’s lap and squatted at his feet now, but her eyes were fixed on Tchao. “You must go to the temple.”

  “Let’s run together?”

  “No. Maybe…after you return. Take my package to the temple and then we’ll run.” He shook his head and pressed farther away, let his spine clank against the bulkhead. The pain cleared his thoughts. “Go straight to the temple.”

  “The temple?” Her head tilted sharply, as if she heard something far away. “Run. To. The. Temple.”

  “Yes. Mr. Mein, get that door open!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The woman laughed. The sound tore through the small space, rasping and laced with madness. He felt it too, in his bones and even deeper in his thoughts. The beast. It set the hairs on his arms and neck on end. “Let her out!”

  The hatch cracked, slicing a swath of golden light across the silver interior. A rush of thick, moisture-laden air entered with it, and the scent, the must and organic odors, pressed Tchao farther against the wall. His temples throbbed and his nostrils flared. His first breath of his home world heated a pathway all the way inside. The beast’s warble purred in the distance, and Tchao shoved it away.

  Out, stay out. He closed his eyes and held his breath against the invasion. “Let her go!”

  The girl leaped from Dovali’s grip and landed only inches from Tchao’s boots. He refused to look at her. Let the thump of her landing and the scurry of her escape signal her position. Only when he heard soft, padding footfalls on the ramp outside did he risk peeking. Gone. He could see glossy green fronds, bright canary yellow flowers, and a flurry of ash raining in the girl’s wake, but s
he had vanished into the jungle.

  Tchao reached tentatively for the place his anger used to dwell. He found a whisper, a faint trace of it, and pushed it away with a single command. The temple. Get to the temple whatever the cost.

  *-*-*

  When the Core stopped shaking, the front of Dielel’s cell had fallen out. He crouched over Jadyek, arms around his bonded and with their heads tucked tightly together. Nothing had hit them; the heartstone shone all around and the way was clear.

  “Hurry,” he said. The man in his arms shifted, looked to him for guidance. To him. “This way. Before the guards come down.”

  They stepped over the rubble, stones broken free, a twisted metal frame and pieces of the clear barrier that had kept him in. Jadyek knew where the entrance to the pit was. He moved like a cat, sleeker than Haftan and far lovelier—more like Tondil, in fact. Dielel smiled and helped his bonded open the hatch that had, miraculously, survived damage. Not miracles, he reminded himself, fate. The Heart wanted them to be free. It sang of escape even now.

  “Hurry. I’ll follow.” Jadyek gave him a look, a flash of understanding and faith and then he found the top rung of the narrow ladder and shimmied into the hole. Toward Jarn, Dielel remembered. The demon was down there. He should have led the way. “We’re coming down now.”

  He called ahead and prayed Jarn would not strike out without thinking. The ladder was rough and pitted, and had been twisted slightly in the middle so that he had to hold his breath and twist to follow his love into the pit. At the bottom he found Jadyek again, whole and unharmed but staring into a darkness that held no one. Where had the demon gone?

  “Jarn!”

  “This way, idiots.” Jarn’s sneer translated to his words even in the absence of light. “There’s a chimney opened up.”

  They scrambled to the wall and felt together for the gap. At their touch, the veins in the walls brightened, and the way was shown. A fault along the heartstone, an angled gap leading, as the stone had promised, up and out. But Jarn hadn’t waited for them. He’d taken to the shaft alone and shimmied up it without their ropes.