Eclipsed (Heartstone Book 3)

by Frances Pauli

  She curled her fingers around the knife hilt, felt the weight of metal and death. He’d given her the tool to protect her, had felt danger in her future. Fine. Corah would keep that in mind. She’d keep the weapon close as well, and if the opportunity came to strike, she’d cram the thing straight into Gervis’s shriveled heart.

  Niels would just have to sort out his rebellion afterwards.

  Corah had a man to kill and a future to sort out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mofitan dreamed of dust and darkness. He’d helped with the rescue till the last man was found. He hauled miners from the rubble until it was as dark on the planet’s surface as it was deep in the ruined tunnels below. When he’d finally dragged himself back to his shack, he’d barely had the energy to verify Corah was still safely in hers or to haul his sore ass across the four-foot gap between cabins and then fall onto the slab they called a bed around these parts. The nightmares combined with muscle fatigue left him shaking when he woke with a jolt to the sound of his door being kicked in.

  An unnecessary move considering it was made of flimsy tin.

  He blinked at the silhouettes visible through the opening, counted more than four. Shroud. Not a good sign with the sun only just up. Somewhere between saving miners and crashing he’d landed in trouble again.

  “Get up.” The gruff voice confirmed it. All kinds of trouble it seemed.

  “I am up.” Mofitan swung his legs over the edge of the bed and tried to work out how he’d stepped in it. “I’m not awake, but I’m up.”

  “Not funny.” The sound of a mag-rifle charging brought home just how unfunny he was. “Get dressed and move it.”

  “You want to tell me what’s with the gun?”

  “I’d rather shoot you with it for non-compliance.”

  “I see.” He stretched, made a point of taking his time with it, of exaggerating the yawn. “Then I guess I’d better get dressed.”

  They’d sent six guys to fetch him. Only three guns between them, and if he’d felt like a scuffle he probably could have wrestled the one from the skinny guy easily enough. Unfortunately he still had a cover to think about. He still had information to gather, and he’d felt like everything was on track for him to get it less than twenty-four hours ago. He couldn’t afford to bust free now. Not with Corah here.

  When had it become about that?

  He growled, and the two burly bastards nearest him increased the gap a little. Shit. They marched him straight in the open, and spread out enough that he could have bolted if he’d wanted to. He doubted any of these guys could hit a moving target. Returning to Wraith would be a bit of a challenge, but returning without any intel on Dern’s military would be worse.

  Would Corah know the numbers he needed? Would she tell him if he asked?

  “Look alive,” the group’s speaker ordered. That one might be able to hit a moving target after all. He looked too cocky to be all bluff. “They’re waiting for you inside.”

  “Who’s waiting?”

  They’d brought him to the main office, to the place he and Corah had met Boon. Mofitan had a feeling it wasn’t just the mine boss inside today.

  “Find out soon enough.” One of the guards suffered a fit of bravery. He bumped his rifle butt against Mofitan’s back. When Mofitan turned, however, he jerked back into the guy behind him and did his best to swallow his own face.

  He didn’t have time for this shit.

  Mofitan stormed up to the office door and didn’t wait for his guards to catch him before throwing it open and marching inside. He stopped before plowing into Captain Curel, but only by a few inches. Behind the first jackass was another, worse surprise. Gervis Dern had come to Spectre, and judging from the knife he held, he hadn’t arrived for a social visit. Mofitan had judged Curel’s trap correctly, but somehow, it had sprung on him just the same. Despite the fact that he’d given the weapon to a random Chromian, Dern had it now. He turned it over in his snaky fingers and smiled at Mofitan with a deadly twinkle in his eyes.

  “Mr. Mofitan. Here we are again.”

  “Cozy,” Mofitan said. “Not the nicest accommodations I’ve had.”

  “I can imagine.” The twinkle turned to a glint that iced the mood in the room. Dern had something on him aside from a little blade. “We’re just waiting for Corah now.”

  “Whatever.” Mofitan shrugged and took in as much as he could as fast as possible. The way Dern said Corah’s name put a bad taste in the air. The office had no space to maneuver, and it was already full of junk before adding Dern, Curel, and the mining boss. The six armed idiots had to stay outside as it was, and apparently, Dern expected Corah at any minute. No windows. No room at all in here for when things got ugly.

  He could probably bust out a wall or two, but that would take a bigger scuffle, and would probably put Corah at risk. Maybe he should start before she arrived.

  “What’s going on?” Too late. Her irritation echoed from outside already. “What’s this about? Oh.”

  Mofitan squeezed to the side and let her catch a full-on view of her boss. He moved away from Curel, which put him next to Boon, much easier to overpower if necessary. Alternately, the man was big enough to use as a shield if need be.

  “There you are.” Dern turned the knife over again and smiled as Corah stepped inside the shed. “We’ve been waiting.”

  “Gervis.” Corah changed in front of his eyes. She stiffened, turned a shade paler, and tugged the collar of her blouse higher. Her voice lowered and tightened at the same time. “I wasn’t informed you were coming.”

  “A man was killed last night.” Captain Curel announced this with enough gusto to let Mofitan know they’d reached the meat of the matter. Dern turned the knife over again. This was the part where they’d frame him for murder. “Stabbed with a knife I’d loaned to this man.”

  Curel literally pointed a finger at him. He waggled it inches from Mofitan’s face, a very tempting target, and one he could have bitten off with one snap had he not cared for his mission’s success.

  “Planted on me,” Mofitan said. “You left the knife in the locker with my gear, but that’s not the same one. If it killed someone, I’d suggest taking fingerprints.”

  “Are you accusing the captain of foul play? Of lying perhaps?” Dern set the knife on top of Boon’s desk. He perched it atop a pile of papers, straightened it, moved it to the side a little, and then turned to face Mofitan once he’d arranged the “evidence” the way he liked it. “I find that very ironic.”

  “Coming from a murderer,” Curel added.

  “And who was it that I’m supposed to have murdered?” Mofitan glared at Curel, but the captain at least had enough mettle not to flinch.

  “One of the miners here.”

  “You mean one of the miners I spent all night trying to save? Hardly seems like economy of effort, does it?”

  “It seems like you had plenty of opportunity,” Curel said.

  “He didn’t do it.” Corah spoke, and all four of the gazes in the room turned to her. She cleared her throat, tugged at her shirt, and faced Gervis Dern with her chin firmly out. “He couldn’t have.”

  “And why is that?” Dern’s voice changed too. Mofitan heard the danger in it, the threat to Corah specifically now, but if she noted it, it didn’t deter her. If anything, her jaw tightened and the jutting of her pointy chin increased. “Do you have something to tell me, darling? Am I to understand that we can trust Mofitan now?”

  “Yes. Actually, I absolutely trust him. Though I was referring to the fact that he gave the weapon in question, the knife that our fine captain planted on him, to me.”

  Oh no. She’d not only missed the threat, she’d lied to Dern. Mofitan had an inkling he knew it too. How the hell did she mean to survive this one? Was she so blind that she believed Dern trusted her above Curel? Above anyone maybe?

  “Is that so?” Dern’s threat vibrated through the room.

  Mofitan tried to warn Corah with a glance, but if she cau
ght it, she’d gone too far down her own path to heed him.

  “Yes. I have it right here.” Miraculously, she produced the knife. How? Had she taken it from the Chromian when he wasn’t looking, or maybe everyone in Dern’s employ was issued a similar blade? Either way, he could see it in Dern’s eyes that this plan would crash and burn fast.

  Corah held out a twin to the blade on the desk. It really didn’t matter if it was the same one he’d given the Chromian. She’d sealed her fate to his now, and it wouldn’t end well for either of them. He checked the door. Four guards with guns crammed just outside that opening. The walls were thin, but if Mofitan went through one, he’d be leaving the woman to face Dern and company alone.

  “This is interesting,” Dern drawled. “You believe I can trust this man. You’ve read him then?”

  “Yes.” She lied outright now or else Shayd’s defenses had let him down. But if that had been the case, then she’d know he meant to betray her boss, which would mean he’d read her right in the mine, that she didn’t work for Dern out of any loyalty at all. “We can trust him.”

  The way his heart leapt at these revelations certainly did not fit their ultimate, inevitable outcome. Corah might be on his side, but they were probably both about to die.

  “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  Dern’s smile was too pleased. It finally jolted Corah out of her oblivion. She looked to Mofitan, and he saw the panic there, the realization that came too late. She’d stumbled into a trap too. They were both equally screwed. Dern, on the other hand, took great and obvious pleasure from the situation.

  “You see, I received an odd message yesterday evening. Very odd. You remember me telling you about my cousin, I’m sure.”

  “Y-you mentioned that you disliked him.”

  “Never got along with Jarn. Too competitive, both of us. He ran to Kovath when my father’s passing gave me Spectre. Ran like a dog to heel and, I believed, died with the bastard too.”

  “Jarn?” Mofitan slipped and let the growl escape. If Jarn was Dern’s cousin, then he could thank them both by strangling the son of a bitch right here. If Jarn had contacted him, however, he might just understand exactly what had blown his own plans to hell.

  “Yes. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Haven’t you?” Dern’s chuckle shook the floorboards. “Of course, I had no idea where he and Kovath had wandered off to. They kept their plans closely guarded. Greedy bastards. Deserved one another.”

  Dern stopped and held out his hand to Corah, who had no real option other than handing over the second knife. He lifted it from her fingers and turned his back to her, placed the second blade beside the first. Mofitan saw his fingers dance across the two, tracing the lines. Identical, but then, they’d planned it that way. No matter what Mofitan had done with the knife, it would still have given them leverage over him.

  “It took Rerl some time to pick the message out. Your Wraith friends did their best to intercept it, I’m sure. Then again, Rerl is very good at what he does.” Dern chuckled again and let the laugh lift into a cackle. “It seems Jarn has spent some time in your Shrouded prison. And you were telling us the truth about the escape, weren’t you? You just had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

  Corah’s head whipped around.

  “You were never in a Shrouded prison, Mr. Mofitan, because you are neither a criminal, nor a traitor. You are a prince of Shroud, and it seems, a very poor spy.”

  “What?” Corah’s gasp echoed in the back of his thoughts. He tried not to look at her, to keep his eyes moving even though there was nowhere to go.

  Anything he tried here would put her in danger. The jaws of Dern’s trap had closed tight long before he’d seen it. The men outside narrowed their ranks. Captain Curel grinned, wide and proud. Mofitan calculated his odds and resigned, relaxed his stance, and gave up long before they rushed him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “It just seems a little sudden.” Vashia stared out the high front windows of the governor’s mansion and watched the hover car driver approaching up the walkway. “Are you sure we didn’t do something to insult them? I didn’t have the right food made, or…”

  “It’s fine. It was all fine.” Dolfan wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulled her back so that she leaned against him, and rested his chin beside her temple. “They saw it, is all. It’s time for them to go home.”

  “I didn’t have a suitable place for her to run. The stupid planet is all rock,” Vashia complained.

  “You’re going to miss them.”

  “What?” She stiffened and then almost immediately relaxed. “Yes. I suppose it’s been nice to have another woman around. I don’t get that much, and all my friends are living on your planet now.”

  “We should go back for a visit when this is all over.”

  Hah. When it was all over. Like that was ever going to happen. At this rate, she’d be stuck on Eclipsis forever, destined to wander around in her father’s footsteps trying hopelessly to scrub up his filth. No word of Mofitan. No vision that could help them where the problem really was. She sighed and let Dolfan take even more of her weight. He’d nailed it, too. She didn’t want Rowri and Shayd to go. Even if their powers hadn’t granted her any immediate relief, she’d liked having them here.

  It felt almost normal, having guests in the place.

  “When will it ever be over?”

  “Soon?”

  “That’s not funny.” She laughed though, and felt his chest rumbling behind her. The sound reminded her that at least they had this much. They were together, bonded, and a lot safer than Mofitan at the moment. If Gervis Dern vexed her plans, he had the chance to do a lot worse to their friend.

  “Maybe he’s on his way back already?” That had been the plan, hadn’t it? Get what information you can and get out as soon as possible. She thought of the Hadji cards, the fist and the heart, and willed him to get out now, with or without news of Dern’s forces.

  “Maybe.” Dolfan breathed against her hair and sighed. He knew Mofitan better than anyone, perhaps. It didn’t take a seer’s vision to know his friend would stay until the job was done. “But if he’s found trouble, I don’t envy whoever pisses him off.”

  “Agreed.”

  The driver had vanished into the entry, and when she heard steps behind them, Vashia assumed they’d brought him in. When she turned, however, Shayd and Rowri stood in the doorway. The sight of them only brought on another wave of unease, a creeping loneliness that whispered to her of hopeless causes.

  “The car’s ready,” Dolfan said. “Can we take you to the port?”

  “We’re fine.” Rowri did the talking for them both. She’d have to with Shayd. Vashia couldn’t imagine how their courtship had gone, to be honest, but she’d have bet her father’s gold it was a quiet one. “You’ve been so kind already, and we know you have a lot to do.”

  “I wish you’d stay.” Vashia hated how desperate her voice sounded. She meant it though. The thought of them leaving made her stomach hurt. “Just a little longer.”

  Shayd shifted in the doorway, adjusted his weight, and exchanged a look with his heartmate that had to be at least part telepathy. Whatever Dolfan said, there was something wrong with them, and Vashia had about decided it was the food again when they fessed up. Or at least Rowri did.

  “We’ve sensed something,” she said. “And Shayd believes we’ll be needed on Shroud very soon.”

  “Is anything wrong?” Dolfan still had one arm around Vashia, and that tightened around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. His turn to be nervous. “What is it?”

  “Nothing to worry about,” Rowri answered, but the stoic Shayd echoed her.

  “Yet,” he said.

  That syllable hovered in the room long after its maker fell silent again. When the Shrouded Seer spoke, it had weight, even on Eclipsis. The air turned ominous, and Dolfan shifted his weight from one foot to the other without loosening his grip on her.

  “Do you need any
thing from us?” She had to offer, though they all knew her own resources were nearly tapped out.

  “No more than you’ve already done.” Rowri’s smile had a sweet edge to it, but her eyes flashed with the cat she harbored’s fire. “You will have plenty to do soon, and…”

  “What? What is it? You’ve seen something else?”

  They did the telepathy again. It went on a little longer this time. Vashia bit her lower lip and waited, but she’d about reached her limit when Rowri spoke again.

  “Not a seeing exactly, but we both sense it. Soon, you’ll have help that is much more useful than we can be.”

  “What? Who?” She wiggled out of Dolfan’s grip and crossed the room. When she looked closely into Rowri’s eyes she could almost hear the silver cat roaring. It had scared her the first time she saw it, but she’d learned just how gentle the woman who owned it was. The balance of natures in Shayd’s mate was perfect, complementary.

  There was kindness in those eyes now, and possibly a touch of regret. “We cannot say.”

  Of course not. Still. They’d given her something, a thread of hope to cling to. She’d take it, if that was all there was. For Rowri’s sake, she smiled and nodded as if she understood. As if it was enough. In the end, they were leaving. Whatever help they’d seen would have to be enough. It was all they had left, after all.

  They dragged Mofitan out with his hands bound together again. This time, when they’d tightened the metal around his wrists, Corah had seen him wincing. She’d seen the blood flow anew from the raw spots, and she’d been helpless to save him. This time she’d actually wanted to.

  Gervis’s face showed his pleasure, his triumph, the one emotion that he could never hide. He waited to gloat until he’d dismissed the mine boss and Captain Curel stood guarding the office door. He waited until they were alone to deal with her.

  “Such a disappointment.” His smile said otherwise. “I expected you to be so much stronger, Corah. What was it? The body? The hair? It was the hair, wasn’t it?”