"Of Light" - 17+18/45
Title: Of Light
Author: Rissy James
Rating: M (overall)
Warning: May contain minor smut... semi-smut, as it were
Pairing: Cain/DG, eventual Jeb/Az
Summary: The Emerald must be returned to its guardian, and DG is left behind. When a generations-old threat resurfaces, she must gather more than her courage to save her sister, and to find Wyatt Cain.
Extras: "Of Light" trailer on youtube; Cast Pictures on Livejournal
Of Light
Chapter Seventeen
She ran. How she managed to make her legs work, she didn't know. How she found her way out of the complex, she didn't know. She had turned one corner and then the next blindly, some instinct pushing her ever forwards. When she met a door she knew to be locked, it exploded off its hinges, leaving her with no obstacle.
When she reached fresh air, it burned her lungs and renewed her energy. Hot pulses of pain in her hands followed her, though no one else pursued her. Running through the trees, scrambling through dense brush, everything she touched was singed black around the edges. A path for them to follow. After a while, she tried not to come into contact with anything.
The Emerald was in her hands, glowing bright. How she hadn't dropped it, she didn't know. When she stopped at a stream to soak her hands, to try to abate the burning pain, she saw a curious thing. Slipping the Emerald into the pocket of her dress, she stared at her palm. She brushed her hand with the fingers of the other, wondering if the lines etched there might smudge like charcoal. A circle, with a swirling pattern within it; imprinted like a scar.
Finally she crossed the path of another person. A woman with a child. “I need help,” she barely managed to say, weak and exhausted and out of her mind with pain.
“You must go to the Shining City,” the woman told her. “You will find a road of bricks, and you must follow it.”
Like beads of sweat, it dripped from her hands, slick and glossy. With a hiss, the substance would hit the ground, burn a little hole. She walked and walked, until finally she stumbled across it by accident. The most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life, a yellow-brick road.
So she followed. Over fields and through woods, endlessly she walked. She could see the city's glinting pinnacles in the suns light... suns, there were two. Of this she mourned. Wherever she was, she knew she wasn't supposed to be there. Finally, on her fourth day, exhausted and near death, she approached the gate of the city.
“Who are you?” the gatekeeper asked her.
“Help me,” she pleaded. “Please. It hurts! I need to see the King.”
“No one can walk up and demand to see the King, girl. Not nobody, not no how.”
She held up her hands, showing him the symbol on her palm, molten red, then dug the Emerald out of her pocket. “I need... to see... the King.”
The gatekeeper eyed the Emerald fearfully, before nodding at his companion. “Take the girl to see the King.”
DG's eyes slid open slowly, still heavy and exhausted. The words of her dream echoed in her head as she sat up, looking around groggily. Had she fallen asleep on the sofa? She barely remembered.
Take the girl to see the King.
What was going on inside her head? She slapped her palms against her forehead, perhaps trying to force out the demons of another life. One that wasn't even hers! Her own memories creeping in through the cracks in her mind were one thing, the life of an ancestor was completely another.
“Get out, get out!” DG whispered to herself, slapping the side of her head again.
Another voice cut into her brain. A practical, deep voice. Ya know, Princess, you can't always assume that every dream you have is going to mean somethin'.
“Easy for you to say, Cain,” she muttered to herself.
The Queen of the O.Z. was accustomed to being alone. Nine annuals of imprisonment had taught her well how to deal with fear, loneliness, boredom. She'd learned, also, how to deal with enemy interrogation, how to make her face so impassive, she might be dead.
The Witch, the terrible presence behind her daughter's attractive face. The Queen had sensed, long before Azkadellia had begun to mature into a woman, the evil in her child, but had never been able to disassociate the cruel words and actions from the lovely, graceful girl that would have been her daughter. Azkadellia, my poor darling. You would have been so beautiful.
To lose DG, her husband had been terrible. But to sit and watch the distortion of her daughter, the deterioration of everything good inside, that had been nothing less than torture.
Not everything good. She'd noticed, in the days following the Eclipse, that some semblance of her daughter had remained hidden from the Witch's possession, a small piece of Azkadellia peeked out from behind dark eyes, quiet movements.
Just as the Witch had, the Commander kept her updated of his triumphs. He stood before her now, the small box containing the Emerald placed before her. The Outlander was smiling, a very ugly thing. Barely a moment after he'd flashed that smile, producing the box with thinly veiled glee, she'd had to look away.
“Azkadellia has relented.”
I can see that. “So the Emerald is now yours, Commander. You can release us.”
A low chuckle. “Not quite yet. The box is still sealed.”
“I'm afraid I can't help you with that, sir.”
The Commander glared at her. The woman was difficult, too assured. “You can hope that your release comes quickly, madame. Your younger daughter may prove more of a challenge than the other.”
“Both of my daughters are strong young women.”
Again, the Outlander laughed. “Azkadellia was easily convinced to help further my cause.”
“If threatening a scared and broken girl with death can be considered easily convinced.” The Queen was growing angry, something she rarely allowed herself. For this outcast to be playing with their lives... Outlanders were greedy and uncaring by nature, living in their isolated conclaves, fighting with each other over material wealth. Only personal gain mattered to an Outlander, just as it did to the one before her.
“I go to your daughter now. If she complies quickly, you could be on your way upstairs within the hour, Majesty.”
The Queen shook her head. “DG will fight you. You will not be able to convince her to help you. She only knows the Gale as the true Guardian.”
“This trinket needs no Guardian! The time of the Eclipse is over. The Gales no longer need to safeguard this.” The Commander tapped his finger on top of the little box. “What use have I for the power? None.”
“But she will never believe you. Please, let me talk to my daughter -”
The Commander laughed scornfully. “I don't think so. You'll talk to your daughter soon enough. My slaves assigned to the princess's room tell me she has dreams, calls out very interesting things. Perhaps death threats will not be the way to bring your daughter around... but who knows?” The Commander grinned wickedly. “I always enjoy a good fight.”
“You're nothing more than a bully,” The Queen said softly. “A monster delighting in frightening little girls.”
He glared at her. “You will watch what you say,” he said menacingly. The Queen tilted her chin upwards, defiantly.
“Your Majesty,” he said after a moment. He walked closer to her, placed a hand on her shoulder. The Queen forced herself not to shirk away, to endure his cold touch. “The great Gale dynasty. Daughters of Light. A country built on a lie.” He leaned in closer, his mouth close to her ear. “Remember, Lo...” he whispered. He ran a finger down the smooth skin of her neck; the scrape made her shiver. “You only retake the throne because I allow it.”
The Queen steeled herself. “You will remember your place, sir.”
The Commander laughed. “Oh, I remember my place. Lowly Outlander, permitted to live only by the grace of the Gales. Only banished, instead of hunted down into our own lands and slaughtered.”
The Queen shook her head. “Over a hundred years. Dorothy Gale is dead. Let it be at peace.”
“Our two peoples shall never know peace,” the Commander said. He moved away from the Queen, picked the box up off the table. “But this,” he said, holding the box aloft, “will cancel out your debt.”
DG was resting on the sofa, trying to go over again and again what details of her dream she could remember. Suddenly, the door burst open. Peeking out over the back of the sofa, she saw the Commander stalking in.
“What do you want?” she asked grumpily. Her eyes widened, and her heart stopped painfully in her chest when she noticed what he held in his massive hands. The tiny little box, safeguarding the Emerald, sealed by magic. Even from across the room, she could see the faint glow of the lock.
“Open the box and you can go home. Its as simple as that.”
He stalked over, placed the box on the coffee table before her. He sat down on the sofa opposite, and stared at her. DG could have laughed at the situation, two people sitting down so comfortably, if it weren't so serious. Part of her wanted to laugh anyway, to crack the tension. But she stayed silent.
“Open the box, and you can go home,” he repeated.
“Why did Az give you the Emerald?” DG asked. She looked from the box, to the Commander, to the box again. “Did you hurt her?”
“Your sister seems to require a bit of a push in the right direction,” the Commander said. “I'm hoping you aren't going to be as stubborn as her.”
Oh you've got no idea.
DG curled her legs up towards her chest, trying to pull her body as far away from the Commander. He studied her in her silence. The box on the table was a disturbing distraction, and he caught her watching it.
“Do you ever wonder, little princess, the source of your great magic?”
DG watched him carefully. What was he trying to do? “My blood. Magic of Light, inherited from my mother.”
“Did you know,” he said slowly after a moment. “the history books omit the fact that your ancestor was a slipper?”
DG looked him curiously. “What?” The abrupt change in topic threw her offbalance.
“Dorothy Gale, the first of your line,” he said. “The King proclaimed her as heir to the throne. His own daughter had disappeared. A girl with magic so strong, its essence flowed physically from her body. Only one possessing magic may occupy the throne of the Outer Zone.”
DG looked down at the box again.
“But where,” the Commander asked slowly, “where would such strong magic come from, in an Other Sider?”
DG smirked, knowing exactly what he wanted her to say. Beginning to see things clearly, DG realized that another path had been set before her. Coincidence, it couldn't merely be just coincidence. She'd already been provided with all the answers she needed to face this Outlander. “Wait a minute,” she said with an impish smile. “Is it like the land of Xanth? Did she just... 'come up' magic?”
The Commander looked at her, confused, and DG glared back at him with satisfaction. “Your family's magic comes directly from the Emerald. Like the throne on which your mother sits, it was not your birthright, it was bestowed upon your family. Upon an ungrateful, deceitful, lying little girl.”
DG shook her head. “My ancestor was not a liar. Or ungrateful. The rule of the Gales was the Golden Age of the Zone until the release of the Witch.” Ouch. That fact, and her part in it, still stung.
“There is no doubt that the rule of the Gales was a peaceful, idyllic time for your country, Princess. And it will be again, if you'll just give me what I want.”
“But why now?” DG asked him. “The Gales have sat on the throne of the Zone for over a century!”
“And never in that century and beyond has the Gale dynasty been as weak as it is now! A Queen without Light, a broken daughter, and one who is taking magic lessons meant for a child.” DG's mouth set and she sneered at him petulantly. “This was the perfect time to strike. The Emerald was guarded closely, magically for a hundred years. The perfect time.”
“You know, I'm sick of listening to you whine about the Emerald,” DG said, boldly. “Can you ever talk about anything else? Everything always leads to the Emerald. I'm tired of it.”
The Commander sighed, and templed his thick fingers. “Fine,” he said slowly. “Did you also know that the position of Commander is quite like your dynastic rule? Succeeded by an heir, as has been so for generations. So, Princess. This is not the first time our families have met. I know you have the dreams.”
“How could you know?”
“Servants talk,” he said with a smile. DG didn't like the way he was leering at her. She pulled tighter into herself, hoping to sink back into the soft cushions. But there was no more distance to be had, unless she stood and backed away. She didn't want to take her eyes off of him.
“Have you seen him in your dreams? The Commander who captured the first Gale upon her arrival in the Outer Zone?”
DG looked down, searching the floor. “Roke,” she whispered.
The Outlander's lips curled into a smile. “Yes,” he hissed. “Yes. All I want is what was rightfully his. What came out of his land, my land. What he never received payment for. So, little girl, if you would just break the seal with your magic, you can head home, and your sister can inherit your mother's throne, and you can go about your silly little life.”
DG shook her head. “The Emerald wields too much power. I can't just hand it over.”
The Commander smirked. “Your sister already did hand it over. Its mine. You need not worry, the power of the stone calls not to me. I only want the stone, not the power it possesses, what it brings to who holds it.”
“Then why can't you just leave it in its box?” DG asked him. “I don't have to break the seal. You can just keep it like this. Then neither of us has to worry.”
The Commander laughed, looking quite amused. “You know, girl, I'm beginning to like you.”
In a swift, spontaneous move, DG clambered up over the back of the sofa, landing on her feet behind it. The Commander sighed, shaking his head. “Girl, you need to open the box.” He bent, picked it up. He stalked closer to her, taking slow, calculated, sure steps.
DG swallowed hard, nervously wracking her brain for an answer. Nothing... but then out of nowhere, it came. Like a flash of light. Her fingers tingled at the very thought of it.
“Okay,” she said softly. She'd backed herself up, against the wall. Cornered... or so it seemed.
The Commander's black eyes glittered. “You will not regret this. You will be home, safe, soon.”
DG took a deep breath, and held out her hand over the box he had extended before her. She could feel warmth radiating from it. She closed her eyes, concentrating hard on suppressing every fiber of her magic away from the box. Pretended to be trying. After a moment, she peeked an eye open to look at the box. The lock still glowed.
DG let her lip tremble. “I... I don't think I can.”
“You tossed my men about like dolls, now open the box.” His voice was hard, demanding... impatient.
She closed her eyes again. She let her arm and hand shake a bit, furrowed her brow. Again she opened her eyes, and saw the box still magically sealed. Elation flowed through her entire body. She might just be able to pull this off... and then they'd see, wouldn't they? The Commander would face first hand the power of the Gale family.
“I can't,” she whispered. She needed to cry... but tears wouldn't come, she couldn't force them. She tried to make her voice teary, shaky. “I can't do it. Azkadellia's bond is too strong.”
The Commander retracted the box away from her.
“I need Az's help,” DG said pathetically. When the Commander glared at her, she forced a whimper instead of returning his malicious stare.
“Why are such things always entrusted to little girls?” the Commander asked the room, certainly not DG in particular. After a moment, he pointed a finger at her. “I will fetch your sister, Princess. But this will be done today. Now.”
He stalked from the room. DG slid to the floor, breathing hard. He was bringing Azkadellia... he would bring her sister. Then, he would come to regret everything he had done to them.
Faintly, she smiled.
Chapter Eighteen
It was colder up in the mountains, even at their slight elevation. Ambrose closed the buttons of his jacket, turning up his collar to shield his neck from the chill. Night was falling fast, and his breath was beginning to come out in little puffs of air. The meeting with Andrus was long overdue, but the general was caught up with one of the search parties, and wouldn't be delayed much longer, said the messenger Andrus had sent.
The woods at night made him nervous. He couldn't say that he was frightened, but he was definitely on edge, and it was not a nice way to be. His body was jumpy when it was nervous - sometimes jumpy on its own at any old time too, uncontrollable - and he bounced lightly on his feet, swinging his arms back and forth.
“Come on, come on,” he whispered to the trees around him. Deciding to stand out away from the camp to meet the general in private seemed like less of a good idea now, but hey... he could always just knock his head, give an “Oops, glitching again,”and he got out of just about every mistake he made. Which were numberable, though to no one would he ever admit that.
Ten minutes passed before the advisor heard the general's troops returning to the temporary camp. Further and further down the road, they'd moved their camp, as miles and miles of forest and foothills were combed, and then combed again. When they reached the mountain lake, Andrus had given the order to double back, search again. Even if the shapeshifter had his bearings wrong, there was no doubt that either group did not make it as far as the lake.
With no trail to follow, and the corporal gone missing alongside DG, they had no leads to follow, and they were running out of time.
“Ah, Master Ambrose,” the general said when he saw the advisor waiting for him. He waved his men forward, towards the camp, warm food and a seat by the fire.
“Any news, General?”
Andrus shook his head. “No, we have searched every inch of this realm and have found nothing. The men grow discouraged.”
“There must be something we've overlooked,” Ambrose said, searching the ground with his eyes as his brain ran through everything he'd been able to dig up about the Outlanders (No pun intended! Gosh, I am so funny sometimes). But research materials were scarce since the cleansing of Azkadellia's regime.
“You're more than welcome to walk out there and start turning over every stone you come across,” Andrus said, not unkindly. “I'll even spare you a few of my men.”
Ambrose glared at him, displeased. “These mountains range farther and deeper than we could ever hope to dig.”
“You still stand firm that they are being held underground?”
“Sir, its the only thing that could possibly make sense. Unless they are being held in some sort of invisible sky palace? One that rests above the clouds?” Then Ambrose's eyes slid upward, and he studied what he could see of the sky through the thick canopy above. “And hey, maybe it could be powered by some sort of giant wind turbine. Gusts up so high must average -”
The general scowled. He interrupted the rambling advisor. “Was there news from the Consort, while my men and I searched east of the river?”
Ambrose lowered his gaze from the heavens, brought back to the ground. “Not really.”
The general shook his head. Being the only headcase to ever have his brain reconnected, someone should be studying his daily progress after the procedure. The results were just baffling! “What does 'not really' mean, Master Ambrose? You're going to have to clarify.”
“Gee, snippy,” Glitch said with an insulted snort. “Ahamo sent a report from Central City. I have advised him not to announce the disappearance of his family, the risk of a Longcoat uprising within the gates of the city is too great. Too many of them remain at large, and he has enlisted the help of the Tin Men to try and control the threat, now that the majority of the troops designated to Central City are... engaged elsewhere.” Ambrose nodded to the forest around him. Hundreds of soldiers searched, on the orders of the Prince Consort. A fact that still angered Andrus.
“The Tin Men? They're nothing but a few old men and an academy full of new recruits.”
Andrus began to walk away, signaling an end to the conversation, but Ambrose continued to speak.
“You underestimate the Tin Men,” Ambrose said. “They will be able to handle the Longcoats easily enough.”
Andrus turned around, spitting angrily on the ground. “Tin Men! A Tin Man is the reason we're all out in this Gods-foresaken wilderness!”
“Then we'd best find Her Majesty and the rest of the royal family,” Ambrose said calmly, unimpressed with how unhinged the general had become so quickly, and over so small a fact. “You can get your men back to whats really important then, ferreting Longcoats out of basements and bathhouses.”
Andrus was at a loss for words. Glitch grinned at him. “I believe you were leaving,” he said. Turning away from the general, he stuffed his cold hands into the pockets of his jacket, and looked skyward again. He could hear the general grumbling as he walked away.
After a few moments, Raw came to join Ambrose. He, too, looked towards the sky.
“No moon, no stars. A dark night,” the Viewer said.
Ambrose nodded, but didn't say anything.
“Glitch upset the old general. General not fond of you, not at all.”
“What do I care?” Ambrose said with a shrug. “I'm tired of talking to that arrogant bastard. Once we find the Queen, and DG, I'm never talking to him again. You have my word.”
Raw chuckled low. “Glitch does not usually have such hard feelings,” he said. “You feel malice, anger. You let personal feelings for family to cloud judgment. The General important man. Glitch wise not to argue with him over small things.”
“Hey,” Ambrose said shortly. “Defending Cain isn't a small thing. I mean, what was the man supposed to do? Turn down Azkadellia when she asked him for his help? Even if you put the fact that she's a princess aside.” Ambrose looked at his furry companion. “Why do all the princesses go for Cain, anyway?”
“Tin Man brave and noble,” Raw said with a small smile adorning his feline mouth. “He makes Princess feel safe.”
Ambrose snorted. “Oh yeah? Which one?”
Raw shook his head. He would not discuss such personal matters before his friend. He knew all too well what feelings were buried deep within both the Tin Man and the younger princess. It was not for him to divulge their souls to another. “I feel magic in these mountains,” he said slowly, still staring up at the sky. “Like aftershocks. But the center, Raw cannot see.”
Not noticing his question hadn't been answered, Glitch followed along Raw's new train of thought, easily distracted. “You know, magic leaves a trace. If I could engineer a contraption...” he slowed, thinking. He held his hands up, in what could roughly be considered the shape of a box. “Some sort of magic detector. Yeah... a little gadget that could give you an energy reading... then we could just follow the trace as it got stronger and stronger. Then we'd find them for sure.”
Silence. The breeze through the brush around them picked up, blowing dead leaves. Snow was threatening. Three days they had been missing... and they were entering a fourth night. No word from their captors, no demands, nothing. Only the word of the Viewer beside him, that they lived in a darkness his heart-sight was unable to penetrate.
The dim light from the campfire barely reached them where they stood, away from the tents and movement of the soldiers. But even at the shadowy perimeter, Ambrose noticed his friend stiffen, heard Raw's breath catch.
“What is it?” Ambrose asked, alarmed.
“Something happens now. DG very scared,” Raw whispered.
Ambrose looked around in a panic, as if hoping that the entrance to the secret underground lair where his friends were kept would suddenly, magically open up in the floor of the forest. “Is she using her magic?” Ambrose asked.
Raw closed his eyes, and nodded. His heart was pounding, every sense acutely aware of the trees around him. Like a taste on a crosswind, it came to him. Slowly, he raised his arm, turned and pointed. One word escaped his mouth.
“Northwest.”
The Outlander had locked the door behind him. DG was furious. Her fists were sore from banging on the wood, she stalked the room and screamed like a grounded teenager - something she hadn't left too far behind, and in her loneliness, she missed Hank and Emily so desperately it brought tears to her eyes.
Two hours passed, but the Commander didn't return with her sister. Her hope had risen up inside of her, had filled her so completely she was sure her feet might lift off the floor. To see Azkadellia! But as the minutes ticked away, became one hour, and then two, DG sank down into despair.
Escape was on her mind. She ran through a million plans. In each, the Commander melted into a puddle of black ooze on the floor immediately, the rest of the fantasy involving boldly rescuing the soldiers, heroically discovering the whereabouts of her mother, and a hail of gunfire that blew the exit door off its hinges. Bright light of the suns, fresh air! Piece of cake.
The only flaw in her fantastic plan was that she knew the Commander wouldn't melt. She knew that it was the combined power of the magic of herself and her sister, and the beam of energy produced by the Anti-Sun Seeder that had brought about that specific demise. And without the Commander meeting a timely and convenient end, most of her escape plans faltered and broke apart.
She was up and pacing when the door finally flew open, slamming into the wall with a bang. Azkadellia was pushed roughly into the room and fell onto the floor. DG rushed forward, and fell down beside her.
“Az!” she exclaimed. Az looked up at her with a wry smile. She looked worn, exhausted, but her dark eyes were glittering.
“Hello, Deeg,” her sister said weakly.
“Are you okay?” DG asked, helping her sister to her feet. Forgetting for the moment the Light and the Emerald and the Commander and the fortress around them, she concentrated on her older sister. “Did they hurt you?”
Az rolled her eyes. “Only a little.”
I'll hurt them more, DG thought bitterly. Hugging her sister tight, she caught the eye of the Commander over her sister's shoulder. “What have you been doing to her?”
“Only what I had to do, Your Highness. All wrongs will soon be mended. Now, I believe you have agreed to do something for me,” he said in a thick whisper. Everything seemed to have stopped moving. With her sister in her arms, DG didn't know how she was going to accomplish what she needed to do, or how to convey to her sister her plan.
“Commander,” DG said slowly, releasing her sister. She knew it was too soon to take her sister's hand; one glimpse of the magic that flowed between them when they were connected, and he would have them apart before the power had a chance to build. A protective shield around them would do little good if they were rooted, trapped in this room.
The Commander snapped his fingers. A second outlander, one of his soldiers, stepped forward and handed the Commander the box holding the Emerald. “You will open this for me now, and when I see with my own eyes the treasure that lays within, I will have my men escort yours to the surface. You will join them with your dear old mother, and you can pluck your way out of this wilderness, and hope you find the way home.” The laughter that followed was cruel, unyielding.
DG shivered at his cold words, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Azkadellia shift uncomfortably. Now it was reversed, and Azkadellia was the one that was frightened, unsure. DG hugged her sister again, burying her face in Az's dark, soft hair. “Don't let go,” she whispered, so quietly she wondered if Az could hear more than a mumble. But Az gave a small hum in her throat, an affirmation that to anyone else might have sounded like a contented sigh at her sister's embrace. DG pulled away, looked into her sister's face with a smile.
“Lay the box on the table, Commander,” DG said. She nodded towards the flat surface that lay a few feet away. “You wouldn't want your hands to get burned.”
The box was placed on the table, and the Commander took a step back, watching them expectantly.
DG took a deep breath, and clasped her sister's warm hand. The energy that shot through her fingers and up her arm strengthened her, enervated her. Beside her, Azkadellia stood straighter, and she tightened their grip with a squeeze; DG knew she felt the same resolution.
DG... squeeze my hand if you can hear me.
Azkadellia's voice rang clear in DG's head. Furrowing her brow, momentarily confused, she didn't look over at her sister, but squeezed Az's hand gently. Az smiled.
Remind me to teach you this little trick when we get home.
DG smiled at that. When we get home.
Are you ready, Deeg? Azkadellia asked. When I give the signal, we have to direct our energy at the Commander and his men. But you must wait. Let them think our magic isn't working.
Az reached out and held her free hand out over the box. Connected with her sister, the hand glowed, casting shadows across the table. DG reached out and did the same thing, willing herself as she had before so as not to unlock the box by accident. Her hand shook with the effort of holding the magic back.
The Commander grunted. “My patience wears thin with you humans. I will kill you both and your mother too, if you do not break that seal!”
Don't listen to him, Az's voice in her head said calmly. How could she be so composed? DG herself was terrified; of the Commander, of losing control of her magic, of what was about to or might happen. He needs us to unlock this box. He can't kill us, or he'll never get the Emerald.
I wish I shared your confidence, DG thought, even though she knew that the words would never reach her sister. This was definitely something worth learning.
DG, we must focus. We have to bend our magic; its like throwing a ball, just propel it forward. Are you ready?
The box on the table was beginning to shake; color was entering the Commander's face, the dull red of clay. He looked like he might get violent, and DG felt her courage waver. She squeezed her sister's hand again, gathering strength.
Azkadellia's voice in her head was tempered with restraint. One... two... THREE!
With tremendous force, DG put every fiber of her being into the warmth of the magic flowing through her veins. The power alighted all of her senses; a blast erupted from the outstretched hands of the two princesses, a shattering force that was loud and hot. It knocked the Commander and his soldiers backwards. DG's eyes left the Commander to watch the box as it lifted off the table, vibrating in midair. DG's eyes widened, and the entire box fell apart, exploded, the pieces shooting into every corner of the room. The Emerald clattered pathetically onto the tabletop.
“No!” Az screamed. DG looked sharply at her, but even in that moment, she felt the magical connection beginning to weaken. The lights in the room flickered, and turned off. Cries of pain emitted from the soldiers on the floor, before they went eerily silent. The Commander was trying to climb to his feet, using the table to pull himself up.
“NO!”
Which of them uttered the word, DG wasn't sure. In another blast of light, one so bright that she had to turn her head, the Outlander was thrown backwards again, into the small sitting area. With a wave of her hand, Azkadellia turned the furniture on top of him, tossing each piece down hard.
Painfully, the sisters disentangled their clasped hands. Drawing a shaky breath, DG tried to light the lamps with her magic, but they only flickered momentarily, casting bizarre shadows on the walls before hurtling them into darkness once again. The only light was what spilled in from the hallway, and the faintly glowing gem on the table.
Az stared at it. “DG, I can't bear to pick it up,” she said softly. “Would you?”
DG was hesitant. “You bested him,” her sister told her. “Together, we conquered him. It won't resist you, just grab it!”
DG wished she knew more about the rules of magic that governed their steps. She pocketed the Emerald, picking it up with her hand inside the sleeve of her dress, the jewel too burning hot to touch. Encased inside her pocket, she could feel its warmth against her leg, but instead of comforting, it felt like a weight, like a bomb ticking away.
“We have to find Mother,” Az said after a moment, running her hands through her hair. “The Commander has a card that he inserts into the locks...” she said slowly. Holding up a hand, DG saw in the dim light something small, flat, and white fly through the air. Az caught it easily.
“Will that open the door to the surface?” DG asked her sister. Az shrugged her shoulders, a fleeting, fearful look crossing her pale, beautiful face as she studied the plastic card in her hands, turning it over and over as if it might change.
“DG, we have to hurry. The entire complex will have heard that blast. We have to find Mother and get out of here.”
DG shook her head. “No, we have to get the others from below. We can't leave them here.”
Azkadellia shook her head with an impatient sigh. She was already stepping gingerly over the two bodies in the doorway, watching the pile of furniture on the other side of the room as she did so. “There is no time, DG! We have to get out of here now!”
“I won't leave Cain here, they'll kill him!”
Azkadellia looked at her sister then, glancing back from the doorway. A strange, wistful looked crossed over the woman's features, and DG cocked her head to the side as she watched Azkadellia's face move from sadness, to a small smile, to a look of absolute stubbornness DG recognized as one of her own.
“You're right, we can't leave them behind. But how do we find the way?”
DG grinned. “Follow me.”
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