"Until The Fall" - 36/?
Title: Until The Fall
Author: Rissy James
Characters: DG, Cain, Azkadellia, Jeb, Glitch, Raw, Tutor, the Queen, Ahamo, and some old & new OCs
Pairing: Established Cain/DG; established Jeb/Az
Rating: M
Summary: Sequel to " Of Light". After an annual of living in the O.Z., DG sets out to complete the task given to her by the Gale. Soon, she must learn that there is always more to everything than first meets the eye.
Extras: Cast Page on livejournal.com
(Author's Note: Thanks to all leaving reviews - and hello lurkers! Read and enjoy!)
Chapter Thirty Six
Azkadellia had been thinking of her sister all day. All day, right from the moment she'd woken up, whispers cloaked in her sister's voice teasing her awake only to disappear once the veil of sleep had lifted. Her brain had registered the faintest, most far off knocking, but her rooms were free, and the startled guards outside her suite told her no one had come by.
The day hadn't gotten any better. She'd watched the suns rise over the city, glad to see them moving on their constant celestial path. It was becoming rare to be a part of something bigger than herself; the world around her moved at a pace that threatened to swallow her up.
She waited all morning for news of her sister, thinking that perhaps the dreams had been a premonition of some sort, but Ambrose didn't come bursting in from here or there in a rush. No, he was mostly calm today. He kept her company well enough, as if he were still watching out for her as he had when she was a child. The hours of the day melted away, and the afternoon found the two closed together in her office, doors shut tight against the swarms of self-seekers.
“Your speech for the opening celebrations tomorrow,” Ambrose said cheerily, as he placed the cards on her desk. “There is a council meeting late this afternoon. The council members -”
“I don't want to speak of the council at the moment, Ambrose,” she said tiredly, putting a hand over her eyes.
Ambrose's jaw closed with an audible snap. “What would you like to speak on, Majesty?”
Azkadellia didn't respond. Instead, she did something she found was becoming an increasingly common occurrence in Ambrose's presence... she relaxed. She loosened her shoulders and uncrossing her ankles. She tilted her head to one side to help relieve a kink that was forming in her neck.
“I dreamed of DG last night,” she said wistfully, giving the advisor a wan smile when his dark eyebrows perked with interest. “And she's been on my mind since I woke up.”
“Just a dream?” Ambrose asked. “Or something more serious?”
“I'm not sure,” she replied honestly. “But I don't like the feeling its left me with.”
Ambrose gave her a small smile. “Maybe you just miss her.”
“I miss her a lot,” Az admitted. “I really hope she's accomplishing something, because I don't think I can stand much more of this not knowing what kind of mischief she's finding.” She sighed and looked down at her hands, the soft indentation in the side of her finger from holding a pen all morning. Across the desk, Ambrose was quiet and contemplative, the distant look in his dark eyes hinting that he might be lost in a very pleasant memory.
“You miss her too, don't you?” Azkadellia asked him. “Both of them.”
His reverie disturbed, Ambrose gave a bashful smile. “All of them,” he told her. “All the time. I think Tutor is becoming a little annoyed bearing the brunt of all my attentions. You know, DG used to call me high maintenance.”
Azkadellia smiled, a true one that stretched her lips and plumped her cheeks. “What would she say now?”
“She'd probably say I've gotten worse.”
Silence fell over the room then, comfortable in its emptiness. It was all too soon, however, that footsteps began to shuffle outside the study door, and the sound of muffled voices could be heard by both the Queen and her advisor. However cleverly she tried to hide, the outside world always managed to find her. Her guards were becoming anxious to escort her to the council meeting. She didn't want to alienate the chairmen, but no matter her action, she would always be in their disfavor. A group of disgruntled old men with memories as solid as bedrock remembered all too well the spoiled, demanding child she'd been. That she'd dethroned her mother and half-destroyed the country would never be forgiven by these elders of the city council, even if they paid lip service and carried out her will as she tried to rebuild.
Azkadellia sighed as she stood, bracing herself with hands on the desk. Ambrose hopped to his feet automatically, but the gesture still came off as practiced and polite. She smiled gratefully at him.
“Ambrose -” she began, but her voice was cut off by insistent knocking at the door. She nodded at Ambrose, who crossed the great study in a few long strides and opened the door.
The boy that came rushing in was dirty and brought with him the smell of a stable, wearing the simple uniform of a royal messenger. Azkadellia wrinkled her nose, but managed to straighten her face again as the boy approached, yanking out of his pocket an envelope.
“For you, Majesty!” he said importantly. “From General Peter Andrus. I have been asked to stress its urgency, Ma'am.”
Azkadellia snatched the envelope away from the boy and went directly to the window, away from the eyes of those peeking in from the hallway. Ambrose gave the boy a pat on the shoulder.
“Go down to the kitchens and get yourself something to eat, lad,” he said, giving him a forceful nudge toward the door. “The cook on the eighteenth floor has made Cyprus Delight for tonight, I believe.” Once Ambrose had the door closed and locked, he went to the Queen, though he kept a respectful distance.
All of Azkadellia's attention was drawn into the letter. After a few moments, she'd finished reading it, and it fell from her hand as her breath caught in her throat. “This letter says nothing of importance,” she said, her voice wavering momentarily, but she fought hard to keep it steady. “Andrus has requested my presence immediately in the South.”
“But, Your Majesty, the council -”
Oh, those damned old men! she thought bitterly as she reached for her coat off the stand. She shook her head as she put on her coat, and then pulled on her gloves. The council members would not take being passed off to the advisors kindly.
“I'll meet with the council,” she said shortly. “It can't be avoided.”
Ambrose nodded, torn between being flustered over the delay in leaving and relieved about the council. None of them needed the hell that would be raised if the Queen disappeared when there was most likely a long list of trivial, time consuming items to be discussed.
“I'll leave as soon as the meeting has ended,” she told him. “Ambrose -”
“Don't worry, Majesty,” he said with a comforting smile. “I'll make sure all the arrangements are made.”
“You'll accompany me?” she asked. She didn't make an order, she so seldom did with him. She knew he'd lay down at her feet, or DG's, or her mother's. He was wholly committed to the Gales, loved each of them fully and was adored by them in return. She felt a sweeping wave of appreciation for the man, but the moment seemed ill-timed to begin gushing sentiment.
“Of course, Azkadellia,” he said, and he offered up another smile. She left the room then, her guards picking up behind her as she hit the hallway. Ambrose watched after her, worry increasing inside his gut. He was no fool, though he could sometimes he accused of reading too far into things. As he bent over to pick up Andrus' letter from where it had dropped to the floor, he wondered just what else the day would have in store for him.
He pocketed the letter without reading it. The letter would say nothing, all communications would be done in person once the Queen had met with her generals.
DG's wild goose chase of a quest, the kid's disappearance, and now the generals had summoned the Queen.
Shaking off his probing thoughts, Ambrose set his mind to arranging a car and finding a driver. It was a long journey South and there was no time to waste.
***
The paint had long worn off the wooden signpost hammered into the ground. DG wondered faintly what it had once read, if it had once given the directions she sorely needed. Well, whatever it had read, it now mocked her with its blank, faded face.
Ahead of them, the road was becoming harder to follow.
The glare of the late afternoon suns was waning. The harsh, bright light would soon begin to weaken and bow out to darkness. It was the setting of the second sun that she both dreaded and hoped for. They would stop pursuing the soldiers come nightfall. It would be impossible to follow in the dark, and they risked losing the trail and becoming hopelessly lost in the wetland that marked the edge of Lake Country.
Sitting on the driest patch of ground she could find, DG sat silently, watching her two companions. Tory hadn't spoken a word to her all day, which she found odd. Their eyes had met on more than one occasion during the hours they'd spent marching first over rutted country road, now through thick, tangled marsh, but not a word had passed between them.
Zero had also kept his distance from her, and DG had been thanking whatever lucky star she had, but it also made for lonely going. Even after only a morning and afternoon away from them, she ached physically for her friends. She missed Raw's calmness, Cain's stoic presence, Hass' watchful eyes. That she felt vulnerable and exposed without her friends, these vital pieces of herself kind of went without saying.
DG sat with her knees up, elbows rested on them, her chin balanced in her hands. She stared at the denser part of the woods. They were going to come up on it faster than she'd realized, and they'd be spending the night well into the depths of the Black Forest.
“She says there's wild animals in the forest.”
“Did she say what... kind of wild animals?”
DG shivered, and closed her eyes. Maybe she was chickening out, sending Cain for Az the way she had, but didn't see it written somewhere that she couldn't ask for help. Maybe this time around things were different, but one thing remained constant and true. She could depend on herself.
As she stood, stretching her back as she went, a glint off the road caught her eye. Stretching up on her tiptoes again experimentally, she saw it again, the tweak of metal catching the failing rays of the suns.
“What is that?” she wondered aloud as she hopped off her grassy embankment.
“What is what?” Tory asked distractedly, as he slowly turned his head to face where she'd been sitting. She was walking briskly past him a second later, and he called after her. “DG, where are you going?”
Good question, a little voice in her head chimed in. She made her way down a steep slope, where a muddy trail nearly hidden by the grass led over to a stand of tangled trees. The branches hung low, some touching the ground; as she got closer, she saw the eaves of a weathered roof poking out of a well-hidden copse. The wood was old, stained silver with time; the trees around the little cottage seemed to be trying to swallow it whole.
“That's far enough, Princess,” Zero called out in warning.
DG ignored him; she could hear Tory crashing through the grass behind her as she approached the cottage. She ducked under a low-hanging branch, using it to swing herself upright. She stopped, her fingers touching the branch as she took in the lopsided old cabin. Windows broken, saplings popping up through the cracks in the porch steps. Vines were gradually claiming the carved wooden railing. A lot of blood, sweat, and elbow grease had gone into building the place, it was sturdy, but long, long forgotten.
Tory came to a halt behind her, the branch between them. He seemed hesitant to cross the barrier.
“Something wrong?” he asked her. His voice had a hitch to it; he was nervous.
“I don't think so,” DG replied, searching for whatever had caught her eye. The jagged pieces of window glass still in the frames were coated green with grime. Nothing about the place shone or reflected light. Straightening her backbone, she skirted the edge of the grove, eyes always on the cottage, waiting for something to catch the light and throw it back at her. She heard Zero calling her name, sharp and commanding.
Finally, she saw it, around the side of the house. A branch above her head swayed just so in the breeze, and something metal winked at her as the sunslight hit it. She craned her neck, and took a step sideways. The ground behind the house was littered with stumps; an attempt had been made at clearing the yard, but by the looks of things the person - or family - that had lived here had halted their expansion and abandoned their land.
But someone had been left behind.
The recognition came faster this time as she crossed the yard in a few long strides. He stood with his axe raised high above his head, a final chop that never landed. All tin and joints and rust, the statue of a man. She felt a rush of longing sweep through the empty yard as the tin man stood poised next to a tree, frozen in time.
She reached out and ran a finger down his arm; a streak appeared, the metal beneath brightening.
“You're supposed to say something, too,” DG muttered to him.
The tin woodman kept his secrets.
Tory came closer, finally braving the creaking branches overhead and the skeletal dances of the leaves that had fallen to the ground. “Is this it?” he asked. “What you saw?”
DG nodded her head slowly, looking at the grease and grime now clinging to her fingertip. “Someone put a lot of heart into making him,” she said, her eyes finally leaving the tin woodman's striking figure to look around them. “We're nearly into the Forest. Sure would be nice to have someone like him clearing the way.”
Tory gave a genuine laugh, which caused her to look at him and smile. “You don't want a good guy in the lead where we're going,” he said.
DG frowned. “What would you know about it?” she asked cynically. “If you knew more, you could lead us yourself, and I wouldn't have Zero on my heels acting like he's got a leash around my neck.”
“Zero is a necessary evil,” Tory said slowly. “Didn't Cain ever get it out of anyone who let Zero out of the tin suit?”
DG shook her head. In all honesty, she didn't really care. The trees shifted in the wind, the rustle of leaves almost deafening. The tin woodman swayed slightly, and DG eyed his upraised axe warily.
“Its horrible inside those things, you know,” Tory said, and reached out to tap one knuckle against the tin woodman's barrel chest; the clattered echo of an empty cavity came back to them. “Iron suits are every bit the torture they're meant to be,” Tory continued. “Its only the Sorceress who added in the extra sadistic twist of the recordings.”
DG's stomach churned. “I think we should get back,” she said low, but her feet wouldn't move.
“Naturally, they're always really grateful to get out of there. The prisoners, I mean,” Tory said. “Most men are only in there for a matter of months. Its a rare case that's in there for as long as Wyatt Cain was. Zero was only in the suit for eight or nine weeks.”
DG sucked in a sharp breath. By the time she fought her way to releasing it, Tory was watching her with those dark eyes, sending chills through her. “You let him out,” she said resolutely. There was no question in her voice.
Tory gave the faintest nod, a gesture barely there. “When he fell out of that thing, he tried to kill me,” the kid said, and then rolled his eyes. “Didn't have much in him though, in that thing for so long. Once I started talking, well... he wasn't really in a position to do anything but listen.”
DG hated what she was hearing, knowing it to be truth and resenting it like a child. “Why Zero?” she asked angrily. “Couldn't you have come directly to me without all this smoke and mirror bullshit?” The curse punctuated the end of her sentence, and the kid had the decency to look sheepish. He slid his hands smoothly into the pocket of his jeans, quiet for a few minutes while DG fumed silently, eyes focused on the two tin feet planted firmly on the ground, ankle deep in dead leaves. With a sigh, she repeated herself, voice demanding an answer. “Why Zero?”
“I only do as I'm bid,” Tory said cryptically. “As do you. You know as well as I that neither of us would be out here in this bog, on our way into that forest, if we didn't have your dead grandma pulling at our strings.” He sighed, and kicked up the leaves around his feet. “Zero wasn't hard to convince,” he said, giving her the answer she wanted. “A place to hide, employment with the Commander, and out of the O.Z. where neither the royal army or Catticalisa could find him. I gave him all that he needed.”
DG glanced behind her; she could see Zero now, navigating his way through the maze of interconnecting branches that protected the little grove from the rest of the Zone. “I have a hard time believing,” she said slowly, turning back to the kid, “that you had an easy time convincing Zero to help me.” Anyone, really, let alone herself.
“The way he chooses to look at it, he's helping me,” Tory said with a shrug of his shoulders. “And anyway, I promised him you'd give him whatever he wanted, and from what I hear of it, he didn't ever have to ask for a single thing. Cain just offered it outright.”
DG frowned, listening to the approaching footsteps, the crackle of dead leaves being tossed about. “His life back.”
“That Tin Man of yours seems to have a knack for knowing,” Tory said offhandedly.
“That he does,” DG agreed. She was more and more regretting every minute her decisions along this road, to listen to the ghostly voice coming out of her mirror instead of listening to her own gut, or to Cain's sound advice. Wyatt... he'd never hesitated to follow her, no matter if he disapproved or not.
“Sorry things had to happen this way. You'll see him again,” Tory said seriously, seemingly out of the blue. DG turned into his honest gaze, trying to gauge for herself if she could trust this boy in front of her.
Another gust of wind stirred up the leaves scattering the yard. The tin woodman's joints gave a horrible groan, and she backed away from the raised axe, straight into a solid wall. Not a wall, it was softer, like flesh. Heavy hands descended on her arms with a grip that threatened to cut off circulation. Zero.
“Enough gawking, lets get moving,” Zero said cuttingly, as he eyed the tin figure with disdain. “Kid, search through the house and shed, see if you can't find us some rope. Princess, I want you with me.” He didn't loosen his hold on her arm, and gave her a hard tug to prove his point.
DG gave very little in the way of resistance, letting him yank and twist as he pleased. “What's the rope for?”
Zero grinned at her. “Its for later.” She pulled a face at him, unimpressed. Zero gave her another hard wrench for it, and she nearly came off her feet. “I said lets get moving,” he said. “We can put in a lot more distance before dark. This place doesn't do the imagination any good. Feels like I'm being watched.”
Raising her eyes to the sky-reaching branches, she nodded her head slowly in agreement.
It did feel that way.
***
The Brick Route wasn't exactly obliging to the undercarriage of the old truck Cain and Raw had found, but she held up fine in the end. The horses had been left back at the stable in Byvasser, to be kept as a sort of collateral for the stable owner's old transport.
All hell had broken loose inside of Wyatt Cain, but he did his best to keep it in check. The only thing he had to hold onto was his clear cut focus on what needed doing, and he followed this path with a single minded diligence that had served him well his years protecting the streets and citizens of Central City with the Tin Men. Now, however, it had the Viewer beside him agitated, knees bouncing counter-wise to the jostling of the truck.
“You okay?” Cain finally asked Raw, his voice coming out harder than he meant it.
The Viewer gave him a knowing look, but said nothing.
The silence in the truck, but for the sound of brick and hard gravel beneath the worn old tires, was torture on Cain's active mind. There wasn't a single part of him, be it his spine or his heart or his brain, that wasn't shouting at him to turn around, you're going the wrong way, idiot, the battle's behind you.
But he continued on the path DG had set him on. He did as she'd asked, because she'd come out and asked him. Before this time on the road had thrown them back together, she hadn't asked him for much. Never really had the chance, with his duties with the army keeping him out of the city and her duties to her family keeping her in it.
But now, at every point, she had asked him to go farther and farther, deeper and deeper into unknown territory, places dark and unexplored. He was under Her Majesty's employ to keep the princess safe, but it was his softness for the girl that had him walking two paces behind her as she followed her feet straight into the fire.
And at the very brink, she'd put her hand up, turned those blue eyes on him, and asked him to stay behind.
Wyatt growled low to himself, disappointed and slightly embarrassed by the amount of sentiment his mind could conjure up under the circumstances.
He barely slowed through the Fields of the Papay, though it was customary to do so. The tunnel beneath the trees was just wide enough for the truck to drive through without obstruction, but the topmost branches reaching over the road scraped over the roof of the truck, adding to the hum of the road.
There were people everywhere throughout the fields; farmers who lived in the area, whose land bordered that of the Papay. It was harvest time, and as a sign of peace, the people had come to help the grangers gather their fruit. It marked changing times, though Cain doubted any of the higher-ups from Central City would take notice. If the fields were being harvested, that meant the celebrations would be taking place within the walls of the city. Hard to see what's going on out in the fields of the country through the bottom of an endless wine glass.
Darkness fell, and the stars came out. Soon after, the glow in the night sky grew faintly pinkish, long before the lights of the city itself could be seen. It was with a sigh of relief that Cain finally laid eyes on the spotlighted towers, gleaming brightly as beacons. The guards at the South gate stopped the truck, and he impatiently barked his clearance. The young guardsman winced and allowed Cain to get back into the truck.
The drive through the city took longer than if he'd been on foot. The streets were busy, the avenues leading to Gale Square had been blocked off, and the Sin District seemed to have burst at the seams. Closer to the heart of the city, traffic thinned out, but it was still well past seven by the time they reached the gates of the palace. One look at Cain and the Viewer had the guards waving the truck through.
He drove around to the back entrance. As he entered the palace, the staff he ran across called out greetings to both he and Raw. His absence had been noticed, apparently, though he didn't take the time to stop and make small talk with the half-dozen people who tried to slow him down. Biting back one rude comment after the other, he finally made it to the upper floors with Raw in tow.
Finding Azkadellia was a daunting task, and it was by pure chance that the two men stumbled across Glitch pacing in a hallway in front of a set of impressively carved wooden doors. It was Raw that pointed the agitated advisor out to Cain; the Tin Man would have strode right past, mind set on searching the residential floors. With an appreciative nod, Cain wondered if the Viewer hadn't led the way from the moment they'd entered the palace.
Cain was mere feet away before the distracted advisor noticed him; Glitch jumped back with a startled cry, hands going to his mouth. Cain put up a hand, sensing a rant of babbled indignation coming on, but his friend moved onto more relevant topics surprisingly quickly.
“What are you doing here?” Glitch demanded. “And without DG?” He took greater notice of Raw then, and the two reunited friends smiled at each other, before Glitch hissed, “And why is Raw with you instead?”
“Not now,” Cain said firmly. “Where's Azkadellia.” It wasn't a question or statement, it was a demand, and Glitch's eyes widened slightly at the quiet, solemn anger that was coursing through Cain's tone. Without hesitation, Glitch nodded his head to the left, and the heavy doors.
“She's in council,” Glitch whispered. “They've had her in there for hours. There was a dispatch from the South earlier.” He seemed to pale, if it were possible. “Cain, what -”
“Fill him in,” Cain told Raw, the door handles already in his hands. With a shove, Wyatt charged headlong the council hall. Whatever heated conversation was taking place between the two opposite rows of bickering old men stopped the moment the doors were thrown open. At the far end of the long, decorated hall, Azkadellia sat, regal and beautiful, on her throne, presiding over the council and looking miserably bored. The speaker came to a stuttering halt.
Up the green-carpeted aisle between the council seats, Cain walked respectfully up to the top of the hall, his eyes locked on the Queen as she stood from her throne, ignoring the insulted chairmen on either side of him. He'd made it halfway through the gauntlet when the buzz of whispering started, and was within five paces of Azkadellia when the men had begun to shout. He made a short bow of his head as he reached the dais, removing the hat from his head. The gazes of contempt and scrutiny from the squawking council members had him remembering his manners at the very last minute.
“Captain,” Azkadellia said pleasantly, but there was a tremble in her voice that reminded him instantly of DG. “To what do I owe this welcome interruption?”
“Your sister sent me to fetch you,” he said, keeping his voice low, his teeth near clenched. He replaced the hat on his head, tugging at the brim and looking at her with shadowed eyes. “If you're willin' to break away from your duties here for a spell.”
The word choice caught her attention, realization to the plight in his icy blue eyes hitting her hard. She lifted her chin and regarded the two dozen councilmen who stared with open dismay in their eyes. “Gentlemen, I believe that's quite enough for one evening,” she said, voice ringing clear through the hall. “I will hear no more on these matters, you may go through my advisors if it absolutely must be dealt with. My attentions are required elsewhere at the moment. Now, if you'll excuse me.”
Azkadellia stepped off the dais, and walked past Cain toward the open doors at the end of the hall. He glanced around, smirking as he watched the council members go slack-jawed at Azkadellia's address, before he followed the Queen out and shut the doors behind him.
“I trust there's a good story,” Azkadellia muttered at Cain as he set the pace toward her rooms, a carefully protective hand on her elbow to keep her at his side.
Cain turned his head to regard her with a frown. “Always is.”
***
At the exact moment Azkadellia stood from her throne in Central City, DG was staring up at the sky, away from the small circle of firelight. There were no clouds, and the millions of stars that scattered across the heavens all seemed to twinkle just for her, sending her a thousand messages that she couldn't make out, forever lost. She felt insignificant, and alone.
Tory and Zero sat by the fireside, and she assumed they thought her asleep. Their backs were to her, and they sat quite far apart. The day of travel had drained all of them, Zero had pushed them hard and had bordered on cruel. She hadn't expected any less, but after weeks of Wyatt's gentle consideration of her, this colder reality hit especially hard.
Wyatt...
Maybe it was just the dark... or the cold, or the vastness of the stars... she felt her chest constrict and her throat close up, and she turned her face into her arm to quell the sudden upswell. She wouldn't lower herself to crying. She was angry at herself for losing control... and her hope.
Really, it wasn't so hopeless...
No, one look at the silhouetted backs of the ex-Longcoat and the kid who wove a beautiful story of legend and half truths - it was pretty damned hopeless.
She needed a walk... not fresh air, no she'd been surrounded by so much fresh air in the past two weeks that she actually missed the closed-in feeling of Central City.
Central City... did he make it yet? Has he gotten to Azkadellia... are they on their way?
DG shook her head at herself as she slowly got to her feet. Definitely needed a walk.
“Don't go wandering off,” Zero barked sharply at her as she took her first step.
Cringing, DG said nothing, though she muttered a curse and a threat under her breath. The forest around her was still somewhat sparsely populated, wide open spaces between trees that she could walk through aimlessly without fear of bumping her shoulder against a trunk or tripping over root structure bursting out of the ground. She put a gloved hand on every tree she passed, reaching out with each step to steady herself in case she stumbled. It was slow, but it was calming, and she could almost forget the consuming blackness around her, or the uncertainty of her future.
A stick cracked under her foot... and a rustle sounded above her head.
DG paused, bracing herself with one arm out. She listened hard, but heard nothing but for the wind playing with the leaves. She took off her gloves and touched the rough bark of the nearest tree, the scarred texture reminding her too vividly of other trees across the O.Z., the towering behemoths of scorched Finaqua, the orchards of the Papay... and others.
Another whisper from above her head, the faintest stir of branch, too heavy to be caused by the caress of the breeze.
DG swallowed hard as her breath caught in her throat. She wasn't afraid, exactly...
“Two little princesses, dancing in a row,” she sang quietly to herself as she began to walk again. She hummed the next line, and the next, finishing the song and repeating it to herself a second time, a comfort that she couldn't quite explain. Though she kept her ears keened toward the branches above her head, she heard nothing.
She held out her hand and focused on the dip of her palm; from her skin was born the tiniest wisp, a bright pinprick of light that mirrored the stars. It zigzagged in front of her, lost without direction, waiting for a command. DG looked up, toward the darkness in the branches over her head, to the sky and stars beyond that. The wisp streaked upward, leaving a trail of light in its wake that faded into nothing.
The wisp stopped, and circled its target, spinning faster and faster, all intimidation and harassment for its harmless intent. There was a startled, annoyed cry, a flutter accompanied by a wooden creak. Gracefully, the dark shape plummeted from the branches to land on the ground in front of her. Her hands went up defensively, a faint shimmer igniting her skin and illuminating the face of the soldier who'd dropped from the sky. The wisp extinguished just as the last of its light cast upon his face.
With a sudden gasp, her arms went around his neck before she could stop herself. Corporal Hass had the breath knocked out of him, but he laughed quietly as he returned the hug, his hands patting her back reassuringly, albeit a bit uncomfortably.
“I can't believe how glad I am to see you,” she said with a breathless laugh as she pulled away.
“Neither can I,” Hass muttered as he rubbed his chest where the impact of her embrace had hit him hardest.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded with a hiss, though even as the question was passing her lips, she realized she knew the answer.
“Captain's orders,” he said with a wry, downward curve to his mouth. “Wasn't supposed to let you know I was following you.”
“Just tell him I bullied it out of you,” she said.
Hass snorted. “You did.”
A moment passed as the two watched each other carefully. The night didn't allow her to see his face very well, but the rigid set of his shoulders spoke volumes. “You shouldn't be here,” she said slowly, softly, feeling the tension radiating off of him as easily as she could hear his quiet breathing, loud in the stillness around them.
“Yes, I should be,” Hass insisted, as if it was the end of it. “Captain seemed to think you could use the extra eye out for you, seeing as how you weren't keen on it being his.”
DG swallowed hard, a heavy guilt crawling into her stomach and settling down for a good, long stay. “Was he angry?”
“Angry doesn't even come close. Now, scoot back to camp before Zero comes looking for you.”
She stood with her feet planted, rooted as deeply as the ancient trees that surrounded her.
When he saw she wasn't moving, he let loose a sigh, and reached out to place a hand on her upper arm. His fingers squeezed her gently, and she was certain that he was weighing his words carefully.
“Get some sleep,” Hass told her, a bit of concern coming through the otherwise dispassionate front. “The shield isn't too far, we'll reach it before midday tomorrow. And try not to sneak off again,” he said, and she imagined him grinning teasingly at her. “I have to get some sleep, too. Can't keep an eye on you all the time.”
(Author's Note II: Point of interest, tomorrow (Nov. 2nd) is the one year anniversary of my watching "Tin Man" and finding this fandom. Thanks to everyone for the great year its been! Here's to many more C/DG stories, yes/hell yes?)
Table Of Contents:
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10
11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20
21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30
31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35
Author: Rissy James
Characters: DG, Cain, Azkadellia, Jeb, Glitch, Raw, Tutor, the Queen, Ahamo, and some old & new OCs
Pairing: Established Cain/DG; established Jeb/Az
Rating: M
Summary: Sequel to " Of Light". After an annual of living in the O.Z., DG sets out to complete the task given to her by the Gale. Soon, she must learn that there is always more to everything than first meets the eye.
Extras: Cast Page on livejournal.com
(Author's Note: Thanks to all leaving reviews - and hello lurkers! Read and enjoy!)
Chapter Thirty Six
Azkadellia had been thinking of her sister all day. All day, right from the moment she'd woken up, whispers cloaked in her sister's voice teasing her awake only to disappear once the veil of sleep had lifted. Her brain had registered the faintest, most far off knocking, but her rooms were free, and the startled guards outside her suite told her no one had come by.
The day hadn't gotten any better. She'd watched the suns rise over the city, glad to see them moving on their constant celestial path. It was becoming rare to be a part of something bigger than herself; the world around her moved at a pace that threatened to swallow her up.
She waited all morning for news of her sister, thinking that perhaps the dreams had been a premonition of some sort, but Ambrose didn't come bursting in from here or there in a rush. No, he was mostly calm today. He kept her company well enough, as if he were still watching out for her as he had when she was a child. The hours of the day melted away, and the afternoon found the two closed together in her office, doors shut tight against the swarms of self-seekers.
“Your speech for the opening celebrations tomorrow,” Ambrose said cheerily, as he placed the cards on her desk. “There is a council meeting late this afternoon. The council members -”
“I don't want to speak of the council at the moment, Ambrose,” she said tiredly, putting a hand over her eyes.
Ambrose's jaw closed with an audible snap. “What would you like to speak on, Majesty?”
Azkadellia didn't respond. Instead, she did something she found was becoming an increasingly common occurrence in Ambrose's presence... she relaxed. She loosened her shoulders and uncrossing her ankles. She tilted her head to one side to help relieve a kink that was forming in her neck.
“I dreamed of DG last night,” she said wistfully, giving the advisor a wan smile when his dark eyebrows perked with interest. “And she's been on my mind since I woke up.”
“Just a dream?” Ambrose asked. “Or something more serious?”
“I'm not sure,” she replied honestly. “But I don't like the feeling its left me with.”
Ambrose gave her a small smile. “Maybe you just miss her.”
“I miss her a lot,” Az admitted. “I really hope she's accomplishing something, because I don't think I can stand much more of this not knowing what kind of mischief she's finding.” She sighed and looked down at her hands, the soft indentation in the side of her finger from holding a pen all morning. Across the desk, Ambrose was quiet and contemplative, the distant look in his dark eyes hinting that he might be lost in a very pleasant memory.
“You miss her too, don't you?” Azkadellia asked him. “Both of them.”
His reverie disturbed, Ambrose gave a bashful smile. “All of them,” he told her. “All the time. I think Tutor is becoming a little annoyed bearing the brunt of all my attentions. You know, DG used to call me high maintenance.”
Azkadellia smiled, a true one that stretched her lips and plumped her cheeks. “What would she say now?”
“She'd probably say I've gotten worse.”
Silence fell over the room then, comfortable in its emptiness. It was all too soon, however, that footsteps began to shuffle outside the study door, and the sound of muffled voices could be heard by both the Queen and her advisor. However cleverly she tried to hide, the outside world always managed to find her. Her guards were becoming anxious to escort her to the council meeting. She didn't want to alienate the chairmen, but no matter her action, she would always be in their disfavor. A group of disgruntled old men with memories as solid as bedrock remembered all too well the spoiled, demanding child she'd been. That she'd dethroned her mother and half-destroyed the country would never be forgiven by these elders of the city council, even if they paid lip service and carried out her will as she tried to rebuild.
Azkadellia sighed as she stood, bracing herself with hands on the desk. Ambrose hopped to his feet automatically, but the gesture still came off as practiced and polite. She smiled gratefully at him.
“Ambrose -” she began, but her voice was cut off by insistent knocking at the door. She nodded at Ambrose, who crossed the great study in a few long strides and opened the door.
The boy that came rushing in was dirty and brought with him the smell of a stable, wearing the simple uniform of a royal messenger. Azkadellia wrinkled her nose, but managed to straighten her face again as the boy approached, yanking out of his pocket an envelope.
“For you, Majesty!” he said importantly. “From General Peter Andrus. I have been asked to stress its urgency, Ma'am.”
Azkadellia snatched the envelope away from the boy and went directly to the window, away from the eyes of those peeking in from the hallway. Ambrose gave the boy a pat on the shoulder.
“Go down to the kitchens and get yourself something to eat, lad,” he said, giving him a forceful nudge toward the door. “The cook on the eighteenth floor has made Cyprus Delight for tonight, I believe.” Once Ambrose had the door closed and locked, he went to the Queen, though he kept a respectful distance.
All of Azkadellia's attention was drawn into the letter. After a few moments, she'd finished reading it, and it fell from her hand as her breath caught in her throat. “This letter says nothing of importance,” she said, her voice wavering momentarily, but she fought hard to keep it steady. “Andrus has requested my presence immediately in the South.”
“But, Your Majesty, the council -”
Oh, those damned old men! she thought bitterly as she reached for her coat off the stand. She shook her head as she put on her coat, and then pulled on her gloves. The council members would not take being passed off to the advisors kindly.
“I'll meet with the council,” she said shortly. “It can't be avoided.”
Ambrose nodded, torn between being flustered over the delay in leaving and relieved about the council. None of them needed the hell that would be raised if the Queen disappeared when there was most likely a long list of trivial, time consuming items to be discussed.
“I'll leave as soon as the meeting has ended,” she told him. “Ambrose -”
“Don't worry, Majesty,” he said with a comforting smile. “I'll make sure all the arrangements are made.”
“You'll accompany me?” she asked. She didn't make an order, she so seldom did with him. She knew he'd lay down at her feet, or DG's, or her mother's. He was wholly committed to the Gales, loved each of them fully and was adored by them in return. She felt a sweeping wave of appreciation for the man, but the moment seemed ill-timed to begin gushing sentiment.
“Of course, Azkadellia,” he said, and he offered up another smile. She left the room then, her guards picking up behind her as she hit the hallway. Ambrose watched after her, worry increasing inside his gut. He was no fool, though he could sometimes he accused of reading too far into things. As he bent over to pick up Andrus' letter from where it had dropped to the floor, he wondered just what else the day would have in store for him.
He pocketed the letter without reading it. The letter would say nothing, all communications would be done in person once the Queen had met with her generals.
DG's wild goose chase of a quest, the kid's disappearance, and now the generals had summoned the Queen.
Shaking off his probing thoughts, Ambrose set his mind to arranging a car and finding a driver. It was a long journey South and there was no time to waste.
***
The paint had long worn off the wooden signpost hammered into the ground. DG wondered faintly what it had once read, if it had once given the directions she sorely needed. Well, whatever it had read, it now mocked her with its blank, faded face.
Ahead of them, the road was becoming harder to follow.
The glare of the late afternoon suns was waning. The harsh, bright light would soon begin to weaken and bow out to darkness. It was the setting of the second sun that she both dreaded and hoped for. They would stop pursuing the soldiers come nightfall. It would be impossible to follow in the dark, and they risked losing the trail and becoming hopelessly lost in the wetland that marked the edge of Lake Country.
Sitting on the driest patch of ground she could find, DG sat silently, watching her two companions. Tory hadn't spoken a word to her all day, which she found odd. Their eyes had met on more than one occasion during the hours they'd spent marching first over rutted country road, now through thick, tangled marsh, but not a word had passed between them.
Zero had also kept his distance from her, and DG had been thanking whatever lucky star she had, but it also made for lonely going. Even after only a morning and afternoon away from them, she ached physically for her friends. She missed Raw's calmness, Cain's stoic presence, Hass' watchful eyes. That she felt vulnerable and exposed without her friends, these vital pieces of herself kind of went without saying.
DG sat with her knees up, elbows rested on them, her chin balanced in her hands. She stared at the denser part of the woods. They were going to come up on it faster than she'd realized, and they'd be spending the night well into the depths of the Black Forest.
“She says there's wild animals in the forest.”
“Did she say what... kind of wild animals?”
DG shivered, and closed her eyes. Maybe she was chickening out, sending Cain for Az the way she had, but didn't see it written somewhere that she couldn't ask for help. Maybe this time around things were different, but one thing remained constant and true. She could depend on herself.
As she stood, stretching her back as she went, a glint off the road caught her eye. Stretching up on her tiptoes again experimentally, she saw it again, the tweak of metal catching the failing rays of the suns.
“What is that?” she wondered aloud as she hopped off her grassy embankment.
“What is what?” Tory asked distractedly, as he slowly turned his head to face where she'd been sitting. She was walking briskly past him a second later, and he called after her. “DG, where are you going?”
Good question, a little voice in her head chimed in. She made her way down a steep slope, where a muddy trail nearly hidden by the grass led over to a stand of tangled trees. The branches hung low, some touching the ground; as she got closer, she saw the eaves of a weathered roof poking out of a well-hidden copse. The wood was old, stained silver with time; the trees around the little cottage seemed to be trying to swallow it whole.
“That's far enough, Princess,” Zero called out in warning.
DG ignored him; she could hear Tory crashing through the grass behind her as she approached the cottage. She ducked under a low-hanging branch, using it to swing herself upright. She stopped, her fingers touching the branch as she took in the lopsided old cabin. Windows broken, saplings popping up through the cracks in the porch steps. Vines were gradually claiming the carved wooden railing. A lot of blood, sweat, and elbow grease had gone into building the place, it was sturdy, but long, long forgotten.
Tory came to a halt behind her, the branch between them. He seemed hesitant to cross the barrier.
“Something wrong?” he asked her. His voice had a hitch to it; he was nervous.
“I don't think so,” DG replied, searching for whatever had caught her eye. The jagged pieces of window glass still in the frames were coated green with grime. Nothing about the place shone or reflected light. Straightening her backbone, she skirted the edge of the grove, eyes always on the cottage, waiting for something to catch the light and throw it back at her. She heard Zero calling her name, sharp and commanding.
Finally, she saw it, around the side of the house. A branch above her head swayed just so in the breeze, and something metal winked at her as the sunslight hit it. She craned her neck, and took a step sideways. The ground behind the house was littered with stumps; an attempt had been made at clearing the yard, but by the looks of things the person - or family - that had lived here had halted their expansion and abandoned their land.
But someone had been left behind.
The recognition came faster this time as she crossed the yard in a few long strides. He stood with his axe raised high above his head, a final chop that never landed. All tin and joints and rust, the statue of a man. She felt a rush of longing sweep through the empty yard as the tin man stood poised next to a tree, frozen in time.
She reached out and ran a finger down his arm; a streak appeared, the metal beneath brightening.
“You're supposed to say something, too,” DG muttered to him.
The tin woodman kept his secrets.
Tory came closer, finally braving the creaking branches overhead and the skeletal dances of the leaves that had fallen to the ground. “Is this it?” he asked. “What you saw?”
DG nodded her head slowly, looking at the grease and grime now clinging to her fingertip. “Someone put a lot of heart into making him,” she said, her eyes finally leaving the tin woodman's striking figure to look around them. “We're nearly into the Forest. Sure would be nice to have someone like him clearing the way.”
Tory gave a genuine laugh, which caused her to look at him and smile. “You don't want a good guy in the lead where we're going,” he said.
DG frowned. “What would you know about it?” she asked cynically. “If you knew more, you could lead us yourself, and I wouldn't have Zero on my heels acting like he's got a leash around my neck.”
“Zero is a necessary evil,” Tory said slowly. “Didn't Cain ever get it out of anyone who let Zero out of the tin suit?”
DG shook her head. In all honesty, she didn't really care. The trees shifted in the wind, the rustle of leaves almost deafening. The tin woodman swayed slightly, and DG eyed his upraised axe warily.
“Its horrible inside those things, you know,” Tory said, and reached out to tap one knuckle against the tin woodman's barrel chest; the clattered echo of an empty cavity came back to them. “Iron suits are every bit the torture they're meant to be,” Tory continued. “Its only the Sorceress who added in the extra sadistic twist of the recordings.”
DG's stomach churned. “I think we should get back,” she said low, but her feet wouldn't move.
“Naturally, they're always really grateful to get out of there. The prisoners, I mean,” Tory said. “Most men are only in there for a matter of months. Its a rare case that's in there for as long as Wyatt Cain was. Zero was only in the suit for eight or nine weeks.”
DG sucked in a sharp breath. By the time she fought her way to releasing it, Tory was watching her with those dark eyes, sending chills through her. “You let him out,” she said resolutely. There was no question in her voice.
Tory gave the faintest nod, a gesture barely there. “When he fell out of that thing, he tried to kill me,” the kid said, and then rolled his eyes. “Didn't have much in him though, in that thing for so long. Once I started talking, well... he wasn't really in a position to do anything but listen.”
DG hated what she was hearing, knowing it to be truth and resenting it like a child. “Why Zero?” she asked angrily. “Couldn't you have come directly to me without all this smoke and mirror bullshit?” The curse punctuated the end of her sentence, and the kid had the decency to look sheepish. He slid his hands smoothly into the pocket of his jeans, quiet for a few minutes while DG fumed silently, eyes focused on the two tin feet planted firmly on the ground, ankle deep in dead leaves. With a sigh, she repeated herself, voice demanding an answer. “Why Zero?”
“I only do as I'm bid,” Tory said cryptically. “As do you. You know as well as I that neither of us would be out here in this bog, on our way into that forest, if we didn't have your dead grandma pulling at our strings.” He sighed, and kicked up the leaves around his feet. “Zero wasn't hard to convince,” he said, giving her the answer she wanted. “A place to hide, employment with the Commander, and out of the O.Z. where neither the royal army or Catticalisa could find him. I gave him all that he needed.”
DG glanced behind her; she could see Zero now, navigating his way through the maze of interconnecting branches that protected the little grove from the rest of the Zone. “I have a hard time believing,” she said slowly, turning back to the kid, “that you had an easy time convincing Zero to help me.” Anyone, really, let alone herself.
“The way he chooses to look at it, he's helping me,” Tory said with a shrug of his shoulders. “And anyway, I promised him you'd give him whatever he wanted, and from what I hear of it, he didn't ever have to ask for a single thing. Cain just offered it outright.”
DG frowned, listening to the approaching footsteps, the crackle of dead leaves being tossed about. “His life back.”
“That Tin Man of yours seems to have a knack for knowing,” Tory said offhandedly.
“That he does,” DG agreed. She was more and more regretting every minute her decisions along this road, to listen to the ghostly voice coming out of her mirror instead of listening to her own gut, or to Cain's sound advice. Wyatt... he'd never hesitated to follow her, no matter if he disapproved or not.
“Sorry things had to happen this way. You'll see him again,” Tory said seriously, seemingly out of the blue. DG turned into his honest gaze, trying to gauge for herself if she could trust this boy in front of her.
Another gust of wind stirred up the leaves scattering the yard. The tin woodman's joints gave a horrible groan, and she backed away from the raised axe, straight into a solid wall. Not a wall, it was softer, like flesh. Heavy hands descended on her arms with a grip that threatened to cut off circulation. Zero.
“Enough gawking, lets get moving,” Zero said cuttingly, as he eyed the tin figure with disdain. “Kid, search through the house and shed, see if you can't find us some rope. Princess, I want you with me.” He didn't loosen his hold on her arm, and gave her a hard tug to prove his point.
DG gave very little in the way of resistance, letting him yank and twist as he pleased. “What's the rope for?”
Zero grinned at her. “Its for later.” She pulled a face at him, unimpressed. Zero gave her another hard wrench for it, and she nearly came off her feet. “I said lets get moving,” he said. “We can put in a lot more distance before dark. This place doesn't do the imagination any good. Feels like I'm being watched.”
Raising her eyes to the sky-reaching branches, she nodded her head slowly in agreement.
It did feel that way.
***
The Brick Route wasn't exactly obliging to the undercarriage of the old truck Cain and Raw had found, but she held up fine in the end. The horses had been left back at the stable in Byvasser, to be kept as a sort of collateral for the stable owner's old transport.
All hell had broken loose inside of Wyatt Cain, but he did his best to keep it in check. The only thing he had to hold onto was his clear cut focus on what needed doing, and he followed this path with a single minded diligence that had served him well his years protecting the streets and citizens of Central City with the Tin Men. Now, however, it had the Viewer beside him agitated, knees bouncing counter-wise to the jostling of the truck.
“You okay?” Cain finally asked Raw, his voice coming out harder than he meant it.
The Viewer gave him a knowing look, but said nothing.
The silence in the truck, but for the sound of brick and hard gravel beneath the worn old tires, was torture on Cain's active mind. There wasn't a single part of him, be it his spine or his heart or his brain, that wasn't shouting at him to turn around, you're going the wrong way, idiot, the battle's behind you.
But he continued on the path DG had set him on. He did as she'd asked, because she'd come out and asked him. Before this time on the road had thrown them back together, she hadn't asked him for much. Never really had the chance, with his duties with the army keeping him out of the city and her duties to her family keeping her in it.
But now, at every point, she had asked him to go farther and farther, deeper and deeper into unknown territory, places dark and unexplored. He was under Her Majesty's employ to keep the princess safe, but it was his softness for the girl that had him walking two paces behind her as she followed her feet straight into the fire.
And at the very brink, she'd put her hand up, turned those blue eyes on him, and asked him to stay behind.
Wyatt growled low to himself, disappointed and slightly embarrassed by the amount of sentiment his mind could conjure up under the circumstances.
He barely slowed through the Fields of the Papay, though it was customary to do so. The tunnel beneath the trees was just wide enough for the truck to drive through without obstruction, but the topmost branches reaching over the road scraped over the roof of the truck, adding to the hum of the road.
There were people everywhere throughout the fields; farmers who lived in the area, whose land bordered that of the Papay. It was harvest time, and as a sign of peace, the people had come to help the grangers gather their fruit. It marked changing times, though Cain doubted any of the higher-ups from Central City would take notice. If the fields were being harvested, that meant the celebrations would be taking place within the walls of the city. Hard to see what's going on out in the fields of the country through the bottom of an endless wine glass.
Darkness fell, and the stars came out. Soon after, the glow in the night sky grew faintly pinkish, long before the lights of the city itself could be seen. It was with a sigh of relief that Cain finally laid eyes on the spotlighted towers, gleaming brightly as beacons. The guards at the South gate stopped the truck, and he impatiently barked his clearance. The young guardsman winced and allowed Cain to get back into the truck.
The drive through the city took longer than if he'd been on foot. The streets were busy, the avenues leading to Gale Square had been blocked off, and the Sin District seemed to have burst at the seams. Closer to the heart of the city, traffic thinned out, but it was still well past seven by the time they reached the gates of the palace. One look at Cain and the Viewer had the guards waving the truck through.
He drove around to the back entrance. As he entered the palace, the staff he ran across called out greetings to both he and Raw. His absence had been noticed, apparently, though he didn't take the time to stop and make small talk with the half-dozen people who tried to slow him down. Biting back one rude comment after the other, he finally made it to the upper floors with Raw in tow.
Finding Azkadellia was a daunting task, and it was by pure chance that the two men stumbled across Glitch pacing in a hallway in front of a set of impressively carved wooden doors. It was Raw that pointed the agitated advisor out to Cain; the Tin Man would have strode right past, mind set on searching the residential floors. With an appreciative nod, Cain wondered if the Viewer hadn't led the way from the moment they'd entered the palace.
Cain was mere feet away before the distracted advisor noticed him; Glitch jumped back with a startled cry, hands going to his mouth. Cain put up a hand, sensing a rant of babbled indignation coming on, but his friend moved onto more relevant topics surprisingly quickly.
“What are you doing here?” Glitch demanded. “And without DG?” He took greater notice of Raw then, and the two reunited friends smiled at each other, before Glitch hissed, “And why is Raw with you instead?”
“Not now,” Cain said firmly. “Where's Azkadellia.” It wasn't a question or statement, it was a demand, and Glitch's eyes widened slightly at the quiet, solemn anger that was coursing through Cain's tone. Without hesitation, Glitch nodded his head to the left, and the heavy doors.
“She's in council,” Glitch whispered. “They've had her in there for hours. There was a dispatch from the South earlier.” He seemed to pale, if it were possible. “Cain, what -”
“Fill him in,” Cain told Raw, the door handles already in his hands. With a shove, Wyatt charged headlong the council hall. Whatever heated conversation was taking place between the two opposite rows of bickering old men stopped the moment the doors were thrown open. At the far end of the long, decorated hall, Azkadellia sat, regal and beautiful, on her throne, presiding over the council and looking miserably bored. The speaker came to a stuttering halt.
Up the green-carpeted aisle between the council seats, Cain walked respectfully up to the top of the hall, his eyes locked on the Queen as she stood from her throne, ignoring the insulted chairmen on either side of him. He'd made it halfway through the gauntlet when the buzz of whispering started, and was within five paces of Azkadellia when the men had begun to shout. He made a short bow of his head as he reached the dais, removing the hat from his head. The gazes of contempt and scrutiny from the squawking council members had him remembering his manners at the very last minute.
“Captain,” Azkadellia said pleasantly, but there was a tremble in her voice that reminded him instantly of DG. “To what do I owe this welcome interruption?”
“Your sister sent me to fetch you,” he said, keeping his voice low, his teeth near clenched. He replaced the hat on his head, tugging at the brim and looking at her with shadowed eyes. “If you're willin' to break away from your duties here for a spell.”
The word choice caught her attention, realization to the plight in his icy blue eyes hitting her hard. She lifted her chin and regarded the two dozen councilmen who stared with open dismay in their eyes. “Gentlemen, I believe that's quite enough for one evening,” she said, voice ringing clear through the hall. “I will hear no more on these matters, you may go through my advisors if it absolutely must be dealt with. My attentions are required elsewhere at the moment. Now, if you'll excuse me.”
Azkadellia stepped off the dais, and walked past Cain toward the open doors at the end of the hall. He glanced around, smirking as he watched the council members go slack-jawed at Azkadellia's address, before he followed the Queen out and shut the doors behind him.
“I trust there's a good story,” Azkadellia muttered at Cain as he set the pace toward her rooms, a carefully protective hand on her elbow to keep her at his side.
Cain turned his head to regard her with a frown. “Always is.”
***
At the exact moment Azkadellia stood from her throne in Central City, DG was staring up at the sky, away from the small circle of firelight. There were no clouds, and the millions of stars that scattered across the heavens all seemed to twinkle just for her, sending her a thousand messages that she couldn't make out, forever lost. She felt insignificant, and alone.
Tory and Zero sat by the fireside, and she assumed they thought her asleep. Their backs were to her, and they sat quite far apart. The day of travel had drained all of them, Zero had pushed them hard and had bordered on cruel. She hadn't expected any less, but after weeks of Wyatt's gentle consideration of her, this colder reality hit especially hard.
Wyatt...
Maybe it was just the dark... or the cold, or the vastness of the stars... she felt her chest constrict and her throat close up, and she turned her face into her arm to quell the sudden upswell. She wouldn't lower herself to crying. She was angry at herself for losing control... and her hope.
Really, it wasn't so hopeless...
No, one look at the silhouetted backs of the ex-Longcoat and the kid who wove a beautiful story of legend and half truths - it was pretty damned hopeless.
She needed a walk... not fresh air, no she'd been surrounded by so much fresh air in the past two weeks that she actually missed the closed-in feeling of Central City.
Central City... did he make it yet? Has he gotten to Azkadellia... are they on their way?
DG shook her head at herself as she slowly got to her feet. Definitely needed a walk.
“Don't go wandering off,” Zero barked sharply at her as she took her first step.
Cringing, DG said nothing, though she muttered a curse and a threat under her breath. The forest around her was still somewhat sparsely populated, wide open spaces between trees that she could walk through aimlessly without fear of bumping her shoulder against a trunk or tripping over root structure bursting out of the ground. She put a gloved hand on every tree she passed, reaching out with each step to steady herself in case she stumbled. It was slow, but it was calming, and she could almost forget the consuming blackness around her, or the uncertainty of her future.
A stick cracked under her foot... and a rustle sounded above her head.
DG paused, bracing herself with one arm out. She listened hard, but heard nothing but for the wind playing with the leaves. She took off her gloves and touched the rough bark of the nearest tree, the scarred texture reminding her too vividly of other trees across the O.Z., the towering behemoths of scorched Finaqua, the orchards of the Papay... and others.
Another whisper from above her head, the faintest stir of branch, too heavy to be caused by the caress of the breeze.
DG swallowed hard as her breath caught in her throat. She wasn't afraid, exactly...
“Two little princesses, dancing in a row,” she sang quietly to herself as she began to walk again. She hummed the next line, and the next, finishing the song and repeating it to herself a second time, a comfort that she couldn't quite explain. Though she kept her ears keened toward the branches above her head, she heard nothing.
She held out her hand and focused on the dip of her palm; from her skin was born the tiniest wisp, a bright pinprick of light that mirrored the stars. It zigzagged in front of her, lost without direction, waiting for a command. DG looked up, toward the darkness in the branches over her head, to the sky and stars beyond that. The wisp streaked upward, leaving a trail of light in its wake that faded into nothing.
The wisp stopped, and circled its target, spinning faster and faster, all intimidation and harassment for its harmless intent. There was a startled, annoyed cry, a flutter accompanied by a wooden creak. Gracefully, the dark shape plummeted from the branches to land on the ground in front of her. Her hands went up defensively, a faint shimmer igniting her skin and illuminating the face of the soldier who'd dropped from the sky. The wisp extinguished just as the last of its light cast upon his face.
With a sudden gasp, her arms went around his neck before she could stop herself. Corporal Hass had the breath knocked out of him, but he laughed quietly as he returned the hug, his hands patting her back reassuringly, albeit a bit uncomfortably.
“I can't believe how glad I am to see you,” she said with a breathless laugh as she pulled away.
“Neither can I,” Hass muttered as he rubbed his chest where the impact of her embrace had hit him hardest.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded with a hiss, though even as the question was passing her lips, she realized she knew the answer.
“Captain's orders,” he said with a wry, downward curve to his mouth. “Wasn't supposed to let you know I was following you.”
“Just tell him I bullied it out of you,” she said.
Hass snorted. “You did.”
A moment passed as the two watched each other carefully. The night didn't allow her to see his face very well, but the rigid set of his shoulders spoke volumes. “You shouldn't be here,” she said slowly, softly, feeling the tension radiating off of him as easily as she could hear his quiet breathing, loud in the stillness around them.
“Yes, I should be,” Hass insisted, as if it was the end of it. “Captain seemed to think you could use the extra eye out for you, seeing as how you weren't keen on it being his.”
DG swallowed hard, a heavy guilt crawling into her stomach and settling down for a good, long stay. “Was he angry?”
“Angry doesn't even come close. Now, scoot back to camp before Zero comes looking for you.”
She stood with her feet planted, rooted as deeply as the ancient trees that surrounded her.
When he saw she wasn't moving, he let loose a sigh, and reached out to place a hand on her upper arm. His fingers squeezed her gently, and she was certain that he was weighing his words carefully.
“Get some sleep,” Hass told her, a bit of concern coming through the otherwise dispassionate front. “The shield isn't too far, we'll reach it before midday tomorrow. And try not to sneak off again,” he said, and she imagined him grinning teasingly at her. “I have to get some sleep, too. Can't keep an eye on you all the time.”
(Author's Note II: Point of interest, tomorrow (Nov. 2nd) is the one year anniversary of my watching "Tin Man" and finding this fandom. Thanks to everyone for the great year its been! Here's to many more C/DG stories, yes/hell yes?)
Table Of Contents:
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10
11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20
21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30
31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35