"Until The Fall" - 13/48
Title: Until The Fall
Author: Rissy James
Characters: DG, Cain, Azkadellia, Jeb, Glitch, Raw, Tutor, the Queen, Ahamo, and some old & new OCs (updated 03.09.09)
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. (updated 03.18.09)
Extras: Cast Page on livejournal.com (updated 04.05.09)
Author's Note: Thanks to erinm_4600 and kseda for their help! (Enjoy your trip, K!) - and I forgot to mention last chapter's nod at KLCtheBookWorm, who is the bestest (and interesting fact: ffdotnet's spellcheck recognises "bestest" as a word - EDIT: LJ does not.)
Chapter Thirteen
It was full dark when they broke out of the Papay fields, the rows and rows of trees coming to an end so abruptly that DG felt very suddenly exposed, more so than she had under the eyes of the sentient grangers that had watched them during their passage through the fields.
An expanse of open meadow gradually ambled into thick forest, the road cutting a close trail through the dark trees. There was nothing to fear in the woods that had not been faced before, and the chance of coming across another party was slim. Even with the ability to travel the road, Cain worried about trying to push forward. They would make camp near the tree-line on the other side of the field, and pass through the woods come first-sunrise. They'd cross the gorge at mid-morning.
At the edge of the Papay field, they dismounted to walk their horses. The kid, Tory, had grown quiet over the three hours he'd ridden with them. DG found her eyes constantly drawn to him, as he looked about nervously, eyeing Cain with suspicion. She tried to offer the kid a warm smile, some comfort, but he only ever looked away unhappily. A less exciting entry to the O.Z. than hers by far, but in that respect she considered him lucky.
“How are you holding up?” she asked him when the three had landed on the ground and made ready to cross the field.
“I'm good, thanks,” he said, but there was anxiety in his voice that was poorly masked. DG didn't press the issue, only motioned for him to stay close to her as she followed behind Cain. The Tin Man kept them at a fast pace, wanting to be clear the space and get a fire made as soon as possible. He was watching the terrain around them, searching for movement, ever alert and ready, and this always left him in a grumpy mood. The tension over the three companions was high as they walked carefully towards the tree-line, tripping over loose bricks.
Soon, the kid was hurrying to break stride with her. She slowed her steps slightly, smiling at him, though in the deep-blue of the night, she wasn't sure he could see her face. “So can I ask you a question?” he said, a bit nervously.
Grinning, she responded. “Sure.”
The kid took a few minutes, and DG wondered if Cain's ears had perked towards their conversation yet. “So where exactly are we?”
“We're in the southern realm,” she said simply. “We came through the Papay lands and tomorrow we're heading across a gorge, and that will bring us to Lake Country. This road is the Brick Route, and it leads all the way to Finaqua, but the land continues beyond into the southern mountains.”
“Uhh,” Tory said slowly, sounding a bit dumbstruck. “That made no sense. I got 'road' and I got 'mountains'.”
“What about 'gorge', did you catch that one?” she asked, teasing him now.
Tory gave a nervous laugh, and his silhouetted form beside her ran a hand over the knit cap on his head. “Okay,” he said seriously, “I saw a tumbleweed with legs today, and it growled at me. There were two suns in the sky when I woke up. Where the fuck am I?”
“Watch your mouth around the lady,” came a gruff command from ahead of them. DG suppressed a smile.
The kid gave a derisive sound at Cain's comment. “Seriously,” he said, “where am I?”
DG ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth, trying to give herself a minute to come up with an answer. Glitch had tried his best to explain it to her once, but the truth was that even his best break-down was all speculation. “I had it explained to me once as an 'alternate reality', but I really don't think -”
“An alternate reality?”
DG cleared her throat and continued. “An alternate reality would imply that there is one of you and one of me here, in the O.Z., and one of you and one of me there, on the Other Side, which, as far as anyone knows, isn't the case. The best explanation is that this is a separate dimension from the one you were born in.”
“But you knew about my sweater,” he said, tapping himself in the chest. “You know where Iowa is.”
DG smiled, and the gesture was wistful and full of sadness. “I was raised on the Other Side. In Kansas. But I was born here. Now, on this side, there are ways to travel back and forth between, but on the Other Side, there is no such way, only through freak of nature occurrences. And I do mean nature, because -”
“So you called this place 'the O.Z.'” The kid interrupted her again, and she frowned. Despite what she tried to tell herself, that she was still the same as she'd been - the farm girl, waitress, part time student - being treated like a princess for the past year had had some effect on her, and no one had treated her like just another person for quite a while, not until this kid. It was frustrating, yet refreshing.
“Yes,” she replied. “The Outer Zone. Its an odd place.”
“I can tell,” the kid said with a disbelieving laugh. “So how do I get home?”
DG found herself frowning again. “I don't know,” she said carefully. “But we've got a friend who will. We'll take you to see him when we're done in the south. Four days at the most, I think,” she said, trying to calculate the distances in her head. “It'll be a rough trip, but you'll get home in one piece.”
“Good,” he said, sounding relieved and grateful. “'Cause my mom's gonna have an aneurysm.”
The conversation died away, and they walked twenty minutes in silence. When they reached the edge of the woods, they picked their way around in the darkness until they'd found a suitable place to make camp near a stream, away from the road. Cain had a fire made and was directing a grumbling Tory at collecting more firewood before much time had passed. DG watered the horses and tethered them to graze for the night. She had just finished rubbing them down and was running her fingers through Juniper's mane when Wyatt found her.
“Hey,” he said low. They could hear, off in the distance, the kid crashing around in the woods, picking dead-fall off the ground.
“Hi,” DG said, not bothering to try to hide the exhaustion she felt. “So what are you thinking?”
“'Bout what?” he asked her absently, looking around.
In the dim, dancing light cast by the fire, DG could make out the angles of his face, could see the frown that was etched upon his lips. “About Tory,” she said, nodding her chin to the other side of the camp-site and into the trees, where Tory could be heard.
“Somethin' not quite right with that kid,” Wyatt said carefully.
DG shrugged. “He's not going to be any trouble, Wyatt, and Glitch will know how to send him back home.”
Cain made a rough sound in the back of his throat to let her know he agreed with her, but the sound was non-committal at best. Giving the mare one last pat, DG walked back to the camp and settled on the ground with her pack beside the fire pit, digging around inside it until she'd found her hairbrush.
There was a fluttering of wings above them, and she looked up to see the falcon land on a branch that overhung the edge of the camp. DG offered him a smile, but the falcon only cocked his head sideways at her. She sighed. Once the kid was asleep, Hass would shift and join them, and whatever explanation for his sudden appearance could be made in the morning.
It didn't sit right with her, the amount of secrets that had to be kept. She didn't like secrets. She'd been raised on secrets, they'd been the bread she'd been fed and the water that had sustained her. Now, she fought for truth in everything, though even she knew that wasn't always possible. She didn't care if it hurt, or if it scared her, or if it destroyed everything; she wanted to always know the truth. Always wanted to tell the truth.
Not possible, of course, to endanger their new companion. If he didn't know she was a princess, didn't know she could summon magic and Light from her hands, didn't know the falcon that perched above them was a royal army soldier, didn't know they were on a wild-goose chase across the O.Z., it wouldn't hurt him. It might actually save him.
She'd found her brush and was running it through her hair, working out the day's tangles when Tory returned, still grumbling. He dropped the armload of dead branches he carried close to the fire, and immediately knelt in the dirt to stack the wood neatly, eyeing Cain warily the whole time.
“So where are we headed?” the kid asked casually.
DG cast a glance toward Cain, who was coming towards them with his own pack. As he walked past Tory, he tossed the kid his sleeping roll. The movement was casual, perhaps even seemingly rude, but Wyatt was looking out for Tory as he'd watched out for her when they'd first met, however begrudgingly that had begun.
“DG here has a meeting to attend in the south,” was all Cain said, as he tossed the pack into the exposed root structure of a tree quite near to her. He leaned back upon it as a pillow, and angled his hat over his eyes, the first rest he'd given himself since they'd left Milltown that morning, and she knew it was only because the falcon kept close watch for him.
“Will we get there tomorrow?” Tory asked.
“Sometime near dusk,” Cain muttered. “You two had best get some sleep. We start early.”
When DG tore her eyes away from Cain's sprawled form, she realized Tory was watching her. “He's right,” she said quietly, grabbing her own sleeping roll, barely more than padded wool and canvas but better than the dirt any day. “Keep close to the fire, its going to get cold tonight.”
“Isn't it summer here?” the kid asked uncertainly.
“Yeah, but its been really cold lately. I don't know what's up with the weather,” she said offhandedly. “Lay down, get some sleep.” She nodded towards the sleeping roll Cain had tossed at the boy's feet, as she spread her own out near Wyatt's legs. Though he didn't move, she knew he was still awake and paying attention to every word said. She buttoned her coat to the throat and settled down into her bare-bones canvas sack. Better than nothing... she looked over at Wyatt, lamenting that the military issue rolls weren't big enough for two.
“Isn't someone going to stay awake and watch the fire?” Tory asked.
DG smiled, casting an upwards glance to the falcon standing guard over them. “Oh, I'm sure someone will.”
***
She was crawling, and the smooth grass felt good on her bare knees. She'd be scolded when she arrived home for her green-stained knees... if she ever got home.
She moved a few feet forward slowly, until she found what she was looking for. Oh, was it beautiful. Red, shiny... she reached out and closed her hand around the ripe apple, but as she lifted it, her fingers brushed over something half-hidden by the untended grass. It was cold, compared to the apple she palmed that had been warmed by the suns. Moving her prize to the other hand, she reached out and knocked gently on what she'd found.
Tink, tink.
Huh, she thought, intrigued, as she raised up on her knees to knock again, on a metal knee connected to the metal foot in the grass. The sound was hollower, echoed more. She stood straight and found herself staring into the shining silver face of a handsome man made from tin.
“Its a man,” she said slowly, disbelievingly. “A man made out of tin!” Somehow this struck her as familiar, pulling at a chord in her heart. She turned around to face her straw companion, who ambled unevenly up the slope she'd crawled up moments before to get her apple. How he'd begun to follow her, to join her on this journey, she didn't know, she didn't question. It just was.
They stared in appreciation at the treasure they'd just found - surely such craftsmanship was uncommon! - as they brushed the dirt and grit that had gathered on the shoulders, pulled at vines that had wound around the legs of the tin figure.
She gave a knock on the chest, turning her ear to the lonely echo that came from within. And then a different sound - a squeak, fluctuating like a voice trapped. Frowning, she turned to her scarecrow friend.
“Did he say something?” she asked him, prepared for him to tell her she was crazy. Tin statues didn't talk - just like scarecrows didn't walk. The high-pitched moan came again, and she knew for sure the sound had come through the closed lips of their tin friend; for he was a friend, she knew, somehow deep in her heart. He was.
“He said 'oil can',” Scarecrow said, touching his gloved hand on the tin man's shoulder, fingers flexing over the corners of the metal frame, as though straw could substitute for bone and tendon. It made sense, bizarre sense... oil to ease rusted joints. The jaw, a separate piece, was frozen in place, which was why he couldn't talk. Oil can, oil can... oil can fix this.
She looked around. An abandoned cottage sat on the other side of the gleaming road of bricks they had been following when they'd stopped for a snack... scarlet apples hanging heavy from gnarled branches... and yet somehow the apples had ended up here, on the other side of the road, in the grass next to the tin man... had someone thrown them? How fortuitous.
Finally she spied it, the oil can perched on a stump, within easy reach of unmoving tin arms. Quickly, the jaw was oiled and began to move, and the tin man began to speak. His voice was friendly and calm, and she found herself disappointed at its higher octave. Shouldn't it be lower, deeper?
“Year ago... rain, rust. Been that way ever since,” he said, moaning between sentences as his other joints were lubricated. Soon he was moving, with stiff squeaks of his metal limbs cutting through the air.
“Well,” she said, running her fingers along the smoothness of his arms, felt the bumps of the rivets that held his pieces together. After a few more moments, he was well-oiled, and would move without sound now, once they helped him stretch out a bit. “You're perfect now.”
“Bang on my chest if you think I'm perfect,” he said quietly, in his soft voice.
Frowning, she looked up to him for permission, surprised and happy to see that his eyes were blue. She raised her hand, and knocked her knuckles against his barrel chest, and heard the most beautiful, empty sound she'd ever heard in her life, singing to her heart like music.
“Its empty,” he said quietly. “The tinsmith forgot to give me a heart.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “No heart?” She felt a twinge of pain in her chest, as if her own was breaking. A light hand descended on her shoulder, a strange comfort. She looked back to Scarecrow, his warm, dark eyes set in his canvas-sack face were deep, mirroring her sadness.
“All hollow, like an empty kettle.”
A cold wind swept around them, wrapping her an icy fear as her human flesh prickled. Her companions, her friends, stepped closer to her, protectively. Something had changed... what had changed? On the wind it came, so sudden and quick that the transition took them all by surprise as they huddled together.
Something was wrong. But what... why didn't she know?
“She's close, too close,” Scarecrow said.
Who is too close, she wanted to ask, but...
“You're heading too far South,” Tin Woodman said, and his metal hand curled stiff fingers around her arm, somehow warmer than the wind that whipped around her.
“I tried to tell her,” Scarecrow said with a shake of his head. They were both watching her now. South, she had to head south. She had to find out, she had to know... what exactly was a little unclear, but it would all fall into place, it always did. How she knew that, she didn't know. Why didn't she know? What was wrong with her brain? She was certain she had one, as she cast a glance at her straw-filled friend, wondering if his hat hid his zipper.
Zipper?
“I'll make sure you get to where you're going, whether I've got a heart or not,” Tin Woodman said firmly. He straightened, his voice hinting at pride. “Believe me, heart's got nothing to do with it.”
Sighing, she looked from one companion, flimsy and scattered, to the other, soldered and unbending. She was beginning to feel that she'd done this before...
***
When he heard the soft sounds of snoring coming from the kid curled up by the fire, Wyatt Cain removed his hat from over his eyes and sat up. DG was on her side, fast asleep and facing him, her head pillowed on her arm, and a soft smile on her lips. Whatever she was dreaming, it wasn't causing her any grief.
As he stood, the sound of fluttering, and then the strange vacillation of shifting as Hass's feet landed on the ground could be heard over the crackling of the fire. Cain frowned, shaking his head slightly as he walked to the edge of the camp, where Hass stood.
“So what do you think?” the corporal asked him.
Cain looked down at the sleeping kid, took a moment to study the face in the firelight. Tory's cheeks were lightly sprinkled with freckles, and his hair, now uncovered, was standing on end in some places and completely flattened in others. He seemed innocent in sleep, as any child would, though the boy was rapidly coming out of his childhood, would most likely leave his childhood sooner than he'd leave the Zone. This land in which Cain lived had a taste for the clean hands of the young.
“I don't know who he is, or where he came from,” Cain said, going through everything that had crossed his mind as he'd feigned slumber. “Says he slipped over. Don't know how he managed to do that without noticing, and he says he remembers nothing.”
Hass remained quiet. The sciences that involved crossing the spans between worlds wasn't widely shared, and though he knew the basic mechanics of travel storms, he knew nothing about the natural occurrences in that place called 'the Other Side' that would send someone reeling to this side of the rainbow.
“And you're sure we take him with us to the Realm?” Hass asked.
Cain nodded grimly, casting a sideways glance at his companion, watching as Hass ran a hand through his dark hair. His round, boyish face was lost in thought. “We take him with us, then we escort him to Central City,” Cain said, explaining the best laid plan he'd been able to come up with. “Ambrose will know what to do with him. We can't leave him at Finaqua, and we can't turn around now.”
“Captain, we know nothing about him,” Hass said, as both men now watched the boy sleep.
It wasn't a good enough reason not to help the kid, even his most stoic and careful sensibilities were telling him. It unsettled him that the kid had never once asked for their help, finding himself in the middle of a strange land, coming across friendly strangers, wouldn't it have been the first words out of his mouth... Could you help me, please?
We know nothing about him... This phrase repeated over and over in Cain's mind. He was frowning again, a permanent placement for his lips, it seemed. More comfortable than smiling, to be sure, but... “We find out,” he said simply, glancing back towards DG. “He seems to have taken a shine to her. If anyone gets information out of this kid, it'll be DG.”
“So what do we do, then?”
Cain cleared his throat. “We keep an eye on him. A close eye. Listen to what he tells DG. Other than that, we get this over as fast as possible so we can get out of the Realm. I still don't like the idea of headin' down that way.”
But what other choice do we have? DG's voice rang clear in his mind.
Cain put a hand over his eyes. “Get some sleep, Jeremy. I'll keep watch.” Casting a glance from the sleeping princess to the boy curled by the fire, he knew rest wouldn't be finding him any time soon.
***
Morning came too soon.
After a breakfast of rations purchased at the general store in Milltown, the group purged their camp site and mounted their horses. Now they were four, and Tory was suspicious of Hass's sudden arrival. “I got a late start,” the corporal said, by way of excuse for his appearance. Cain and DG only smiled at him, though the kid looked from face to face, wondering how stupid they all thought he was. However, no more was said on the subject, and by the time they were on the road again, an easy conversation was struck between Hass and Tory, and the two managed to keep each other occupied.
As they were now four, and their horses numbered three, DG put herself out enough to ride with Cain. After the fire had been extinguished and the spot covered, and she pulled herself up to settle behind the Tin Man, her arms wrapped securely around his waist, she caught Tory giving her an inquiring look. She only shrugged her shoulders, pressing her face against Cain's duster; she offered the kid a wink.
Tory's eyebrows shot up in surprise, as he shook his head disbelievingly. She knew it was the age difference that was causing Tory to shake his head, but it didn't bother her. She'd come up against it before, and it had never once mattered. Her heart knew that some things ran deeper than a few years difference. Maybe more than a few years, she thought, tightening her arms as Cain turned slightly in the saddle.
“Ready, Princess?” he whispered low; there was the slightest hint of a smile playing on his lips, and a thrill went down her spine as she realized he was just as pleased as she that she'd given the boy her horse.
The ride through the woods was quiet and uneventful, though it was dark. The suns were barely able to permeate the thick canopy of interwoven branches coated thick with moss and leaves. The Brick Route was in a worse state of repair than she'd seen anywhere else in the Zone, and it made her sad. She remembered the road from her dreams, each brick carefully laid into place, straight and even and gleaming like gold. What had happened, or were her dreams just that... dreams?
Soon, the trees began to thin out and it was a gradual decline towards the gorge. When the group of four crossed over the single bridge, DG nearly laughed at how easy it was. No safe-house, no zip line, no cover of darkness. The soldiers guarding the bridge, however, posed a problem of their own, as the group came across the first people they'd met since leaving Milltown - minus the kid, of course. She didn't want to use her magic in front of Tory if it could be helped, perhaps some of Cain's caution was catching. So instead there was an awkward moment as she jammed her cloche hat on her head and turned up the collar of her coat. The toll was paid, and they continued on without trouble - though the suspicious looks from the kid kept on coming.
The Brick Route was one of two roads that led to Finaqua, the second of which lay to the west, out of the way and secluded, the path that had been travelled their first journey south before the Eclipse. Now, they rested when they came to a junction, the Old Road heading directly south, and a second, barely more than a beaten trail, that veered off and headed southeast. DG knew it was along this southeastern road that Cain had been reunited with his son, as he'd been transported as a prisoner from the Realm of the Unwanted. It wasn't far from this juncture, and they'd be there soon.
As brave as she'd felt in Milltown, making the decision to travel to the Realm to visit the Reader, she wasn't sure that it was going to hold. It was the dull, wooden echo of the bridge that had begun the questioning in her mind and the faltering of her courage. The gap of doubt had only grown the farther they'd gone.
Leaning against a tree now, watching as Hass and Tory argued amiably over Rock, Paper, Scissors, she tried to remember where her gumption had come from when she'd stormed the Witch's Tower an annual before. But as Cain came to her side, leaned his back against the tree as she was doing now, keeping his eyes on the road and not on her, she remembered very clearly.
Oh yeah, I wasn't alone, she thought, and I'm not alone now. There's no reason to worry, girl. Get a grip!
Too bad there didn't seem to be a grip to be had. Turning towards Cain, she reached out for purchase, taking his hand and lacing her fingers through his, the barest contact but a sure and steady anchor. The tips of his ears turned slightly pink at her display of affection.
“Will we make it in time?” she asked him, trying to distract him from her touch.
Clearing his throat, he nodded, still watching the road, eyes flicking from the direction they'd come to the brick-way that ambled slowly towards Finaqua. “Plenty of time. We'll get you to Cynthia's Parlour around midnight.”
DG frowned. “Midnight?” It seemed strange. She'd thought she'd be seeing the Reader the next morning. When Cain nodded, pursing his lips together in an unhappy line, she could almost see the deluge of words that was piling up behind them, unspoken. “What is it?” she asked, not liking it one bit when his blue eyes finally cast down on her, cloudy and unsure. Gone was the steadiness that she was so used to seeing, the unwavering stoicism she normally braced herself against. “Wyatt,” she said softly when he still didn't speak. She tightened her grip on his hand, squeezing his large fingers.
The motion seemed to have its intended effect. Cain's lips parted, his eyes searching hers now. “I don't like the idea of takin' you in to see this woman,” he said slowly, but very firmly. “You might find the answer you're lookin' for, Darlin', but the cost is -”
Flaring in anger, she interrupted him. “Why does no one want me to go see this woman?” she demanded, raising her voice. Both Hass and Tory looked up, mid-fist shake, to stare at her. “You told me the danger, and I don't care! But still you insist that its a bad idea. So, what is no one telling me?”
Cain sighed, and extracted his hand from her hold to run it over his face. The tips of his ears were turning pinker, beginning to envy red. DG's shoulder's fell; she turned to Hass, her hands out in a gesture that demanded 'Well?'
“Can I just tell her?” Hass asked, smirking with amusement at DG's frustration. The kid's head was snapping back and forth as he searched the faces of his companions, from DG's mask of anger to Wyatt's half hidden by his hat, to the smirking corporal.
Cain gave a mumbled “Go ahead,” in response to Hass, and DG's head whipped so fast to look at the corporal that her neck cracked. Cain reached for her hand, as she had reached for his, and despite wanting to, she didn't bat his fingers away, and let him take her hand.
“Its a brothel,” Hass said shamelessly. “And the Reader is the madame.”
DG's jaw dropped as she fell heavily back against the tree. That, she had not been expecting. The silence that followed was broken by Tory letting out a long, low whistle. Quickly, Cain was leaning into her, his face next to her ear.
“The price is a year's servitude, Deeg, princess or not,” he repeated before backing away. His stormy eyes were as close to pleading as she'd ever seen him. She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat that didn't seem to want to go away, and tried to return his gaze steadily with her own eyes, but she could already feel tears coming. Why tears? She shook her head, realizing she was holding Cain's hand so tight her fingers were beginning to cramp. Though she released the death-grip, she didn't let go of him, and he held her fast, that simple contact of their hands.
Her mind was working as she searched the weathered face she held so dear. His frown read protectiveness, his eyes read worry, his shortened breathing read disagreement.
Her heart had been set, despite whatever lack of courage she'd felt, but now her heart was balking. How did this new information change things... not much, was her only conclusion. She had no other option when they'd left Milltown, how was now any different?
“We can't turn around now,” she said firmly.
“Fair enough,” came Cain's only response to her and her alone, before calling out an order for the other two to mount. “We can make it to the Realm before dark if we hurry.” He didn't let go of her hand until he was helping her into the saddle, and then climbing up behind her, sheltering her in the protective circle of his embrace. If the arm that slung around her waist held her too tight, if the grip on her hip was too possessive, she didn't notice or care. It was exactly where she needed to be as she tried to work out her strategy as the group left the safe, beaconed path of the Old Road and headed away, towards more dangerous territory.
***
The road ended abruptly in a wide open meadow, one that DG recognized well, though she'd come to it from a different direction the last time. But, instead of taking them across to search for the in-ground entrance to the Realm, Cain skirted the field, entering the forest once again. The group dismounted, and led their horses down into a deep gully with high dirt walls. Tree roots stuck out over top of them, covered in moss and obstructing the view of the sky and forest above. Another abrupt end, this time in a stout wooden door. Another hidden entrance.
DG smiled at Cain, impressed. His only response was, “What, do ya think we went up the ladder shackled to a log?”
But as he and Hass stepped forward to heave open the massive door, DG's heart gave a painful twist. When a dark tunnel on a downward slope was revealed, her heart seemed to stop all together. Mouth dry, nerves twinging, feet rooted to the ground, she stared at the dark hole she was expected to walk blindly into, and found it suddenly very hard. Unable to move forward or back, she felt Tory brush by her, the horse he led nearly knocking her off her feet when she refused to step out of the way.
“DG?” Cain's voice called to her. Handing the reins he held to the corporal, he made his way back up the incline towards DG. When he reached her, a steady hand was placed on her arm. “You okay?”
She stuttered out an answer. “I... I forgot.”
He raised a scarred eyebrow, confused. “Forgot what?”
Deep, dark... down, down... in the ground, away from the suns... no light, only cold, metal and cement, locked doors and black eyes, rough hands and pebbled skin, and alone, so alone...
She shrugged away the thoughts. Foolish, she was being foolish. But... “Underground,” was all she could say in defence of herself. She'd forgotten the Realm was underneath the surface of earth, just as the Commander's base had been.
It took Cain a moment to realize what she meant, though once his blue eyes slid into the clarity of understanding, they held nothing but love and comfort. “Its okay,” he told her, “No one's holdin' you prisoner down here. We go in and we're out by tomorrow mornin'. You go in willingly and come out when you say, Sweetheart.”
She took a deep breath and nodded. When she looked up at him, she tried to smile, but only managed a watery spreading of her lips, barely a gesture at all. “In and out,” she said, wanting to feel brave but only feeling like an idiot. Cain offered her a smile that seemed to strengthen her own. He placed a warm kiss on her forehead, and kept his hand on his arm until she'd taken a few steps before giving her flesh a comforting squeeze and walking back to take the lead.
Her steps were a little more sure as she passed through the door and into the tunnel. Once the door had been shoved closed again, she realized it wasn't completely dark, that torches lit the path down and down and down, around a bend to where she could not see.
In and out, like breathing. Just breathe, she told herself, as she followed the men and the horses. This may be a sort of prison, but its not your prison and no one will hold you here. In and out... Cain will find us a safe place to rest, I'll go see the Reader, and we can leave... in and out...
Lodging for their animals was expensive, near the archway of the tunnel as they came out into the Realm properly. It was a strange fact, that the more you paid a person, the more trustworthy they became.
The Realm itself was loud, busy, and crowded. People bumped against her, and someone made a grab for her bottom as she followed closely behind Cain, hat shoved down to hide her face once again, though luckily Cain didn't notice the grabby jerk who'd passed by them. The scene it would have caused, however, kept her mind off the fact that they were underground.
After almost an hour of wandering through the ridiculous expanse of the Realm, Cain found them a place to stay for the night, a single cramped room with a bathroom DG cleaned thoroughly before she'd let anyone touch anything.
Hass raised an eyebrow at her once she'd finished. Brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, she grinned at him. “That isn't anything compared to a truck stop bathroom, trust me.”
The corporal's hands went up in supplication, to show he was not arguing.
After washing up, Cain shrugged his arms back into his duster and pulled his hat down low over his eyes. “Stay here and keep an eye on these two,” he told Hass as he nodded towards the princess and the kid. DG, used to such orders, ignored him as she rummaged through her bag for some soap, but the indignant cluck from Tory caused her to look up. “I'll be back, I've gotta go around, get some information.” He took his revolver from its holster, checked to make sure the chambers were loaded.
“We won't go anywhere,” DG assured the Tin Man as she shot a firm look at the boy, who was now sitting back in a rickety chair, pouting at being told to stay put. During their hour of searching, Cain had finally had to grab the kid by the collar and drag him away from a glass-fronted booth to curb his curiosity. The booth itself was too familiar to DG for comfort, though the woman sitting inside was different, blonde and dressed in the flowing robes of royalty. DG had wondered absently about whatever had happened to Airofday, before coming to the conclusion that she didn't care.
As Cain left the three alone, and the door was doubly bolted shut behind him, DG collapsed on the bed as Tory took his turn in the bathroom. Rolling onto her stomach, her gaze settled on Hass as he stretched his lanky frame out into the chair the kid had vacated.
“You coulda told me it was a brothel,” DG said, trying her best not to sound accusing.
The sound that came out of Hass's mouth was disbelieving. “Pfft, are you kidding me? The captain would've shot me if I had. You know, I've never met anyone who could shut a person up with just a look, and I was with the Resistance for a few years before it became the AR, but Wyatt Cain...” The corporal gave in involuntary shudder.
DG giggled, glad that Hass was able to lighten the mood considerably, and so quickly.
“And that's not to mention what Cor is gonna do to me when she finds out I had anything to do with bringing you down here,” Hass said, shaking his head with a laugh. “It won't matter that it was your idea.”
Hass's wife, whom DG had met on a few occasions, was a strong woman, though not the type of hard, lifeless woman the Resistance had seemed to turn their females into. Lively and sweet, DG found her quite easy to get along with, but could also see very clearly how her husband could be worried about making her angry.
“Well, once tonight is over with, we can get back up to the surface and no one will ever need to know we were here,” she said softly, sitting up to stare out the window. Below them, a busy street carried on as if no one ever slept, as if time had no meaning. The moment of curiosity had turned into a moment to dread, but there was no turning back. There was no other choice.
No one could tell her what was going to happen. She would sit down before Cynthia, the Reader, and the woman would lay out her price, on her terms, whatever she deemed fit. Whether or not DG chose to accept was her choice and hers alone. She knew there was a chance the fee would not be as Cain suggested. After all, Azkadellia had not mentioned any fare at all, although who in their right mind would have charged the Sorceress for anything?
She'd negotiated herself out of more than a few speeding tickets during her time in Kansas, except when it was handed to her by Deputy Gulch... after a while, she'd just stopped trying with that man, had smiled, nodded, and accepted. He'd had it out for her, that one...
Eyes still on the window, she vowed that would not be the case when she stood before the Reader.
How do I shatter the power of the Emerald of the Eclipse?
The answer was just a question away.
Author's Note II: This chapter took me by complete surprise. We've hit 100 pages - and we're about 1/3 of the way through... but lets face it, we know how I outline. Had the day from HELL today, a review in my inbox sure would help soothe my nerves. :)
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 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40
41 - 42 - 43 - 44 - 45 - 46 - 47 - 48
Author: Rissy James
Characters: DG, Cain, Azkadellia, Jeb, Glitch, Raw, Tutor, the Queen, Ahamo, and some old & new OCs (updated 03.09.09)
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. (updated 03.18.09)
Extras: Cast Page on livejournal.com (updated 04.05.09)
Author's Note: Thanks to erinm_4600 and kseda for their help! (Enjoy your trip, K!) - and I forgot to mention last chapter's nod at KLCtheBookWorm, who is the bestest (and interesting fact: ffdotnet's spellcheck recognises "bestest" as a word - EDIT: LJ does not.)
Chapter Thirteen
It was full dark when they broke out of the Papay fields, the rows and rows of trees coming to an end so abruptly that DG felt very suddenly exposed, more so than she had under the eyes of the sentient grangers that had watched them during their passage through the fields.
An expanse of open meadow gradually ambled into thick forest, the road cutting a close trail through the dark trees. There was nothing to fear in the woods that had not been faced before, and the chance of coming across another party was slim. Even with the ability to travel the road, Cain worried about trying to push forward. They would make camp near the tree-line on the other side of the field, and pass through the woods come first-sunrise. They'd cross the gorge at mid-morning.
At the edge of the Papay field, they dismounted to walk their horses. The kid, Tory, had grown quiet over the three hours he'd ridden with them. DG found her eyes constantly drawn to him, as he looked about nervously, eyeing Cain with suspicion. She tried to offer the kid a warm smile, some comfort, but he only ever looked away unhappily. A less exciting entry to the O.Z. than hers by far, but in that respect she considered him lucky.
“How are you holding up?” she asked him when the three had landed on the ground and made ready to cross the field.
“I'm good, thanks,” he said, but there was anxiety in his voice that was poorly masked. DG didn't press the issue, only motioned for him to stay close to her as she followed behind Cain. The Tin Man kept them at a fast pace, wanting to be clear the space and get a fire made as soon as possible. He was watching the terrain around them, searching for movement, ever alert and ready, and this always left him in a grumpy mood. The tension over the three companions was high as they walked carefully towards the tree-line, tripping over loose bricks.
Soon, the kid was hurrying to break stride with her. She slowed her steps slightly, smiling at him, though in the deep-blue of the night, she wasn't sure he could see her face. “So can I ask you a question?” he said, a bit nervously.
Grinning, she responded. “Sure.”
The kid took a few minutes, and DG wondered if Cain's ears had perked towards their conversation yet. “So where exactly are we?”
“We're in the southern realm,” she said simply. “We came through the Papay lands and tomorrow we're heading across a gorge, and that will bring us to Lake Country. This road is the Brick Route, and it leads all the way to Finaqua, but the land continues beyond into the southern mountains.”
“Uhh,” Tory said slowly, sounding a bit dumbstruck. “That made no sense. I got 'road' and I got 'mountains'.”
“What about 'gorge', did you catch that one?” she asked, teasing him now.
Tory gave a nervous laugh, and his silhouetted form beside her ran a hand over the knit cap on his head. “Okay,” he said seriously, “I saw a tumbleweed with legs today, and it growled at me. There were two suns in the sky when I woke up. Where the fuck am I?”
“Watch your mouth around the lady,” came a gruff command from ahead of them. DG suppressed a smile.
The kid gave a derisive sound at Cain's comment. “Seriously,” he said, “where am I?”
DG ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth, trying to give herself a minute to come up with an answer. Glitch had tried his best to explain it to her once, but the truth was that even his best break-down was all speculation. “I had it explained to me once as an 'alternate reality', but I really don't think -”
“An alternate reality?”
DG cleared her throat and continued. “An alternate reality would imply that there is one of you and one of me here, in the O.Z., and one of you and one of me there, on the Other Side, which, as far as anyone knows, isn't the case. The best explanation is that this is a separate dimension from the one you were born in.”
“But you knew about my sweater,” he said, tapping himself in the chest. “You know where Iowa is.”
DG smiled, and the gesture was wistful and full of sadness. “I was raised on the Other Side. In Kansas. But I was born here. Now, on this side, there are ways to travel back and forth between, but on the Other Side, there is no such way, only through freak of nature occurrences. And I do mean nature, because -”
“So you called this place 'the O.Z.'” The kid interrupted her again, and she frowned. Despite what she tried to tell herself, that she was still the same as she'd been - the farm girl, waitress, part time student - being treated like a princess for the past year had had some effect on her, and no one had treated her like just another person for quite a while, not until this kid. It was frustrating, yet refreshing.
“Yes,” she replied. “The Outer Zone. Its an odd place.”
“I can tell,” the kid said with a disbelieving laugh. “So how do I get home?”
DG found herself frowning again. “I don't know,” she said carefully. “But we've got a friend who will. We'll take you to see him when we're done in the south. Four days at the most, I think,” she said, trying to calculate the distances in her head. “It'll be a rough trip, but you'll get home in one piece.”
“Good,” he said, sounding relieved and grateful. “'Cause my mom's gonna have an aneurysm.”
The conversation died away, and they walked twenty minutes in silence. When they reached the edge of the woods, they picked their way around in the darkness until they'd found a suitable place to make camp near a stream, away from the road. Cain had a fire made and was directing a grumbling Tory at collecting more firewood before much time had passed. DG watered the horses and tethered them to graze for the night. She had just finished rubbing them down and was running her fingers through Juniper's mane when Wyatt found her.
“Hey,” he said low. They could hear, off in the distance, the kid crashing around in the woods, picking dead-fall off the ground.
“Hi,” DG said, not bothering to try to hide the exhaustion she felt. “So what are you thinking?”
“'Bout what?” he asked her absently, looking around.
In the dim, dancing light cast by the fire, DG could make out the angles of his face, could see the frown that was etched upon his lips. “About Tory,” she said, nodding her chin to the other side of the camp-site and into the trees, where Tory could be heard.
“Somethin' not quite right with that kid,” Wyatt said carefully.
DG shrugged. “He's not going to be any trouble, Wyatt, and Glitch will know how to send him back home.”
Cain made a rough sound in the back of his throat to let her know he agreed with her, but the sound was non-committal at best. Giving the mare one last pat, DG walked back to the camp and settled on the ground with her pack beside the fire pit, digging around inside it until she'd found her hairbrush.
There was a fluttering of wings above them, and she looked up to see the falcon land on a branch that overhung the edge of the camp. DG offered him a smile, but the falcon only cocked his head sideways at her. She sighed. Once the kid was asleep, Hass would shift and join them, and whatever explanation for his sudden appearance could be made in the morning.
It didn't sit right with her, the amount of secrets that had to be kept. She didn't like secrets. She'd been raised on secrets, they'd been the bread she'd been fed and the water that had sustained her. Now, she fought for truth in everything, though even she knew that wasn't always possible. She didn't care if it hurt, or if it scared her, or if it destroyed everything; she wanted to always know the truth. Always wanted to tell the truth.
Not possible, of course, to endanger their new companion. If he didn't know she was a princess, didn't know she could summon magic and Light from her hands, didn't know the falcon that perched above them was a royal army soldier, didn't know they were on a wild-goose chase across the O.Z., it wouldn't hurt him. It might actually save him.
She'd found her brush and was running it through her hair, working out the day's tangles when Tory returned, still grumbling. He dropped the armload of dead branches he carried close to the fire, and immediately knelt in the dirt to stack the wood neatly, eyeing Cain warily the whole time.
“So where are we headed?” the kid asked casually.
DG cast a glance toward Cain, who was coming towards them with his own pack. As he walked past Tory, he tossed the kid his sleeping roll. The movement was casual, perhaps even seemingly rude, but Wyatt was looking out for Tory as he'd watched out for her when they'd first met, however begrudgingly that had begun.
“DG here has a meeting to attend in the south,” was all Cain said, as he tossed the pack into the exposed root structure of a tree quite near to her. He leaned back upon it as a pillow, and angled his hat over his eyes, the first rest he'd given himself since they'd left Milltown that morning, and she knew it was only because the falcon kept close watch for him.
“Will we get there tomorrow?” Tory asked.
“Sometime near dusk,” Cain muttered. “You two had best get some sleep. We start early.”
When DG tore her eyes away from Cain's sprawled form, she realized Tory was watching her. “He's right,” she said quietly, grabbing her own sleeping roll, barely more than padded wool and canvas but better than the dirt any day. “Keep close to the fire, its going to get cold tonight.”
“Isn't it summer here?” the kid asked uncertainly.
“Yeah, but its been really cold lately. I don't know what's up with the weather,” she said offhandedly. “Lay down, get some sleep.” She nodded towards the sleeping roll Cain had tossed at the boy's feet, as she spread her own out near Wyatt's legs. Though he didn't move, she knew he was still awake and paying attention to every word said. She buttoned her coat to the throat and settled down into her bare-bones canvas sack. Better than nothing... she looked over at Wyatt, lamenting that the military issue rolls weren't big enough for two.
“Isn't someone going to stay awake and watch the fire?” Tory asked.
DG smiled, casting an upwards glance to the falcon standing guard over them. “Oh, I'm sure someone will.”
***
She was crawling, and the smooth grass felt good on her bare knees. She'd be scolded when she arrived home for her green-stained knees... if she ever got home.
She moved a few feet forward slowly, until she found what she was looking for. Oh, was it beautiful. Red, shiny... she reached out and closed her hand around the ripe apple, but as she lifted it, her fingers brushed over something half-hidden by the untended grass. It was cold, compared to the apple she palmed that had been warmed by the suns. Moving her prize to the other hand, she reached out and knocked gently on what she'd found.
Tink, tink.
Huh, she thought, intrigued, as she raised up on her knees to knock again, on a metal knee connected to the metal foot in the grass. The sound was hollower, echoed more. She stood straight and found herself staring into the shining silver face of a handsome man made from tin.
“Its a man,” she said slowly, disbelievingly. “A man made out of tin!” Somehow this struck her as familiar, pulling at a chord in her heart. She turned around to face her straw companion, who ambled unevenly up the slope she'd crawled up moments before to get her apple. How he'd begun to follow her, to join her on this journey, she didn't know, she didn't question. It just was.
They stared in appreciation at the treasure they'd just found - surely such craftsmanship was uncommon! - as they brushed the dirt and grit that had gathered on the shoulders, pulled at vines that had wound around the legs of the tin figure.
She gave a knock on the chest, turning her ear to the lonely echo that came from within. And then a different sound - a squeak, fluctuating like a voice trapped. Frowning, she turned to her scarecrow friend.
“Did he say something?” she asked him, prepared for him to tell her she was crazy. Tin statues didn't talk - just like scarecrows didn't walk. The high-pitched moan came again, and she knew for sure the sound had come through the closed lips of their tin friend; for he was a friend, she knew, somehow deep in her heart. He was.
“He said 'oil can',” Scarecrow said, touching his gloved hand on the tin man's shoulder, fingers flexing over the corners of the metal frame, as though straw could substitute for bone and tendon. It made sense, bizarre sense... oil to ease rusted joints. The jaw, a separate piece, was frozen in place, which was why he couldn't talk. Oil can, oil can... oil can fix this.
She looked around. An abandoned cottage sat on the other side of the gleaming road of bricks they had been following when they'd stopped for a snack... scarlet apples hanging heavy from gnarled branches... and yet somehow the apples had ended up here, on the other side of the road, in the grass next to the tin man... had someone thrown them? How fortuitous.
Finally she spied it, the oil can perched on a stump, within easy reach of unmoving tin arms. Quickly, the jaw was oiled and began to move, and the tin man began to speak. His voice was friendly and calm, and she found herself disappointed at its higher octave. Shouldn't it be lower, deeper?
“Year ago... rain, rust. Been that way ever since,” he said, moaning between sentences as his other joints were lubricated. Soon he was moving, with stiff squeaks of his metal limbs cutting through the air.
“Well,” she said, running her fingers along the smoothness of his arms, felt the bumps of the rivets that held his pieces together. After a few more moments, he was well-oiled, and would move without sound now, once they helped him stretch out a bit. “You're perfect now.”
“Bang on my chest if you think I'm perfect,” he said quietly, in his soft voice.
Frowning, she looked up to him for permission, surprised and happy to see that his eyes were blue. She raised her hand, and knocked her knuckles against his barrel chest, and heard the most beautiful, empty sound she'd ever heard in her life, singing to her heart like music.
“Its empty,” he said quietly. “The tinsmith forgot to give me a heart.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “No heart?” She felt a twinge of pain in her chest, as if her own was breaking. A light hand descended on her shoulder, a strange comfort. She looked back to Scarecrow, his warm, dark eyes set in his canvas-sack face were deep, mirroring her sadness.
“All hollow, like an empty kettle.”
A cold wind swept around them, wrapping her an icy fear as her human flesh prickled. Her companions, her friends, stepped closer to her, protectively. Something had changed... what had changed? On the wind it came, so sudden and quick that the transition took them all by surprise as they huddled together.
Something was wrong. But what... why didn't she know?
“She's close, too close,” Scarecrow said.
Who is too close, she wanted to ask, but...
“You're heading too far South,” Tin Woodman said, and his metal hand curled stiff fingers around her arm, somehow warmer than the wind that whipped around her.
“I tried to tell her,” Scarecrow said with a shake of his head. They were both watching her now. South, she had to head south. She had to find out, she had to know... what exactly was a little unclear, but it would all fall into place, it always did. How she knew that, she didn't know. Why didn't she know? What was wrong with her brain? She was certain she had one, as she cast a glance at her straw-filled friend, wondering if his hat hid his zipper.
Zipper?
“I'll make sure you get to where you're going, whether I've got a heart or not,” Tin Woodman said firmly. He straightened, his voice hinting at pride. “Believe me, heart's got nothing to do with it.”
Sighing, she looked from one companion, flimsy and scattered, to the other, soldered and unbending. She was beginning to feel that she'd done this before...
***
When he heard the soft sounds of snoring coming from the kid curled up by the fire, Wyatt Cain removed his hat from over his eyes and sat up. DG was on her side, fast asleep and facing him, her head pillowed on her arm, and a soft smile on her lips. Whatever she was dreaming, it wasn't causing her any grief.
As he stood, the sound of fluttering, and then the strange vacillation of shifting as Hass's feet landed on the ground could be heard over the crackling of the fire. Cain frowned, shaking his head slightly as he walked to the edge of the camp, where Hass stood.
“So what do you think?” the corporal asked him.
Cain looked down at the sleeping kid, took a moment to study the face in the firelight. Tory's cheeks were lightly sprinkled with freckles, and his hair, now uncovered, was standing on end in some places and completely flattened in others. He seemed innocent in sleep, as any child would, though the boy was rapidly coming out of his childhood, would most likely leave his childhood sooner than he'd leave the Zone. This land in which Cain lived had a taste for the clean hands of the young.
“I don't know who he is, or where he came from,” Cain said, going through everything that had crossed his mind as he'd feigned slumber. “Says he slipped over. Don't know how he managed to do that without noticing, and he says he remembers nothing.”
Hass remained quiet. The sciences that involved crossing the spans between worlds wasn't widely shared, and though he knew the basic mechanics of travel storms, he knew nothing about the natural occurrences in that place called 'the Other Side' that would send someone reeling to this side of the rainbow.
“And you're sure we take him with us to the Realm?” Hass asked.
Cain nodded grimly, casting a sideways glance at his companion, watching as Hass ran a hand through his dark hair. His round, boyish face was lost in thought. “We take him with us, then we escort him to Central City,” Cain said, explaining the best laid plan he'd been able to come up with. “Ambrose will know what to do with him. We can't leave him at Finaqua, and we can't turn around now.”
“Captain, we know nothing about him,” Hass said, as both men now watched the boy sleep.
It wasn't a good enough reason not to help the kid, even his most stoic and careful sensibilities were telling him. It unsettled him that the kid had never once asked for their help, finding himself in the middle of a strange land, coming across friendly strangers, wouldn't it have been the first words out of his mouth... Could you help me, please?
We know nothing about him... This phrase repeated over and over in Cain's mind. He was frowning again, a permanent placement for his lips, it seemed. More comfortable than smiling, to be sure, but... “We find out,” he said simply, glancing back towards DG. “He seems to have taken a shine to her. If anyone gets information out of this kid, it'll be DG.”
“So what do we do, then?”
Cain cleared his throat. “We keep an eye on him. A close eye. Listen to what he tells DG. Other than that, we get this over as fast as possible so we can get out of the Realm. I still don't like the idea of headin' down that way.”
But what other choice do we have? DG's voice rang clear in his mind.
Cain put a hand over his eyes. “Get some sleep, Jeremy. I'll keep watch.” Casting a glance from the sleeping princess to the boy curled by the fire, he knew rest wouldn't be finding him any time soon.
***
Morning came too soon.
After a breakfast of rations purchased at the general store in Milltown, the group purged their camp site and mounted their horses. Now they were four, and Tory was suspicious of Hass's sudden arrival. “I got a late start,” the corporal said, by way of excuse for his appearance. Cain and DG only smiled at him, though the kid looked from face to face, wondering how stupid they all thought he was. However, no more was said on the subject, and by the time they were on the road again, an easy conversation was struck between Hass and Tory, and the two managed to keep each other occupied.
As they were now four, and their horses numbered three, DG put herself out enough to ride with Cain. After the fire had been extinguished and the spot covered, and she pulled herself up to settle behind the Tin Man, her arms wrapped securely around his waist, she caught Tory giving her an inquiring look. She only shrugged her shoulders, pressing her face against Cain's duster; she offered the kid a wink.
Tory's eyebrows shot up in surprise, as he shook his head disbelievingly. She knew it was the age difference that was causing Tory to shake his head, but it didn't bother her. She'd come up against it before, and it had never once mattered. Her heart knew that some things ran deeper than a few years difference. Maybe more than a few years, she thought, tightening her arms as Cain turned slightly in the saddle.
“Ready, Princess?” he whispered low; there was the slightest hint of a smile playing on his lips, and a thrill went down her spine as she realized he was just as pleased as she that she'd given the boy her horse.
The ride through the woods was quiet and uneventful, though it was dark. The suns were barely able to permeate the thick canopy of interwoven branches coated thick with moss and leaves. The Brick Route was in a worse state of repair than she'd seen anywhere else in the Zone, and it made her sad. She remembered the road from her dreams, each brick carefully laid into place, straight and even and gleaming like gold. What had happened, or were her dreams just that... dreams?
Soon, the trees began to thin out and it was a gradual decline towards the gorge. When the group of four crossed over the single bridge, DG nearly laughed at how easy it was. No safe-house, no zip line, no cover of darkness. The soldiers guarding the bridge, however, posed a problem of their own, as the group came across the first people they'd met since leaving Milltown - minus the kid, of course. She didn't want to use her magic in front of Tory if it could be helped, perhaps some of Cain's caution was catching. So instead there was an awkward moment as she jammed her cloche hat on her head and turned up the collar of her coat. The toll was paid, and they continued on without trouble - though the suspicious looks from the kid kept on coming.
The Brick Route was one of two roads that led to Finaqua, the second of which lay to the west, out of the way and secluded, the path that had been travelled their first journey south before the Eclipse. Now, they rested when they came to a junction, the Old Road heading directly south, and a second, barely more than a beaten trail, that veered off and headed southeast. DG knew it was along this southeastern road that Cain had been reunited with his son, as he'd been transported as a prisoner from the Realm of the Unwanted. It wasn't far from this juncture, and they'd be there soon.
As brave as she'd felt in Milltown, making the decision to travel to the Realm to visit the Reader, she wasn't sure that it was going to hold. It was the dull, wooden echo of the bridge that had begun the questioning in her mind and the faltering of her courage. The gap of doubt had only grown the farther they'd gone.
Leaning against a tree now, watching as Hass and Tory argued amiably over Rock, Paper, Scissors, she tried to remember where her gumption had come from when she'd stormed the Witch's Tower an annual before. But as Cain came to her side, leaned his back against the tree as she was doing now, keeping his eyes on the road and not on her, she remembered very clearly.
Oh yeah, I wasn't alone, she thought, and I'm not alone now. There's no reason to worry, girl. Get a grip!
Too bad there didn't seem to be a grip to be had. Turning towards Cain, she reached out for purchase, taking his hand and lacing her fingers through his, the barest contact but a sure and steady anchor. The tips of his ears turned slightly pink at her display of affection.
“Will we make it in time?” she asked him, trying to distract him from her touch.
Clearing his throat, he nodded, still watching the road, eyes flicking from the direction they'd come to the brick-way that ambled slowly towards Finaqua. “Plenty of time. We'll get you to Cynthia's Parlour around midnight.”
DG frowned. “Midnight?” It seemed strange. She'd thought she'd be seeing the Reader the next morning. When Cain nodded, pursing his lips together in an unhappy line, she could almost see the deluge of words that was piling up behind them, unspoken. “What is it?” she asked, not liking it one bit when his blue eyes finally cast down on her, cloudy and unsure. Gone was the steadiness that she was so used to seeing, the unwavering stoicism she normally braced herself against. “Wyatt,” she said softly when he still didn't speak. She tightened her grip on his hand, squeezing his large fingers.
The motion seemed to have its intended effect. Cain's lips parted, his eyes searching hers now. “I don't like the idea of takin' you in to see this woman,” he said slowly, but very firmly. “You might find the answer you're lookin' for, Darlin', but the cost is -”
Flaring in anger, she interrupted him. “Why does no one want me to go see this woman?” she demanded, raising her voice. Both Hass and Tory looked up, mid-fist shake, to stare at her. “You told me the danger, and I don't care! But still you insist that its a bad idea. So, what is no one telling me?”
Cain sighed, and extracted his hand from her hold to run it over his face. The tips of his ears were turning pinker, beginning to envy red. DG's shoulder's fell; she turned to Hass, her hands out in a gesture that demanded 'Well?'
“Can I just tell her?” Hass asked, smirking with amusement at DG's frustration. The kid's head was snapping back and forth as he searched the faces of his companions, from DG's mask of anger to Wyatt's half hidden by his hat, to the smirking corporal.
Cain gave a mumbled “Go ahead,” in response to Hass, and DG's head whipped so fast to look at the corporal that her neck cracked. Cain reached for her hand, as she had reached for his, and despite wanting to, she didn't bat his fingers away, and let him take her hand.
“Its a brothel,” Hass said shamelessly. “And the Reader is the madame.”
DG's jaw dropped as she fell heavily back against the tree. That, she had not been expecting. The silence that followed was broken by Tory letting out a long, low whistle. Quickly, Cain was leaning into her, his face next to her ear.
“The price is a year's servitude, Deeg, princess or not,” he repeated before backing away. His stormy eyes were as close to pleading as she'd ever seen him. She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat that didn't seem to want to go away, and tried to return his gaze steadily with her own eyes, but she could already feel tears coming. Why tears? She shook her head, realizing she was holding Cain's hand so tight her fingers were beginning to cramp. Though she released the death-grip, she didn't let go of him, and he held her fast, that simple contact of their hands.
Her mind was working as she searched the weathered face she held so dear. His frown read protectiveness, his eyes read worry, his shortened breathing read disagreement.
Her heart had been set, despite whatever lack of courage she'd felt, but now her heart was balking. How did this new information change things... not much, was her only conclusion. She had no other option when they'd left Milltown, how was now any different?
“We can't turn around now,” she said firmly.
“Fair enough,” came Cain's only response to her and her alone, before calling out an order for the other two to mount. “We can make it to the Realm before dark if we hurry.” He didn't let go of her hand until he was helping her into the saddle, and then climbing up behind her, sheltering her in the protective circle of his embrace. If the arm that slung around her waist held her too tight, if the grip on her hip was too possessive, she didn't notice or care. It was exactly where she needed to be as she tried to work out her strategy as the group left the safe, beaconed path of the Old Road and headed away, towards more dangerous territory.
***
The road ended abruptly in a wide open meadow, one that DG recognized well, though she'd come to it from a different direction the last time. But, instead of taking them across to search for the in-ground entrance to the Realm, Cain skirted the field, entering the forest once again. The group dismounted, and led their horses down into a deep gully with high dirt walls. Tree roots stuck out over top of them, covered in moss and obstructing the view of the sky and forest above. Another abrupt end, this time in a stout wooden door. Another hidden entrance.
DG smiled at Cain, impressed. His only response was, “What, do ya think we went up the ladder shackled to a log?”
But as he and Hass stepped forward to heave open the massive door, DG's heart gave a painful twist. When a dark tunnel on a downward slope was revealed, her heart seemed to stop all together. Mouth dry, nerves twinging, feet rooted to the ground, she stared at the dark hole she was expected to walk blindly into, and found it suddenly very hard. Unable to move forward or back, she felt Tory brush by her, the horse he led nearly knocking her off her feet when she refused to step out of the way.
“DG?” Cain's voice called to her. Handing the reins he held to the corporal, he made his way back up the incline towards DG. When he reached her, a steady hand was placed on her arm. “You okay?”
She stuttered out an answer. “I... I forgot.”
He raised a scarred eyebrow, confused. “Forgot what?”
Deep, dark... down, down... in the ground, away from the suns... no light, only cold, metal and cement, locked doors and black eyes, rough hands and pebbled skin, and alone, so alone...
She shrugged away the thoughts. Foolish, she was being foolish. But... “Underground,” was all she could say in defence of herself. She'd forgotten the Realm was underneath the surface of earth, just as the Commander's base had been.
It took Cain a moment to realize what she meant, though once his blue eyes slid into the clarity of understanding, they held nothing but love and comfort. “Its okay,” he told her, “No one's holdin' you prisoner down here. We go in and we're out by tomorrow mornin'. You go in willingly and come out when you say, Sweetheart.”
She took a deep breath and nodded. When she looked up at him, she tried to smile, but only managed a watery spreading of her lips, barely a gesture at all. “In and out,” she said, wanting to feel brave but only feeling like an idiot. Cain offered her a smile that seemed to strengthen her own. He placed a warm kiss on her forehead, and kept his hand on his arm until she'd taken a few steps before giving her flesh a comforting squeeze and walking back to take the lead.
Her steps were a little more sure as she passed through the door and into the tunnel. Once the door had been shoved closed again, she realized it wasn't completely dark, that torches lit the path down and down and down, around a bend to where she could not see.
In and out, like breathing. Just breathe, she told herself, as she followed the men and the horses. This may be a sort of prison, but its not your prison and no one will hold you here. In and out... Cain will find us a safe place to rest, I'll go see the Reader, and we can leave... in and out...
Lodging for their animals was expensive, near the archway of the tunnel as they came out into the Realm properly. It was a strange fact, that the more you paid a person, the more trustworthy they became.
The Realm itself was loud, busy, and crowded. People bumped against her, and someone made a grab for her bottom as she followed closely behind Cain, hat shoved down to hide her face once again, though luckily Cain didn't notice the grabby jerk who'd passed by them. The scene it would have caused, however, kept her mind off the fact that they were underground.
After almost an hour of wandering through the ridiculous expanse of the Realm, Cain found them a place to stay for the night, a single cramped room with a bathroom DG cleaned thoroughly before she'd let anyone touch anything.
Hass raised an eyebrow at her once she'd finished. Brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, she grinned at him. “That isn't anything compared to a truck stop bathroom, trust me.”
The corporal's hands went up in supplication, to show he was not arguing.
After washing up, Cain shrugged his arms back into his duster and pulled his hat down low over his eyes. “Stay here and keep an eye on these two,” he told Hass as he nodded towards the princess and the kid. DG, used to such orders, ignored him as she rummaged through her bag for some soap, but the indignant cluck from Tory caused her to look up. “I'll be back, I've gotta go around, get some information.” He took his revolver from its holster, checked to make sure the chambers were loaded.
“We won't go anywhere,” DG assured the Tin Man as she shot a firm look at the boy, who was now sitting back in a rickety chair, pouting at being told to stay put. During their hour of searching, Cain had finally had to grab the kid by the collar and drag him away from a glass-fronted booth to curb his curiosity. The booth itself was too familiar to DG for comfort, though the woman sitting inside was different, blonde and dressed in the flowing robes of royalty. DG had wondered absently about whatever had happened to Airofday, before coming to the conclusion that she didn't care.
As Cain left the three alone, and the door was doubly bolted shut behind him, DG collapsed on the bed as Tory took his turn in the bathroom. Rolling onto her stomach, her gaze settled on Hass as he stretched his lanky frame out into the chair the kid had vacated.
“You coulda told me it was a brothel,” DG said, trying her best not to sound accusing.
The sound that came out of Hass's mouth was disbelieving. “Pfft, are you kidding me? The captain would've shot me if I had. You know, I've never met anyone who could shut a person up with just a look, and I was with the Resistance for a few years before it became the AR, but Wyatt Cain...” The corporal gave in involuntary shudder.
DG giggled, glad that Hass was able to lighten the mood considerably, and so quickly.
“And that's not to mention what Cor is gonna do to me when she finds out I had anything to do with bringing you down here,” Hass said, shaking his head with a laugh. “It won't matter that it was your idea.”
Hass's wife, whom DG had met on a few occasions, was a strong woman, though not the type of hard, lifeless woman the Resistance had seemed to turn their females into. Lively and sweet, DG found her quite easy to get along with, but could also see very clearly how her husband could be worried about making her angry.
“Well, once tonight is over with, we can get back up to the surface and no one will ever need to know we were here,” she said softly, sitting up to stare out the window. Below them, a busy street carried on as if no one ever slept, as if time had no meaning. The moment of curiosity had turned into a moment to dread, but there was no turning back. There was no other choice.
No one could tell her what was going to happen. She would sit down before Cynthia, the Reader, and the woman would lay out her price, on her terms, whatever she deemed fit. Whether or not DG chose to accept was her choice and hers alone. She knew there was a chance the fee would not be as Cain suggested. After all, Azkadellia had not mentioned any fare at all, although who in their right mind would have charged the Sorceress for anything?
She'd negotiated herself out of more than a few speeding tickets during her time in Kansas, except when it was handed to her by Deputy Gulch... after a while, she'd just stopped trying with that man, had smiled, nodded, and accepted. He'd had it out for her, that one...
Eyes still on the window, she vowed that would not be the case when she stood before the Reader.
How do I shatter the power of the Emerald of the Eclipse?
The answer was just a question away.
Author's Note II: This chapter took me by complete surprise. We've hit 100 pages - and we're about 1/3 of the way through... but lets face it, we know how I outline. Had the day from HELL today, a review in my inbox sure would help soothe my nerves. :)
Table Of Contents:
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21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30
31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40
41 - 42 - 43 - 44 - 45 - 46 - 47 - 48