"Until The Fall" - 21/48
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 05.04.09)
Chapter Twenty One
When Cain awoke, it was mostly because DG had begun to squirm and fret in her sleep. That it was still completely dark didn't surprise him, but the position he found himself in was. DG had nestled herself into his arms at some point during the night, and he hadn't awoken to her crawling into the bed. That she'd been able to be that quiet was one thing, but he didn't worry about it... what he did focus on was the fact that no one had roused him earlier.
Trying to sit up, he found his left arm pinned beneath her. Just great, he thought, as he lay back down. DG was starting to thrash a bit, and if he timed it right, he could free his arm the next time she turned over. Mumbled words were tumbling past her lips, running together into a low, incoherent moan.
His eyebrows knit together, as he lifted his head to watch her. His eyes had adjusted somewhat, and he could make out the pale, round outline of her face. Her head was tucked up into the hollow of his shoulder, and if the light were better, he would have had a completely unobstructed view of her.
She rolled then, and he was so caught up in trying to pick a word out of what she was saying that he missed his opportunity to extract his arm. On her back now, her head lolled to the side, exposing the creamy flesh of her neck to his eyes. “... Lets run,” she muttered, as a hand fluttered up to rest near her face on their shared pillow.
His scarred eyebrow quirked upward as he caught her breathy sigh. Run? Run from what?
Inching his arm out from under her enough to prop up on his elbow, he leaned up to better see the window, and tried to judge the light, but there was no sign of even the grayest haze permeating the darkness beyond the glass. It would be a while yet before they'd have to leave, even longer until the suns rose. Listening, Cain heard absolutely no sound at all coming from within the apartment, only the sounds from the street far below the window, the hum and buzz of the city night that accompanied every second of stillness. No, it was either very late, or very early, or perhaps even that hazy space between.
“... City, at last... last,” DG mumbled beneath him. Looking down at her, he saw that she hadn't moved, hadn't tossed or turned as the ominous words escaped her mouth; lips he knew waited for his own, soft and supple, in the darkness through which he couldn't see.
Almost in response to the thought, he brought his hand up and cupped her face, his fingers brushing against her own hand that was resting on the pillow beside her head. “Deeg,” he whispered, sweeping his calloused thumb across the smooth curve of her cheekbone. At the sound of his voice, she turned away from him, pushing her bottom up against his groin in her attempt to get comfortable. Cain grit his teeth, retracting his hand from her, before she pinned it between her chin and the pillow. “Wake up,” he instructed quietly, leaning his head down to place his lips near her ear. His words, however, didn't break through the veil of slumber, and she slept on.
“Poppies...”
Cain wrapped an arm around DG's waist, holding her against him when she tried to turn over again. She whimpered to find herself trapped, but still didn't awaken. Resting his forehead against her hair, letting it tickle his skin, he took a deep breath. “Darlin', wake up,” he said again, giving her a squeeze. No response, but for another push up against him as she tried to twist free. Momentarily, he sagged against her, resisting urges far more base than he'd like to admit, as he remembered the morning in Milltown, not too long before, when he'd expressed a desire to take her every morning... Not here, he reminded himself, not in a borrowed bed.
True to her teasing nature, DG seemed to sense the impropriety of the Tin Man's thoughts. She woke then, with a sharp intake of breath. Stretching into the hand he held splayed over her stomach, she arched her back, pressing her bottom firmly into his groin as she gave a kitten-like mewl.
“Wyatt?” she asked, her sleep-weakened voice hinting at confusion. “What time is it?”
“Not time to get up just yet,” he mumbled into her hair. “You were talkin' in your sleep.”
“Was I?” she mused lazily. “I was dreaming of a poppy field,” she said, settling back into him with another wiggle that threatened his restraint. Barely holding onto it by a thread, Cain tightened his hold on her, not intending to let her get up until he had an explanation of why he hadn't been awoken.
“Papay Field?”
“No,” she said with a slight shake of her head, and a quiet, scratchy giggle. Her hair rubbed against his stubbled jaw. “Poppies. They're a flower on the Other Side. Aren't there poppies here?”
“Possibly, I'm no expert on vegetation,” Cain admitted.
“Beautiful, blood-red poppies,” she whispered wistfully. “A vast field of them, as far as my eyes could see. But there was something up with them, the dream was a little sketchy on the details.” She gave her head another shake. “I can't remember, exactly. But... something,” she reiterated. She turned in his arms, and this time he allowed her, settling his hand down on the small of her back, just above the swell of her ass. “I'm having more trouble remembering my dreams than I used to.”
Cain frowned, as she tipped her face, to nuzzle the underside of his jaw. “Is it much longer before we have to go?” she asked innocently. He craned his neck, giving the window another good look, though he knew not much would have changed. Sure enough, there'd been no variation to the darkness outside.
“No more than two hours,” he guessed, though in all likelihood, it could be longer. He knew, without a doubt, that she would have been the one to decide against waking him. He could imagine, quite clearly, the internal debate she would have had over it. Obviously, the decision to let him sleep had weighed out. He settled back down behind her, closing his eyes. There was nothing for it. “You didn't wake me,” he said steadily.
“I didn't think we needed to,” she said softly. Immediately, she rushed in to alleviate his concerns. “I made arrangements with Tutor, he'll take Tory to the palace in the morning... or later this morning, anyway.” There was a smile in her voice, pleased with herself that she'd handled it. It incensed him, but he bit it back, not wanting to spoil the moment with undue anger.
“What if somethin' goes wrong? You seem more than willin' to take that on your shoulders,” he admonished lightly, unable to say nothing. What had Glitch once accused him of... bitter cynicism? He didn't like to discourage DG for her consideration; in fact, it touched him that she'd worried about how much he'd rested. However, it didn't change the fact that if something in her plans went horribly awry, the blame would land squarely on her; something she was well-versed in, yes, but not something he wanted to see her bring down upon herself knowingly.
The strange form of survivor's guilt she'd felt on her return to the Zone, after visiting her memories and learning that she'd played a major role in the downfall of the country, had begun to dissipate recently, with her sister's slow recovery from the Possession and the new reconstruction that would return the land to her former glory. Here she was, still trying to fix the family she had unknowingly torn apart as a child, by destroying the one link that still tied the Gales to their past... the Emerald.
Cain imagined that her eyes might have been reproachful, and that her teeth might sink into her bottom lip, as she turned in his arms, so that she could lay her head down on the pillow and face him. “If something goes wrong,” she began slowly, “I'd take the fall, of course I would. I know how to do that, after all.” She was making a point, and in the darkness, he had the sense to look contrite, even if she couldn't see it.
“You've got more than your fair share to worry about,” he reminded her. He put a hand on her bare arm, cupping her shoulder in his big palm. The sleep shirt she wore was sleeveless, a thin strap over either shoulder the only thing holding the scant garment to her body. The soft, stretchy material clung to the soft curves of her; unable to help himself, he let his thumb sweep underneath the strap, the touch on the minimally exposed skin making her shiver just the same.
“And you've got your hands full worrying about me while I worry about 'my fair share',” she said, her voice firming, proving he was less of a distraction than he thought he was. “I just... oh, for Pete's sake,” she huffed. “I can't argue with you when I can't see you.”
The next instant, the lamp on the bedside table ignited, a tiny blue and yellow flame barely burning at the tip of the wick inside the glass. It cast enough dim light that it didn't shock their eyes, though the flame slowly grew, and brightened, until Cain could clearly see the princess laying next to him. He smirked, never growing tired of her little tricks.
“You should let me worry about you sometimes, Wyatt,” she told him quietly, her blue eyes serious. “There's no one to look out for you, can't you let me? I'm sorry if I chose the wrong moment to do it, but... well, equal partnership and all that, right? If you think I'm gonna take a backseat when we get married, you've got another think coming!” She was ruffled now, and she was cuter than she had a right to be, considering the subject matter. The grim honesty in her eyes shifted, sparking in the lamplight.
He chuckled at her sudden fire. “Not sayin' I want you to,” he said as he propped up on an elbow. She followed suit, mirroring his position. “But, Darlin',” and here he paused, the words hard to push past his tongue because of their technical formality, “this is more than just a cross-country trip, these are serious security matters, and even somethin' as simple as -”
DG sighed, interrupting him. “I know, I know. The captain's orders are to be followed. I'll remember,” she said resignedly, a wise child who'd been chastised once too often. She offered him a winning smile, as she backed down and tried to distract him from a different angle.
“You'd better,” he said, hopefully putting an end to the conversation as he frowned at her. Her complete trust of the mutt and the kid were clouding what good judgment she usually had. Though the old teacher had proven himself to the royal family by leading Cain, Glitch, and Raw to DG's location before the Eclipse, and during the events at the Tower, Cain still couldn't trust Tutor any farther than he could throw him. Then, there was the matter of Tory; something was off about that kid, something that unnerved Cain more than it should.
You should be considering yourself lucky, Wyatt, his conscience told him. You can wash your hands of the entire thing. Never have to worry about it again.
Wyatt Cain, however, knew that things could never be as easy as he was led to believe.
The sudden blackness enveloping them as the lamp extinguished brought him out of his thoughts. DG was snuggling closer to him again, gripping a handful of his shirt as she settled down against him. “Do you want to sleep some more?” she asked with a yawn.
“It'd do no good to get up and wake the others,” was all he offered her in return. Sleep was the last thing from his mind, he'd gotten enough, and now his brain was back to working out what lay ahead of them. His mind was on the Old Road, in the Western Mountains, the far reaches near the border where lay their destination.
“You didn't answer my question,” she pointed out, tilting her head to kiss the hollow of his throat. Gritting his teeth, Cain shifted against her. When he didn't answer her, DG asked a new question. “Are you still tired?” Her lips moved in a slow, hot trail over his exposed collar bone, her fingers reaching up to hold the material of his shirt out of her way.
Cain's mind gave the tiniest of spins. How much did he want to just lie back and let her explore and play? His pulse thundered in his ears, his blood beginning to rush too fast. Self-control, he'd had some once... “Sweetheart,” he said, his voice strained. He brought his hand up to hold her head in place, brushing his thumb over her lips; sweetly, and oh so carefully, she opened her lips and brought his thumb into her mouth, to lightly catch between her teeth. He groaned, as he imagined those lips wrapped around other parts of him, her teeth nipping at him with just the right pressure... Her tongue made a slow pass over the tip of his thumb, driving his imagination into a frenzy, and it was almost his undoing.
He yanked his hand away from her face before crushing his lips over hers, effectively stealing what breath she had in her lungs to stop her from gasping or moaning under his kiss. His tongue slipped into her still open mouth, meeting hers, wet and warm. Her arms went about his neck and she clung to him, meeting him with equaled fervor once she'd regained her senses after his initial assault. When he tore away from her, long, long minutes later, it was to breathe, or die.
“You sure you want to keep this up? You'll be wakin' the whole house if I get my hands on you,” he warned her. It wasn't a threat, it was the honest truth of the situation; he missed the tight confines of her body, her muscles squeezing around him as her arms and legs twined over his hips and back like vines. If he touched her now, he'd take her hard and make her scream, such was the great need within him for tension release.
“I could always throw up a spell,” DG countered, as she threw her leg over his hip, pulling him closer. With a growl, he shifted his weight to cover her, pressing his leg between hers; he could feel the heat of her despite their clothes, scorching him through his trouser leg.
“All those lessons this past annual, didn't anyone teach you to behave yourself?” he asked, lowering his lips to the slope of her neck simply to avoid the temptation of her mouth.
“Isn't it enough that I behaved during the lessons?” she whispered in his ear, and she gasped as he bit down on her tender flesh. He pressed his knee a little more firmly upwards, creating the pressure and friction between her legs he knew would start a fire low inside her belly. Lifting his head, he kissed her, nipping her bottom lip when she began to writhe, and sucking gently on the offended flesh when she whimpered. “Cain,” she moaned quietly, vulnerably.
Pulling back slightly, Cain took a deep breath, before he rolled off of her. Instantly, he missed the warm softness of her, and before she could argue or sit up, he pulled her to him and pressed a kiss to her temple. Not here, he told himself. Though he didn't know exactly when they would next find themselves with a private room to themselves, he couldn't let arousal get the better of him... or her.
“Get some more sleep, Deeg,” he said, closing his eyes and preparing to make an attempt at the same. “We're both gonna need it.”
***
By the time Jeb and his partner had pushed the wagon over the winding forest road to the outskirts of the camp, he was ready to admit defeat. Palace life had made him a bit soft; following Azkadellia around all day could hardly have been called grueling hard work. His muscles were about ready to seize up, when the light from several fires drew his attention.
The rutted dirt road on which they'd traveled to bring the wagon thus far met up with the section of Brick Route that they had left behind when they'd arrived at the shield. Jeb surveyed what he could see with the helpful addition of the bonfires. The trees were more dense than they'd been near Shadow's Passage, outside of the aging gatehouse. Jeb had no doubt that they were very, very close to the heart of the forest, where no light at all from the suns would permeate through the canopy above his head. The close grown trees with their tangled branches would certainly block out any rays that the suns might try to throw down upon this forsaken place.
Brown canvas tents had been raised haphazardly around the partial clearing, among more crumbling ruins of ancient origin. Whatever attack had descended upon this civilization, the devastation had been complete. Nothing but fragments of wall, precarious door arches, and stairs that broke off and led to nowhere remained. The brick road that ran through the center of it was in the same state of disrepair that Jeb had followed into the forest.
The two young soldiers hadn't made it very close to the camp before they were facing down the barrel of a rifle, belonging to a perimeter guard.
“State your business, boys,” he instructed calmly.
“We've got a load of supplies for Quartermaster Briones,” Jeb said slowly, and clearly, not removing his hands from the back of the wagon.
“We didn't hear nothing about new recruits,” the guard said skeptically.
Travers cleared his throat. “Neither did the shield-guardians at Shadow's Passage, but they let us through.”
“I imagine Briones is getting impatient for these rations,” Jeb added.
After a moment that stretched on too long for Jeb's liking, the perimeter guard allowed them past with their cargo, instructing them which area of the camp had been designated for supply store. Of course, with Jeb's favored luck, it was on the southern end of the site, closer into the heart, where the Brick Route continued on into a darker, closer tunnel of trees, farther on into the center of the forest.
The camp quartermaster, Briones, was a tall, battle-hardened man who had no patience for the newest recruits. He put the young men to work immediately, griping direly the entire time about wastes of his precious time. Jeb rolled his eyes as he unloaded the wagon, placing the crates three times before the overseer was satisfied.
“I'm a little surprised Cole let you two live,” the quartermaster said, as he leaned against the back of the empty wagon, watching the soldiers with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips.
Jeb chuckled as if this were an easy thing to talk about, as if he had no regard for his own life. “He told us he'd most likely kill us in the morning.”
“Sounds like one of Cole's threats. And you laugh, Boy?” Briones asked, a little impressed as he raised an eyebrow. “You're a damn fool.”
With a shrug of his shoulders, Jeb let the comment roll off him. “Might be,” he admitted, though he knew Briones would scoff at his assuredness. “Maybe it isn't Cole's decision to make whether me and my buddy live or die.”
Briones gave a hearty guffaw, a strange sound to hear out of any Longcoat or supporter... they just weren't given to laughter, though they were human, violent faction or not. “You're a smart kid,” he said jovially, as he took one last pull on his cigarette before tossing it to the ground. Putting it out with the heavy toe of his boot, the look in his eye might almost have been friendly as he watched Jeb. “You'll want to keep your head down with smarts like that. You don't want to go attracting the Lady Catt's attention to you.” Jeb stood still and stared Briones down as the older man took a good, long minute to study the newcomer. “You look like a good, clean kid,” he said finally, and he turned to Travers, giving him a brief, but thorough, look-over. “The both of ya's. What are you two doin' in this deep?”
Jeb had a feeling the quartermaster was hinting at something far more ominous than just their current physical location. He took a breath, gave a heavy sigh, and then smirked at Briones.
“If I said this all started with a girl, would you believe me?”
Briones snorted. “If you did, then you wouldn't have to explain any further. Trouble, women are. A woman is why we're all here right now, ain't it?”
The two young soldiers nodded in testament.
It was nearing dawn, somewhere above his head, when Jeb was finally granted a few hours reprieve by the quartermaster. He and Travers were each given a ratty sleeping roll, barely more than a canvas sack, and directed to a small corner in the shelter of a broken stone wall on the periphery of the camp.
His body was aching by the time he'd laid down on the hard ground, listening to the quiet sounds of the camp. Most slept, and the only activity about the camp had been himself, and Travers, as they'd done the bidding of the quartermaster, whom, it seemed, did not require sleep. The only sounds in the night came from the soldiers that tended the fires, and the patrolling of the perimeter guards.
Odd, that there was no breeze. Worse, that there were no birds or insects making their natural noises... after all, it was near dawn, the first of the early birds would be chirping their 'good morning' to the suns... somewhere, beyond the overpowering darkness of the forest. In Central City, where Azkadellia still slept, alone... or perhaps where his father and the princess were... wherever that was.
Jeb covered his eyes with his arm, blocking out the dancing light on the rough-hewn stones that towered over his head, crookedly mortared into place. A few hours sleep, no more. He wondered absently if he'd be awoken by a boot to the back of his knee again, or if he'd stir before the person came close. As agitated as he was, the restfulness of sleep seemed to be the farthest thing from possible.
Beside him, Travers had begun to snore. Rolling onto his side to face the stone wall, Jeb grumbled, and wondered how long it would be until he was faced with 'the Lady Catt', the leader of these Longcoats, and, if the assumptions of the generals were right, the source of the powerful magic that protected the forest.
***
DG was jarred awake, chased once again from the peace of a poppy field, by a rapid succession of short knocks on the door. The hour to rise had come. Surprised that she'd slept at all, DG disentangled herself from Cain and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. He was up and out of the bed faster than she, however, going to the door and yanking it open hard.
“Its time,” said Hass' voice from the hallway, where DG couldn't see.
She was on her feet by the time Cain had closed the door and turned back to her, albeit a little wobbly. Hours before, she'd curled up against Cain in a tank-top and her jeans. Getting ready quickly, she tossed a blouse on and buttoned it with hands still shaky from sleep.
“That might be the fastest I've ever seen you get outta bed,” Cain said as he picked up the vest he'd hung over the bedpost and shrugged it on.
“Well, we've got places to be,” she said simply, with a shrug of her shoulders.
“The old man will wait until you're good and ready to go,” he assured her.
DG shook her head, running his sentence through her brain a second time. “He'll wait? What do you mean?” When she heard Cain smirk, actually heard it, the small snort of breath that escaped him, she sighed, and used her magic to ignite the lamp. Too much magic; it blazed brightly, and her hands flew to cover her eyes as the room went blindingly white.
“Ah, Godsdamn it, Deeg,” Cain swore, as his forearm went up to shield his eyes. “I'm gonna be seein' stars.”
“Jowan is coming with us West?” she asked bluntly. Cain nodded. She sighed again, heavier and longer, wanting to know why he hadn't told her sooner, but knowing the answer was that he would have, had she woken him up on time like he'd requested. “How about the next time we pick up a stranger, we make it a girl, okay? I've traveled with enough men to last me a lifetime.”
Cain frowned. “Just you alone cause enough trouble for me to deal with, Princess. The last time I traveled with two women, I wound up in an enemy prison, five stories underground.”
DG laughed, though it wasn't at all funny. Sorry, Tin Man, but I've got to find something funny, she thought. She held out her arms, and he crossed the four steps between them to wrap her up in his arms; not the morning greeting she'd wanted, but she'd settle until they could be alone again. Laying her head against his shoulder, she inhaled deeply of him, tightening her arms around his neck.
“How far do you think we'll make it today?” she asked him quietly. There was safety in questions like that, simple things like distance and weather, staying away from the volatile subjects that couldn't be outrightly discussed. These moments just then were theirs, and it would be a long while yet before they could stand quietly in relative protection, relax against each other, and just be.
“The road past the Tower ain't exactly reliable,” he said carefully, “but we should reach Lake Lillay by nightfall.”
Lake Lillay, one of the many Ozian mouthfuls, DG thought as she tried to recall a map into her head, but every time she did, all she could see was the Black Forest, non-threatening in any way as mere trees and words, drawn on paper. She knew the western border was about three days ride from Central City, and that they'd reach it sometime on Tuesday.
She pulled herself from his embrace, to cross the room to the window. There was frost etched on the glass, spiky fingers of cold that melted when she breathed upon them. Outside, the city night was creeping slowly toward the dawn. She couldn't see the palace from the tiny window, but she imagined her sister and Ambrose had arrived sometime in the cold night, passing through the city gates, their minds a thousand miles apart.
Reflected in the glass, she saw Cain step up behind her, studying the view. “You ready for this?” he asked her.
DG smirked; turning around to face him, she cocked an eyebrow. “Are you?”
A long moment passed, as he searched her eyes with his, and she stood perfectly still, unsure of what his reaction would be. Whether he thought she was teasing him, or challenging him, it didn't seem to matter, for he leaned down and kissed her lips hard, chasing away any and all reason for reaction at all. The kiss went on, as his tongue coaxed at her closed lips, until she parted them, and allowed him into her, glad to have him inside any way she could. The taste of him was making her dizzy, and though she worried about her own morning breath, he didn't seem to be complaining, eager to lap at her, nibble gently on her bottom lip.
“You don't leave my side,” he warned her as he pulled away, his voice low and graveled. This was more than possessive protectiveness, it was actual concern in his voice; Wyatt Cain was worried about her. It threw her back in time, to the moments before the siege on the Tower; the emotion shimmering in his eyes coming from deeper than she'd known emotion could exist... she leaned up now to brush her lips against his, to reassure him, but he gripped her hard by the arms and held her away from him, staring her down with steely eyes. “Promise me, Princess. Not for anythin'.”
Her eyes wide, she nodded. “I promise,” she whispered, knowing he wanted vocal confirmation, though he could read it all in her eyes, he'd always been able to, right from the moment he'd told her with certainty that she'd cut and run at the first sign of trouble. “But Cain, why -”
Cain shook his head. “Never mind that,” he told her firmly, releasing the rough hold he had on her arms, relief evident in his posture as his shoulders loosened slightly. He leaned in and placed a distracted kiss on her temple, stopping for an extra moment to take in a deep breath of the air that surrounded her. Feeling safer than she knew she would in the upcoming days, she soaked up what she could of him while she could, as they wordlessly finished dressing and gathered their things.
Apparently, somewhat to DG's amusement, she learned that her promise to stay by Cain's side included a 'stay where I put you' clause. In the darkness of the front entryway, she leaned against a shadowed wall as he checked the chambers of his revolver before tucking it safely away in its holster. “I'll meet you at the West Gate. Hass will shift, and follow you.” He had to go retrieve their mounts from their rented stalls - and also meet up with Jowan without DG present, taking onto himself any and all danger. If something was amiss, or the caretaker betrayed them... she shook the thought out of her head forcefully. It did no good to think like that. Wasn't she was supposed to be the optimistic one?
“You're acting like you don't trust him,” she said, as she watched him conceal his holster beneath his duster.
Cain snorted impatiently, but his words were less so, were slow and careful. “Nothin' against being cautious,” he said, “I spent enough annuals walkin' this city to know better.” His years - no, annuals - as a Tin Man had tuned his senses, shaped his instincts. But he was human, just as she was, magic or not, and prone to making the same mistakes as anyone else.
Once he'd left her alone in the darkened doorway, it wasn't long before she was bundling herself, hat and coat and gloves. Somewhere between the Realm of the Unwanted and Central City, she'd lost her scarf. Muttering curses to herself, DG went into the kitchen, where Jeremy and Cordelia Hass stood, hovering close to each other, saying goodbye.
“You keep an eye out for blue smoke on that horizon, you hear me?” she said, as she buttoned the front of his coat.
Hass was smiling, as he caught sight of DG standing nearby. “A sharp eye, you can be sure of that,” he reassured her, reaching up to still her hands and their fretting over his coat. “Remember to keep the door bolted at night.”
Cor rolled her eyes at him. “You're the one that forgets, not me, Corporal,” she chastened lightly. If there were tears in her eyes, DG couldn't see from across the room, but the woman's voice was sure and steady. “And don't worry about the boy. He'll make it to the palace, surely enough.”
DG spoke up then. “Its not getting him to the palace that's the problem,” she said, “but getting him back home.”
Cordelia gave a smile. “Well, that is out of my hands,” she said, and DG nodded in agreement, looking away as the couple kissed quietly. She thought about going to wake the kid, to say goodbye to him, but she knew it would be a bad idea. Thankfully, Hass was announcing it time to leave the next moment, cutting off her thoughts.
After a quick hug shared with Cordelia, they were gone, leaving the apartment behind in silence, though the click and slide of the locks at their backs as the doors closed put a sense of finality on this first step out into the night DG took. The night air took her breath away as they left the building, as a gust of wind hit her in the face. Chilled and shivering by the time they reached the street, it was a long walk to the West Gate.
They were in view of the gate when Hass put his hand on her arm. “Wait,” he said. “The captain's orders are for me to follow from above. You stay here until you can see him.”
DG nodded, and looked away as he shifted, his form shrinking and sprouting feathers. Pushing off from the ground, the falcon took to the sky above her, his wings beating as he rose steadily higher, until he perched three stories above her on a balcony ledge, still as a statue.
She turned up her collar as she watched the road that led out of the city, until the figures of two men on horseback came into view through the hazy light the blazing beacons on either side of the gate cast out into the grounds beyond. Hefting her pack onto her other shoulder, and tossing upwards one last glance at the falcon, DG put her head down, hoping to hell the guards didn't decide to stop her out of sheer boredom. Young women fled the city in the earliest hours of the morning all the time, didn't they?
Her luck held out and she was grinning as she approached the two men, recognizing Cain's silhouetted form and making straight for him. The sight of the old gardener, astride a healthy mount and wearing a tattered black coat was a little much for her brain to process, and she tried not to outright stare.
“Your Highness,” Jowan said with a smile, and a bow of his head, as she pulled herself up behind Cain. Settling her arms around him, she glared at the gardener. “Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?”
“Its all right, though the early hour leaves something to be desired,” she said impatiently, not at all wanting to be Princess Dorothy Gale for the next week. “Why are you helping us?” she demanded, an immediate hiss of warning escaping from Cain's lips in front of her.
Jowan smirked. “The woods of the West are a dangerous place, my Lady, and no less perilous than those to the Southeast,” he said easily. Not for the first time, she wondered just how well-informed this old man was. “No knowing what unwelcome company you might find yourself meeting between here and the Western border. Simply put,I'm helping you because you're sure as hell gonna need it.”
DG swallowed hard. She didn't like that answer... no, she didn't like that answer at all.
Author's Note II: Hopefully, everyone reading has made it through exams, or finals, or whatever spring madness has taken over our lives! Thanks to erinm_4600, who helped me with "Lake Lillay", and to KLCtheBookWorm, who continues to rock. Also: My muse is holding Cain's libido hostage, he's going to be a stick in the mud until she's satisfied... hmm...
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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
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 05.04.09)
Chapter Twenty One
When Cain awoke, it was mostly because DG had begun to squirm and fret in her sleep. That it was still completely dark didn't surprise him, but the position he found himself in was. DG had nestled herself into his arms at some point during the night, and he hadn't awoken to her crawling into the bed. That she'd been able to be that quiet was one thing, but he didn't worry about it... what he did focus on was the fact that no one had roused him earlier.
Trying to sit up, he found his left arm pinned beneath her. Just great, he thought, as he lay back down. DG was starting to thrash a bit, and if he timed it right, he could free his arm the next time she turned over. Mumbled words were tumbling past her lips, running together into a low, incoherent moan.
His eyebrows knit together, as he lifted his head to watch her. His eyes had adjusted somewhat, and he could make out the pale, round outline of her face. Her head was tucked up into the hollow of his shoulder, and if the light were better, he would have had a completely unobstructed view of her.
She rolled then, and he was so caught up in trying to pick a word out of what she was saying that he missed his opportunity to extract his arm. On her back now, her head lolled to the side, exposing the creamy flesh of her neck to his eyes. “... Lets run,” she muttered, as a hand fluttered up to rest near her face on their shared pillow.
His scarred eyebrow quirked upward as he caught her breathy sigh. Run? Run from what?
Inching his arm out from under her enough to prop up on his elbow, he leaned up to better see the window, and tried to judge the light, but there was no sign of even the grayest haze permeating the darkness beyond the glass. It would be a while yet before they'd have to leave, even longer until the suns rose. Listening, Cain heard absolutely no sound at all coming from within the apartment, only the sounds from the street far below the window, the hum and buzz of the city night that accompanied every second of stillness. No, it was either very late, or very early, or perhaps even that hazy space between.
“... City, at last... last,” DG mumbled beneath him. Looking down at her, he saw that she hadn't moved, hadn't tossed or turned as the ominous words escaped her mouth; lips he knew waited for his own, soft and supple, in the darkness through which he couldn't see.
Almost in response to the thought, he brought his hand up and cupped her face, his fingers brushing against her own hand that was resting on the pillow beside her head. “Deeg,” he whispered, sweeping his calloused thumb across the smooth curve of her cheekbone. At the sound of his voice, she turned away from him, pushing her bottom up against his groin in her attempt to get comfortable. Cain grit his teeth, retracting his hand from her, before she pinned it between her chin and the pillow. “Wake up,” he instructed quietly, leaning his head down to place his lips near her ear. His words, however, didn't break through the veil of slumber, and she slept on.
“Poppies...”
Cain wrapped an arm around DG's waist, holding her against him when she tried to turn over again. She whimpered to find herself trapped, but still didn't awaken. Resting his forehead against her hair, letting it tickle his skin, he took a deep breath. “Darlin', wake up,” he said again, giving her a squeeze. No response, but for another push up against him as she tried to twist free. Momentarily, he sagged against her, resisting urges far more base than he'd like to admit, as he remembered the morning in Milltown, not too long before, when he'd expressed a desire to take her every morning... Not here, he reminded himself, not in a borrowed bed.
True to her teasing nature, DG seemed to sense the impropriety of the Tin Man's thoughts. She woke then, with a sharp intake of breath. Stretching into the hand he held splayed over her stomach, she arched her back, pressing her bottom firmly into his groin as she gave a kitten-like mewl.
“Wyatt?” she asked, her sleep-weakened voice hinting at confusion. “What time is it?”
“Not time to get up just yet,” he mumbled into her hair. “You were talkin' in your sleep.”
“Was I?” she mused lazily. “I was dreaming of a poppy field,” she said, settling back into him with another wiggle that threatened his restraint. Barely holding onto it by a thread, Cain tightened his hold on her, not intending to let her get up until he had an explanation of why he hadn't been awoken.
“Papay Field?”
“No,” she said with a slight shake of her head, and a quiet, scratchy giggle. Her hair rubbed against his stubbled jaw. “Poppies. They're a flower on the Other Side. Aren't there poppies here?”
“Possibly, I'm no expert on vegetation,” Cain admitted.
“Beautiful, blood-red poppies,” she whispered wistfully. “A vast field of them, as far as my eyes could see. But there was something up with them, the dream was a little sketchy on the details.” She gave her head another shake. “I can't remember, exactly. But... something,” she reiterated. She turned in his arms, and this time he allowed her, settling his hand down on the small of her back, just above the swell of her ass. “I'm having more trouble remembering my dreams than I used to.”
Cain frowned, as she tipped her face, to nuzzle the underside of his jaw. “Is it much longer before we have to go?” she asked innocently. He craned his neck, giving the window another good look, though he knew not much would have changed. Sure enough, there'd been no variation to the darkness outside.
“No more than two hours,” he guessed, though in all likelihood, it could be longer. He knew, without a doubt, that she would have been the one to decide against waking him. He could imagine, quite clearly, the internal debate she would have had over it. Obviously, the decision to let him sleep had weighed out. He settled back down behind her, closing his eyes. There was nothing for it. “You didn't wake me,” he said steadily.
“I didn't think we needed to,” she said softly. Immediately, she rushed in to alleviate his concerns. “I made arrangements with Tutor, he'll take Tory to the palace in the morning... or later this morning, anyway.” There was a smile in her voice, pleased with herself that she'd handled it. It incensed him, but he bit it back, not wanting to spoil the moment with undue anger.
“What if somethin' goes wrong? You seem more than willin' to take that on your shoulders,” he admonished lightly, unable to say nothing. What had Glitch once accused him of... bitter cynicism? He didn't like to discourage DG for her consideration; in fact, it touched him that she'd worried about how much he'd rested. However, it didn't change the fact that if something in her plans went horribly awry, the blame would land squarely on her; something she was well-versed in, yes, but not something he wanted to see her bring down upon herself knowingly.
The strange form of survivor's guilt she'd felt on her return to the Zone, after visiting her memories and learning that she'd played a major role in the downfall of the country, had begun to dissipate recently, with her sister's slow recovery from the Possession and the new reconstruction that would return the land to her former glory. Here she was, still trying to fix the family she had unknowingly torn apart as a child, by destroying the one link that still tied the Gales to their past... the Emerald.
Cain imagined that her eyes might have been reproachful, and that her teeth might sink into her bottom lip, as she turned in his arms, so that she could lay her head down on the pillow and face him. “If something goes wrong,” she began slowly, “I'd take the fall, of course I would. I know how to do that, after all.” She was making a point, and in the darkness, he had the sense to look contrite, even if she couldn't see it.
“You've got more than your fair share to worry about,” he reminded her. He put a hand on her bare arm, cupping her shoulder in his big palm. The sleep shirt she wore was sleeveless, a thin strap over either shoulder the only thing holding the scant garment to her body. The soft, stretchy material clung to the soft curves of her; unable to help himself, he let his thumb sweep underneath the strap, the touch on the minimally exposed skin making her shiver just the same.
“And you've got your hands full worrying about me while I worry about 'my fair share',” she said, her voice firming, proving he was less of a distraction than he thought he was. “I just... oh, for Pete's sake,” she huffed. “I can't argue with you when I can't see you.”
The next instant, the lamp on the bedside table ignited, a tiny blue and yellow flame barely burning at the tip of the wick inside the glass. It cast enough dim light that it didn't shock their eyes, though the flame slowly grew, and brightened, until Cain could clearly see the princess laying next to him. He smirked, never growing tired of her little tricks.
“You should let me worry about you sometimes, Wyatt,” she told him quietly, her blue eyes serious. “There's no one to look out for you, can't you let me? I'm sorry if I chose the wrong moment to do it, but... well, equal partnership and all that, right? If you think I'm gonna take a backseat when we get married, you've got another think coming!” She was ruffled now, and she was cuter than she had a right to be, considering the subject matter. The grim honesty in her eyes shifted, sparking in the lamplight.
He chuckled at her sudden fire. “Not sayin' I want you to,” he said as he propped up on an elbow. She followed suit, mirroring his position. “But, Darlin',” and here he paused, the words hard to push past his tongue because of their technical formality, “this is more than just a cross-country trip, these are serious security matters, and even somethin' as simple as -”
DG sighed, interrupting him. “I know, I know. The captain's orders are to be followed. I'll remember,” she said resignedly, a wise child who'd been chastised once too often. She offered him a winning smile, as she backed down and tried to distract him from a different angle.
“You'd better,” he said, hopefully putting an end to the conversation as he frowned at her. Her complete trust of the mutt and the kid were clouding what good judgment she usually had. Though the old teacher had proven himself to the royal family by leading Cain, Glitch, and Raw to DG's location before the Eclipse, and during the events at the Tower, Cain still couldn't trust Tutor any farther than he could throw him. Then, there was the matter of Tory; something was off about that kid, something that unnerved Cain more than it should.
You should be considering yourself lucky, Wyatt, his conscience told him. You can wash your hands of the entire thing. Never have to worry about it again.
Wyatt Cain, however, knew that things could never be as easy as he was led to believe.
The sudden blackness enveloping them as the lamp extinguished brought him out of his thoughts. DG was snuggling closer to him again, gripping a handful of his shirt as she settled down against him. “Do you want to sleep some more?” she asked with a yawn.
“It'd do no good to get up and wake the others,” was all he offered her in return. Sleep was the last thing from his mind, he'd gotten enough, and now his brain was back to working out what lay ahead of them. His mind was on the Old Road, in the Western Mountains, the far reaches near the border where lay their destination.
“You didn't answer my question,” she pointed out, tilting her head to kiss the hollow of his throat. Gritting his teeth, Cain shifted against her. When he didn't answer her, DG asked a new question. “Are you still tired?” Her lips moved in a slow, hot trail over his exposed collar bone, her fingers reaching up to hold the material of his shirt out of her way.
Cain's mind gave the tiniest of spins. How much did he want to just lie back and let her explore and play? His pulse thundered in his ears, his blood beginning to rush too fast. Self-control, he'd had some once... “Sweetheart,” he said, his voice strained. He brought his hand up to hold her head in place, brushing his thumb over her lips; sweetly, and oh so carefully, she opened her lips and brought his thumb into her mouth, to lightly catch between her teeth. He groaned, as he imagined those lips wrapped around other parts of him, her teeth nipping at him with just the right pressure... Her tongue made a slow pass over the tip of his thumb, driving his imagination into a frenzy, and it was almost his undoing.
He yanked his hand away from her face before crushing his lips over hers, effectively stealing what breath she had in her lungs to stop her from gasping or moaning under his kiss. His tongue slipped into her still open mouth, meeting hers, wet and warm. Her arms went about his neck and she clung to him, meeting him with equaled fervor once she'd regained her senses after his initial assault. When he tore away from her, long, long minutes later, it was to breathe, or die.
“You sure you want to keep this up? You'll be wakin' the whole house if I get my hands on you,” he warned her. It wasn't a threat, it was the honest truth of the situation; he missed the tight confines of her body, her muscles squeezing around him as her arms and legs twined over his hips and back like vines. If he touched her now, he'd take her hard and make her scream, such was the great need within him for tension release.
“I could always throw up a spell,” DG countered, as she threw her leg over his hip, pulling him closer. With a growl, he shifted his weight to cover her, pressing his leg between hers; he could feel the heat of her despite their clothes, scorching him through his trouser leg.
“All those lessons this past annual, didn't anyone teach you to behave yourself?” he asked, lowering his lips to the slope of her neck simply to avoid the temptation of her mouth.
“Isn't it enough that I behaved during the lessons?” she whispered in his ear, and she gasped as he bit down on her tender flesh. He pressed his knee a little more firmly upwards, creating the pressure and friction between her legs he knew would start a fire low inside her belly. Lifting his head, he kissed her, nipping her bottom lip when she began to writhe, and sucking gently on the offended flesh when she whimpered. “Cain,” she moaned quietly, vulnerably.
Pulling back slightly, Cain took a deep breath, before he rolled off of her. Instantly, he missed the warm softness of her, and before she could argue or sit up, he pulled her to him and pressed a kiss to her temple. Not here, he told himself. Though he didn't know exactly when they would next find themselves with a private room to themselves, he couldn't let arousal get the better of him... or her.
“Get some more sleep, Deeg,” he said, closing his eyes and preparing to make an attempt at the same. “We're both gonna need it.”
***
By the time Jeb and his partner had pushed the wagon over the winding forest road to the outskirts of the camp, he was ready to admit defeat. Palace life had made him a bit soft; following Azkadellia around all day could hardly have been called grueling hard work. His muscles were about ready to seize up, when the light from several fires drew his attention.
The rutted dirt road on which they'd traveled to bring the wagon thus far met up with the section of Brick Route that they had left behind when they'd arrived at the shield. Jeb surveyed what he could see with the helpful addition of the bonfires. The trees were more dense than they'd been near Shadow's Passage, outside of the aging gatehouse. Jeb had no doubt that they were very, very close to the heart of the forest, where no light at all from the suns would permeate through the canopy above his head. The close grown trees with their tangled branches would certainly block out any rays that the suns might try to throw down upon this forsaken place.
Brown canvas tents had been raised haphazardly around the partial clearing, among more crumbling ruins of ancient origin. Whatever attack had descended upon this civilization, the devastation had been complete. Nothing but fragments of wall, precarious door arches, and stairs that broke off and led to nowhere remained. The brick road that ran through the center of it was in the same state of disrepair that Jeb had followed into the forest.
The two young soldiers hadn't made it very close to the camp before they were facing down the barrel of a rifle, belonging to a perimeter guard.
“State your business, boys,” he instructed calmly.
“We've got a load of supplies for Quartermaster Briones,” Jeb said slowly, and clearly, not removing his hands from the back of the wagon.
“We didn't hear nothing about new recruits,” the guard said skeptically.
Travers cleared his throat. “Neither did the shield-guardians at Shadow's Passage, but they let us through.”
“I imagine Briones is getting impatient for these rations,” Jeb added.
After a moment that stretched on too long for Jeb's liking, the perimeter guard allowed them past with their cargo, instructing them which area of the camp had been designated for supply store. Of course, with Jeb's favored luck, it was on the southern end of the site, closer into the heart, where the Brick Route continued on into a darker, closer tunnel of trees, farther on into the center of the forest.
The camp quartermaster, Briones, was a tall, battle-hardened man who had no patience for the newest recruits. He put the young men to work immediately, griping direly the entire time about wastes of his precious time. Jeb rolled his eyes as he unloaded the wagon, placing the crates three times before the overseer was satisfied.
“I'm a little surprised Cole let you two live,” the quartermaster said, as he leaned against the back of the empty wagon, watching the soldiers with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips.
Jeb chuckled as if this were an easy thing to talk about, as if he had no regard for his own life. “He told us he'd most likely kill us in the morning.”
“Sounds like one of Cole's threats. And you laugh, Boy?” Briones asked, a little impressed as he raised an eyebrow. “You're a damn fool.”
With a shrug of his shoulders, Jeb let the comment roll off him. “Might be,” he admitted, though he knew Briones would scoff at his assuredness. “Maybe it isn't Cole's decision to make whether me and my buddy live or die.”
Briones gave a hearty guffaw, a strange sound to hear out of any Longcoat or supporter... they just weren't given to laughter, though they were human, violent faction or not. “You're a smart kid,” he said jovially, as he took one last pull on his cigarette before tossing it to the ground. Putting it out with the heavy toe of his boot, the look in his eye might almost have been friendly as he watched Jeb. “You'll want to keep your head down with smarts like that. You don't want to go attracting the Lady Catt's attention to you.” Jeb stood still and stared Briones down as the older man took a good, long minute to study the newcomer. “You look like a good, clean kid,” he said finally, and he turned to Travers, giving him a brief, but thorough, look-over. “The both of ya's. What are you two doin' in this deep?”
Jeb had a feeling the quartermaster was hinting at something far more ominous than just their current physical location. He took a breath, gave a heavy sigh, and then smirked at Briones.
“If I said this all started with a girl, would you believe me?”
Briones snorted. “If you did, then you wouldn't have to explain any further. Trouble, women are. A woman is why we're all here right now, ain't it?”
The two young soldiers nodded in testament.
It was nearing dawn, somewhere above his head, when Jeb was finally granted a few hours reprieve by the quartermaster. He and Travers were each given a ratty sleeping roll, barely more than a canvas sack, and directed to a small corner in the shelter of a broken stone wall on the periphery of the camp.
His body was aching by the time he'd laid down on the hard ground, listening to the quiet sounds of the camp. Most slept, and the only activity about the camp had been himself, and Travers, as they'd done the bidding of the quartermaster, whom, it seemed, did not require sleep. The only sounds in the night came from the soldiers that tended the fires, and the patrolling of the perimeter guards.
Odd, that there was no breeze. Worse, that there were no birds or insects making their natural noises... after all, it was near dawn, the first of the early birds would be chirping their 'good morning' to the suns... somewhere, beyond the overpowering darkness of the forest. In Central City, where Azkadellia still slept, alone... or perhaps where his father and the princess were... wherever that was.
Jeb covered his eyes with his arm, blocking out the dancing light on the rough-hewn stones that towered over his head, crookedly mortared into place. A few hours sleep, no more. He wondered absently if he'd be awoken by a boot to the back of his knee again, or if he'd stir before the person came close. As agitated as he was, the restfulness of sleep seemed to be the farthest thing from possible.
Beside him, Travers had begun to snore. Rolling onto his side to face the stone wall, Jeb grumbled, and wondered how long it would be until he was faced with 'the Lady Catt', the leader of these Longcoats, and, if the assumptions of the generals were right, the source of the powerful magic that protected the forest.
***
DG was jarred awake, chased once again from the peace of a poppy field, by a rapid succession of short knocks on the door. The hour to rise had come. Surprised that she'd slept at all, DG disentangled herself from Cain and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. He was up and out of the bed faster than she, however, going to the door and yanking it open hard.
“Its time,” said Hass' voice from the hallway, where DG couldn't see.
She was on her feet by the time Cain had closed the door and turned back to her, albeit a little wobbly. Hours before, she'd curled up against Cain in a tank-top and her jeans. Getting ready quickly, she tossed a blouse on and buttoned it with hands still shaky from sleep.
“That might be the fastest I've ever seen you get outta bed,” Cain said as he picked up the vest he'd hung over the bedpost and shrugged it on.
“Well, we've got places to be,” she said simply, with a shrug of her shoulders.
“The old man will wait until you're good and ready to go,” he assured her.
DG shook her head, running his sentence through her brain a second time. “He'll wait? What do you mean?” When she heard Cain smirk, actually heard it, the small snort of breath that escaped him, she sighed, and used her magic to ignite the lamp. Too much magic; it blazed brightly, and her hands flew to cover her eyes as the room went blindingly white.
“Ah, Godsdamn it, Deeg,” Cain swore, as his forearm went up to shield his eyes. “I'm gonna be seein' stars.”
“Jowan is coming with us West?” she asked bluntly. Cain nodded. She sighed again, heavier and longer, wanting to know why he hadn't told her sooner, but knowing the answer was that he would have, had she woken him up on time like he'd requested. “How about the next time we pick up a stranger, we make it a girl, okay? I've traveled with enough men to last me a lifetime.”
Cain frowned. “Just you alone cause enough trouble for me to deal with, Princess. The last time I traveled with two women, I wound up in an enemy prison, five stories underground.”
DG laughed, though it wasn't at all funny. Sorry, Tin Man, but I've got to find something funny, she thought. She held out her arms, and he crossed the four steps between them to wrap her up in his arms; not the morning greeting she'd wanted, but she'd settle until they could be alone again. Laying her head against his shoulder, she inhaled deeply of him, tightening her arms around his neck.
“How far do you think we'll make it today?” she asked him quietly. There was safety in questions like that, simple things like distance and weather, staying away from the volatile subjects that couldn't be outrightly discussed. These moments just then were theirs, and it would be a long while yet before they could stand quietly in relative protection, relax against each other, and just be.
“The road past the Tower ain't exactly reliable,” he said carefully, “but we should reach Lake Lillay by nightfall.”
Lake Lillay, one of the many Ozian mouthfuls, DG thought as she tried to recall a map into her head, but every time she did, all she could see was the Black Forest, non-threatening in any way as mere trees and words, drawn on paper. She knew the western border was about three days ride from Central City, and that they'd reach it sometime on Tuesday.
She pulled herself from his embrace, to cross the room to the window. There was frost etched on the glass, spiky fingers of cold that melted when she breathed upon them. Outside, the city night was creeping slowly toward the dawn. She couldn't see the palace from the tiny window, but she imagined her sister and Ambrose had arrived sometime in the cold night, passing through the city gates, their minds a thousand miles apart.
Reflected in the glass, she saw Cain step up behind her, studying the view. “You ready for this?” he asked her.
DG smirked; turning around to face him, she cocked an eyebrow. “Are you?”
A long moment passed, as he searched her eyes with his, and she stood perfectly still, unsure of what his reaction would be. Whether he thought she was teasing him, or challenging him, it didn't seem to matter, for he leaned down and kissed her lips hard, chasing away any and all reason for reaction at all. The kiss went on, as his tongue coaxed at her closed lips, until she parted them, and allowed him into her, glad to have him inside any way she could. The taste of him was making her dizzy, and though she worried about her own morning breath, he didn't seem to be complaining, eager to lap at her, nibble gently on her bottom lip.
“You don't leave my side,” he warned her as he pulled away, his voice low and graveled. This was more than possessive protectiveness, it was actual concern in his voice; Wyatt Cain was worried about her. It threw her back in time, to the moments before the siege on the Tower; the emotion shimmering in his eyes coming from deeper than she'd known emotion could exist... she leaned up now to brush her lips against his, to reassure him, but he gripped her hard by the arms and held her away from him, staring her down with steely eyes. “Promise me, Princess. Not for anythin'.”
Her eyes wide, she nodded. “I promise,” she whispered, knowing he wanted vocal confirmation, though he could read it all in her eyes, he'd always been able to, right from the moment he'd told her with certainty that she'd cut and run at the first sign of trouble. “But Cain, why -”
Cain shook his head. “Never mind that,” he told her firmly, releasing the rough hold he had on her arms, relief evident in his posture as his shoulders loosened slightly. He leaned in and placed a distracted kiss on her temple, stopping for an extra moment to take in a deep breath of the air that surrounded her. Feeling safer than she knew she would in the upcoming days, she soaked up what she could of him while she could, as they wordlessly finished dressing and gathered their things.
Apparently, somewhat to DG's amusement, she learned that her promise to stay by Cain's side included a 'stay where I put you' clause. In the darkness of the front entryway, she leaned against a shadowed wall as he checked the chambers of his revolver before tucking it safely away in its holster. “I'll meet you at the West Gate. Hass will shift, and follow you.” He had to go retrieve their mounts from their rented stalls - and also meet up with Jowan without DG present, taking onto himself any and all danger. If something was amiss, or the caretaker betrayed them... she shook the thought out of her head forcefully. It did no good to think like that. Wasn't she was supposed to be the optimistic one?
“You're acting like you don't trust him,” she said, as she watched him conceal his holster beneath his duster.
Cain snorted impatiently, but his words were less so, were slow and careful. “Nothin' against being cautious,” he said, “I spent enough annuals walkin' this city to know better.” His years - no, annuals - as a Tin Man had tuned his senses, shaped his instincts. But he was human, just as she was, magic or not, and prone to making the same mistakes as anyone else.
Once he'd left her alone in the darkened doorway, it wasn't long before she was bundling herself, hat and coat and gloves. Somewhere between the Realm of the Unwanted and Central City, she'd lost her scarf. Muttering curses to herself, DG went into the kitchen, where Jeremy and Cordelia Hass stood, hovering close to each other, saying goodbye.
“You keep an eye out for blue smoke on that horizon, you hear me?” she said, as she buttoned the front of his coat.
Hass was smiling, as he caught sight of DG standing nearby. “A sharp eye, you can be sure of that,” he reassured her, reaching up to still her hands and their fretting over his coat. “Remember to keep the door bolted at night.”
Cor rolled her eyes at him. “You're the one that forgets, not me, Corporal,” she chastened lightly. If there were tears in her eyes, DG couldn't see from across the room, but the woman's voice was sure and steady. “And don't worry about the boy. He'll make it to the palace, surely enough.”
DG spoke up then. “Its not getting him to the palace that's the problem,” she said, “but getting him back home.”
Cordelia gave a smile. “Well, that is out of my hands,” she said, and DG nodded in agreement, looking away as the couple kissed quietly. She thought about going to wake the kid, to say goodbye to him, but she knew it would be a bad idea. Thankfully, Hass was announcing it time to leave the next moment, cutting off her thoughts.
After a quick hug shared with Cordelia, they were gone, leaving the apartment behind in silence, though the click and slide of the locks at their backs as the doors closed put a sense of finality on this first step out into the night DG took. The night air took her breath away as they left the building, as a gust of wind hit her in the face. Chilled and shivering by the time they reached the street, it was a long walk to the West Gate.
They were in view of the gate when Hass put his hand on her arm. “Wait,” he said. “The captain's orders are for me to follow from above. You stay here until you can see him.”
DG nodded, and looked away as he shifted, his form shrinking and sprouting feathers. Pushing off from the ground, the falcon took to the sky above her, his wings beating as he rose steadily higher, until he perched three stories above her on a balcony ledge, still as a statue.
She turned up her collar as she watched the road that led out of the city, until the figures of two men on horseback came into view through the hazy light the blazing beacons on either side of the gate cast out into the grounds beyond. Hefting her pack onto her other shoulder, and tossing upwards one last glance at the falcon, DG put her head down, hoping to hell the guards didn't decide to stop her out of sheer boredom. Young women fled the city in the earliest hours of the morning all the time, didn't they?
Her luck held out and she was grinning as she approached the two men, recognizing Cain's silhouetted form and making straight for him. The sight of the old gardener, astride a healthy mount and wearing a tattered black coat was a little much for her brain to process, and she tried not to outright stare.
“Your Highness,” Jowan said with a smile, and a bow of his head, as she pulled herself up behind Cain. Settling her arms around him, she glared at the gardener. “Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?”
“Its all right, though the early hour leaves something to be desired,” she said impatiently, not at all wanting to be Princess Dorothy Gale for the next week. “Why are you helping us?” she demanded, an immediate hiss of warning escaping from Cain's lips in front of her.
Jowan smirked. “The woods of the West are a dangerous place, my Lady, and no less perilous than those to the Southeast,” he said easily. Not for the first time, she wondered just how well-informed this old man was. “No knowing what unwelcome company you might find yourself meeting between here and the Western border. Simply put,I'm helping you because you're sure as hell gonna need it.”
DG swallowed hard. She didn't like that answer... no, she didn't like that answer at all.
Author's Note II: Hopefully, everyone reading has made it through exams, or finals, or whatever spring madness has taken over our lives! Thanks to erinm_4600, who helped me with "Lake Lillay", and to KLCtheBookWorm, who continues to rock. Also: My muse is holding Cain's libido hostage, he's going to be a stick in the mud until she's satisfied... hmm...
Table Of Contents:
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