"Until The Fall" - 32/48
Title: Until The Fall
Author: Rissy James
Characters: DG, Cain, Azkadellia, Jeb, Glitch, Raw, Tutor, the Queen, Ahamo, and some old & new OCs
Pairing: Established Cain/DG; established Jeb/Az
Rating: M
Summary: Sequel to " Of Light". After an annual of living in the O.Z., DG sets out to complete the task given to her by the Gale. Soon, she must learn that there is always more to everything than first meets the eye.
Extras: Cast Page on livejournal.com
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Back to school has completely drained me.
Chapter Thirty Two
Cain stayed awake most of the night, his mind overcoming his body's need for sleep. In the earliest hours of the morning, when midnight was still too close behind to be considered gone, he made himself comfortable on the back porch, sitting atop the lid of the wood-box, leaning back up against the house.
There were still questions that nagged at him, demanding answers, mostly concerning Tory's role in the path DG was choosing for them to follow. He had never given too much thought to the directional guidance DG was receiving from her mysterious mirror companion. No, he'd been more concerned over the road before them, the physical dangers that lay in their path. The fact that she always led them in the right direction kept him from worrying too much about it.
As for the events of the evening... the kid had solid reasons for wanting to be involved, Cain couldn't doubt that. No, what bothered Wyatt more was the kid's source of knowledge; also, a little more importantly, the truth behind the inclusion of Zero in the fray.
Staring out into the night, he thought of DG asleep somewhere at his back. Safe and sound within the home of the Longcoat who had destroyed Cain's life, and murdered his first wife. Cain had long begun to control his impulses, the urges to bury a bullet in Zero's brain every time the man's mouth opened, but the build up of bitter rage was becoming a powerfully painful presence during the days.
The freezing rain that had welcomed the group to Fog's Bank had all but stopped. The dripping eaves of every corner of the farmhouse kept perfect rhythm, and eventually began to lull Cain into an uneasy doze. An hour of slumber was eventually found in the darkest hours of the night, and he awoke to the greyness of pre-dawn lightening the sky.
“What's your plan, Son?” Jowan asked him.
Cain said up a little straighter, shaking off sleep as his back left the side of the house. The air was cold, and the clouds of his breath were the only evidence of life and movement in the stillness of the morning.
“We stay our course. Nothin' changes,” Wyatt replied as he straightened a twisted leather strap on the mare's bridle. The two men were hurriedly preparing the horses for departure in the stable at the perimeter of the Commander's underground barracks.
“Situation's changed,” Jowan said cryptically. He kept his voice low and talked into the blanket that covered the back of the horse he was saddling. The guards standing near the far end of the drive-bay took no notice of the conversation.
On the back porch, Cain got up slowly off the wood-box. His desire was to clear his head and force out the ringing memories. The pictures in his head were too clear and too loud, and he wondered if the spell DG had touched him with had something to do with it.
Cain was off the porch and across the yard without much more thought. Before he was halfway to the barn, his pants were soaked from the knees down from the moisture that clung to the grass and weeds.
“Situation's always changin',” Wyatt said with a grimace. “Gonna be plenty more we don't know about until too late from here on out.”
“And you intend on trusting Zero throughout this... shall we say, time of unrest?” Jowan asked with a smirk. It was obvious the old man found the idea a little amusing, and a little unnerving, and the result was a grimace across his aged face.
“We'll make do,” Cain muttered. One of the Commander's soldiers, an Outlander of considerable bulk, was walking up the drive-bay toward the two men.
The barn was dark and silent. Cain heaved open the wooden doors. Inside the building, he stopped to look around. Almost everything in the barn was faded and caked with dust from lack of use. The straw scattered across the dirt floor was mouldy; it didn't crackle beneath his feet as he stepped on it.
Cain raised his blue eyes upward to the ceiling, where one-inch spaces between the boards allowed him to see up into the second-level - or would have, had it been anything less than cloaking darkness. An attempt to light a lantern hanging on the wall failed; the kerosene had evaporated. Cain let loose an exhausted sigh as he made for the stairs in the dark.
“I've got to say, Boy, I've never seen the Commander put as much trust into a human as he's putting into the little Slipper princess,” Jowan said after the soldier had walked past.
“You ever gonna quit callin' me 'boy'?” Cain evaded.
Jowan snorted a laugh, quietly of course, the man's unwavering calmness despite the subject material was to be commended. It had been more than a while since Cain had felt he had something to learn from someone, but the old man was making him second guess himself.
“I know I don't have to tell you not to let your guard down on the road,” Jowan said. “Or to take your eyes off that princess. From the things I've been hearing around the base the last couple of days, the two a'you will be lucky to make it out of them woods alive.”
Cain made no attempt to quiet his footfalls as he mounted the stairs, keeping his pace slow to make each dull thud of his boots on the planks all the more intimidating. With every upward step, he banged a fist on the wall, making as much noise as possible. A muffled curse and a crash sounded as Tory fell from wherever he'd perched himself to sleep.
“Who's there?” the kid called out.
“Rise and shine, Junior,” Cain said clearly. “You and me are gonna have a talk before we set out today.”
Tory became immediately defensive at Cain's voice, though he had yet to lay eyes on the man. Across the loft, Cain had come to a stop at the top of the stairs and waited for the kid to say something or make a move. He didn't have to wait long. With a large amount of fumbling and a bit more colourful swearing, the kid had lit a lamp at the bedside. Illumination flared throughout the room, dim and weak as the light was. In the flickering shadow, the kid's face was haunted and pale, and terrified.
“Must be good,” Tory said, “to get you out of bed this early.”
Cain rolled his eyes. “I've been up most of the night thinkin',” he replied. “Mostly about you.”
“Of course. Its a lot to wrap your head around,” the kid said. “I guess you've probably got questions.”
“Quite a few.”
Tory sighed, and sagged into an old chair. “Well, shoot.” As the words fell out of his mouth, his eyes wandered down the diagonal strap across Cain's chest, the only visible evidence of the holster and revolver worn at the Tin Man's side.
“You seem to know more than a fair share, Kid,” Cain said; he slowly walked the wall away from Tory, eyeing up the scant furnishings of the loft, and the assortment of junk hanging from nails and hooks on the walls. An old shaving mirror, the glass dirty and streaked, hung from one such nail. Cain reached up and tapped the glass, noticing that the kid was unusually quiet. With a frown at his own reflection, Cain continued.
“You've been pushin' DG along ever since Central City, and you shoved her into Zero,” Cain said low, the line of his lips deepening as he paused to consider everything that had run through his mind as he'd sat on the porch, staring out into the rainy night. “Evasion and riddles, outright instruction. You hinted at the Queen's personal troubles weeks before - ” Cain stopped himself and shook his head. “You're gonna have to start talkin' here at some point, ya know.”
Tory opened his mouth, tried out a few incoherent, babbling syllables, and then promptly shut his mouth again. He sighed, and then he laughed - a high sound that was akin to a giggle. “It all sounds so ridiculous,” Tory said. “If I hadn't been living it, I wouldn't have believed it myself.”
Cain bit back a growl. He wasn't here to play run-around with the kid. “How do you know the things you've been tellin' DG,” he said, and nodded back toward the mirror behind him.
“The same way DG knew the way out of the base the Commander imprisoned you in last year,” Tory said. “And the same way she's gonna know the way into the Black Forest.”
“The Gale,” Cain said unhappily; damn, meddlesome spirit. The events that had come to pass since the beginning of the Emerald War were very much beginning to tarnish the idealized version he'd held of the first Gale queen in his youth.
The kid ran a nervous hand through his shaggy brown hair and looked up at Cain with hopeful eyes. “I am not a Reader, or anything like that. I can't see the future. I only pass on the information I'm given.”
“Is it dreams?” Cain asked, a bit incredulously. Even if none of this was new to him, he wasn't liking it one bit. All this guesswork, wispy bits of foggy memory, unsure steps on old, untravelled roads were beginning to wear a bit thin on his patience.
“Yeah,” Tory said with wide eyes. “Started a little over a year ago. I was on the Other Side... living with this really nice lady. You know, she used to - well, that doesn't matter. I was gonna have to move on in a few months anyway. I could never hang around for too long before people started to notice I wasn't getting any older...”
Cain rolled his eyes, cleared his throat. He wasn't here to go on a waltz down the eternal memory lane this kid harboured.
Tory got the hint, and continued on hurriedly. “I started having these dreams about a girl,” he said, and took a deep breath. “Every night for a week, I dreamed of this girl. Flashes, little bits, sometimes more. I saw her wake up alone in the middle of a forest, I saw her stumble through meeting a man with a zipper in his head, and I saw her bust open an old iron suit.”
By this point, Cain had stopped moving about the room and was staring straight out at the kid. Tory didn't seem to notice; he was staring at his hands in his lap as he recounted what Cain had asked him to. “When she - no, you, it was you that cut open the sac - well, when you let the Viewer out of the Papay snare, I knew something from back home was calling me. Trust me, I didn't want to believe it.”
“Sounds like some dream,” Cain said, a little unnerved that someone unknown had been aware of their trials before the Eclipse. Tory only shook his head, taking a deep breath before returning to his story.
“I didn't recognize most of what I saw those nights. Central City was falling apart, the Fields of the Papay were dead. My father's winter palace was frozen inside a mountain of ice.” He gave a short laugh. “But it was the O.Z. I was seeing. Things that were taking place, or had already taken place... I saw it all. I saw the Sorceress defeated a top the Tower, the suns come back out. I don't think I'd missed the O.Z. that much in all the years since I'd left as much as I did when I woke up the morning after that dream.”
“So you came back,” Cain offered.
Tory shook his head. “No, not right away. The dreams didn't stop then, and I started to see other things. I saw the old witch who had done this to me take a new body, and rally the Sorceress' fallen army. That is when I decided to come back. I left a mess and now its come back to bite me in the ass. What kind of person would I be if I didn't try to fix this?”
Cain tore his eyes away from the kid and went back to walking the loft. There was only a few inches of clearance between the beams and the top of his head. In the darker corners, away from where the kid had cleared himself a space to sleep, there were bulky pieces of discarded furniture, covered in dingy grey sheets much too small.
He had to admit, if only to himself, that the kid's story had an element of truth about it. But he wouldn't fool himself, not even for a minute, into thinking that Tory was doing all this selflessly. The kid wanted something for his effort, and Cain had a pretty good idea of what it was.
“You're planning on taking me along, aren't you?” Tory asked, unable to hide the hopeful lilt in his voice. There was age and experience in the kid that belied his youthful appearance, his unlined and freckled face, but there was still something about him that was stuck perpetually in the teenage annuals of his physical appearance.
“Long as you don't prove to be too much of a nuisance,” Cain said, his tone non-committal and steady. Tory hopped up off his chair, a small grin on his face, but Cain wasn't done; the Tin Man held up a hand to stop the boy. “You've still got one more thing to explain.”
Tory frowned. “And that would be...?”
“Sense of responsibility over what's goin' on in the Southeast or not,” Cain said, “you aren't helpin' DG for no damned reason. You're fixed on askin' her for something.” If he knew anything about DG, it was that she would bend over backwards in an attempt to help this kid, despite all the promises she'd made to others along the way, despite what she'd said during the night about not wanting to help him. She would juggle it all, even if it killed her. The kid knew nothing about that kind of selflessness, Cain could read it in his dark eyes.
“There's nothing DG has that I want,” Tory said, and damn him, but he did sound honest. “Aside from helping me take care of old Catt, that is. I was paying attention, you know, down in the Realm of the Unwanted, and I know what the Reader asked DG for. If DG can help me get rid of the witch once and for all, I can guarantee her the book.”
***
“Who here out of the men in this room haven't lost someone already?” the man at the podium demanded.
From his place hidden outside the door, out in the cold night, Jeb was shivering, but he listened intently to every word that was spoken. If his mother ever found out where he was, he'd be in for a lashing. If his father found out - another violent shudder ran through him at the thought.
The meeting was becoming heated. The force of the words being slung about had his mind and stomach reeling. He'd sneaked out of bed in the dead of night to follow his father to this meeting, to hear for himself the horrors that his mother was trying to shield him from.
Talk of towns burned to the ground.
Shouts of men having their skulls opened and their brains divided.
Deep, chilling whispers that the Resistance against the Sorceress was fast losing its most valuable ally. He didn't quite understand what 'vapours' the men were speaking off, but the word was spat out upon the floor like a mouthful of raw meat.
And finally, words brought up and quickly quelled once again. Rumours of men losing their very souls, sucked from their bodies as breath.
“That's only gossip,” called out one man near the back of the hall. “Wouldn't be anyone to tell the tale were it the case.”
Jeb had to wonder, as he pressed closer to the door that hid him from view, what a person would have to do to make the Sorceress that angry. Something in the pit of his stomach was telling him that the rumours weren't false, and that the men inside the hall had reason to fear retribution from Azkadellia.
Maybe these men were fools to resist. Jeb thought back - regretfully, painfully - to the night he'd been torn from his bed by his father. Outside his window, screams erupted from the city below, gunshots rending the night in two. In a rush, his father had explicitly instructed him to neither speak nor move, to keep his eyes closed and his ears covered. “Once you're out of the city, you do not leave your mother's side. Do you understand me, Son? Do not leave your mother's side...”
Would it be so hard to accept Azkadellia as ruler? To keep your head down and pay lip service to this new queen? Surely, less people would die.
“There's one I would like to hear from,” said the man at the podium. His booming voice reached even Jeb, outside the doors, listening with his ear to the crack. “Mr. Cain has come out of Central City. Ain't that right, Cain?”
A deep familiar voice sounded then, and Jeb risked a peek into the meeting hall. In a chair near the middle of the room sat his father; he'd recognize the pale hair anywhere. “You'd best be rememberin' to keep your voice down when speakin' my name,” Wyatt Cain said slowly. He raised his head to glare at the man behind the podium, and Jeb was surely glad the burn of those ice blue eyes wasn't on him for a change. “I'm not here to offer you men a damn thing. I've got nothin' to say about what went on in Central City, or anythin' that concerns Azkadellia.”
“Then why are you here, Sir?” the man at the podium asked.
Wyatt Cain gave a low chuckle, and Jeb's spine gave a renewed shimmy at the sound. “What can I say,” the elder Cain said. “Sometimes I miss the sounds of idiots arguin'...”
Jeb was brought crashing out of his dreams by rough hands grabbing him by the collar and shaking him. Fighting his attacker off, he also threw himself off his cot and onto the hard, cold ground in the process. When he stood, Travers was staring at him, unimpressed.
“A little jumpy, ain't ya, Cain?” he asked, shifting his considerable weight from one foot to the other.
“Just dreaming,” Jeb said, running a hand through his messy hair. “What are you doing here?”
Jeb had found himself whirl-winded about the camp after Lady Catt had taken a liking to him. From a sleeping roll in the shadow of a crumbling ruin into a small tent and cot near the witch's own. Travers had snorted and teased slightly with all the men when Jeb had retrieved his pack the evening before, but the young soldier's eyes had been haunted. Things were rapidly spiralling away from their control, and they needed to take it back before they were found out.
It seemed Travers had come to do just that. “We should be thinking about making our quiet getaway,” Travers whispered. “The quartermaster was saying something about a munitions run into Byvasser today. I think with a little coercion he'd be willing to put us on the crew.”
Jeb shook his head. “I'm not going anywhere.”
Travers thought he was joking. Indeed, the man managed to laugh once, albeit nervously. His smile broke when he realized just how serious Jeb Cain was. “Cain, we're under orders to be out of here as soon as - well, as soon as possible,” he said, cutting himself off before saying too much. If someone was listening, they would already have heard more than Jeb or his partner would have wanted. Judging by the quiet of the camp, however, it was unlikely anyone about would be awake.
“Your plan is good,” Jeb countered. “Talk to Briones, butter him up a bit. You'll be walking out of the shield before you know it. Make yourself scarce before you reach the village.”
“I'm not going to the generals without you, Cain,” Travers said, “they'd eat me alive. There's also the chance you'll be found out and get yourself killed. I know this mission was considered suicidal to begin with, but Gods, man -”
Jeb raised an eyebrow. “Its an order. Now get outta here before someone sees you.”
“Cain - ”
“An order, soldier,” he repeated, the conviction in his voice a lot firmer than he felt inside.
“I don't know what you think you're doing,” Travers said as he backed slowly out of the tent, “but you're fucking insane for doing it. Andrus is going to have your head.”
“He'd have me hung, if anything,” Jeb said with a roll of his eyes, sitting back down on the cot and grinning at Travers as the man made his retreat. “Besides, he likes me well enough. I make him feel all warm and fuzzy about the future of the country.”
There was a snort of laughter as Travers disappeared.
When he was alone, Jeb lay back down on the cot, his hands folded behind his head. He'd given Travers all the information he'd gotten about the Lady Catt and the book; the soldier would return to the generals, who in return would be able to prepare for this, and in turn protect Azkadellia and the country.
Another few days and he'd be out of here himself. He knew from listening to Catt talk - loudly and without fear of anyone overhearing her, ever - that the munitions run was set for the afternoon. Travers would be at the edge of the forest by nightfall. In the darkness, he could disappear away from the group before contact was made with Graham Hardy, the contact the ex-Longcoats kept in Byvasser, and their supplier.
There would be questions, to be sure, about where the hell Travers had gotten off to. Jeb would have plenty of time to prepare for that. As for now... it wouldn't be long before the shift-change came up, and he'd be back to staring at the canvas walls of the Lady's tent while she poured over the book and waited for her prey to fall into the trap she imagined she was setting.
***
When DG awoke, it was to bright sunlight. The first sun had risen; the second had yet to break the horizon. She stretched her limbs, and her hands hit the unfamiliar headboard. Her eyebrows raised curiously, and she sat up to take in the bedroom. The walls danced with shadow, and the air was filtered with dust, sparkling in the weak light.
She bolted upright and kicked off the blankets, her right leg getting into a bit of a scrap with the sheet. Her feet were on the floor when an amused voice said, “Hold up there, Darlin'. No need to rush.”
DG's eyes found Cain easily; he was just closing the bedroom door behind him. It had been his stealthy entrance that had dragged her out of sleep. Calming down at the sight of him, DG reached for her slacks and tugged them on. She noticed that Cain's eyes followed her hands, up her legs and then centered at her navel as she buttoned them closed. A dark gleam in his blues sent a shiver skipping through her abdomen.
She turned her back to button her cap-sleeved blouse. She could feel a blush starting, and impulsive thinking was quickly overtaking her brain. “You let me sleep too long,” she admonished lightly.
“Didn't think it would hurt,” he told her, his tone low and restricted. She wanted to peek over her shoulder to see if he'd clenched his jaw uncomfortably as she'd often seen him do, but she thought better of it. “I had some things to discuss with the kid anyway. A late start ain't gonna affect us much, not today.”
A little more than half a days ride separated the village of Fog's Bank and the Gale Tomb, where rested the Emerald. Considering just how much mileage she'd put on her sneakers since arriving in the O.Z. a year ago, it seemed a very, very small distance.
“What did Tory have to say?”
Cain shook his head. “Only thing of use he had to say was that the Gale sent him to help you. Says he wants to come with us, but he's more'n a little shy about it. He's got it in his head he's gonna be of some use to us.”
“I don't see how. Not any more than he already has,” DG said with a frown. She'd finished dressing and had begun to make the bed. The blankets and sheets were so tangled, it looked like a tornado had hit it. What little sleep she'd gotten had been plagued by dreams of yellow bricks and fields of red flowers.
“Neither do I,” was Cain's reply. “Might be the Gale can give you a little insight.”
She'd thought of that herself; Cain's suggestion only solidified it in her mind. It helped her courage immensely to have something to focus on, so that the nagging suspicions and nasty whispers of doubt inside would subside. The information Tory had revealed to her had all but blind-sided her; unseated, she wasn't sure what the next step would be. The possibility of answers soothed her, at least enough to function properly.
“Dependin' on how long your business in the tomb takes you, we could make it halfway to the Fields of the Papay by nightfall. Across the gorge by tomorrow night.” Cain's tone was conversational, and a half-smile graced his lips when she gave a tired groan. “You gettin' sick of travellin'?”
DG's first response was a pale smile, before she shook her head. “All I keep telling myself is there's a quiet room with a big bed in the Northern Palace just waiting for us to finish. I plan on hiding from the world and sleeping for at least a week. Maybe two.”
“Waitin' for us, hmm?” he asked, crossing the distance between them with slow, careful steps. He caught her by the hips, and smiled down at her. “Its nice to know you've got faith in both of us livin' through this.”
Panic flashed through her eyes at his words, there and then gone; her smile faltered nervously. “You... don't?” she asked.
“'Course I do,” he reassured her, but she wasn't entirely convinced. “But you can't deny its all startin' to look a mite bleak.”
She rolled her eyes at his gross understatement. “Bleak or not, I have to... don't talk like that, Wyatt,” she said, putting her hands on his chest so push him away from her bare centimeters.
Cain's eyes were serious and troubled. There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth as she watched him fight with what he wanted to - or had to say. “There's a point where you're gonna be meetin' this problem head on instead of dancin' around it,” he told her.
“You're talking about facing the Lady Catt.”
He shook his head. “No, I'm talkin' about somebody puttin' the old witch down. Seems like no matter where you turn, you're the one that's gonna have to step up.” Even as she read his face, she could see that he didn't like what he was saying, nor were the thoughts inside his head all that pleasant. “The boy says he wants you to help him. Might be that its the other way 'round.”
DG closed her eyes. Dark thoughts filled her head, the emptiness she remembered from her first week in the O.Z. settling into her stomach. Suddenly, she wasn't feeling that well. When she opened her eyes again, she refused to look at Cain, instead focusing on the triangle of flesh exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt.
“Deeg,” he said softly.
With a deep breath, she shook her head, then braved his eyes. He was studying her intently, his eyes familiar and yet different somehow, as if the shade had shifted ever so slightly with the weight of his words. “No,” DG told him, forcing the frown off her lips. She couldn't quite manage to smile. “We'll focus on crossing that bridge when we come to it.”
Cain's face immediately tensed. “You think a little foresight might be in order, Princess?” he asked sharply.
She didn't like the tone of his voice at all. Something was bothering him and he wasn't speaking up about it. She could take all day trying to pry it out of him with no guarantee of success. “I think, Captain,” she said firmly, “that I would rather concentrate on the task I was given.”
His hard stare did its best to penetrate her defences - it had been a long time since she'd had to raise them around him and she was a little out of practice. She looked away first, and when she did, he spoke. “That's fine by me,” he said, his words clipped in poorly hidden anger. “While you stumble along worryin' about where you're next step is leadin' you, I'm gonna be half a mile ahead keepin' an eye out. I've gotta tell you, DG, I don't like where we're headin'.”
All the fight went out of her then as he let go of her and made his way across the room. He wrenched the door open and waved an arm for her to go through first. His jaw was clenched so tightly that he said nothing. He only cocked his head slightly to the side as he waited to see what she would do.
What choice did she have? Swallowing hard, DG picked up the rest of her belongings and walked through the door, mumbling a quiet “Thank you,” as she did so.
The second sun was up by the time they left the Foresters' land. Aleas had come out to the barn to see the group off, her loose dark hair poorly hiding the marks of passion that marred the white flesh of her neck; it seemed Zero and his wife had found some common ground on which to coexist at the end of their fighting the night before. Averting her eyes with a blush, DG tried her best to remember her manners when thanking the woman for her hospitality, but Aleas wasn't interested at all in what DG had to say. She saw off her husband dutifully, surely expecting to never see him again. She said nothing to the others that had been her guests, though her gaze lingered on Cain long enough for both DG and Zero to take notice.
It didn't help the mood any, and not a word was spoken by anyone through the village. A few curious faces peered out of windows to see the travellers pass through town, but the notice was short-lived and without incident.
Clinging tightly to Cain's waist, DG buried her face in his duster as the hours passed. She was tired, but didn't sleep. Her mind said that her body should be hungry, but she could feel nothing past the numbness nestled inside. The only comfort she gained in those long hours was that of the man in front of her and the Viewer riding beside them were still with her. It wasn't much, but it helped.
Sometime after the suns had passed overhead, when the day was bright and clear, DG realized that they'd entered familiar territory. She'd seen this ridge, these mountains, that lake before. The autumn colours were brilliant here, the early cold snap having hurried the transformation along. In Central City, were they preparing for the Harvest celebrations? She'd so looked forward to them, and now she couldn't quite remember what the date was.
A mile or so away from the Tomb, on the rocky ridge, Cain stopped everyone.
“Stay here,” he told the others. Raw nodded in immediate compliance, while Tory looked wary at being left behind. Zero was utterly contemptuous of Cain's orders; the man busied himself instead with tending to his horse. As everyone set about doing something, trying to keep their hands and minds occupied, DG walked a little closer to the edge of the ridge, peering down the steep, rocky slope. The water below was so unbelievably crystal blue; the mountains and clouds above appeared in the calm surface of the water.
“You ready?” Cain asked her, as he stepped up behind her.
“I think so,” she said, though she wasn't all that sure. “Lets get this over with.”
Raw caught her eyes as she walked by, giving her an encouraging smile. Tory had wandered down the ridge. Leaving the others behind, she walked along a path she knew well. Soon they reached the tree-line, and began the uphill trek. The woods themselves bore no evidence of any presence before, though DG could remember vividly meeting her enemies in this same place twice before; the Sorceress when she'd retrieved the Emerald before the Eclipse, and after returning the stone, when the Commander's men had confronted her, and tried to kill Cain.
Before they reached the concealed doors, far out of sight of the others, Cain stopped them. He caught her by the hand, and she turned to look at him, wanting to smile but not finding the emotion inside to do so. She noticed, as he caught her shaking palm in his own steady one, just how anxious she was. “You sure you're ready for this?” he asked her. “We can rest for a few hours before goin' in if you'd rather.”
She shook her head, and pulled her hand back. “No, I have to do this,” she said. “There's no putting it off.”
He gave her a half smile. “There's my girl,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her. His hands came up to cradle her face, to tilt her head underneath the touch of his lips; sighing into him, minimal distraction going straight to her head, DG raised her own hands to place them on his arms, anchoring herself against him. His tongue swept along her bottom lip, tracing it before delving into her mouth again. She moaned, and he slid his hand a few inches to burrow his fingers into her hair. Holding her in place, he crushed his lips harder against hers, his fingers tightening on the tresses threaded between them. She moaned again, unable to help it; when finally he made to pull away, she caught his bottom lip between her teeth before allowing him to retreat.
“Go on,” he told her, moving his eyes to the path ahead of them, where the door they both knew well stood hidden from eyes that searched for it.
DG nodded, and continued on. Her legs didn't wobble as she feared they might. As she approached, the doors swung open for her, sensing the magic deep within her, the sign of her bloodline evident in the air that escaped her lungs. No more flash and cheap tricks to gain entrance. She was certain of who she was and the magic of this place knew it.
She was expected.
Table Of Contents:
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31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40
41 - 42 - 43 - 44 - 45 - 46 - 47 - 48